Aaron took out the phone. He touched the screen.
He didn’t get any further.
Outside, a shaft of light cut across the yard. Aaron spun back toward the barn doors. The front door of the house was open. People were filing out of the house, carrying lanterns, heading straight for him.
Aaron was frozen to the spot.
Behind him, the darkness made a terrible noise.
More people were coming out of the house; women and children. Soon the lanterns would be close enough to expose him.
Aaron bolted forward. Keeping his step as light as possible, he slipped through the doors and headed right, around the side of the barn. Pressing himself up against the wood, he willed his body to become still.
He heard the echoes of footfalls on the yard, could hear the swish of clothing as they silently entered the barn.
Aaron turned. There was a small window above his head. Light flickered out of it.
He looked around on the ground, found a wire crate. Carefully placing it beneath the window, he hoisted himself up.
Blood pounded in his ears. He stood on his toes and peered in. Lanterns had been hung on hooks around the barn, illuminating the interior in flickers of orange light. The women and children he’d seen through the window were gathered in a large circle. There were others joining them, too. Young men and teenage boys. The woman with red hair.
Aaron scanned the faces of the children. He counted six; four boys and two girls who all looked between five and twelve years of age. All shared nervous expressions, but there was something else in those wide eyes. Something dull and empty, like dried up puddles.
At the centre of the circle stood a man, who was small and wiry, yet whose presence commanded attention. Next to the man, tied to a stake on the floor, was a pig.
Aaron was too frightened to breathe. Instinct kicked in. Grabbing his phone, he switched to video mode and tapped the record button. Pushing himself back up on his toes, he pressed his free hand against the wall, then held the phone up to the window. He watched as the man slowly raised his hands, until his body resembled a cross.
Where was Cal?
The man’s deep and hypnotic voice floated through the open barn doors. The children looked up, their eyes glittering with fear and awe. The young men and women stared at him, utterly in love.
“A new dawn is coming,” the man said, turning in a circle, making eye contact with each one of them.
The young women, men, and children repeated the words as if they were part of a familiar ritual, one they’d all spoken many times.
“You are the children of that new dawn,” the man continued, his face glowing with pride.
Aaron’s ankles were beginning to ache. The cold bit into him, numbing his bones. But he ignored it all, holding his breath so he could hear every word.
“The world we live in is cold and cruel, filled with depravity,” the man said. “Every minute of every day, children’s minds are being poisoned by lies on the television and the internet, by toxic adults who think they know best, who only want to corrupt and to defile. Every minute of every day, children are robbed of their innocence. They are abused, assaulted, murdered . . . their curious eyes plucked out.”
He drew in a breath, and slowly shook his head. “This world wants to take our children and force them down onto their knees. To keep you locked inside cages down in the dark, until all your power and all your freedom and all your desires are stripped away like flesh from bone. Until there’s nothing left of you but submission. Until there’s nothing left but weakness!” The man’s voice grew loud and angry. Around the circle, eyes were wide and staring. “Well, I say no more! I say we stop this sink into depravity. I say this is the dawn of a new age, where our children rule the world!”
The circle erupted with cheers and cries. The man held out his hands triumphantly.
At the window, Aaron gasped.
“It’s a cult,” he whispered. “It’s a crazy fucking cult!”
The man called for silence. He glanced down at the pig, which pulled at the rope and squealed as it tried to get free.
“Tonight is a test,” the man said. “To be ready for the dawn, you must be strong and powerful. Ready to strike down those who try to suppress you without thought.”
Aaron watched as one of the older boys broke the circle to bring the man a sharp looking butcher’s knife. Gripping the hilt, the man looked around at the children. Aaron saw the same expression sweep from child to child like a wave; a mix of fear and anticipation. The man’s eyes came to rest on someone Aaron couldn’t see.
He pushed himself up on the crate, his toes complaining painfully. When the man next spoke, Aaron caught his breath.
“Cal, step forward.”
Aaron watched as the sinewy, lithe young man he’d seen up at Desperation Point stepped into the circle. Even through the dirty glass, he saw the boy’s empty, dark eyes.
The man held out the knife.
“Take it,” he said. “Make the first cut. Show your brothers and sisters how powerful you are.”
Cal moved in silence and took the knife. He stepped back, the blade swinging at his side. He turned to face the pig. Behind him, the circle broke apart and formed into a line.
Aaron was frozen, transfixed with horror. He wanted to turn away, to run from this place and never look back. But he had to see.
Cal stepped forward, the knife pointed at the animal. The pig thrashed and squealed. Cal made the first cut. The squealing grew high-pitched and unbearable as blood began to flow.
Cal silently handed the knife to the next in line, a boy no older than eight years old, who stepped forward, his eyes large and round. He glanced across at the man, who smiled and nodded like a proud father.
Aaron thought the boy would cry, that he would drop the knife and run. But he brought the knife up and did as he was told. Then he handed the knife to a girl behind him. It went on, each child taking the knife and plunging it in to the poor, helpless beast, until they’d all taken a turn. Until the pig was still and the barn was silent and the floor was a dark, glistening pool.
