The Destroyer would be free to wreak havoc upon the world that betrayed Him, and His first task would be to wipe from existence all forms of life, before He and His children reseeded the Earth with their own progeny.
None will be spared… not even His followers, blind devoted fools that they are.
* * *
Rob stared at Dolores, his face filled with absolute horror. ‘Holy shit, I’m the Chosen One, aren’t I?’
Sadly, Dolores nodded. ‘They intend to sacrifice you on the Night of Madness, the night of the next full moon, when there will also be a lunar eclipse. Whether you believe in Apollyon or not, Rob, you will be sacrificed because they believe it will resurrect Him!’
‘I still don’t believe in the devil though,’ sighed Rob. ‘Whatever I have seen, no matter what happens now, I cannot believe such a creature exists.’
‘That is the biggest danger. You see, the Chosen One is a disbeliever, one who does not believe in the existence of Apollyon. He lives beneath the roof of Naghene Hall for seven consecutive days and nights leading up to the Night of Madness.’
‘When is the full moon anyway?’
‘On the night of the Winter Solstice!’
‘A full moon on the same night as the Winter Solstice, and a lunar eclipse to boot!’
Dolores nodded. ‘The Night of Madness!’
‘And if I choose to become a believer? What then? Will I live?’
‘As I believe it, your sacrifice, should it still take place, will then have the opposite effect, trapping Apollyon within Gehenna until the next Night of Madness. Such a celestial conjunction must surely be hundreds of years in the future.’
‘So your task is to convince me that this creature is real, and then I’m still going to die, but the Earth stays safe for a few more centuries.’
Dolores chuckled. ‘Something like that.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly got your work cut out for you! Jesus… I’ve just worked out why Naghene Hall is significant. It’s another anagram, isn’t it? It’s Gehenna! The house itself is the gateway to Apollyon’s prison.’
‘Do I detect a note of belief in your voice, Rob Tyler? Perhaps all is not yet lost after all.’
‘Maybe. But if there’s a way if defying the prophecy, of keeping Apollyon imprisoned without my dying, then I’m all ears.’
‘There is one alternative.’
The sad tone to the old woman’s voice betrayed the anguish she felt at the one other solution, and Rob realised what it was immediately.
‘If another unbeliever were to stay at Naghene Hall for seven consecutive days, then he might be sacrificed in my place. Not much of an alternative for the other poor bugger!’
‘Well, that’s one alternative, and where there’s one there might also be another. The first thing I need to do is teach you how to effectively shield your thoughts from Val, and then we must get you back to Naghene Hall.’
‘Why am I going back there?’
‘No one in the village will do anything to harm you until the Night of Madness, providing you spend at least seven consecutive days and nights there. Val and Stan will ensure that none of those who do not follow the path of the Apollyonites will harm you.’
‘And they must suspect nothing! Very well, Dolores, I suggest you start teaching me this mental protector!’
* * *
Still in the guise of Ralph Branagh, Stan O’Nass waited in his parked car until the vehicle that he was certain had been following him since leaving Dorstville had passed. It was not travelling exceptionally fast; clearly its occupants wanted to avoid detection.
Well, too bad!
It was not difficult to identify the occupants of the car; there were few enough cars in Dorstville, and there was no doubt in Stan’s mind that this blue one belonged to Everard. It was equally obvious that the other occupant was Kinelm. The pair always went everywhere together, did everything together. Even though they were members of Val’s coven, Stan despised the pair. The fact that they always relied upon each other made them dangerous.
They were like symbiotic siblings, as close as twins, even though they were unrelated. Those who relied upon others had no place in the society of Apollyon’s rule. They endangered the plan; that they were following him proved a clear indication of this. Was it possible their loyalty to Val was questionable?
‘I must inform my sister of this development,’ Stan muttered to himself. If they could follow him without the knowledge of the High One herself then that meant they could shield their thoughts somehow, and that made them infinitely more dangerous.
If they could shield their thoughts from Val and him, then logically there must also be others within the village who could do the same. Dissention within the ranks of the Apollyonites was unthinkable, and yet it appeared to have occurred.
Stan started the car and eased it from the side road down which he had hidden. ‘Thing’s are no longer going to Val’s great plan! I must find Rob and return to Naghene Hall, and then I must inform Val of this most disturbing development.’
One thing was for sure; Val was not going to be pleased, and Stan wished it did not have to be he who told her of the incident.
* * *
Even before she threw open the door leading to the cellar, Val knew her remaining two prisoners were gone. She screamed all her rage at Gerry who, totally submissive to her hypnotic spell, weathered the vehement fury in silence.
‘How could they escape without my knowledge?’ she growled, storming back up the stairs with Gerry in tow. The prisoners somehow possessed the mental strength to repel her thoughts.
Standing on the pavement outside, she closed her eyes and touched her fingers to her forehead, her little fingers pressed firmly against her eyelids, her thumbs pressed tightly into her ears, blotting out all sights and sounds from the outside world as she concentrated her inner thoughts. She emptied her mind of her anger, which sapped at her energy, reaching out into the surrounding area with her thoughts as she sought desperately to locate the two fugitives using every ounce of her supernatural powers.
