by S. L. Wilson
Amber’s legs were shaking as she backed away from the church wall. The hooded man continued to watch her, his red eyes following her like a kestrel watches its next kill.
She lurched backwards, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, as the mysterious stranger hunched down over something lying at his feet. She set off running, tripping over her own shoes in the rush to get away. She didn’t dare look back, only concentrating on getting home in one piece.
PATRICIA TWITCHED the curtains briefly as she paced the living room. Ten o’clock the girl was supposed to be home and still no sign. The street was in darkness and the excessive rainfall caused tiny rivers to flow along the kerb and bubble up in the grates. The thunder rumbled as Patricia finally spotted a drenched figure running down the street.
She pursed her lips and crept out into the hallway. The door to the office stood open and Alan Noble was busy at the computer as she draped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
‘You work too hard,’ she purred. ‘If only that daughter of yours appreciated what you do and had the decency to be home when she promised. My poor lamb, you must be so worried.’
Alan glanced at his wristwatch, ‘It’s nearly eleven, Pat. Isn’t she home yet?’
‘Not yet, sweetie, but I’m sure she’ll have a wonderful excuse this time.’
The front door crashed open and Amber burst into the hallway, dripping wet from head to toe. Her long dark curls hung limply around her face.
‘Dad!’
‘Have you seen the time, young lady?’ he boomed, cutting her off mid-sentence and standing up from his desk. ‘This is the third time you’ve been late this week, Amber. That coffee shop woman is taking advantage.’
Amber tried again to speak, but her dad was clearly on one of his rants. There was no hope of getting a word in when he was like this. She looked past her father’s shoulder and spotted Patricia perched on the side of the desk. Her perfectly groomed hair was scooped into a flamboyant updo; she wore a pink Juicy Couture tracksuit with matching manicure and pedicure and was smirking.
Bitch. Amber realised she had been played; her dad would only break off from his work to notice her absence if he was interrupted.
‘…and if you think you are going to keep working at that coffee shop then you’re mistaken.’ Her dad carried on with his ranting but Amber snapped to attention as he finished his sentence.
‘I love that job, Dad, I’m not going to quit.’
She crossed her arms in a defiant gesture, the same pose she had used since she was six years old and he had told her she was getting a new mummy.
‘It’s late, sweetie pie, why don’t we all sleep on it?’ Patricia wound her arms around her dad’s waist and rested her head on his shoulder, ‘I’m sure Amber will see sense in the morning.’
The cold stare she gave Amber made her shiver more than her rain-soaked clothing.
Amber headed for the stairs. ‘I’m going for a shower.’ She ran up them two at a time before her dad could start another argument.
SLAMMING HER bedroom door she slumped back against it, the memory of what she had just witnessed at the graveyard still sharp in her mind.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she visualised the man with the red eyes, the screaming and howling. The events were horrific enough but what worried Amber more was the fact that she had seen this scene before. The dreams that invaded her mind every night were getting intense. They weren’t a muddle of images anymore, they were short visions that she couldn’t escape from. Only when the nightmare came to its gruesome end could she wake up, but this was the first time she had seen her vision happen in reality.
She felt sickened and yet she realised that, strange though it seemed, the run-in with her dad had upset her more than the horror she had just witnessed at the churchyard.
They were arguing more and more lately. She couldn’t do anything right. Patricia was always at her dad’s side exploiting the ill feelings between them. They had been so close before her mum left; a happy family who did happy family things like picnics and day trips. Then one day everything changed and she was gone. No note, no sign – she just vanished early one morning.
The police were sympathetic and searched for a few weeks, but with no leads there was nothing they could do but abandon the case. She’d left everything behind: clothes, shoes, make-up and all the sentimental stuff like family photos, trinkets and jewellery. It was as if she’d wanted to cut Amber and Alan out of her life. Her dad met Patricia soon after and moved her in straightaway with no discussion or family conference. She had gone through the house like a tornado, throwing out anything that had belonged to her mum.
