His truth – as it had been Jacob's truth before.
The problem with Jacob's truth was that it had been distorted by his adult mind, twisted with misguided views of the outside world. It was true that the world was cruel and full of monsters. But the reality was that nothing could be done to keep the children safe from harm.
Jacob believed that striking at the worst kind of monsters – paedophiles, rapists and murderers – would strike fear into evildoers’ hearts, forcing them to leave the innocent unharmed. But there were too many of them. Cut off one head and another would grow in its place. Heath knew this with unfailing clarity. Which was why his truth was something more radical. His truth would set the world on fire. It would make it rain bone and blood.
The Children of the New Dawn would ascend to a new world filled with light. A world free of monsters.
He raised his hands like Jesus on the cross, staring into the soul of each captivated child. The Dawn Children stared in wonder and adoration.
“The New Dawn is upon us,” he said, his voice bold and commanding. “In two days, we will emerge in a new world, where all those who hurt us shall kneel down in reverence. They will know our names! They will call us kings and queens! They will know the Children of the New Dawn!”
He continued spinning slowly, hands outstretched, lantern light making his skin sparkle and his silhouette dance and shimmer across the walls. The children gasped and laughed, their faces sharing the same mesmerised, drug-fuelled elation. Even the older teenagers were succumbing. Morwenna, too.
“For too long, the adults of this world have controlled you through violence and rape and abuse. They've tried to poison your minds. Punished you when you questioned. Chastised you if you spoke up. Well, no more! The New Dawn is upon us and they will burn in fire!”
The room erupted with excited chatter. Heath watched his subjects, eyes glazed, smiles frozen, electricity crackling around the circle, uniting them all. He held up his hands again. The children fell silent.
“Adults cannot be trusted. Even those who we thought cared for us. Adults we called Father and Mother.” More silence. But now a few uncertain glances flickered in the light. “They tried to fool us. Tried to make us believe they were different. But they only sought to use us for their own gain. Father abandoned us, left us for the monsters. And now Mother – Mother has betrayed us.”
He glanced at a teenage boy, no older than fourteen, who stood by the door. His name was Kit. He was young and confident. Years of abuse had sharpened his anger into a cruel blade. Kit gave a nod and left the room.
Heath continued his slow turn, staring at the swaying bodies before him, noticing the dilated pupils and half smiles. Some of the children were giggling.
Kit returned with two more boys. Cynthia was between them, hands tied behind her back, her face bruised and swollen. The circle opened up and she was thrown roughly inside. The children watched her trip over her own feet and land heavily on her stomach. The circle closed up again and the children all joined hands. An unbreakable chain.
Heath stared down at Cynthia. So pathetic, he thought. Like a sick dog. Leaning down, he helped her turn over and get onto her knees, where she swayed from side to side, seemingly half-conscious, her eyes glazed, barely registering what was about to happen.
But then Cynthia blinked and looked around the room. She was waking up.
Heath turned his palms towards the ceiling.
The children stood.
“In two days, we go into the light,” he said.
Cynthia twisted her neck, searching the children’s faces.
“Where’s Luke?” she cried. “What have you done with him?”
“Soon we enter the New Dawn. We all must be ready. We all must play our part. Even those left behind.”
He stared at Cynthia. The children stared at her, too.
“We loved you,” he said. “You were our mother and you betrayed us for your own selfish means.”
Cynthia screwed up her face. “Where is he? What did you do?”
“Our mother cast Luke out into the world of monsters!”
“No!” Cynthia shrieked. “You’re lying! I would never hurt a child. I would never –”
“She pushed him out and left him to die! And why? Because she was jealous. Jealous that she has not been chosen to enter the New Dawn!”
“He’s lying, children! It’s not true!”
“Luke is dead.” Teeth mashing, Heath jabbed a finger at Cynthia. Around the circle, horrified eyes glittered like dark pools. “For that, you must be punished.”
Tears ran down Heath’s face, the streaks glistening and sparkling. Cynthia had been a good mother to him. Together with Jacob, she had rescued him from a life of hell. She had cared for him as if he were her own. She had healed his wounds. Sung him to sleep. She had cradled him when he’d woken screaming from bad dreams. Which was why her betrayal hurt so much. Which was why what came next hurt even more.
He looked up and the circle opened again. Kit entered, a plastic cup carried gently in his hands. He handed it to Heath then retreated. The circle closed once more. Heath stared into the contents of the cup. A quiet voice in his mind pleaded with him to set Cynthia free. She can’t go with you, it said, but she could stay here to live out the rest of her days.
Cynthia was weeping, her eyes puffy and red. She had betrayed the Dawn Children, but she had also saved them. She could not survive in this sick world alone. She had been rescued once, too. Better, then, to set her free.
Cynthia looked up at him, her swollen cheekbones changing her appearance. “You killed him,” she moaned. “You killed Luke. That’s why he isn’t here.”
Heath came closer, dropping his voice to a hush. “Everyone has a part to play, Cynthia. Everyone except you.”
He raised the cup, turned full circle, addressing the children who were all now fully under his control.
