Evil Never Dies

by S M Hardy

  Then it came to me. I assumed they would enter the chapel via the stables, the closest entrance, taking them in right at the front by the altar. I would carry on across the back of the building and enter from the poolroom, where it was darker. It wasn’t the best of plans, but it was all I had. I had to hope by the time I reached the poolroom I’d have come up with something better.

  Crouching down by the hedge, I waited until they’d filed into the stable block, then, slipping the goggles back on, started to run. A light flared and I stopped dead as a man wandered into view, his hand cupping his lighter as he lit a cigarette. Judging by his clothing, white shirt and black or navy tie beneath a dark-coloured military-style jumper, I guessed he was one of the security personnel. The tip of his cigarette glowed white through the goggles. He pocketed the lighter and, leaning against the wall, pulled out his mobile. I waited until he was engrossed in scrolling down his messages, then, keeping to the lawn, ran past the courtyard and to the west wing and the poolroom. I’d have to hope the door was open. If not, I’d be adding breaking and entering to my list of crimes for the evening.

  The rear of the house was in darkness. Even so the back of my head grew cold and all my senses screamed danger. I scanned the building, the night-vision goggles cutting through the dark so well I could clearly make out the poolside furniture through the glass of the bi-fold doors of the poolroom. My head was icy and my neck prickled like I had bad sunburn. I was more than conscious that out here in the open there was a fair chance of me being spotted should anyone look out across the lawns.

  I hurried towards the edge of the patio keeping low and the closer I got to the poolroom the louder my senses screamed. I stopped to once more scan the building. The patio was empty apart from a round table and a set of matching chairs. The umbrella was down. Beyond it were two sunloungers, one with its back to me, the other … I peered through the gloom. A thin trail of smoke rose up above the first lounger. I started around the edge of the patio, trying to get a better view, and I saw movement. Someone inside the poolroom.

  I ducked down as a door swung open and a robed figure leant outside.

  ‘Come on, for fuck’s sake,’ a voice called. ‘We’re gonna be late.’

  ‘All right, all right, keep your hair on. I’ll only be a second.’

  ‘You’d better be, the old man’s proper riled,’ and the figure disappeared inside.

  I pushed the goggles onto my brow and let my eyes adjust. The silhouette of a large, hulking figure rose up from the sunbed and he wasn’t exactly hurrying. The end of his cigarette glowed dark red as he took one last, long drag before he flicked it away over the edge of the patio and onto the grass. If I had my way it would be his last cigarette. This would be my only chance. I put the goggles in my pocket and waited until he started towards the poolroom door and I was on the move. I didn’t have time to be stealthy. I had mere moments and whatever I did it had to be clean. No knife to the throat or through the chest for this guy.

  I was as quiet as I could be considering I was running, but the thud of my feet in the near silence gave me away. He spun around before I could reach him. His hood was down, his mask was up across his brow and, instead of looking shocked or surprised, he smiled and instantly sprung onto the balls of his feet bringing his arms up in a fighter’s stance. Of all the bloody luck, the man was trained in self-defence.

  He should have called out, but he didn’t. He wanted this. He wanted some action. He’d probably been one of the men who’d been told to escort Emma and Laura to the house and felt like he’d missed out on the fun of chasing me. I thought I recognised him – maybe I did, but from where escaped me.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he said with a sneer. ‘They didn’t manage to catch you, after all.’ He turned his head and spat on the ground. ‘It won’t make a tuppence worth of difference. We’re still gonna shag your old lady and the other bitch, then cut them some before they die.’

  He was trying to goad me into doing something stupid. He was an idiot. A man with something to lose is a dangerous man and, contrary to common belief, a man with a temper on him doesn’t always make stupid mistakes because of it. Sometimes it makes him almost unstoppable because he becomes driven with no care for his own personal safety.

  He shouldn’t have alluded to Emma and what they might do to her. I saw him grinning at me through a red mist. If it wasn’t for the fact I needed it to be a clean kill he would have died in a red mist of his own. As it was, all I wanted to do was get my hands around his throat and choke the life out of him.

