by Graham West
Maddy spun around, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
Before Alex could answer, Reverend Francis appeared in the pulpit, tapping his microphone. The congregation fell silent while Maddy continued to stare at Alex.
“Good morning, everyone.” The minister’s voice filled the church. “Here’s hoping you’re all well this fine Sunday.” Francis glanced over his spectacles. “We have some visitors with us this morning, and I’d like you to make them welcome, particularly as they have asked me to request your help.”
Some members of the congregation looked around, hoping to spot the imposters. Dennis Blakely sat two rows in front with his wife, who shifted uneasily in her seat.
Francis continued, “As you may know, there was a fire at Mosswood where a young man lost his life, and there has been much speculation in the local press as to the cause of the fire. I received a phone call from the manager of the adventure park, and I have to confess, I was a little abrupt in my dealings with him. For that, I would like to apologise publicly.”
Blakely sat motionless, staring directly ahead. His wife turned to look at him only briefly.
“It is unfortunate that there have been those who have slaughtered in the name of Christianity, just as there are those who have slaughtered in the name of other faiths.”
Murmurs of resentment rippled through the place. No one appreciated Christians being likened to any modern-day terrorist. Not in Tabwell.
“And when I came here, I hoped I was amongst friends—like-minded people—who believed in the love and tolerance that Jesus preached.” Francis paused—for effect, Alex thought. “But in 1750, several men, members of this church, took twelve innocent women into Mosswood forest and murdered them.”
The blonde kid stopped and looked up from his sketchpad.
“They were burned alive, screaming for mercy. Why? Because those men—those evil men—believed the women were practising witchcraft. They purported to act in the name of God, despite the fact that the Church had publicly condemned the witch hunts.” Francis glanced over his congregation. “Time does not diminish the gravity of this injustice, and that is why I will not rest until each of those women’s remains has been recovered and placed in a coffin.”
The murmurs grew louder.
Francis thumped the lectern. “Each of those twelve women will be buried in the grounds of this church,” he thundered, “and may God forgive those men for the vile acts they carried out in his holy name!”
This time, Blakely turned, open-mouthed, to look at his wife. Francis moved closer to the microphone. “So I am asking, if any one of you would like to help Mr. Blakely and his staff to look for the remains of those women, please speak to me at the end of the service.”
Alex turned to see Maddy staring up at the pulpit, and he hoped she had forgotten all about his clumsy proposal.
Francis held up his hand. “Now, let us start with the first hymn…”
***
Outside the church, Laura Nelson handed the picture of the twelve coffins to Jenny with a tired smile. “Cody wants to be there when you go hunting for those bodies.”
“We’ve told him that he’s too young,” Peter Nelson added.
Jenny patted Cody’s head. His hair felt like silk. “Hey, you can always come along and play in the pool or something. I’m sure Mr. Blakely wouldn’t mind.”
“Awesome!” The little boy beamed, turning to his mother. “Can I play in the pool?”
Laura nodded. “As long as it’s okay with the man who owns it.”
“It will be,” Jenny assured her. “Are you volunteering?”
Peter Nelson shrugged. “I guess I can go in. Laura can stay with Cody.”
“It’ll be on Tuesday. We need to get things moving. We’ll meet around lunchtime.” Jenny glanced down at Cody Nelson’s drawing and felt a coldness envelop her spirit. The image seemed to rise from the page like three-dimensional art; the twelve crosses, the trees—those trees. It was real, too real. She quickly folded the paper and shoved it deep into her jacket pocket.
Francis was waiting for them at the church gate. Jenny was joined by Blakely and his wife, along with Alex and Maddy.
“I’m not sure you’ll get many helpers,” he said sadly. “I think most of these parishioners would rather let bygones be bygones.”
Blakely held out his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you for your support. I’ll speak to my father about putting up the cash for the funeral. I’m sure we can sort something out.”
“I’m sure we can. It’s the right thing to do. I can see that now.” Francis pulled out a slim, leather-bound book. “I called upon Mr. Matthews to surrender this volume,” he said. “It’s a rather harrowing account by our chief hunter, who seems to have taken great delight in recording a blow-by-blow account of the women’s demise.”
Blakely took the book, glancing only briefly at its cover, which bore no title.
Francis smiled. “Matthews was most reluctant to let it out of his sight, but I think my position in the community swung it for me.”
“I’ll take great care of it,” Blakely promised.
The minister’s smile faded. “Unfortunately, you must. Personally, I’d rather burn the damned thing.”
Jenny waited until the minister’s attention had been diverted by another parishioner. Only then did she tug at Dennis Blakely’s arm. “I’ve got Cody’s picture here,” she said. “I think you need to see this.”
Chapter Sixty
Penny handed back the book. “This makes pretty grim reading.”
Blakely studied the black leather cover of Fredrick Tunstall’s book, wondering if the witch hunter’s DNA was still all over it. The thought made his blood run cold as he opened it at the first page. There, written with meticulous neatness, were the names of the twelve women:
Winifred Miles. Age 22.
Elizabeth Allen. Age 23.
Mary Ashford. Age 20.
Anne Barton. Age unknown.
Margaret Capes. Age unknown.
