But it wasn’t Lottie standing behind her.
It was Cal.
He stared at the door with round eyes, fists clenched at his sides. Before she could stop herself, Cynthia raised a hand and brought it down hard against his cheek. Cal staggered back as the slap echoed through the hall.
“This is your fault!” Cynthia cried, her body trembling. “This is what happens when you ignore the rules!”
Even in the dim light, she could see the print of her hand tattooed on his skin.
Cal straightened. He grew very still, his eyes burning into her.
“Do you know that man?” Cynthia demanded. She glanced over his shoulder to see the younger children had gathered in the hall behind. “Well, do you?”
Slowly, Cal shook his head.
“He seemed to know who you are!”
Somewhere upstairs, a door opened. A figure appeared on the stairs, a young man in his early twenties, who was broad and muscular, his face handsome in a boyish way. But there was nothing youthful about his eyes. Or kind.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
Cynthia stabbed a finger at Cal. “Trouble, that’s what. Don’t let him out of your sight, Heath. I need to speak with Jacob.”
Pushing past Cal, she marched along the hall, shooing the younger children out of her way. With each step, anger turned to deep-seated fear.
She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a visitor at the farm. No one was supposed to know they were here.
It was possible that the man was simply going door-to-door, hoping someone had spotted Cal, but what if it was more than that? What if he knew? What if his pretence was part of a larger plan to put an end to everything Jacob had built up?
She had tried to remain calm. To appear brusque, even. But now, she wondered if she’d been convincing enough.
Who was this man, anyway? He hadn’t acted like a police officer. Perhaps he was a private investigator, hired by Cal’s family, or perhaps some sort of bounty hunter, looking to hand him to the authorities in exchange for a cash reward.
Either way, Cynthia was convinced trouble was coming. She felt it, deep down in her gut like a tumour. It was the same feeling she’d had the first time she’d slept with Jacob. Of course, back then, she had been confused and scared, her feelings misguided.
She reached the office door. In her panic, she forgot to knock. He was sitting at his desk. Morwenna was leaning over him, one hand slung over his shoulder, the other reaching down his front. The desk masked what the girl was doing, but Cynthia was no fool.
She stood, frozen in the doorway, watching Morwenna’s arm move up and down and Jacob’s eyelids flutter. Jealousy and betrayal ignited her insides. But instead of flying into a rage, she pushed the emotions down and cleared her throat.
Jacob and Morwenna looked up.
There had been a time when Jacob’s smiles had been reserved for Cynthia and he’d told her she was the only woman he needed. But now, he only smiled at the Dawn Children and at the other younger, prettier women he’d since brought into the fold.
Women like Morwenna.
Jacob glared at Cynthia, the look of a master regarding an intruding servant. Was that what she had become—nothing more than a scullery maid?
It didn’t matter, though. None of it did. Because Cynthia loved Jacob. He was her everything.
She watched as he zipped himself up and gave a silent nod to Morwenna, who moved around the desk and swanned out of the room, smiling wryly at Cynthia.
Fighting the urge to lash out at the girl, Cynthia shut the door gently behind her.
“What is it?”
Jacob’s voice resonated through Cynthia’s body.
“There was a man,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Lottie went outside. She spoke to him.”
“What did he want?”
“He was looking for Cal.”
Jacob stared at her with unblinking, remorseless eyes, his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers intertwined beneath his chin.
“And you intervened?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say? Tell me your exact words.”
Cynthia nodded. It was a test. She had to answer correctly to win his favour.
“I told him this was private property,” she said, her mouth running dry. “That we didn’t know anything about the boy, and that he ought to go before I call my husband.”
“That’s everything you said?”
“Yes. I mean, I think so.”
“You think so or you know so?”
“I mean . . . yes. I mean, that’s exactly what I told him.”
“And why did you think it was best to intervene? To speak with this man?”
“Because of Lottie . . . because she might have told him some-thing she shouldn’t.”