  ‘Come on then, old man. Come and get me.’ He bounced on his feet, weaving from side to side. I wasn’t sure who he was putting the show on for. There was only him and me. I took a step back. ‘Scared, are yer?’

  A cloud crossed the moon and I could no longer make out his features. I didn’t need to. I could see where his head was. I feigned left, he took a swing at me and I caught his right arm at the wrist and above the elbow and yanked it downwards and across my rising knee. I heard his ulna snap and he let out a squeal, which was abruptly cut off as I grabbed either side of his head and twisted. With a sickening crack he immediately went limp and it was over before it had really begun. As I lowered him to the ground it occurred to me from where I’d recognised him and if I could have killed him again I would’ve. Last time I’d seen him he’d been standing at the side of the road being showered with pebbles and dust by an irate horsebox owner, having held me up for the vital twenty minutes that could’ve saved Simon’s life.

  He was naked beneath the robe. I left him lying beside one of the loungers where he wouldn’t immediately be seen. I didn’t have time to hide him away somewhere. If everything went the way I hoped it wouldn’t matter and if it didn’t … the same applied.

  The robe reached my ankles. I rolled my trousers to my calves and took off my shoes and socks, exchanging them for his sandals. They were a tad big, but easily tightened by moving the buckle in a hole or two. I put on his mask and pulled the hood of the robe up over my head so, from a distance, I shouldn’t be identifiable as not being him.

  Carrying the sawn-off was problematic. I would have to leave it somewhere in the chapel where I could get to it should I have to. Not ideal, but the best I could do. I still had one blade and I slipped it into a deep pocket I found within the robe, to join his lighter, cigarettes and what felt like another smaller dagger. I was ready.

  I hurried into the poolroom and across to the bar where the open trapdoor waited for the dead man to follow his mate and descended into the gloom to be surrounded by the otherworldly echoes of chanting filling the corridor. The ceremony had started. Chest tight and heart thumping I opened the final door and stepped through into the chapel.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The number of the congregation had inexplicably grown to twenty or more. They were gathered at the altar, illuminated by only torches and two flaming fires in wrought iron braziers, their dancing shadows appearing demonic in the flickering red light.

  Fighting back despair, I lay the shotgun on one of the pews at the back, pulled the hood forward as far as it would go and padded forward, gripping my toes against the sandals to stop them slapping against the stone floor and announcing my arrival.

  I slipped in line with the other masked figures. My attention went straight to Emma. She and Laura knelt, with hands tied, at either end of the now-empty altar. Someone had obviously seen fit to remove Peters’ body before the festivities were to begin. Both were dishevelled and there was a dark smear across Emma’s right cheek, as if I needed another reason to end Oliver’s pathetic life. I breathed in deeply, it was me against a room full of fanatics and I hadn’t the faintest idea how I was going to get Emma and Laura out of this goddamned, awful mess.

  Oliver abruptly lifted his arms into the air and the chanting immediately stopped. ‘Brethren, we gather this day to give sacrifice in worship of our dark lord and to right a wrong,’ he said, to shouts of yes from a few of the assembly. He lower
ed his hands and gestured towards Laura. ‘Today this woman will pay for the sins of her father and mother. This day her life’s blood will be offered as recompense for a life lost.’

  Two men stepped forward and dragged Laura to her feet. Emma struggled to get up too, but two other figures grabbed her, holding her back.

  ‘Step forward she who has been sinned against and state your right to retribution.’

  ‘I state my claim,’ a voice I thought I recognised said. A figure stepped forward, pulling down her hood and removing her mask.

  For a moment I was dumbfounded.

  ‘Mrs Walters?’ Laura said, staring at the woman in disbelief.

  ‘Silence, whore,’ Tanith shouted.

  I edged a little closer to the altar.

  ‘My daughter, Lily, took the place of Martine Pomeroy at festival and that day her spirit died. Retribution is my right,’ Mrs Walters said.

  Laura and Emma exchanged a bemused look. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting either.

  ‘And as your daughter suffered so shall the daughter of Martine,’ Tanith shouted, raising her arms above her head, to yells of approval from some of the gathering.

  ‘No,’ Mrs Walters said, her voice quiet but firm.