AMBER WRIGGLED out of her wet jeans and T-shirt and padded down the hall to the bathroom. It felt good to stand under the hot stream of water. She scrubbed her skin as hard as she could manage, trying to wipe away the memory of what she’d witnessed, but every time she closed her eyes the image of the red-eyed man appeared.
She was exhausted when she finally collapsed into bed. This was her sanctuary; Patricia had re-vamped the entire house so it now resembled one of those minimalistic show homes from glossy magazines. The carpets, walls and furniture were all white, and Amber was petrified to sit anywhere in her own home.
Her bedroom, however, remained untouched; after yet another blazing row, her dad had agreed that Amber was old enough to decorate her own room. She hadn’t changed a thing. She kept the tatty pastel wallpaper with the tiny pink rosebuds, the pink curtains and even the threadbare pink rug on the floor. Her mum chose those things and she wasn’t ready to get rid of anything from a happier once upon a time. Her stuffed animals crowded together on top of her free-standing wardrobe, keeping a silent vigil, and her exam schedule from last term was still taped to the door.
To the right of her bed was a small alcove with a built-in desk her dad made when she was five. The shelves which filled the wall space were full of books and picture frames – the only photographs of her mother in the house.
As Amber lay in bed she could see the moon through her window. Her eyes were beginning to droop when a movement outside the glass made her heart freeze. She slowly leant over and turned off the lamp, plunging the small room into darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom and carefully edged over to the window, peeking around the curtain to see outside.
A shadow loomed up against the glass and Amber jumped, clasping her hand to her mouth to stop from screaming and waking her dad. Her heart hammered in her chest as the shadowy figure knocked sharply on the windowpane.
Since when do mysterious red-eyed men knock?
Tearing back the curtains she unlocked the window and swung it wide open.
‘About time, it’s freezing out there. English summers aren’t what they used to be.’
Tom threw his leg over the ledge and hopped through into Amber’s room. His blond hair was plastered to his head by the rain instead of in its usual perfectly coiffed spiky ensemble. He kicked off his trainers, discarded his coat and curled up on the bed like a cat waiting to be tickled.
‘Hey, cutie,’ he smiled up at Amber, ‘thought I’d pop round for the gossip, heard you shouting halfway down the street and figured you may need a shoulder to cry on.’
Amber laughed and snuggled up beside him on her bed. She and Tom had been best friends forever, their mums were in the same maternity ward, they went to the same schools and they had lived next door to each other all their lives. They were inseparable – something else Patricia disapproved of and consequently, so did her dad.
‘What happened this time?’
‘I was late…again.’
‘Plastic Patsy wouldn’t have liked that then.’ He mimicked Patricia filing her nails with a sour expression and Amber laughed.
‘She didn’t. The bitch must have spurred Dad on again and as usual he went off like Mount Vesuvius.’
‘So how come you were late? Up to no good?’ He winked and Amber felt her cheeks flush even
though she was totally innocent of any debauchery.
‘I wish… That would have been less traumatic than what happened to me tonight.’
She filled him in on the strange red-eyed man and the sounds from the cemetery, her fears that she may have witnessed a murder and that no-one would believe her story of visions merging with reality. All the talk of strangely dressed soldier men with swishing swords sounded like a bedtime horror story.
‘It’s weird talking about it now, it doesn’t feel real.’
‘It sounds pretty damn real to me.’ Tom shivered involuntarily and grabbing the throw from the end of the bed, he covered both of them and cuddled Amber close.
‘Don’t worry, cutie, we can check it out tomorrow in the daylight and if there’s anything strange up there we’ll report it. Probably best to mention it to your boss too so she doesn’t keep you late again.’
‘Thanks, Tom.’ She rested her head against his chest, her eyes growing heavy as Tom held her in his arms. He was like a big brother, guardian angel and surrogate mother all rolled into one, and as she drifted off to sleep she couldn’t imagine life without him.
