“Is your dad staying at the bookshop?” Luke asked when all three men had left the kitchen. Alexander sighed.
“Yes. He is a very old man. Some nights he even sleeps in the shop. He can’t go a few miles these days without breaking down.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Such is life Luke. Such is life,” Alexander replied shrugging his shoulders.
“Can we stop them? Can these creatures be stopped?”
Alexander now raised both his hands towards Luke, his palms facing the younger man.
“If there is a God, Luke. If there is a God they can be stopped.”
“Could you be more specific? I respect your faith Alexander, but we’re in a tight hole at the moment. Any ideas would be appreciated.”
Alexander slammed his open fists against the table’s top.
“I know these animals are obsessed with power and hierarchy. You take out the snake at the very top and the rest will panic. Then, you will have a chance to destroy these things.”
“You mean Chatterton?”
“Right. You will have to sever the snake’s head as they say.”
“And then?”
“And then you hope his followers panic. That’s when you take the initiative and kill them, I suppose. One by one. It’s the only chance you have against them.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the table. Alexander frowned. The noise had begun to irritate him.
“Can you stop that please?”
Luke stuffed his hands into his jeans.
“If you need time to think I suggest you go somewhere quiet and do it now. Tonight is All Hallows’ Eve as you well know. This is the night where they celebrate Satan himself. A lot of blood is going to be spilt this evening, Luke. Those people in the cellars will be brought out. You need to be fully focussed if this is going to work.”
“Right,” Luke replied. He was feeling suddenly light-headed. All the talk of demons and blood had started to get to him.
“I need some fresh air Alexander. Will you excuse me?”
Alexander waved his hand.
“Go young man. Get your fresh air. I will still be here when you get back. Maybe take a good hard look in that bin liner again too. You have to know exactly what you’ll be up against tonight if you all decide to take them on. I think it’s a foolish thing to do if I’m being honest. These creatures should be taken out by stealth, one by one over a period of time. Starting with Chatterton.”
“And the people they keep prisoners? What about them? Don’t they have a right to live?”
“If you get this wrong Luke we shall all suffer the consequences of your actions. If they live and your group fails, they could kill far more.”
With that, Alexander reached over and stole Luke’s tea. The mug was still warm and he wrapped his old hands eagerly about its rim.
“Ah, a nice cup of tea. Just what I need right now,” he spoke taking his first sip. Deep in thought, Luke followed Andre and the others outside.
Lena had woken not long after Luke and Andre had. The loud discussions downstairs had stirred her from her sleep. She was stood before the bedroom window looking out across the fields and towards the Chatterton House. She pictured herself and Elizabeth playing happily in the woods together. She could see them building their dens together and camping in them late and night. It had been a summer ritual of theirs. Every other weekend they would sneak out of Chatterton House and escape deep into the woods. They would return early the following morning before anyone had noticed they had gone missing.
She could recall many happy summers with Elizabeth at the Chatterton House. Then one day, everything had changed. She had just turned twelve. Elizabeth, a year older, had started taking her to the cottage instead of the woods. She could remember playing inside a large doll’s house. The house had been built especially for her and Elizabeth. She could still see the tiny cups and saucers they had played with. She could hear Elizabeth’s giggles and feel the soft fabric of her dress brush against her skin. Those were the good memories.
Lena closed her eyes. Her twelfth year had been a dark time. The doll’s house had become a place to hide, a sanctuary from what had begun that year. Not that it had changed anything. The parties had still taken place. Hiding in the doll’s house had never stopped the rituals and the abuse from taking place. The house had been a sanctuary to hide after the event when the cottage was empty and the devils had gone.
Lena’s eyes were still on Chatterton House in the far distance as she recalled those years. She’d begun to pick gently at her wrist. It had started to itch not long after she had woken and now, as she looked away from the window, she could see that a large, red rash had formed along her lower arm. There was something else too. Lena’s heart suddenly jumped at the unexpected sight. A tiny scab was also visible now. This scab, small and green, sat an inch from her elbow. She picked at it again, this time drawing blood. Her skin quickly beginning to flake off where she continued to scratch. Soon, the small scab had grown into something altogether different.
“No. Please, not that,” she muttered falling back onto the bed, her heart beating at twice its normal speed. Lena was no longer looking at the scab. She had uncovered a scale of some kind and now her whole world had begun to spin. She held her arm towards the ceiling willing the discovery to vanish. It was no use. The scale sat perfectly visible bleeding slightly from the rim, its puss seeping gently down her arm.
~ ~ ~
“But what in God’s name do we do with the body?” John asked. Andre had already flung the bin liner containing Elizabeth’s remains into the back of John’s jeep.
“You have an axe?”
“Bloody hell man. Have you done this before?” John questioned, shocked by Andre’s casual response.
“On two occasions,” Andre replied calmly. “First we take off her arms. Then…”
“Okay, okay…I get the picture,” John interrupted. “Do you have to be so cold-hearted about the whole thing? A young lady has lost her life this evening.”
“She was a second away from taking Lena’s life. She had what was coming to her,” Andre replied softly. “You would have done the same thing in my position.”