She waited and watched, nervous as a dormouse, as Jacob continued to silently stare, his eyes giving nothing away.
“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” he said, at last.
“Do you really think so? What if he didn’t believe me? What if he comes back? It’s all Cal’s fault—if he did as he was told then Lottie wouldn’t follow his lead. He’s a bad influence, Jacob. He’ll be the downfall of us all!”
Jacob was silent and thinking.
“Who was that man, Jacob?” Cynthia continued, hysteria rising in her throat. “What if he tells the police? What if they already know Cal’s here?”
“How could they know?”
“Maybe something was found at Grady’s house.”
“It’s been three months. If they’d found something, they would have been here long ago.”
“I don’t know, then! Maybe Cal was spotted, someone saw him coming back this way. It’s all this sneaking off! He doesn’t care about us, Jacob. He doesn’t respect you like the others do! Being kept in that basement all those years has made him unbalanced!”
Cynthia caught her breath. She glanced nervously at Jacob, whose eyes pierced her skin.
“I’ve spoken with Cal. He won’t be going out again,” he said.
“But you told him before and still he—”
“Are you doubting me?”
He leaned forward. The shadows in the room seemed to grow longer, the air thinner.
Cynthia trembled.
Before, she would have never dreamed of doubting Jacob. He had saved her from a worthless life all those years ago. He had given her purpose. He’d made her feel loved. And yet, lately, when he looked at her, all she could see reflected back was disappointment.
It was because of Cal.
Jacob had been bewitched by him. He believed Cal was the way forward, the torch bearer.
Not for the first time, Cynthia wished the boy had never returned to the farm. She wished Jacob had never tried to rescue him from Grady Spencer’s basement.
Fixing her eyes on the floor, Cynthia shook her head. “Of course not, Jacob. I would never doubt you.”
Silence filled the room.
Cynthia glanced upward to find Jacob had already lost interest in her. She felt the panic again, slick and wet against her skin. This was Cal’s fault. He was putting everyone at risk. He was making her doubt the man she loved.
Cal’s behaviour had become so reckless that strangers were now showing up at the farm like bloodhounds chasing a fox. Why was Jacob so blind to it?
She stared at him, willing him to look at her, desperate to feel his gaze upon her skin.
But he would not.
“You should prepare dinner. Get Alison to help you.”
The words were like fists pummelling Cynthia’s gut, punching the air from her lungs.
“Yes, Jacob. Of course.”
“And ask Cal to come and see me. I think it’s time for his test.”
Cynthia wanted to laugh. Then she wanted to scream. Had Jacob lost his mind? How could it possibly be the right time after what had just happened?
But Cynthia nodded, pushing all her feelings down into nothingness.
<
br /> At long last, Jacob looked up.
“You mustn’t fear him,” he said, gazing upon her as if she were a dumb animal. A sheep. “Cal is our way forward. The deliverer of our message. He will lead the Dawn Children into greatness.”
Cynthia left the room, feeling Jacob’s eyes on her back. It wasn’t a pleasurable sensation, not like it had once been in those early days. Now, it felt like she was being appraised and judged. As if every movement she made was being tested for signs of betrayal.
And it was all because of that boy.
As she walked away, it was suddenly clear that she was growing to hate Cal. Not because he was dangerous or unbalanced, or because on more than one occasion he’d glared at her as if she were something to be erased. It was because he had Jacob’s love. Cal had stolen it from her.
As she made her way along the corridor in search of the boy, Cynthia wondered if she would ever be able to steal it back.
26
THE BLACK TRANSIT VAN rumbled along the tree-lined lane, its dimmed headlights pushing back against the darkness. The three passengers were silent. Heath was at the wheel, his cold, furtive eyes fixed ahead. Beside him, Morwenna was hunched over, a sheath of foil balanced on her knees.