  The shouting stuttered and stopped to be replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

  Tanith’s head jerked around. ‘What say you, sister?’ she said, glaring at the housekeeper.

  ‘I said no,’ Mrs Walters said. ‘I claim a life, nothing more.’

  ‘No,’ Tanith practically screamed. ‘She has to suffer.’

  ‘Tanith,’ Oliver said, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘Our sister has made her choice as is her right.’ Tanith shrugged away from him, her lips turning down into a petulant pout.

  Ignoring her, Oliver reached towards Mrs Walters and handed her a dagger. The lethally honed blade shone red, reflecting the light from the flaming braziers, appearing as if already daubed in blood.

  ‘Position her,’ Oliver said to the two men holding Laura, and the crowd began to chant once more in what sounded like Latin.

  Realising what the men were about to do, Laura began to struggle as they manhandled her onto the altar and tied her ankles and wrists to the iron rings at each corner of the stone slab. Emma fought against the men holding her, kicking and biting, trying to get to our friend.

  ‘Stop it,’ Tanith screamed at her and backhanded Emma across the mouth. I slipped my hand into my pocket, gripping the hilt of my blade, and began to edge my way through the throng towards the altar. How I was going to take on so many of them I had no idea, but I couldn’t stand there and watch Laura and the woman I loved be slaughtered. Emma wasn’t about to be stilled either, if it hadn’t been for the two men hauling her back she would have had Tanith’s eyes.

  Mrs Walters walked to one side, for a moment the blade disappeared within her robe, then she was raising the sacrificial knife high above her head. It looked different – smeared. It didn’t glint and shine as it once had. She glanced down at Laura, then turned to Oliver and Tanith. ‘With this blade I spill the blood of those who have wronged me,’ she cried out. ‘With this blade I bring an end to my pain!’

  No time for subtlety, I started to really move, pushing my way through the crowd blocking my way, my head pounding in time with the rising crescendo of feet stamping and hands clapping in unison with the chanting. I didn’t understand the language, but I recognised some of the names. They were calling upon Lucifer and his legion of demons. Then the chanting abruptly stopped and Mrs Walters shouted. ‘This is for Lily!’

  I’d left it too late. I threw myself towards the housekeeper and it was almost as though time had slowed. Mrs Walters’ arm swung across her body and sliced downwards and away from the altar towards Tanith. There was a gasp from the congregation as Oliver grabbed his mistress’s shoulder, yanking her backwards, but not fast enough. The blade sliced through her crimson robe and into her forearm. She staggered and, if it hadn’t been for Oliver holding her, would have fallen.

  ‘Tanith. Tanith, my dear, are you all right?’ Oliver said, wrapping his arm around her waist.

  ‘Of course I’m not, you idiot,’ she screamed, shaking him off and gripping hold of her arm. Blood welled between her fingers and ran down the inside of her robe to drip onto the stone slabs in a steady patter. ‘The old hag stabbed me.’

  Mrs Walters smiled and almost casually raised the knife to her own throat and sliced. With blood gushing from the wound she was still smiling as her eyes closed and she sunk to the ground.

  ‘What the fuck?’ I heard someone say.

  I was roughly pushed aside as someone barged past me. Pulling off his mask Donald Walters dropped to his knees beside his wife and took her lifeless hand in his.

  ‘Why?’ Oliver asked, staring down at the distraught man. ‘Why would she attack Tanith?’

  Walters traced his knuckles down his wife’s cheek and when he looked up his pain was palpable – and his anger.

  ‘Why do you think, Oliver? Why the hell do you think? Are you such a fucking moron you don’t know?’ He looked Oliver up and down and his lips curled into a sneer. ‘Of course you are, you self-absorbed prick!’

  There were gasps from the remaining congregation and one or two gruff grunts, possibly of agreement.

  Oliver wrenched off his own mask. ‘What? You dare …’

  ‘Don’t,’ Walters said, rising to his feet. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say another word.’

  ‘Idiots!’ Tanith shrieked and I swear she stamped her foot. ‘You and your stupid wife are both idiots. He’s coming! Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel his presence? He’s coming and you …’ She swayed slightly, her expression becoming puzzled as her legs gave way beneath her.

