“Of course. You’re right. I’m sorry...I’m just tired. It’s been one hell of a night.”
He tried a smile but it didn’t quite work. Not that Margaret noticed. She could almost feel cogs and wheels clicking into place in her head as bits of the situation began to come together.
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
Bill Reid shook his head. “I’m having nothing more to do with this. I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough,” he said and left the room without saying another word.
Margaret turned to Tony.
“Tell me,” she said.
The boy sat on the arm of her chair and told his story again. Through it all Margaret sat quietly, barely moving except to take small sips of whisky. She eyed the bottle hungrily but fought down the urge...a clear head would be needed to face this.
When the boy finished speaking he showed the teacher the book. She held the cracked leather in her hands, she looked at the thin paper that poked from the rip in its covers, but she couldn’t figure out where it fitted in. She put the paper back in the book and gave it back to the boy. Tony made sure the paper was secure before tucking the book inside his belt.
“What are we going to do?” the boy asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “We could go the police, but I don’t think they’d believe us...they’d be more likely to lock us up in that psychiatric ward. I thought that Bill might help us...that he might know something being religious and all, but it looks like it’s just you and me kid.”
She held out her arms and the boy came into them. She hugged him tight to her, ignoring the sudden flaring pain in her hand.
“I know something though,” she said, almost to herself, “If there’s a way to get Brian back, then I’ve got to go back to that old house.”
~-o0O0o-~
Bill Reid leaned over the kitchen sink and splashed cold water over his face, again and again, but the heat inside him couldn’t be cooled that easily.
Bloody vampires…It’ll be witches and broomsticks next.
But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, there was coldness in his heart. The book had shaken him, shaken him hard. And then there were the two people in his study.
When it had just been the boy he could pass it off as a combination of shock and an overactive imagination. But now there was Margaret Brodie as well. He knew her as a hardheaded, practical kind of woman, someone not prone to flights of fancy. In fact, quite the opposite – he’d thought of her as a pragmatist, and one of little imagination at that.
He splashed more water on his face and breathed deeply.
Too much whisky and not enough sleep, he thought. Things will be clearer in the light of day.
It was only when he turned off the tap that he heard it...the swell and crash as someone pounded at the organ in the church, the noise loud enough and the vibration so severe as to send the light above the table swaying wildly.
It was no hymn that was being played. Bill didn’t recognize the tune, but a church organ was never meant for twelve bar blues, no matter how well it was being played.
He ran into the hall and found Margaret and the boy already there, staring wide eyed at him.
“Stay here,” he told them. “There’s someone messing around in the church. I’ll get the policeman to sort them out.”
As he opened the door and stepped out into the night he wondered why the policeman had not already apprehended whoever was in the church. But the abuse of the organ had lit anger in him, something that he could focus on, a tangible fact that he could do something about.
There was no sign of the young policeman in the church grounds...only the tarpaulin- covered body and the garish colors of the tape marking the scene of the crime. Bill took a second, longer look, but there was still no movement.
“He must be in there already, “Bill muttered, and as if to confirm it, the sound of the organ suddenly stopped.
Bill walked across the short path to the church, aware that he still wore his carpet slippers, feeling the dampness settle into his socks.
“Probably catch my death of cold,” he muttered to himself.
The church door stood open, and anger flared stronger inside him as he stepped over the threshold.
“Did you catch them?” he shouted, but there was no reply.
“Constable?” he shouted, aware that he hadn’t even bothered to ask the young policeman his name. “Are you there?”
His voice echoed back at him and deep at the back of the church there was an answering giggle. The whole place shook as the organ kicked in, the bass lines pounding through the old building threatening to shake it to the ground.
Bill could barely see the nearest pew to him, and the rest of the church sat in deep shadow. He reached out and leaned against a stone pillar, taking comfort from its age and stability, feeling the rough grain of the stone against his chin. He ran his face over the stone, feeling his morning stubble rasp against it...surely proof that he was awake and this was not a dream.
He had seen off vandals before...usually just kids who saw something inherently funny in desecrating a church, but once it had been more serious...one morning he’d found a headless black cockerel in the aisle, and black, greasy candles in the pulpit. He had reported that one to the police and they had passed it off as kids, but he hadn’t been so sure. Maybe this was the same lot again. If so, he would still see them off.
He wasn’t afraid.
Not here in his own church.
Not yet.
“I warn you,” he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the organ, “There’s a policeman outside...and I’ll make sure that you get charged with trespassing.”
The music stopped abruptly, and there was another giggle, this one higher pitched, more childlike, that echoed around the rafters along with the vestiges of the organ’s drone.
“The House of God is always open,” a voice said, almost a chant. “A resting place for weary sinners. And we are so weary.”
There was another giggle, one that went on and on, rising until it was a laugh, a hoarse mocking laugh that rang in the rafters.