“Christ, learn to fucking drive,” she growled as the vehicle lurched in and out of a pothole. “You’re spilling the gear!”
Wedged beside the passenger door, Cal watched as Morwenna lifted a plastic straw to her nose and lowered the end toward the foil. She snorted some of the powder, then pinched her nostrils between forefinger and thumb.
“Jacob always brings back the good stuff,” she said. “Heath? You want some?”
“I’m driving,” he replied, his voice flat and emotionless. The lane turned and Heath steered into the corner. The girl waited until the lane had straightened out once more, then licked her finger, dabbed it into the powder, and brought it to Heath’s lips.
“Open up, buttercup.”
Heath did as he was told, taking Morwenna’s finger into his mouth, allowing her to rub the cocaine into his gums. She tried to remove her finger, but Heath gripped it between his teeth.
He glanced at her, life returning to his eyes. Morwenna grinned. Heath relaxed his grip on her finger and shifted his gaze to the lane.
“What about you, loser?” Morwenna looked at Cal, who sat watching her from the shadows. She held up the foil. “Are you going to be a good little doggy and make Jacob a proud master?”
Cal lowered his gaze to the mound of cocaine. He shook his head. The girl shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you know what Jacob would say. This is your power and your glory, forever and ever, Amen.”
She giggled as she lifted the straw to her nose once more.
“Go easy,” Heath said, elbowing her in the arm. White powder spilled into the air.
“What the fuck?”
“It’s not all for you, Morwenna. Besides, we’re almost there.”
The car hit another pothole, throwing its passengers from side to side, spilling more of the drug.
Grumbling under her breath, Morwenna carefully folded the foil, sealing the cocaine inside, and rested it on top of the dashboard.
“So, who is this guy?” she asked. “Why’s Jacob chosen him?”
“We don’t ask questions. Questions are for doubters,” Heath replied. He switched off the headlights, plunging them into absolute darkness. The van slowed to a halt and Heath killed the engine.
Cal peered through the windscreen, his eyes quickly adjusting to the nothingness. Shapes and shadows began to form: the winding, narrow lane; the trees on either side, their skeletal branches reaching toward the van. Cal let out a breath. Usually, this was where he felt safest. Invisible, in the dark. A creature of the night.
But not tonight. That man—the one who’d been watching his mother—he was looking for Cal. He’d showed up at the farm, asking questions. Cal had heard the man say his mother was worried about him. He’d acted like he knew Cal’s mother, like they were friends. But that didn’t make sense, because just a few nights ago the man had stood and watched Cal’s mother almost kill herself, and he’d done nothing to intervene.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Heath reach for the foil on the dashboard and snap his fingers at Morwenna, who reached up and flicked the interior light switch.
No, something was very wrong where that man was concerned. But he couldn’t tell Jacob, or anyone else. He would have to find out for himself.
Heath snorted cocaine into his left nostril, then his right. Morwenna took another turn, as did Heath, switching back and forth until there was nothing left.
“The house is just around the corner. Everyone ready?” Heath said, crumpling the foil. Cal could already hear the change in his voice. The excitement and the anticipation. The pent-up anger preparing to be unleashed.
Morwenna let out a trembling breath. “Let’s do this.”
Cal heard the change in her voice, too.
Opening the driver door, Heath hopped out of the van, quickly followed by Morwenna, who slammed the door shut.
Cal’s insides tightened as he listened to the clump of their boots on the ground. Jacob hadn’t told him what the test would be. “You’ll know it when the time comes,” was all he’d said. “Be ready. Make the right choice. Prove you’re the leader I believe you to be.”
Now, sitting in the darkness of the van, Cal wondered how he could possibly know what the right choice would be when he didn’t even know what they were about to do.
He was going to let Jacob down.
The side door of the van slid open. He heard the dull clang of metal on metal, followed by Heath’s taunting voice.
“What are you waiting for, golden boy? Jacob’s not here to hold your hand now. Get out of the fucking van.”
