The Old Religion

by Martyn Waites

  He opened the window as wide as it would go, flung the bottle out as hard as he could.

  It hit a four-by-four, the target he had been aiming for. The bottle broke immediately, spreading liquid fire all over the roof and down the sides.

  The crowd scattered, some screaming.

  Tom kept up the bombardment, letting the next bottle sail through the air, hitting the front of an estate car, rolling underneath. He knew what would happen next, crouched down to avoid it.

  The fire from his makeshift Molotov cocktail hit the petrol tank and the car exploded.

  Screams increased as people scattered to find safety.

  Tom had expected one or two shots to be fired at him and had ducked down in between raining bottles just in case, but there were none. The four-by-four was the next to blow up. Tom found another bottle, lobbed that one straight into the remaining crowd.

  That did it. They piled into what cars were left and drove away as fast as possible.

  Tom waited until he was sure they had all gone, then went downstairs, opened the door. The area in front of his house looked like a battlefield. Afghanistan again.

  He made sure there was no one left, then went back upstairs, gathered up the remaining bottles and loaded them into the back of his Land Rover. Checking to see that the fires would just naturally burn themselves out, he got behind the wheel, set off for the stone circle.

  He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

  62

  The sky was all cloud, heavy and dark, the stars and moon obscured. Like the world had thrown a blanket over itself, keeping everything hidden, especially its secrets.

  The stone circle was prepared. The altar stone covered by an old purple velvet sheet. At either side were huge steel milking pails to catch the blood for the second part of the blood ritual; sprinkling it on the land in order to see it symbolically come back to life. Burning torches had been placed at each end. There were others scattered around the stones, held aloft by those in the congregation.

  Most of the villagers had dressed for the occasion. Taking inspiration from the land around them, they wore headdresses of woven rowan sticks, masks of oak wood and bark, torsos of wicker. On their woven chest pieces were daubed ancient designs and symbols, curling trees, black toads, bulls’ heads. Bare arms were painted with coiled adders. They were no longer individuals, or twenty-first-century villagers. They were the past, reborn.

  Among those in the crowd was Pearl, standing with her parents. She seemed to be held there against her will. She looked visibly sickened by what was unfolding in front of her. Her parents both maintained flat, stony expressions. It was impossible to tell if they were enjoying the proceedings, or were appalled by them. Just standing, watching, a means to an end. Most of the other watchers wore the same expression.

  As if conjured out of the night, Morrigan, resplendent in crow regalia, appeared, lit by braziers before a shadowed bank of hedgerow. The figure walked to the altar, took up position behind it. The mood of the crowd immediately shifted, became intense, concentrated. Cloak unfurled, flapping like the long, oil-black wings of a crow, the neck a wreath of coal-dark feathers, Morrigan held up a dagger, the blade glinting in the firelight. At first glance it looked sacrificial, but on closer inspection it was revealed as the razor-sharp blade from Grant Jenner’s kitchen. Morrigan’s acolyte stood alongside watching, face enrapt, frenzied.

  At one side the local primary-school music teacher took Morrigan’s nodded head as a cue, began to play a slow, monotonous beat on a drum. It was the only sound.

  Morrigan gestured. Noah appeared behind the crow figure. He turned, nodded. Kai and his two men brought Lila forward, bound at the wrists and gagged. She still screamed, her actual words muffled and stifled by the gag, the intention behind the words coming through clear enough. They dragged her onwards, forcing her onto the stone altar. She fought them every step of the way. They held her down, one at her shoulders, the other at her feet. And still she fought, refusing to give up or give in.

  Even under the costume it was clear that Morrigan was angered by her behaviour, but wasn’t about to let it ruin the ceremony. The ritual would still go ahead. It had to.

  Morrigan raised the knife above Lila’s body. Opened a crow beak to begin an incantation.

  The words were never said.

  The air was filled by the sound of a revving engine, lights accompanying it. The crowd looked to where the source of this was, saw a Land Rover barrelling towards them as fast as it could.

  Some stood dumbstruck, not believing what was happening. Others noticed their predicament, scrambled to get out of the way. Whoever was behind the wheel wasn’t slowing down for them.