“We set Mother free!” he cried. “We send her to Father! We thank them for leading us towards the New Dawn!”
He snatched up a handful of Cynthia’s hair and wrenched her head back. Her face twisted into a grotesque mask as she hawked and spat in his face.
“Jacob would be ashamed of you!” she hissed.
Thick globules of saliva dripped off Heath’s chin. He leaned in, eyes cold and dead. “Jacob was weak and pathetic. You were made for each other. Now you can rot together.”
He pulled the roots of her hair again. Cynthia screamed.
Heath rammed the cup into her open mouth and poured the contents down her throat.
Cynthia choked and spat and shrieked.
Dropping the cup, Heath staggered back, excitement making him dizzy. The room grew deathly silent.
Cynthia dragged in a breath. Then another. She glanced desperately around the circle.
“My children! My beautiful boys and girls! Don’t listen to him – he’s lying to you! It’s all a lie! This is –”
Cynthia doubled over. She glanced up at Heath in horror, then back at the children. Her face turned red, then a distressing shade of purple. She screamed in agony, fell on her side. Writhed and thrashed like a captured wild animal.
“It burns!” she wailed. “Oh God, it burns!”
Heath watched her convulse and spasm violently on the floor, spit and blood flying from her mouth.
She screamed again, a wretched sound of pure agony.
Then she was silent, body thrashing with the sound turned down, foam pouring from her mouth, eyes rolled back in her head. It went on like that for five more minutes, Heath and the children watching with frozen expressions.
At last, Cynthia’s body grew still.
Heath stared into her open eyes, the whites now red. He leaned over her, hawked and spat.
He turned to the children, saw their expressionless faces. His gaze drifted back to Cynthia's lifeless body, at her dead, staring eyes. He thought he saw her smiling at him. Then Morwenna came into focus, nodding at him, bringing him back.
“This is our New Dawn,” he said, hands clasped together in prayer. “In two days, we will be saved.”
21
CARRIE WOKE WITH A jolt; someone was in her room. She blinked and rubbed her bleary eyes. The events of last night came rushing back. She’d been at The Shack with Kye. They’d become emotional. They’d walked back to her place for more drinks, and then... Her head started throbbing at the base of her skull. She’d been sober for months and now here she was, her mouth as dry as sand and her body in the throes of a hangover. She rolled onto her side, hair springing up at awkward angles, eyelids sticky with sleep, body slick with sweat.
Kye was on his feet, naked and turned away from her, beads of perspiration sparkling between his shoulder blades, early morning light seeping through the window blinds and slicing across his back. She watched him for a second as he fumbled on the floor for his clothes, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he slipped his jeans over his legs.
“Leaving so soon?” Carrie said, a slight smile on her lips, a slighter sting in her chest.
Her voice startled him. He turned, eyes seeking her out before quickly looking away. Finished buttoning his jeans, he sat down on the edge of the bed and started pulling on his socks.
“Dad has an appointment at the hospital. I promised to take him.”
“You're not even going to stay for a coffee?” She shut her mouth, hating the neediness in her voice. It wasn’t even like she wanted him to stick around. Well, not for much longer than a coffee and a farewell.
Kye smiled, said nothing. He was like Dylan in that way; not much of a conversationalist. The thought of Dylan made the sting in her chest grow barbs.
Carrie pushed herself up on her elbows and checked the time on the bedside clock: 7:46 on a Friday morning. Thank goodness Melissa was with her grandparents or she’d be late for school. Not that Carrie would have entertained the thought of bringing Kye back home if Melissa had been here.
A car engine started up outside. Somewhere down the street a dog barked.
Kye pulled yesterday's T-shirt over his head and slipped on his shoes.
“So this is a surprise,” Carrie said, smiling again. “I mean, the last person I expected to sleep with after the breakdown of my marriage is a ghost from the past.” Even in the half-light, she saw Kye flinch. “Sorry. I make bad jokes when I'm feeling awkward.”
“I remember.”
She sat up, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her shins.
Now fully dressed, Kye stared at her. “You’re feeling awkward?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Maybe. A little, I suppose. But I had a nice time.”
“Me too.”
She searched for something else to say, but the throbbing at the base of her skull was working its way into her brain.
She hadn't gone into The Shack planning to sleep with Cal's father, but emotions had been running high and drinking had left her feeling vulnerable. The sex had been hurried and passionate, but she was still working out if she’d enjoyed it. It had been consensual, absolutely, and it had felt good, but at the same time there’d been an emptiness to it. An underlying sadness that felt too much like grief.
Was that what they had been doing? Grieving together?
Kye shifted on the bed, eyes flicking towards the clock.
“Look, this doesn’t have to be awkward,” Carrie said. “We’re both adults. Both single. You are single, aren’t you?”
“I’m not an asshole, Carrie.”
“Well, then, we had a bunch of drinks, followed by a nice time. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”
She watched him closely as he nodded, thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Kye stood, shot her another glance, then slipped a hand inside his jeans pocket.
“Here.”
Carrie stared at the folded slip of paper in his hand, then back at his face. “What is it?”