His palms slick, Cal scrabbled with the door handle, then climbed out into the night.
Heath and Morwenna moved up to him.
“This is for you,” Heath said.
Cal took the claw hammer, feeling the weight of it in his hand. His insides grew even tighter as he saw the serrated blades of the hunting knives that Heath and Morwenna carried.
A coil of thin rope was hooked over Heath’s shoulder. In his other hand, he carried a torch, the beam pointing at the ground.
“Let’s go.”
Heath led the way, the torch pointed in front of him, giving them just enough light to complete the journey.
As they rounded the corner, the house came into view. A single porch light illuminated the front of the building, the rest of it was cloaked in shadows. It was an old house. The only house around. The exterior was granite, the windows latticed. Cal counted several of them.
Morwenna let out a breath. “That’s a big fucking house for one person. I guess whoever he is, he doesn’t need to worry about money.”
“A king in his castle,” Heath said. “I’m going to check around back. Wait here.”
They watched as he shot forward, his shoulders hunched as he cut through the yard and around the corner of the house, leaving the other two hidden in darkness.
Cal glanced at Morwenna, who stood silently beside him as they waited for Heath to return. He could smell perspiration beading her skin, could hear her breaths, quick and thin.
When Heath reappeared a minute later, he had undergone a transformation. His pupils were large and black in the torchlight. His nostrils flared. His chest heaved up and down. His whole body crackled with energy. Cal thought he looked like a dragon.
“Looks clear,” Heath said, the words fast and sharp. “He must be asleep, so knock loud.”
He took the torch from Morwenna and pointed the beam in her direction. Cal saw that her eyes were also round and black, her breaths shooting out in smoky, frosted plumes.
She nodded. Tightening her grip on the hunting knife, she opened her free hand and exposed the palm. Sucking in a breath, she drew the blade across the skin. Blood beaded in the wound. She raised her hand to her temple and smeared
the blood across her forehead. She did it all without a flicker of emotion.
Slipping the knife into her back pocket, she watched as Heath wrapped a handkerchief around her wounded hand.
Morwenna stood.
“Be ready,” she whispered to Heath, before turning to Cal. “Remember, this is your test. Jacob is counting on you. Don’t fuck it up.” Then she was on the move, faking a limp as she headed across the yard and toward the house.
Cal felt a jab of pain as Heath dug fingers into his ribs.
“Follow me, golden boy.”
They stuck close to the woodland, Cal crouching down behind Heath, until they were just metres away from the house. Morwenna glanced over at them and Cal thought he saw fear shining in her eyes under the porchlight.
Heath flashed the torch on and off. A signal that they were in position. With a trembling hand, Morwenna rapped her knuckles on the door.
They waited.
Morwenna tried again, this time curling her hand into a fist and hammering loudly. Cal held his breath as he saw an upstairs light come on. Beside him, Heath’s body tensed.
“As soon as she steps through the door, we go in,” he breathed. “Then it’s down to you. Don’t kill him. Just hit him hard enough to knock him out cold. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Heart pounding in his ears, Cal’s gaze darted from Morwenna to the claw hammer clenched in his fist. A second later, the front door opened a crack. The man inside had kept the chain on.
“Please, can you help me?” Morwenna said, her voice filled with distress. “There’s been an accident. My car came off the road and hit a tree. I’ve lost my phone. My sister—she’s still out there. . .”
Hidden in the shadows, Cal watched Morwenna play out her role, the blood in her hair shimmering in the porch light. She was convincing, he thought, the fear and panic in her voice palpable. And she was young enough and pretty enough to open any door.
“Please!” she cried, sobbing now. “Let me call an ambulance.”
There was a pause. Cal held his breath. He heard the rattle of the chain lock being removed.
“Of course,” the man said, his voice filled with concern. “Come in, come in. The phone’s just over here. . .”
Desperation Point Page 14