  The Land Rover reached the stone circle, screeched to a halt. Tom got out of the driving seat, lighter and bottle already in hand. He lit the alcohol-soaked rag, hurled it into the centre of the crowd. It smashed on the ground, the liquid fire spreading outwards in a blue-tinged orange blaze. The crowd ran, some with wooden and wicker costumes already aflame.

  Tom capitalised on the moment, taking another bottle from the car, lighting it, hurling it. Another crash, another fire, another set of screams. Confusion, running. Some of the crowd dropped their torches as they ran, adding to the flames.

  Tom scanned the crowd, trying to see where Lila was. He saw her through the smoke, fighting with two much bigger men. Another lit bottle lobbed, then he ran towards her.

  ‘The ritual must not be stopped . . . the ritual most not be stopped . . . Hold her . . .’ Morrigan was screaming, eyes dancing with madness. Still waving the vicious-looking knife. The two travellers tried to hold Lila down but Lila, emboldened by what was happening elsewhere, was making it as difficult as possible for them. Morrigan couldn’t get a clear stab at her. Morrigan’s acolyte stood at the side wringing his hands, keening at the pleasure being denied him.

  Morrigan joined the two travellers, helped to hold Lila down. Tom ran forward, praying that he could reach her in time.

  He couldn’t.

  Morrigan held the blade above Lila, swiftly mouthing an incantation, ready to bring it down, and he was too far away to stop her. He opened his mouth to scream.

  And suddenly Pearl was there.

  She had left her parents, run straight for the altar. She flung herself at Morrigan, grabbing the crow’s blade arm before it could reach its target.

  But Morrigan wasn’t giving up easily. The two struggled, Pearl younger and supposedly stronger, Morrigan in the all-consuming grip of a powerful madness.

  Pearl didn’t see Morrigan’s acolyte behind her pick up a rock, bring it down on her head. With a cry she fell to the ground. Morrigan thrust the knife at her.

  And then Tom was on Morrigan. Struggling to get the blade out of that gloved hand, trying to release the taloned grip on the handle before Morrigan could reach Pearl. Morrigan fought more like a gang youth high on some kind of bulletproofing drug.

  ‘Let it go, you old witch,’ he shouted. ‘It’s over.’

  He yanked Morrigan’s arm, twisting it over, backwards and up, shaking that wrist, pushing hard. Morrigan cried out, let go of the knife. Tom tried to kick it away with his foot, pulling the crow headpiece off as he did so. He stopped in surprise.

  ‘Jesus Christ. Isobel . . .?’

  The retired schoolteacher struggled against him, screaming and spitting.

  Tom didn’t have time to process the surprise. Noah was straight on the knife, trying to grab it. Emlyn, Morrigan’s acolyte, saw and brought his rock down on Noah’s hand. Even above the shouts, Tom could hear the sound of Noah’s knuckles smashing.

  Emlyn yelled at him. ‘Traitor . . .’ Then looked up at Tom. ‘You as well . . . All of you . . . Now let her go, you cunt . . .’

  Tom pushed Morrigan, by now worn out and deflated, down to the ground. He turned to Emlyn, still standing with his rock.

  ‘Why’d you have to interfere?’ Emlyn screamed. ‘Why? Who the hell are you to say what
we can and can’t do?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Tom walked towards him. Emlyn held the rock in what he presumed was a threatening stance. Tom thought he would offer little resistance. He was an old man and whatever commitment was in his eyes couldn’t be matched by his limbs. Tom was wrong. Emlyn flung himself at him, no longer an old man but some wiry, screaming imp, eyes ablaze with hatred and madness.

  ‘Kill you . . . I’ll kill you . . .’

  Emlyn tried repeatedly to bring the rock down on Tom, snarling and spitting as he did so, his stabbing motions aiming for Tom’s face, chest.