“I meant what I said last night, about the money. I want you to have it.” He unfolded the paper to reveal a cheque, which he held out towards her with a nervous hand.
Carrie’s face grew hot. The throb in her head reached the back of her eyes. “We have sex and now you're giving me a cheque?” She stared at it in disbelief. “I feel so ... wholesome.”
“Oh. Yeah. I can see why that might look bad.” He didn’t lower his hand, though. “But it’s not why I'm giving this to you and you know it.”
She stared at the cheque, too far away for her to see the exact sum, but she could make out several zeros. It would be so easy to reach out and pluck it from his hand. Suddenly the court fees wouldn’t be keeping her up at night, her mind crunching numbers. Maybe there would even be some left over that she could use to get out of this town.
But then she would be indebted to Kye and she didn't know how she felt about that.
Besides, if she took the money and there was some left over, she really would have to do something about leaving Devil’s Cove. Even if it was to move somewhere else nearby.
“You know, the last bank closed in town last year. What am I supposed to do with a cheque?”
Kye stared at it, then at Carrie, confusion rippling his brow like a puppy whose owner won’t throw the ball.
“I’m sure the post office will accept it. Or, I don't know, take a bus to Truro,” he said quietly.
His brow knitted together and in an instant, she could see Cal staring at her with those same sullen eyes. It hurt.
The cheque wavered in his hand.
Carrie stayed where she was.
Shrugging, Kye set it down on the bedside table. “If you don't want the money, fine. I was saving it for him, anyway.”
Carrie’s shoulders sagged. She brushed fingers through her knotted hair, suddenly aware that she must look a fright. But what did it matter? He’d seen her first thing in the morning before and last night was a one off. Besides, they'd both lost a son. Seeing each other looking a little rough was never going to change that.
Kye stood in the doorway, body half-turned to the outside world. “I should go.”
“Are you coming to Devil’s Day tomorrow?” It was the only thing she could think to say.
“I don't think so. Too many ghosts from the past...”
She winced. Ouch.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Carrie. I hope the money helps. Sorry that things got out of hand.”
Sorry. It was a strange word to describe their night together. But she supposed she was sorry, too. Sorry for shutting Kye out when Cal had first come back home. Sorry that she hadn’t asked him to stay all those years ago, even though she was certain they would never have stayed together, even if he had stuck around. But maybe, just maybe, Cal would have stuck around, too.
He turned to go, grasping the door handle.
“Kye, wait.”
He looked at her, eyes sad and full of pain. There was so much grief in this room, choking the air, making them both sick.
“You were never a shitty dad. We were just young, that's all. We didn’t know any better.” Her voice suddenly cracked. “You should go and see him. At least think about it.”
Kye nodded, but she couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just agreeing so that he could leave. Then he was leaving, without saying another word, and she was watching him disappear. She listened to his feet on the stairs. Heard the front door open and close. Climbing out of bed, Carrie padded over to the window and opened the blinds.
“Oh, great,” she moaned. Dottie Penpol was out in the street and making her way over to Kye. It was as if the woman had a sixth sense for scandal. Carrie watched them, feeling her heart sink into her stomach. Then Kye was making excuses and hurrying away. Dottie smiled to herself. Carrie shut the blinds before the woman could see her.
Throwing herself on the bed, she chastised herself for getting drunk and sleeping with her ex. Then she leaned over and picked up the cheque. Her eyes grew wide. Kye had amassed a small fortune over the years, as if ban
king the money was like banking his guilt. Carrie felt a rush of grief. She would make sure it all went to Cal. Every last penny.
Slipping the cheque inside the top bedside drawer, she reached for the TV remote and switched it on.
Regret about last night was already beginning to whisper in her mind. Devil’s Cove was a small town. She’d been drinking with Cal's father at The Shack, where they’d been spotted by several locals, including fishermen friends of Dylan. And now the town’s most accomplished gossip had just seen Carrie’s dirty secret sneaking out the front door. It was only a matter of time before Dylan found out. Then it wouldn’t matter they were in the middle of a trial separation.
Feeling wretched, Carrie switched on the news and turned up the volume. A terrible, cloying familiarity pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
On the screen, uniformed police officers were stationed along a perimeter of police tape, their expressions stony and unreadable. The camera pulled back to show a crime scene surrounded by trees. At first, Carrie thought it was Briar Wood, but then she looked closer and saw the vegetation was different.
The camera panned to show the white suits of a Crime Scene Investigation team standing by, then came to a rest on the serious face of the on-site reporter. A body had been found, he said, his voice empty of emotion. A child's body; and although the discovery was fresh and the body had yet to be identified, the reporter was speculating that the search for missing ten-year-old Lindsay Church had been brought to an abrupt and horrific end.
22
THE TINY BODY WAS LAID out on the forest floor, the upper half concealed behind the thick trunk of a tree, leaving only the legs and feet exposed at awkward angles, one shoe on, the other nearby and flipped on its side. All around, birds sang joyful songs. Sunlight pierced the canopy and dappled the ground. A playful breeze rustled leaves on branches. The air felt wrong. Thick like tar and heavy with death.
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