Aaron had watched it all in breathless horror, reeling from the shock of what was unfolding inside. This was not what he’d come here in search of. Yet, this was what he’d found. And he would never unsee it. Never again, not until the day he died. The question now was what did he do about it?
Inside the barn, Cal and a handful of the older children were dragging the dead pig to one side. The Dawn Children formed a circle again. What Aaron saw next drove a stake of terror straight through his heart.
A man was brought in, his hands tied behind his back, a sack thrust over his head. His feet were bare and he was naked except for his underwear. He was brought into the centre of the circle and forced onto his knees, his hands tied to the stake in the ground. He knelt there, swaying from side to side, not struggling, not fighting back. Aaron wondered if the man had been drugged.
A murmur rippled through the circle. Looks of confusion followed looks of uncertainty. The man who was leading all this horror stepped inside the circle and placed his hand on the bound man’s head.
“And now the true test begins,” he said. “But this test is only for you, Cal.” He held out the knife, which was still dripping with pig’s blood, and beckoned to the boy. “This is where you show us the true nature of your leadership.”
40
IMAGES OF HIS GRANDMOTHER’S horrified face filled Cal’s mind.
He was frozen, his eyes fixed on the bound man, who moaned and muttered inaudible words beneath the sackcloth.
“Take the knife,” Jacob commanded. “Show the Dawn Children what they must become. Show them how you will lead them along the path of glory.”
He held out the knife, waiting.
“Take it, Cal.”
Slowly, Cal stepped forward and took the blade. He flinched as the sounds of Melissa’s terrified screaming echoed all around him.
Jacob’s eyes twitched. He reac
hed over and pulled the sack from the man’s head.
“This man,” he said, “is a molester of children. A depraved pervert who abused his position of power, who the law saw fit to find not guilty and release back into the world, where he remains free to continue his deplorable acts.”
The man was beginning to wake. Cal saw his eyelids flutter open then close again, his bruised and battered face wrinkle into a frown. The man opened his mouth and let out a deep groan.
Jacob jabbed a finger at the man’s temple. “Left alone in a room with any one of you,” he said, pointing his finger at the youngest in the circle, “this man would corrupt you and defile you. He would take away your power, make you weak. He would break you down until you obeyed his every command. This man is legion. This man is everywhere in this world. And he must be stamped out! He will be the first of many to be destroyed, so the Dawn Children may rise and take their rightful place of power!”
Cal watched as the man looked around, terror dawning on his face as he realised his predicament.
“Do it,” Jacob commanded. “Deliver this man to the cause.”
Around the circle, children stared at each other, shifting uncomfortably on their feet.
“Eyes forward!” Jacob bellowed.
Startled and afraid, the children obeyed his command, all turning their eyes on Cal and the man. One of the children began to cry. The young woman standing beside him reached out a hand, then drew it back as Jacob shot her a warning glare.
“Do it,” he repeated, returning his gaze to Cal. “Show the children what must be done. Become the leader they need.”
Cal stepped forward. The man began to beg for his life.
“Please. What is this? Please, let me go!”
Cal came closer. He raised the knife above the man’s head.
You let me down earlier, boy. Don’t do it again.
“Please,” the man wailed, tears flowing from his eyes. “Let me go. I’ve never hurt anyone. It was a mistake. A misunderstanding!”
“Do it, Cal,” Jacob whispered.
“I’ve done nothing to you. I won’t say anything, just let me go,” the man pleaded.
Cal took another step forward. Something moved at the corner of his eye. Something up at the window. He ignored it, bearing down on the man, waving the blade in his face.
Cal’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. His lips pressed tightly together. He thought of the blade slicing into his grandmother’s chest. He thought of Melissa’s tiny body asleep in the bed. He thought of the toy dinosaur his mother had left out on the back doorstep.
I can’t.
You can. You must. Let me show you how.
“Do it!” Jacob bellowed. “Do it now!”
Cal raised the knife. He tightened his grip on the handle. And suddenly it wasn’t the man before him, begging for his life, but Cal’s mother. Inside his chest, a dull ache began. He tried to focus all his anger, all his rage, but the ache washed over it like a tidal wave.
He stared at the man’s begging eyes. He stared at Jacob’s face, which was contorted with gleeful bloodlust.
The knife wavered in his hand. His arm trembled.
I can’t do it.
Slowly, Cal lowered the knife and hung his head.
Anger rolled over Jacob’s face like storm clouds.
“As I expected,” he hissed, his eyes burning into Cal’s. “You’ve grown weak. You don’t have it in you to lead these children. And I know why. Our father had been right about you all along. I tried to reason with him, to tell him he was wrong, that we could show you the ways here. That we could make you forget your family ties. But he knew. That’s why he kept you in a cage. Because he knew that one day, you’d want to return to your family. But I thought we were your family, Cal. I thought the Dawn Children were your brothers and sisters. But you can’t do it, can you? You can take the life of an animal. But you can’t take the life of another human because you can’t let go of your attachment.”
He's right. You shame me. You’re nothing but a disappointment.
Cal stared at the space between him and Jacob. The knife hung by his side, but his fingers began to tighten around the hilt.