She turned around slowly, circling, searching in all directions, and uncharacteristically gave up when she failed to find any trace of Lilly or Jonathan. It was not possible that they were yet out of her range, which meant they had definitely procured the ability to shield their minds from her.
Val turned on Gerry. ‘I am displeased, Gerald. You have failed me. If I did not still need you as a lure for Rob, I would dispose of you without another moment’s hesitation!’ She sighed, sensing that her plan no longer went according to her grand design. First Virginia had betrayed her trust, and now this new, equally disturbing development. ‘I hope my brother will not fail me as well. Come, Gerald, follow me. There is much to do in readiness for the Night of Madness!’
Over the years, since insinuating herself into the everyday life of Dorstville, Val had secured a network of followers across the whole of England. None were exclusive members of the coven, but all obeyed her every request without question, each awaiting the return to their world of the almighty Apollyon.
Poor fools!
None yet realised that once resurrected, Apollyon would restore the order of the Great Destroyer He once was, and they would have outlived their usefulness. Their sole purpose in the grand scheme was to help locate the Custodian and the Key to Gehenna.
All had so far failed in such a simple task.
Val now had one further task for the loyal band of followers. One telephone call would initiate a cascade; the one recipient of her telephone call would contact five, and so on until all were on the lookout for the fugitives. Jonathan Carson and Lilly O’Nass would not get far. They would be caught before dawn broke, and she would ensure they regretted their hasty actions.
They would suffer such excruciating pain that they would beg for death.
Val laughed to herself, undecided as to whether she would grant that request; certainly not until they told her how they obtained the power to defy he
r. Was it possible that one or other of them was in actual fact the Custodian, or maybe in possession of the Key?
They were yet useful alive, so a stay of execution would be allowed, however, they were proving tiresome, and she did so enjoy ending lives in her usual spectacular manner after inflicting endless torment and excruciating agonies upon her victims.
Once they were caught and had told her what she wanted to know, then she would repay them for their discourtesy in escaping.
The thought excited Val, almost as much as the thought of ending Rob Tyler’s miserable life enthralled her.
The Night of Madness was still days away, but it was certainly worth waiting for.
* * *
Having taught Rob as much as possible in the short time available, Dolores hoped he would be dexterous enough to deal with the complexities of controlling and shielding his thoughts, and prayed that his will would be strong enough to deal with what Val was guaranteed to throw in his direction.
Dolores decided it would be prudent for Rob to have more reliable transportation than the rickety, clapped out old estate car, so she led him from her cottage and guided him around to the rear of the property where a garage nestled amongst the thistles and brambles.
Opening the double doors, she stepped into the darkness and snapped on an overhead light, which illuminated the shape of a car, covered in a dustsheet.
Even under the sheet, Rob grew excited as he recognised the unmistakable outline. Yanking the sheet away with a flourish, he beamed enthusiastically as he revealed a gloriously maintained and polished blood-red MGB roadster. It was a couple of years older than Rob’s racing-green model back in London, however this little car was in enviably better condition, obviously well loved but clearly little used.
He turned to Dolores. ‘Are you going to tell me this is your car?’
Dolores nodded. ‘I haven’t driven her for years, but I have a friend in town who maintains her for me. He runs a garage and gives her a spin a couple of times a month to make sure she drives smoothly. She’s as graceful as the day I bought her brand new!’
‘What about Val’s car?’
‘I’ll get the same friend to tow that piece of junk back. He’s on the same team as us and will lie effectively. If Val asks, her car wouldn’t start, and this car is his. He’s loaned it to you because he’s a huge fan of your books.’ Dolores handed Rob the keys. ‘Remember what I have taught you, Rob. Control and discipline at all times.’
Rob nodded as he took the keys. ‘And don’t trust anyone! I know.’
Dolores kissed his cheek. ‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need it!’
E ight
Pentacle
Stan saw the little red sports car as it whizzed past him, heading back the way he had come, but he barely gave it a second thought. Unlike mortal men, cars held no interest for him. Once it had receded into the distance in his rearview mirror, it was gone from his mind.
It was just gone ten, and he was driving aimlessly around the almost deserted streets of Exeter, not really knowing what he was looking for in his quest to find Rob Tyler. He opened his mind, reaching out surreptitiously with his controlled thoughts as he searched mentally for Rob’s wayward thoughts. He had been able to sense Rob’s confusion back at the Dorstville. It had amused Stan to hear Rob’s inner monologue as he struggled to understand what was going on around him; it had also alarmed Stan a little when Rob came close to comprehending on more than one occasion, though Val insisted there was no inherent danger. The plan, so she said, would go ahead without a hitch.
Stan was not so sure of that now. Rob had not returned from Exeter, which meant he was either still within the boundaries of the town, or he had gone off elsewhere. Either way, Stan knew he was right to be alarmed.
Val persisted that she had enough control over Rob to enforce his return to the village, and if the man had gone off elsewhere, that meant he had somehow broken Val’s control. If he was still in Exeter, he was hiding and shielding his thoughts, which worried Stan immensely.