  Tom had no time to think, only react. He grabbed Emlyn’s arm, surprised by the old man’s strength, and with his other hand pulled him in close to his body. He locked his foot behind Emlyn’s leg, pushed him in the chest. Emlyn fell backwards, sprawling on the ground. Tom knelt beside him, took the rock from his hand, threw it away. He pulled his fist back, ready to strike Emlyn in the face, but the old man was struggling to breathe, the wind having been knocked out of him by the fall, and with the shock of hitting the ground had come the realisation that he had lost. The madness in his eyes was gone, replaced by fear, the beginnings of tears. Tom stood up, left him lying there.

  He heard Pearl groan from beside him, went to help her up.

  ‘You OK?’

  He tried to pull her into a sitting position.

  ‘Steady,’ she said. ‘Everything’s still spinning.’

  He moved in close to examine her wound.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ she said, touching her head, wincing from the pain. ‘Where’s Lila?’

  Tom looked round.

  Morrigan, and her knife, had disappeared.

  So had Lila.

  63

  ‘Run, just fucking run . . .’

  Kai pulled the rope that Lila’s hands were attached to, dragging her along behind him. Sometimes she stumbled, fell. He just yanked her upright again, kept going. He had to get away. Had to. And she was coming with him.

  For now.

  Kai had seen what was happening, guessed which way the tide was turning. The police would eventually be called, he could see that, whether Rachel Bellfair was one of them or not. And there would be plenty of explaining to do. Lots of deals made and a hell of a lot of finger-pointing. If he stayed around he would be singled out more than most, used as a scapegoat. And he wasn’t about to let that happen. Not at all.

  So he had told the other two to go and help Noah, had grabbed Lila and run. At first just blindly, with no plan. Just get away. The words repeating over and over in his mind, a mantra. Just get away. He soon realised that there was nowhere he could get away to. Everywhere would soon be tainted. He had to think. Be cunning.

  And it came to him. So simple. So obvious. How to get rid of all his problems in one go.

  The caves. Dump Lila in the pit once more, leave her to rot. If the fall didn’t kill her first, that is. She had caused all this. She was the one responsible for everything he had done. She deserved her fate.

  Then, job done, he could stay in there until it all blew over, find his way out again and be off. Perfect.

  Lila tripped, stumbled. Went down again.

  Kai looked around, shone his torch. One cave looked the same as another to him. Not for the first time in these caves he wished he hadn’t dropped out of university, hadn’t stopped studying geology. But if he had stayed at uni none of this would have happened. If. . . He stamped down on those thoughts, knowing no good would come of thinking that way. There was a fork before him. He wondered which way to take.

  He turned to Lila. ‘Get up, keep moving.’

  She still had the gag in, thankfully, or he would never hear the end of this. She stood up, staring at him with undisguised hatred.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This way.’ He took a tunnel at random and set off once more.

  64

  ‘Where’s she gone? Where’s Lila? Where’s Morrigan taken her?’ No one answered him. No one knew. For most of them, Lila’s whereabouts weren’t a priority. He tried again. ‘Where’s Lila?’

  No reply. Everyone moved about in their own, shell-shocked little world.

  He was about to shout again, but someone came and stood directly in front of him, drawing his attention so he couldn’t look anywhere else but at them.

  Rachel.

  ‘Where is she, Rachel? Where’s Lila?’

  Rachel just stared at him. Anger burned in her eyes.

  ‘Where’s she gone? What’s that evil old bitch done with her? Tell me.’

  ‘This is all your fault,’ said Rachel. Evenly and steadily, her eyes never leaving his. ‘This mess. It’s all your fault. You’ll pay for what you’ve done. I’ll see to that. I’m police.’

  ‘Not after tonight. You’re finished in the police force. Now where is she?’

  Rachel just smiled. Tom grabbed her by the shoulders, held her tight.

  ‘Ow . . . you’re hurting . . .’

  ‘This is nothing to what you’re going to get if you don’t talk. Now again, where is she?’

  Rachel gave no answer so Tom, letting all his frustration and fear build up, shook her. Hard. Harder than he intended, trying desperately to make her talk, get some sense out of her.

  ‘Tom . . . don’t . . .’

  ‘Then tell me. Where is she?’