“Go on. Call the police. But I think he’s too far away to hear you,” another voice said, this time from his left, a girls voice...a very young girl.
For the first time Bill started to feel afraid.
There was a crash and the pew beside him fell heavily to the stone floor. Bill stepped forward, aware that he was getting further from the door.
“This is indeed a House of God, and I’d ask you to respect that,” he called into the darkness.
A deep chord boomed out from the organ, and although it was only the same instrument that he heard every week, there was a tone of defiance in the sound. And then there was more giggling, a whole chorus this time, at least four, and possibly five different voices.
He moved further into the church. For the first time in his experience the building felt cold, a bitter biting iciness. There was no sense of the warmth he usually felt, none of the joy in his faith.
“Come out here where I can see you.”
The organ boomed again, a fast ragtime version of the funeral match.
“I don’t think you want to see us,” a child’s voice called out of the darkness. “But we’ll see what we can do.”
Bill could just about make out the looming bulk of the pulpit ahead of him, but there was something about it that was wrong, a darker shadow near the top of the structure.
Even as he tried to make out what it was, it moved, the shadow hardening until he realized that he was looking at the silhouette of a child.
“Get down from there,” he shouted, but before the words were out of his mouth the child had jumped, six feet up and eight feet away, but it covered the space between them in one leap, striking Bill hard in the chest and sending him sprawling against the pews.
He wasn’t given time to react, much less catch his footing. They were on him in less than a second, small hands grasping at his cl
othes, at his hair and at his skin.
He tried to sit up, but there was a dead weight pressed against his chest, a weight that began to shift and crawl up towards his chin. A hand gripped a handful of his hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head up and back and the weight on his chest moved, faster than he would have thought possible.
There was a sudden, sharp pain just under his dog collar and he felt a hot wetness pour down inside his shirt followed by moist, sucking sounds just under his ear. After a little while he stopped struggling.
He prayed, but he got no answer.
~-o0O0o-~
The Jaguar pulled up outside Brian’s house, but he almost didn’t recognize the place.
The grass of his small patch of lawn glowed silver and emerald, and the conifers leading up the driveway shone in a blue gold aura that swayed and flowed in the night air. His privet hedge crawled and slithered as if alive and the whole front garden sang in a high soprano.
The house in comparison was just a lump of gray stone that looked dead and cold. He looked up and down the row of houses, but they were all the same, lifeless blocks.
“No time for gawking,” his driver said. “We’ve got to get inside. Quickly.”
Brian followed the other man’s gaze to the east and saw that the sky was starting to brighten. And with it there was a drone in his head, a high buzzing that was growing in intensity as the stars started to wink out. The first pink fingernail of the sun’s crescent poked above the horizon and sound and light exploded in Brian’s mind.
“Inside,” the other man said, and pushed Brian away from the car towards the door.
Brian fumbled for his keys; almost dropping them as the explosion in his head went up a notch. His skin felt hot and tingly, as if he had suddenly acquired a sunburn. Fine smoke drifted up from his fingers as he struggled to turn his key in the lock.
He was bundled inside the house, the door slamming hard behind him, but the light from outside still blinded him even through the frosted glass, and the sound in his head was rising to a thudding crescendo.
“The room without windows…where is it?” the other man said, “Quick. We don’t have much time.”
“The toilet. First on your left,” Brian said, and followed the tall man into the room.
He shut the door behind them.
“Lock it,” Donald Allan said, letting out a sigh. He looked around the small room then laughed out loud. “I’ve slept in some strange places in my time, but I can safely say that this will be a first. Just don’t tell anybody about this...it’ll destroy my image.”
“Sleep?” Brian asked. “Listen...I’m confused. What is going on?” His voice still sounded distant and strange. It echoed in his head as if his skull was empty.
He also realized that they had not switched on the light, but he could see every fixture in the room. There was a mirror behind him, but he wasn’t ready to face that yet...he was afraid that if he looked into the glass he might not see anything there. The drone in his head had faded now, distant and muted but still there.
“Forget most of what you thought you knew,” Donald Allan said. “You don’t need a coffin, and you’re not going to be afraid of crosses...not unless you were overly religious. What you do need is sleep...you’re not going to be able to help it. It will happen every morning with the rising sun.”
Before Brian could ask any more the tall man sat down on the floor.
“You take the bath,” he said.
“On one condition,” Brian said, falling into the spirit of the moment. “You tell me what is going on, and what happens next.”
Donald Allan signed.
“What happens next is up to you. As to what is going on...I’ll need to tell you some more history. But first...will you please get into the bath. I don’t want you falling on me when the sleep takes you.”
Brian stepped into the bath and sat down.
As the other man began to speak Brian felt himself slipping into darkness, so that he was no longer sure if he was listening or dreaming.