THE OLD oak doors of the church creaked open, and she could make out the fiery pit beyond. Clinging to the ancient headstones she fought against the force that was trying to pull her in. She saw her mother walk in the direction of the doors. She smiled at Amber but her smile faded and then she was screaming. A hooded figure appeared at the doors and pulled her through, tossing her body into the flames. The scene shifted and all Amber could see was a line of young men, all a similar age to her. The hooded man pulled them inside the doors as they cried out in terror. There were hundreds of them, boys lined up one after the other, chained by their feet and hands. Some wore jeans and T-shirts while others wore outfits straight out of her history books. The hooded figure tossed them into the fiery pit with ease. As he shifted, his hood fell back to reveal a tattooed scalp. He snapped open his eyes and stared straight at Amber. She screamed.
The previous night’s heavy downpour had been replaced with bright sunshine, and the air smelt fresh and earthy as Amber and Tom retraced her steps down the road to town. Her shift didn’t start until ten but with her dad still giving her disapproving looks and Patricia bending and stretching with her yoga instructor, Amber had made a quick getaway, grabbing Tom on the way.
Amber regaled Tom with her unusual dream as they made their way along Station Avenue, the tall poplar trees stretching upward like roadside centurions marking their path. They planned to grab a coffee and a breakfast roll before Amber started work, and Tom hinted at the need for an in-depth discussion about possible brain diseases she may have developed. Amber laughed and dug him in the ribs, but they were silenced by the scene that unfolded as they approached the cemetery. The church grounds were teeming with police, a row of white tents had been set up along the gravel path and the whole area had been cordoned off with police tape. Men in masks and white jumpsuits were walking at a snail’s pace through the gravestones, their eyes fixed on the ground below them.
‘Move along, please,’ an officer ordered them.
Tom nodded his head in the direction of the church. ‘What’s going on?’ Even though they both had their suspicions, he couldn’t help but ask.
‘Nothing to worry about, just a disturbance, move along.’
Amber laced her fingers through Tom’s and he squeezed tightly to reassure her. There was quite a crowd gathered by the front of the church; every town resident appeared to have turned up to find out what had occurred under their noses. Tom positioned himself right at the front, as close to the action as possible, and started chatting to a couple of girls from their school. Amber watched the group of men in white jumpsuits as they huddled close to the spot where she had seen the mysterious hooded man the previous night.
‘This is evil of an epic nature.’ He pulled on her arm and looked around him wildly as he steered her away from the crowds. ‘They’ve found Kelly Timpson’s body in the cemetery...’
Amber was stunned for a moment; she didn’t know what she had expected but it certainly wasn’t the body of a girl who shared her maths textbook on a daily basis.
‘That can’t be right,’ she started to say, but Tom cut her off with a flourish of his hands to add, ‘…without her head!’
Amber felt that all too familiar wave of nausea rise again; she crumpled to the pavement without a care for any passer-by and stuck her head between her knees. Tom crouched next to her and rubbed her back affectionately.
‘Sorry, cutie, there really wasn’t a delicate way to break that kind of news.’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled as Amber struggled with the urge to vomit all over the town square.
‘Just a shock,’ she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself.
The other girls made their way over to where Tom and Amber were sitting; they looked gaunt, and Amber recognised them as Kelly’s best friends. She nodded her head at them in a sign of greeting and sympathy. To her surprise they settled down on the floor next to them.
‘So Tom’s filled you in then?’ Cassie, the thin blonde one spoke first. ‘It’s so awful, Kelly was so excited about the summer holidays. She and Danny were heading off to travel but now he’s missing and she’s…she’s…’ The sobbing started again and Cassie collapsed into her friend’s arms.
A cold trickle of fear rolled down Amber’s spine. Kelly was dead and her sixteen-year-old boyfriend was missing. Her vision of the line of teenage boys being tossed into the flames resurfaced briefly.