Alice Combs. Age 19.
Joan Drake. Age 28.
Susanna Fleming. Age 26.
Grace Gorman. Age unknown.
Isabella Harmon. Age 24.
Rachel Jones. Age 18.
Abigail King. Age 19.
Millicent Lake. Age 18.
Ruth March. Age 21.
Blakely turned the page and began to read.
God Almighty has called upon me to record the demise of the aforementioned women who, in accordance with God’s law, have been put to death. The flames that took them to face their maker will be as nothing compared to those which they will endure within the pit of Hell for all eternity.
It was with eight other men, who do not wish to be identified, that on the tenth night of October, on the stroke of midnight, we took each of the women from their homes, each having been informed that we believed they were practising witchcraft. Two of the women were married to drunkards: gin is cheap and easily accessible, the filthy liquor having long been the curse of this town. We took the women into the forest, two at time, bound and tied.
An hour after midnight, we had all twelve witches together. They were untied and stripped naked, depriving them of the dignity that this society affords those who walk in righteousness, before casting them into the dark waters of the forest lake.
Having survived the icy waters for longer than any human would, we were satisfied that they were indeed guilty, each having sought the healing of demons through their allegiance to Winifred Miles, who sacrificed her child to Satan himself. We then took them deeper into the woods, where we found a small clearing, beyond the cottage in which Winifred Miles practised her evil. We bound the women hand and foot to trees and set them alight. Their screams and cries were most unpleasant but we all knew that our work was done. God would smile upon us.
The trees on which they burned fell, leaving a small area, to which we returned the following day, and we buried the remains of the witches, side by side, covering
them with soil and bracken. We felt it expedient that the owners of Grange Manor remain unaware of our exploits, lest they should become concerned that the bodies of these evil souls lie so close. We have not, at any time, been required to cross their gardens as there is access to the forest by a narrow track.
I pray continually for the protection of my Lord as I still hear the cries of Winifred Miles, who vowed revenge from beyond the grave.
Blakely closed the book. It was little wonder Francis had changed his tune. Penny was watching him from across the room.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Blakely nodded. “How do eight men murder twelve women and get away with it? What about the husbands? What about the Church? It doesn’t make any sense!”
Penny shrugged. “I remember doing all that stuff in school. You can bet your life they were protected by the local parishioners, never mind The Lord. It’s not like today. Superstition was rife, and many of the locals will have believed the women actually were witches.”
“Religion has a lot to answer for,” Blakeley muttered.
“People were frightened. Kids were dying because of the polluted water, but there was so much ignorance regarding hygiene in those days, so when Tunstall came along claiming that the devil was running rife in the town, there would be enough people ready to believe him.”
Blakely nodded. “I guess. But surely there would be at least a handful of clued-up people in a whole town.”
“But they weren’t a gang of known thugs. They were probably respectable men of God, and we all know how powerful the Church was in those days.”
“Tunstall? A man of God? Give me a break!” Blakely placed the book on the table. “You know what I think? This whole frigging town was in on it. And I’d say Francis thinks so too.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Rob turned to Josie as they pulled into Mosswood. “This is bizarre,” he muttered. “Looking for dead witches in a burned-out forest. You couldn’t write this shit.”
Josie laughed. “I’ve got to admit, I was thinking exactly the same thing.”
“If it was anyone but Jenny, there’s no way I would be going back into that place.”
“It’s funny, though,” Josie mused. “That time you went in with Darren, you went all weird. But the second time, when the fire happened, you were okay. Why? If it’s something to do with dark energy, you would have been affected both times.”
Darren sat in the back with Danni, scrolling through his phone, while Kayla slept, her head propped against the car window. He looked up. “If you ask me, the whole thing is crazy. And we’re crazy for going back in there.”
“You don’t have to,” Danni said. “I won’t think any the less of you.”
Darren frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah. if anyone calls you a chicken, I’ll tell them!”
“Tell them what?”
Danni grinned. “I’ll tell them, yeah, you’re right, but he’s my chicken!”
Darren rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Anyway, I’m not backing out.”
Rob pulled up outside the reception. A cleaner walked over to the window. “If you’re here to help then you need to make your way over to the hotel,” he said. “And good luck. I think you’re going to need some waterproofs.”
Darren groaned, looking up at the clouds rolling in overhead. “It’s gonna piss down. But at least we won’t be getting another fire.”
Kayla opened her eyes and squinted around her. “We’re here?” She pulled out her earphones. Darren muttered something under his breath that Rob didn’t catch. There was still tension between them. Darren blamed Kayla for Jenny’s marital problems, although he’d not gone as far as confronting her directly.
They pulled up outside the hotel to find Jenny waiting for them at the entrance. Isaac was in his buggy, playing with a toy car. Jenny was pale and tearful.
Josie whispered as they approached, “Try to sound upbeat about everything, she’s vulnerable at the moment.”
Rob nodded. “I will. I’m not even going to mention Jake’s name, unless she does.”
“Well, you’ll just have to assure her it will all work out.”
“Yeah? Will it, though?”
Jenny grinned as they got out of the car.
“She’s going to put on a show,” Josie murmured. “Go along with it.”