John was looking into the bin liner as Andre continued to reprimand him. He’d noticed Elizabeth’s hands in particular. The upper parts of both her hands appeared disfigured. He could see what looked like small scales trying to pierce their way through the skin.
“I don’t want to hear any more talk of lizards and monsters. Do you hear me?” John then warned. He was speaking softly, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth’s arms as he spoke. “Whatever you saw in that kitchen you just keep to yourself. I know what goes on up at the Chatterton Manor. The whole family is evil. If you tell me Elizabeth was trying to do away with Lena then I’ll take your word on that Andre. But don’t mention lizards or monsters around me again. Is that clear?”
Andre shrugged.
“I know what I saw. I know what I witnessed at the Chatterton Manor. I don’t need your approval. My advice to you is this John. Look away when you help me lift that body back out of the jeep. Look away when I start to dismember her. If you don’t want to face the truth you just look away John. Is that clear?” Andre then replied stepping forward so that he was standing only inches from John’s face. “We are all in this together now. None of us can turn back. We are brothers in arms. Blood brothers.” Andre finished.
John nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t a man who backed down easily, but Andre was a giant in every sense of the word.
“It’s clear Andre. As long as we have an understanding everything will be fine between us.”
“Good. Now look. We don’t have time for all this talk,” Andre went on. “We must be going soon.”
“Are we all set then?” Luke asked having stepped into the courtyard.
“As good as,” Andre replied slamming the jeep’s boot shut.
“I’ll go and fetch Andrew,” John then spok
e stepping back into the cottage. Alexander had now followed Luke into the back garden. Peter was already sitting in the jeep’s front seat.
“I hope you all know what you are doing.” Alexander spoke handing Andre a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” The Russian enquired, beginning to read what Alexander had scribbled down.
“Go to that address in the village. I have an old friend who owns a shop. She sells collectables and old war memorabilia. She will be expecting you. You’ll find enough weaponry in that little shop to take on a small army. The Chatterton’s will be a piece of cake in comparison,” Alexander replied trying his best to make light of the situation.
“Thank you Alexander,” Luke spoke. “Will you be okay here with Lena?”
“I’ll be fine young man. Don’t worry about me.”
As Alexander spoke, Lena appeared. She walked over to where the group of men were standing. She had taken a hot shower and had changed into a clean pair of jeans and sweater. She now looked refreshed as she approached.
“Lena? You should be resting,” Luke spoke as she reached the small group. He put his arm about her waist and pulled her into him.
“How are you feeling, hon?”
“I’m feeling a lot better now, Luke. Thank you. Thank you for being there for me. I just wanted to say that.”
“That’s okay. No problem. I just think you should stay inside. Alexander will be here to look after you while we’re gone.”
“You’re going to the house?”
“Yes. We’re going back to the house.”
She took Luke’s hand in hers.
“You’re going to finish everything? Once and for all?”
“That’s right. That’s our intention. I’m going to bring back your brother too, Lena. Like I promised in the beginning. You’ll see him again soon. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”
Lena placed her head against Luke’s chest and wrapped her arms about his waist.
“You’re a good man Luke.”
“It’s cold out here Lena. Please, I want you to go back inside.”
Looking up into his eyes she said: “But I’m coming with you. I’m not intending to stay here Luke. I don’t have anything left to lose, you see. I’m coming to the end of my journey and I just want to be by your side.”
Luke placed both his hands gently against Lena’s pale cheeks and kissed the tip of her nose softly.
“You’re staying here.”
“You don’t understand. There is nothing left for me to be afraid of. I want to be with you when you find Lee. That’s my only wish now,” Lena continued not once taking her eyes off Luke.
“This isn’t the time to start digging your heels in.”
“I will just follow you if you leave me here, Luke. You want that?”
“Lena…”
“I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry. We’ll face whatever we find together.”
Andrew, John and Andre were now waiting beside the jeep. All three were starting to look impatient.
“Are you coming Luke or do we leave you here?” Andre questioned.
“One minute Andre, please,” Luke replied.
“I know my way around Chatterton Manor, Luke. I can help you all. I can swing a blade and fire a gun as good as any of you,” she went on placing her head back against his chest. “You know I will just follow you if you leave me here…”
Luke closed his eyes and bit at his lower lip. Shaking his head slowly he then said, “Okay Lena. You win. But you stay right by my side. Is that understood?”
She smiled and kissed him on both cheeks.
“I’m glad you always see things my way, Luke. It’s one of your qualities.”
“Just stay close to me. That’s all I ask.”
“I will. You don’t have to worry about that,” Lena replied.
Tired of waiting, Andre, Andrew and John had already climbed into the jeep, its engine firing up.
“You better be quick. Your ride’s about to leave,” Alexander spoke.
“Are you staying here?” Luke asked.
Alexander nodded.
“I’ll stay in the cottage overnight. I’ll walk back tomorrow morning. You don’t have to worry about me. Now go before they leave you!” he replied waving them both away.
“Take care Alexander. I hope we meet again soon,” Luke replied taking Lena by the hand.