His car crawled past the entrance to one street, and something caught his eye. He braked haphazardly, eliciting furious blasts from the horn of the car tailgating him. The irate driver screamed obscenities at him as he roared past, but Stan merely sent him a single look, snapping the man’s mind. Stan reversed the car and turned down the side street, smiling silently to himself as the other car crashed into a wall further down, extinguishing the life of its irritating driver.
The woman who had caught his eye was gone, probably into one of the terraced houses that lined one side of the lane. He looked at the trees on the other side, overhanging the pavement. There was something undeniably familiar about the street, and although he had only caught the merest glimpse of the woman, Stan’s sharp eyesight and vivid memory had identified her to his subconscious.
Stan parked the car a little way down the leafy lane, staring at the final property. It was a secluded, detached cottage, its pretty, if overgrown, little garden irrelevant to his senses. He switched off the engine and stepped out into the pale light coming from the open windows at the front of one of the terraced houses. He stared at the cottage as if he had seen it only yesterday. In fact, it was some years since he last visited the place. It was the cottage where Lilly’s mother lived, and he was certain Lilly’s mother was whom he had glimpsed.
Dolores.
Dolores Hawthorne.
That was the old harridan’s name.
Oh yes, he remembered the old woman well, though they had met but twice. The way she had looked at him the first time when Lilly brought him home to meet her; the manner with which she had reacted towards him when he had informed her of his intention to marry Lilly. She had loathed him from the very beginning, but he could never get into her mind. She guarded her thoughts well, but the abhorrence she openly displayed could explain that. An absolute loathing towards him was the only thing that could prevent his scanning of her thoughts.
Was it possible she now somehow shielded Rob with that same hatred?
He looked around for signs of Rob’s presence, and as he did so, he saw Kinelm duck behind a car parked further up the road. Wondering why the man should be lurking outside Dolores’s house, Stan reached out with his mind.
He frowned. He could not sense Kinelm’s thoughts, nor could he feel the presence of Everard, and yet he had seen both in the car earlier. Where there was one, there was always the other; Everard would not be far away. The fact that he could still sense neither of them continued to alarm Stan even more than the fact that Rob was missing. Kinelm and Everard were devout Apollyonites, and as such their thoughts should be his to pick at like leftovers. He furrowed his brow, concentrating hard, yet he could not locate their thoughts.
It perplexed him. How could it be possible for them to shield their thoughts from him? True, his powers were in no way as extensive as his sister’s, but his were strong enough. Could it be they loathed him in the same way Dolores did? That was not good in Stan’s eyes, for it meant they were disloyal followers.
He decided for the present to pretend he had not seen Kinelm, to continue his search of Rob elsewhere. It was possible Dolores shielded Rob within her cottage, but he realised he could not blithely go up her front door. He was still wearing the image of Ralph Branagh, a man who to Stan’s knowledge had not met Dolores. There was no way he could speak to her in this guise.
Rob had come to Exeter in Val’s clapped out old estate, and there was no sign of the distinctive car in the lane, so as far as Stan was concerned, Rob was not nearby. Val would not be happy, but he had no other option than to return to Dorstville without his quarry. Perhaps Rob would be back in the village anyway by the time he himself returned.
Once back in his car, Stan performed a perfect three-point turn, and then when the car had rounded the corner, Kinelm stepped out from hiding, stretching his back. He was far too old to be ducking for cover like that.
Striding pu
rposefully across the road, he marched up to the cottage, just as Dolores herself opened the front door. She stood on the threshold, visibly seething with impotent fury.
‘What are you doing here, Kinelm?’ she thundered, unmindful that her voice carried down the street on the still night air. ‘You risk everything by coming here. I saw you out there, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Stan saw you too!’
‘Stan? Ye mean ye recognised him ’neath the new skin he wears?’
Dolores laughed sardonically. ‘Of course I did. He cannot hide his true nature from me. I know what he is, what he is capable of. I felt the foul creature’s mind reaching out, trying to invade my thoughts. Your recklessness may have betrayed you… I hope your thoughts have not betrayed me!’
Now Kinelm laughed, cruelly, triumphantly. ‘Ye shall find out soon enough!’ He reached into his pocket and whipped out a small pistol before Dolores had a chance to react.
‘Kinelm, have you gone mad?’ gasped Dolores, struggling to quell the mounting tide of fear that threatened to overcome her. She had sensed for a while that something was amiss with Kinelm and Everard. Their thoughts were not open to her, and since they had shielded their thoughts from her as they had from Val and Stan, that could only mean they were plotting some other course of action. She had not anticipated one of them pulling a gun on her though.
‘No, I bain’t gone mad. I be ensuring that our plan goes ahead unhindered by the likes o’ you!’ He growled at her as he waved the gun threateningly. ‘Into the house.’
Dolores complied without question. Now that Kinelm had her where he apparently wanted her, his guard slipped, revealing some of his thoughts. She knew he was more than prepared to dispatch her to fulfill whatever mad scheme he and Everard had concocted, the nature of which remained hidden from her. She did not like to contemplate what they were planning, but it would not be good whatever it was. As he prodded her in the back, though, Kinelm could not hold back his growing excitement, and his guard slipped further still.
The Five Tors Page 18