“For Christ’s sake, Jo!” Rob growled. “I don’t need a running commentary on my daughter’s emotional state.”
Kayla was within earshot. “Hey, you two, pack it in!”
Rob didn’t reply, resisting the temptation to bring up the reason Jake had walked out in the first place.
Josie smiled. “Well done,” she hissed, still stinging from his rebuke. “At least you managed to keep your mouth shut that time.”
She’d fired the last shot before they reached Jenny, who hugged them all with childlike enthusiasm. “It’s so good to see you!” she gushed, embracing Kayla as if nothing had happened. Rob couldn’t help feeling relieved that the greeting seemed so natural and sisterly. “How long are you staying?” she asked.
Rob looked up at the empty house, which had lost none of its original charm, despite looking more like an expensive country hotel with new glass entrance doors and meal-deal menu boards. “Darren’s got some time off, and we’ve put the dogs into those luxury kennels Jake was working on a couple of months ago, so we can certainly do a couple of nights.”
Jenny beamed. “That’s brilliant. I could do with some company.”
Rob turned at the sound of another car pulling up behind them. Laura Nelson emerged from behind the wheel. She greeted them with a brief wave before opening the rear door; Cody slid from his seat with a fistful of pencils.
“She’s looking after the kids while Peter helps us search for the bodies,” Jenny murmured as Laura’s husband climbed out of the passenger seat.
“No one else here?” Peter called, slamming the door shut. Jenny shook her head. “Didn’t think so. Half of the locals are on Zimmer frames anyway.”
Rob smiled to himself. Jenny had told him all about the service on Sunday, and he imagined Francis had ruffled a few feathers with his opening comments. “We don’t need them,” he called back. “We’ve got the A team here.”
Peter Nelson laughed. “Did you see Cody’s drawing? The one with the graves?”
Rob hadn’t, but he guessed Jenny was going to show him. She’d already mentioned the peculiar shape of the two trees behind the twelve crosses.
Dennis Blakely appeared at the hotel entrance. “I think we’re going to need some waterproofs,” he said, walking towards them while doing a quick head count. “How many are there? Nine? Is that right?”
It was a rhetorical question, and no one answered. Everyone looked up at the black clouds that threatened to burst at any moment.
“Maybe we should wait,” Danni said, huddling up to Darren, who placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder.
“No, we need to do this today,” Blakely insisted.
A young man appeared from the hotel with a large canvas bag slung over his shoulder; he carried several spades and was followed closely by a girl dressed in an oversized blue wax jacket.
“This is Alex and Maddy,” Blakely said, introducing the couple. Maddy smiled and nodded without saying a word.
Rob saw the look on Danni’s face. She was staring at Maddy, who caught her gaze. For a moment, their eyes locked. Both girls smiled awkwardly before looking away. Alex also saw the brief silent exchange, but chose to ignore it.
“You’re gonna be a bit hot in that coat, hun,” Josie said to the girl. Rob had thought the same thing. Only the cloud cover prevented the temperatures rising into the top twenties.
Maddy laughed. “True. But I ain’t wearing one of those!” She pointed at the bright-yellow plastic ponchos Alex had taken out of his bag.
“Oh my god!” Kayla giggled. “They’re gruesome!”
“They’ll keep you dry,” Blakely replied without a f
licker of a smile.
“I’m gonna look like Donald Duck,” Darren muttered. “Anyone puts this up online and they’re dead!”
Alex laughed and handed him something that resembled a bright plastic tent.
Blakely suggested they all go to the staff quarters and get some coffee before they set off. Once they were inside and sitting down, Jenny pulled Cody’s drawing out of her pocket.
“This is what I was telling you about, Dad,” she said, handing over the A5-sized sheet of paper folded in half.
Rob opened it. The sketch was like nothing he’d ever seen before. It certainly didn’t look like the work of a young boy and could almost have been mistaken for a black and white photograph. “Jeez…this is incredible.”
“Yes, and look at what’s above the crosses.”
Rob was still awestruck by the detail in the foreground but found his eyes drawn to the two trees that seemed to have taken on an almost human shape—like two old men, bowing, their heads touching, creating an archway over where the twelve crosses stood together. The gnarled branches reached down like protective arms while the roots snaked along the ground like tentacles waiting to wrap themselves around the limbs of any intruder.
“Do those trees actually exist?” he thought aloud.
“I’m absolutely convinced,” Jenny said, “and so is Dennis.”
Rob took one long last look at the picture before handing it back. “Then this is what we’re looking for. If we find those trees, we’ll find those women.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
The rain started thirty minutes in to their search. Jenny had left Laura with the usual supplies of kiddie snacks and drinks. Isaac was a pretty undemanding child and seemed quite happy as long as he had juice and a biscuit of some description, but Jenny was already wondering how long they would have to spend in this place.
No one had wanted the party to split into groups. Fire had ravaged the forest, and although the undergrowth had been reduced to charcoal and the trees stood like skeletal shadows of their former selves, the whole place was as dark as Jenny remembered. It was almost as if the branches and leaves that blocked out so much natural light had been replaced by something else: the evil committed by those men remained there, hanging like a canopy above them.