“Just go, will you?”
With that, Luke and Lena jogged over to the jeep. John flung open the passenger side door as they approached and both jumped in. Within seconds the jeep sped away. Alexander stood and watched them disappear into the night. He then turned and made his way back into the empty cottage. Tonight, he thought to himself, is going to be a very long evening.
11 - Final Preparations
Margaret Bellingham, seventy-eight next birthday, had lived and worked in Chatterton Village all her life. The Chatterton Little Shop of Curiosities had been in the Bellingham family for several generations. Over the years it had become a village landmark and a meeting point for many of the village locals. Margaret served coffee and biscuits each morning between the hours of nine-thirty and eleven-thirty. She loved her coffee mornings more than running the shop itself. It gave her the chance to soak up the latest village gossip and, of course, to spread a little herself. She knew each of her customers by their first name and, over time, had come to know all their troubles, fears and dreams. The Chatterton Little Shop of Curiosities was the place to go to find out what was really going on in the village and Margaret Chatterton was the ringmaster.
“Come on Edward. We haven’t got all evening, cherub. We are expecting guests!” Margaret spoke as she lit the candle. Edward the cat watched her from the comfort of his favourite rocking chair. Edward had turned seventeen last week. He could no longer walk and was blind in one eye. The shop was overrun with mice and rats, but Edward could no longer catch them. Instead, he now sat in his chair evening after evening and watched as they scurried about the shop floor. He sat proudly, almost regally, content in the knowledge that, in his day, he had been a prime rat-catcher.
“We shall have to give your chair a good dusting down tomorrow. We can’t have you sitting in all that filth, now can we, cherub? Think what they will say about you in the village!”
Edward yawned and began to paw at his ears. Margaret placed her arm gently beneath Edward’s overfed belly and lifted him from the rocking chair. It was a routine Edward had become accustomed to and he rarely challenged Margaret. Holding the candlestick in her free hand, Margaret carried Edward to the front of the shop. Then, as was the routine, she lowered him into a tiny basket which sat at the foot of the shop’s tall bay window. The curtains to the shop had been closed since six that evening and now, having placed the candlestick across one of the shop’s many antique tables, Margaret began to pull them back.
The room began to fill with silver moonlight. It was already past midnight and Margaret, although tired, had promised Alexander faithfully that she would do everything in her power to help her dearest friend. Young people had been going missing in Chatterton for decades and the police had never been that interested. It was about time someone was taking the matter into their own hands. Every year around Halloween, the same muted conversations would take place in her tiny shop. The locals would speak of witnessing peculiar processions in the very dead of night. They were whispers of Satanic rituals and often talk of secret sects that were covertly running the local towns and villages. They were all connected, these sects, and all extremely dangerous. The villagers swore blind that Lord Chatterton was behind it all. Whatever the truth, it was time for action.
“Are you hungry Edward?” Margaret asked turning from the bay windows. She found Edward already fast asleep in his basket. Not wanting to disturb him she made her way into the shop’s tiny back kitchen and began to make herself a cup of tea. Alexander’s friends would be with her not long after midnight. She would make them each a cup of tea and then take them
down into the shop’s catacombs where all the best military memorabilia were kept. Her father, Felix Bellingham, had built up the collection himself. It had taken him twenty years to do so in fact and had been his pride and joy.
Margaret had never been a very organised person. The shop’s layout had never adhered to any particular plan. The top floor had always resembled a glorious hap-hazard jungle of various bric-a-brac; collectables and antique furniture often piled on top of one another and were very rarely labelled. At the very back of the shop, Margaret had turned her premises into one of the county’s finest second hand book shops. She was known throughout Warwickshire for her rare first-edition volumes and had often refused to sell a particular tome if she’d taken a dislike to the purchaser. Margaret cared little for profit.
The bottom floor of the shop by comparison was where she liked to keep her ‘special pieces.’ It was here where the curious browser could wander through a labyrinth of different curiosities. She had built up the collection over many years having travelled the length and breadth of Europe scouring with an obsessive attention to detail the continent’s ancient bazaars, market places and thoroughfares in search of those rare and forgotten items from generations and civilizations long since vanished.
Downstairs, in amongst the twisting corridors and converted cellars and hidden away behind bolted doors and secret rooms that invariably led into other, unvisited places, Margaret had built up a menagerie of pieces. These included rare porcelain, ornaments, stuffed animals and jewellery often piled onto early Victorian tables, desks and furniture, themselves surrounded by the finest examples of late Edwardian antiques and collectables. The walls to these chambers were lined with military memorabilia. There were swords and shields which dated right back to the time of the crusades. There were helmets and shotguns from the Great War. While in Normandy one bleak October afternoon, Margaret had even stumbled across a Viking longbow. They could all be found down below adorning the walls and corridors. Margaret was a hoarder. Throughout her life it had been her passion. In Istanbul for example she’d bought countless rugs and carpets, while in Moscow she’d managed to ship back over one thousand vintage vodka bottles. Collecting curiosities was in her blood and she would carry it on until the day she dropped dead.
The Devil's Blue Eyes Page 23