‘The whole town’s on lockdown,’ Tom told them. ‘All the shops are closing and the police are telling everyone to stay in their homes until they catch who did this.’
‘Maybe we should do as they say then.’ Amber stood and dusted down her jeans. Her hands were shaking and the pressure that had built up in her head was threatening to knock her off balance.
‘We need to get out of here.’ She grabbed Tom’s wrist. ‘Now!’
They exchanged condolences with Kelly’s friends once again and moved off down the high street. The hairs on the back of Amber’s neck prickled and she felt the eerie sensation of being watched. She glanced over at the cemetery, half expecting to see the creepy red-eyed guy waving at her from behind the tombstones; instead she spotted Patricia through the crowds.
As their eyes met, Patricia gave a little wave. Amber jerked her head in acknowledgment, ‘We have to move,’ she said, keeping her voice low and pulling Tom along after her.
THE HIGH street was full of people standing in small huddles gossiping about the ‘accident’ at the cemetery. Many of the shops had already closed, more out of the morbid curiosity of their owners than as a mark of respect. Even the coffee shop was deserted.
‘Guess I have a day off,’ Amber muttered under her breath as they stood outside the empty shop.
‘There is one place we could go, somewhere we may find an answer to why you dreamt about the church the night Kelly died.’ Tom’s expression was sheepish as he inclined his head and nodded to the small alleyway adjacent to the coffee shop.
‘You’re kidding, right?’
He gave her a sly smile and grabbed her hand. ‘It’s a magic shop, cutie, and they may just know something about your red-eyed friend.’
He pulled her down the short alley until they stood in front of a well-worn wooden door. It looked very much like the type of building you drew as a child, with a green front door in the centre and two picture windows on either side. The windows were cluttered with merchandise; candles of all shapes, sizes and colours were stacked to the left surrounded by books on mythology, folklore and magic spells. The right-hand window display was a little more mainstream with hand lotions, soaps and practical gifts.
A tiny bell chimed as Tom opened the door and they stepped inside.
‘Welcome,’ a musical voice wafted down from the mezzanine floor. Amber glanced up and saw the store’s owner leaning over the railing.
India Saks was probably one of the
most enchanting women Amber had ever seen. She always wore elaborate gowns, evidently indulging an air for the dramatic dress-up witch look. Although Amber had seen her around town they had never spoken. She and Tom had a silent understanding that he wouldn’t tell her about his interest in Wicca so that she couldn’t offend him by calling it hocus pocus.
When India floated down the tiny wooden staircase she looked like a royal princess arriving at a dance, her jet black hair hanging loose and tumbling around her shoulders. She wore a fitted purple dress which swished along the floor as she walked; it laced up down the front like a corset, with a low-cut neckline to show off her creamy skin. Her arms were covered in long black fingerless gloves; she tinkled as she walked due to the number of silver bangles on her wrists. A black choker necklace with a huge blue stone in the centre completed the look.
‘Good morning, Tom, nice to see you as always.’
Tom smiled and gave Amber a gentle shove in the back. She scowled at him before summoning all her strength to introduce herself without laughing.
‘Hello, Miss Saks, I’m Amber Noble. Tom has told me so much about you.’
India smiled and rested a delicate hand on Amber’s shoulder, motioning for them to sit on the green sofa which nestled under the staircase, surrounded by huge volumes of the books she sold.
‘A non-believer seeking help, today has been full of surprises. You’re okay, my dear, I won’t bite…or turn you into a frog.’
Tom laughed out loud as Amber’s skin flushed, but India’s gentle smile showed her she wasn’t about to be judged. A lesson that Amber accepted graciously.
‘After I finished work last night, I saw something…something weird in the old cemetery.’ Amber gave a dry cough then carried on. ‘I saw a hooded man with curved swords and red eyes. When we walked past this morning the whole area was crawling with police.’