  ‘Tanith?’ Oliver grabbed for her.

  The woman slumped against him as though losing her strength. She feebly raised a hand to her face and it came away red. ‘Ollie?’ she gasped, a look of incomprehension passing across her face, as blood rained in streams from her nose and tears of crimson slipped down her cheeks. ‘Ollie?’ she repeated and more blood seeped from between her lips. Her body stiffened as she convulsed once, and then again, arching against her lover, her spine bent into an impossibly tight curve, before flopping back in his arms, eyes wide and staring into the beyond.

  ‘Tanith?’ he whispered, confusion clouding his face. ‘Tanith?’ He clutched her to his chest, his bewilderment changing to anger, as he turned his head to glare down at the dead housekeeper. ‘She poisoned her. The bitch poisoned Tanith.’

  I glanced around me. The atmosphere in the chamber had shifted, the rabid pack was no more and a strange, confused tension radiated from the onlookers. It was like we were all balanced on the edge of a precipice.

  Oliver gently lowered Tanith to the ground then stood to face his followers. ‘The ceremony must be completed,’ he said. ‘It’s what she would have wanted.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Donald said. ‘Isn’t it time to end this once and for all? Edward’s gone. Tanith’s gone.’

  An uneasy silence filled the chapel.

  ‘Fool,’ Oliver snarled and, turning his back on the groundskeeper, raised his hands into the air and threw back his head.

  When he spoke again it sounded as though he was praying, but if he was it wasn’t to God. Again I recognised several names, all of them unholy, those of the fallen angels. Belial, Beelzebub and Satan amongst many more. Several members of the congregation began to join in until once again the chapel rang with their voices.

  I edged a little closer to the altar. I didn’t need my sixth sense to tell me that we were in danger. The atmosphere tingled with anticipation. I had a very bad feeling about this.

  Behind Oliver the air began to shimmer and with gasps from the gathering they as one surged past Laura, as she struggled upon the altar, towards the quivering and swirling mist rising behind her. They had given me my chance. Knife in hand, I hurried forward. Whether Emma could see the apparition too I w
asn’t sure, but she had clambered to her feet while her captors were otherwise occupied and was pulling at one of the ropes tying Laura to the iron rings. As I reached her there was a tremendous crash from the back of the chapel.

  ‘On your knees! Hands on your heads,’ someone yelled, and a stream of armed men poured in through the door, spreading throughout the chamber. Dressed in black body armour and full-face helmets with blacked-out visors, they had the appearance of alien invaders and I had a second of confusion when I wasn’t sure of whom I should be the most scared: the red-robed Satanists or these unknown intruders with guns.

  Then my feeling of disorientation cleared as I grasped who they were – Simon’s men. I threw back my hood and tore off the mask. If I were to die, I would rather it wasn’t by a gunshot from people supposedly meant to be saving us.

  ‘Emma,’ I said, and she swung around to face me.

  ‘Jed, thank God,’ she said, a relieved smile brightening her face.

  I wanted to pull her into my arms and never let her go, but it would have to wait. I needed to get her and Laura out of this place; Oliver’s and Simon’s people being the least of our worries – something was happening. The atmosphere fair vibrated with a ghastly tension that reminded me of the feeling I’d had when finding the case holding Edward’s inverted crucifix. I sliced through the ropes binding her wrists, then set to work on freeing Laura.

  ‘Not them. He’s one of ours,’ I heard a voice shout as I helped Laura to her feet. I glanced around as a tall figure strode towards us and the two guns pointed our way were slowly lowered. ‘Get them out of here.’

  ‘Dan?’ I heard Laura murmur.

  Perhaps she was mistaken, either that or he didn’t hear or maybe even decided to ignore her, but whatever the reason, he carried on past us.

  One of the men in black gestured us towards the door, ‘Sir,’ while the others rushed to join their colleagues at the front. I looked over my shoulder as we were ushered towards the corridor and stairs leading to the poolroom. Most of the robed figures were on their knees. A few had lost their masks and I recognised at least one politician and a high-profile businessman amongst them. One or two were putting up a fight and I saw a rifle butt being smashed into the side of someone’s head knocking him to the floor.