  Understanding seemed to dawn in Rachel’s eyes. Tom stopped shaking her. She looked round as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. Comprehending what had just occurred. She looked back to Tom, spoke as if she was coming out of a heavy anaesthetic.

  ‘Everything’s gone. Everything . . .’ Her curious look said that she wanted Tom to explain it to her. ‘It’s all gone . . .’

  ‘Yeah, it’s all gone, everything. Now where is she?’

  Rachel frowned once more. ‘I can’t think about . . . her . . . I’ve got to . . . got to save . . . my career now, my family. My . . . I’m police.’ She looked up at him, her eyes becoming clearer, more lucid as she spoke. ‘I’ve got to salvage something, make something good come out of this. What can I do? How do I do that?’ A desperate edge of hysteria creeping into her voice now. ‘There must be a way, there must be. I just have to think of it . . .’

  ‘You can start by telling me where Lila is.’

  She shook her head, wanting to stay in the comfort of her own mind, not wanting to reappear in the real world any time soon.

  Tom grabbed her by the shoulders again, shook her. ‘Tell me. Where is she?’

  That finally broke the spell. She stared at him.

  ‘Where’s Lila?’

  ‘I saw Kai grab her, pull her away.’

  ‘Kai?’ Tom had completely forgotten about him. Didn’t think he was even worth considering. ‘Not Morrigan or Isobel or whatever she’s calling herself?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Where to? Where did he take her?’

  She frowned. ‘Don’t know. Looked like they were heading towards the old mine workings . . .’

  Tom let go of her. She kept staring at him.

  ‘We could have had something, couldn’t we?’

  He turned his back on her.

  ‘Couldn’t we?’

  He ignored her, walked away.

  Noah barred his path. He was clearly in pain, cradling his broken hand, face contorted.

  ‘I’m not in the mood,’ said Tom, trying to move round him.

  ‘You need help. I know where he’s taken her. I can take you there.’

  ‘This some kind of trick? After everything that’s happened?’

  ‘No trick.’

  ‘Then why should you bother?’

  ‘Look around,’ said Noah. ‘It’s all turned to shit. You think I’m staying with this lot?’

  ‘Very pragmatic. Come on.’

  Noah led the way.

  Tom turned, allowed himself one final snapshot.

  Pearl was on the phone
, calling the police. Rachel was staggering round, completely dazed. The rest of them were trying to put out the fires and leave as quickly as possible. Back to their own lives, desperately trying to give themselves alibis. Emlyn was sitting by the altar, broken. Sobbing.

  Tom turned away. Followed Noah.

  65

  Kai reached another fork in the caves. He paused, deciding which way to take.

  Lila looked down at her hands, her wrists. They were red, skinned, where the bindings had worn away at them. But the rope was slack in Kai’s hand, looping down to the floor between the two of them. He hadn’t noticed. Recognising she might not get another chance, she pulled the rope hard and watched it saw through Kai’s hands, making him cry out at the sudden friction burns. She pulled harder until it was free of him. And ran.

  He was on her straight away, staggering over the rocks and debris, his desperation at losing her overriding anything else. He grabbed the trailing rope, pulled it tight. Lila collapsed to the floor, body stinging from the rocks beneath her.

  ‘You can’t escape,’ said Kai, gasping for breath. ‘These caves go on for miles in every direction. Every direction. Up, down, forward, back. You get lost in them you’ll never get out.’

  Her gag had loosened. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  He gave a bitter laugh, pulled her to her feet, tied the rope round his wrist, and kept walking forward, dragging her along behind.

  Eventually, more through luck than actual knowledge on Kai’s part, Lila thought, they reached the pit once more. Stopped at the rim of it. Kai looked at her. Still that bitter smile on his face. This time triumphant. The triumph of a small man.

  ‘This is where we say goodbye,’ he told her.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said a voice from the darkness.

  Kai swung the torch round. There stood Tom and Noah.

  ‘What the fuck? What . . . How did you get here before me?’

  ‘Because I know the way, Kai,’ said Noah. He shook his head. ‘You’re fucking clueless.’