“I was wrong about you, Cal,” Jacob said, pity and defeat in his voice. “I should never have thought that you could lead us while you still cling to your mother. I should never have allowed these children to have faith in you to show them the way.” He came closer, a strange expression on his face, until his lips brushed against Cal’s ear. “Which is why you’ve forced me to take steps.”
Cal looked up and met the man’s gaze.
“I have to sever those attachments, Cal. Or you’ll never be what you must become. As painful as it will be for you, the cord must be cut so that you may never look back, only forward into the dawn.”
Realisation birthed in Cal’s mind. He looked from face to face, noticing that Heath and Morwenna were missing.
“You have a choice,” Jacob said. “You can kill this man and finally accept your place with the Dawn Children, or I can use the radio to send a message to Heath and Morwenna, who will have almost reached your mother’s house by now.”
Cal stared into Jacob’s fathomless eyes. The world burst into fire.
“The clock is ticking,” Jacob said.
On the ground, the man began to scream.
“Let my boy go,” he bellowed. “Take me but let him go.”
There was a long moment in which all that existed in the room melted away, leaving only Jacob and Cal, and the darkness that burned between them.
A single image played in Cal’s mind: his mother lying in a pool of blood, her lifeless eyes staring up at him. Suddenly, he knew Jacob was right.
Despite everything, he could never let go of his mother.
Cal turned, raised the knife high above his head, and plunged it into the man’s chest.
The man stopped screaming. He stared up at Cal in disbelief. Then he coughed, spraying blood from his mouth across Cal’s stomach.
It was as if a trigger had been pressed somewhere deep in Cal’s mind. He tore the knife from the man’s chest and brought it down, again and again, in a fevered frenzy. Blood spurted and sprayed in arterial arcs. The man choked and gurgled, then collapsed over.
The children in the circle, watched with wide, horrified eyes. Cal was an animal: cutting, stabbing, hacking.
Jacob reached out and gripped Cal’s arm. Cal turned on him, eyes black like a shark’s, lips pulled back into a snarl. Jacob prised the knife from his grip.
Cal came back to the room. He staggered to the side, dripping with blood and sweat, his shoulders heaving up and down as he drew in ragged breaths.
The others were silent, frozen like statues.
Jacob smiled, slowly nodding.
“This is your leader,” he said to the others. He held Cal’s limp arm in the air. “This is the man who will lead us into a new dawn.”
But the others did not look revered by Cal or overcome with awe. They looked terrified.
Cal stared from face to face, his chest heaving up and down, rage and anger burning inside him. He was all powerful, all mighty. He could tear this world to pieces and no one could stop him. And yet that emptiness still pervaded. The fire was still hollow.
He turned and looked at the dead man lying on the ground. He stared down at his own blood-drenched clothes. He waited for Grady Spencer to voice his congratulations, but his mind was strangely silent.
And then something caught Cal’s eye again. Movement, at the window. He turned his head. And saw the man who’d been watching his mother that night up at Desperation Point.
41
THE BOTTLE HIT THE ground hard and shattered into pieces. Nat swore under her breath as she watched a foaming trail of liquid run downhill. She’d stolen from the wine shop again, a couple of beers and a half bottle of vodka. One of these days she was going to get caught.
The vodka was long gone, downed as she froze to death sitting on the promenade r
ailings, watching the white surf of the ocean illuminated in the darkness. Now, she was drunk. But not enough to drown the panic that was spreading inside her like an unstoppable forest fire.
Her fight with Aaron had pitched her into a place she spent most of her time trying to avoid. But he’d pushed all the wrong buttons and now here she was, in a pit of despair, hating the world, hating Aaron Black, but most of all hating herself.
Was she really that stupid, thinking a hack like Aaron would happily welcome her into his London home while she looked for a place of her own? How had she even entertained such a ridiculous thought? She was an idiot, a total loser, thinking for even a second that Aaron Black cared about her.
Aaron Black didn’t give a shit. The only thing he cared about was saving his career. Maybe not even that.
But it was her own damn fault. Hadn’t she learned by now that the world owed her nothing? That she could rely on no one? Not even Rose.
She turned, swaying on her feet, feeling stupid and reckless and humiliated. Below her, Devil’s Cove sat quietly in darkness, a few twinkling lights pushing back against the shadows.
“Fuck this place,” she whispered.
If she didn’t do something about it soon, she would be stuck here forever. And she would rather die than let that happen.
Sucking in a deep breath, she bellowed at the top of her lungs: “FUCK THIS PLACE!”
The words soared over the town and into the night sky. Nearby, a dog started barking.
Nat stared down at the broken bottle. She drew back her foot and kicked the glass, sending sparkling shards tumbling downhill.
People like Aaron Black didn’t deserve her help.
Singlehandedly, she’d discovered that Grady Spencer had been married. Singlehandedly, she’d discovered that Grady Spencer had fathered a child.
No one else had done that. Not even the police.
And how had Aaron Black rewarded her?
By throwing money at her like she was a cheap whore who’d served her purpose, and who he’d now grown tired of.
Desperation Point Page 21