~-o0O0o-~
“Legend has it that Shoa is one of the Eldren, a creature molded directly from the blood of Yoriah the first Brother in the days before mankind.
“Another legend says that he was once a man and he was corrupted by an ancient evil in the wildwood before the ice came.
“Whichever of them has the truth, and I don’t know the answer, there is no denying that he is old and that he wields great power.
“I was under his spell for many years, and in that time I did his bidding. If you don’t mind I won’t dwell on the abominations I was forced to take part in.
“He has been awake three times since Amro banished him...three times in more than four thousand years.
“The first was during the Crusades.
“The Knights of St John were seekers after power, and they woke him from his sleep there in the desert near Sinai. I don’t know how they found him, but I suspect that even as he slept he worked his spells and charms. You have seen that he is capable...the owner of that house would never have put in the mosaic otherwise.
“When Shoa appeared before them the Knights were like children, excited that their primitive conjurations had yielded such results, but they couldn’t control him...no son of Adam has that power.
“He grew in strength quickly that time, gathering disciples to him like moths to a flame. But he was rash.
“He saw that the works of men had grown great, works of stone and timber that had been inconceivable at his last wakening, and he coveted them, for the Eldren had never learned the arts of building and creating.
“Men of power and rank were drawn to him, noblemen of the great houses of Europe kneeling in homage. He began to amass an army, a dark legion that would wash over the earth like a wave.
“But his ambition outgrew his strength, and he came to the attention of the Brothers of the Temple.
“And the Redeemer herself came out of the fastness in the north with many of her followers. They fought, tooth and nail, and the blood ran like a river in the desert.
“And finally there was only Rokar and Shoa remaining there on the sand.
“Rokar called down the old power with words and signs, and she reduced Shoa back to the blood from whence he had come.
“But she was not strong enough to completely destroy the old one, she used all that was in her in bringing him down, and her withered, torn body was found in the desert sands. And there in her hands she held all that was left of Shoa.
“The Redeemer was taken back to the fastness in the north, where her body is lain in a room at the top of the temple. It is said that she will come again when she is needed.
“The remains of Shoa were buried deep under the sands of the desert away from the sight of man.
“But there were those among the Knights of St John who remembered, and in remembering they kept part of the old one alive.
“That was the first time.
“The second time began with my sojourn in the desert...that much you already know.
“After my change he kept me with him for long years. He was cunning this time, building his strength quietly, and in secret, for he could see that the sons of Adam were stronger, and they had weapons that might be able to damage even him.
“His rage was redoubled and he hated the sons of Adam greatly. But even more he hated our kind, the ones who have turned our backs on the old ways of the Eldren.
“He hunted, far and wide across the world. And where he went, I went with him. And many were those of Rokar’s followers who fell forever before us.”
~-o0O0o-~
The man paused, and his breathing was so quiet that Brian thought he must be sleeping, but soon the voice resumed...quieter now, more subdued.
~-o0O0o-~
“It was in my twenty-seventh year with him that we first called up the Serpent.
“I don’t know what the Serpent is, so don’t ask me, but I know it is old, and it has power, power that it
lends to those who bow down before it.
“It was evil. I felt it. It wanted more than my obedience. It wanted me completely, soul and all.
“Shoa wanted me to pay it homage. But, even after those long years of servitude, even after the innocent blood that I had spilled, still I found that I had a small spark of defiance in me.
“He punished me for that, and I believe that he might have given me to the sun if the stranger hadn’t come.
“I have never seen anyone with the strength, the conviction that the stranger possessed as he held Shoa in his gaze. Even the old one seemed in awe of him.
“He brushed Shoa aside as if he were no more than a child and he sent the Serpent back to whatever deep place it had come from.
“Like I did to you, he gave me a choice. I chose freedom, and I helped him put Shoa down into a grave in the earth, binding him with the sword and the old words.
“Over the years since I have watched over this place, ensuring that the old one stayed sleeping. I have learned spells and sorcery to help me in my task, and I have learned, and even written, the legends of our kind. Back near the beginning I even put a copy of the book in the grave with him, along with the spells we used to put him there in the first place.
“I would have retrieved them tonight, but your need was the greater, so tomorrow we have to go back to the house and put him down again.
“I’ve spent centuries preparing for this day, but if you ask me if I’m ready, I’d have to say that I don’t know.
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll find out.”
The voice faded to a quiet drone and Brian slept, dreaming of temples and serpents.
~-o0O0o-~
Margaret and Tony stared at each other as the clock ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet room, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence.
“Maybe we should go and see what’s going on?” Tony said quietly, as if a whisper was all he could manage.
Margaret shook her head. “I’ve wandered about in the dark enough for one night. Besides,” she said, staring at the last mouthful of whisky in her glass, “I expect Bill and the policeman have sorted it out by now.”
Eldren: The Book of the Dark Page 17
