by Simon Clark
‘You be Justice Murrain, sir!’
‘And you?’ He pointed to a naked woman of thirty. Teeth marks speckled her shoulders from where she’d been willingly ravished – joyfully, passionately ravished.
‘Justice Murrain. That’s who you are. Our beloved Justice Murrain!’
His finger roved over the crowd. ‘Who am I?’ As the digit’s tip pointed at an individual they responded, ‘Justice … you are the Justice, sir.’
‘The Justice!’
‘Justice Murrain.’
‘Our master! Our saviour!’
The crowd raved with adulation – the tumult became a raw power in its own right.
‘The Justice.’ A voluptuous woman, slinkily clad in a red nightdress, stepped forward. She boasted a cleavage to die for. ‘You are our master. We sacrificed ourselves for you and will do so again. And again!’
Another women padded from the back of the crowd. She smiled with an erotic hunger. This femme fatale was clad in the dark uniform of a female police officer. ‘I am Anna, sir. Tonight I occupied two females, sir. The first I had the pleasure of burning. I baked with three men; we were like rabbits a-cookin’ in a pie. Then I found this muscular young thing.’ She stroked her hands down the hips of the figure-revealing uniform. ‘Remember your Anna, sir? Your own sweet Anna? Back at Murrain Hall you kindly took me as your bed-wife.’ She pursed her full red lips. ‘I’m ready for whenever you need me, sir.’
Others started to clamour, too; they were eager to serve.
Justice Murrain raised a white-clad arm to silence them. Then he launched into a thundering speech: ‘Tonight, after more than two centuries of confinement, we are free. Fully free. Not like those sips of freedom we experienced over the last dozen days, when we were only permitted a fleeting tenancy of men and women. Now, let me explain, if you have not yet grasped the truth of what is happening here. The mosaic created by my vile son trapped our souls. It must have been destroyed because we are no longer subject to its power. You, my followers, my courageous Battle Men should choose the men and women you wish to possess most carefully. Select the strong and the healthy, because together we will become warriors once more. We will exact our revenge on this feeble town. We will become its rulers, just like the days when we roved out from Murrain Hall, to take what we want, and who we want.’
The youth, who gorged on water melon, blurted, ‘But they’ll send the army like they did before. I remember the soldier-man who fired his musket into my eye. They’ll come with guns again, and bayonets fixed. How can we fight them?’
Justice Murrain smiled. ‘Oh, doubtless many of us will fall to their weaponry. This is a new age: they can fire rockets from sky machines. They have cannon that ride on horseless carriages.’
The woman with the cleavage, which dived to who knows where beneath the nightdress, sobbed, ‘I have only just taken possession of this body. I don’t want it to be torn apart.’
A clamour of distress rose from the Battle Men.
Their leader raised up his hands; his smile triumphant. ‘Listen to me, carefully. Yes, the soldiers will come. They will fire their bullets into your hearts. But hear my words: You cannot die. Yes, the flesh that houses you might be destroyed. If that happens, leave the body and find a fresh, healthy one. If it helps you understand, imagine that the body you have possessed is a horse that you are riding. That horse might be killed in battle. What you would do, is find a new horse to ride. Now, do you follow my meaning?’
Their mood of anxiety changed to one of joy.
‘The Justice speaks the truth.’ Anna in her policewoman’s uniform stepped forward. ‘Tonight I stole the body of a widow. I enjoyed the pleasures of three handsome bucks. Then the body I occupied burned to death. In the blink of an eye, I found this sturdy wench. It took no time at all to slide into her head, push her thoughts aside, and to take my seat in the saddle of her mind.’
‘Anna, my beautiful Anna, is correct,’ Justice Murrain boomed. ‘If the body that clothes you is destroyed, find another. And this is the most perfect truth of all.’ He held up his finger as he made the important point. ‘When the soldiers come, as they surely must, they will slaughter you. As soon as you leave the host body fly to the soldier-man that killed you. Enter his brain. Vanquish his mind. Then you will possess his body.’ The smile became a grin of utter wickedness. ‘Because then you will also possess his fine weaponry. See, my friends. We cannot lose.’
An excited babble rose from the Battle Men; they were eager to wreak their revenge on Crowdale.
Justice Murrain beamed. ‘I know you are impatient to settle old scores. However, before you begin your bloody work, here are my rules – few though they are. One: do not touch any of the Murrain family. Jacob Murrain will die by my hand, and mine alone. Two: soon I will shed this tiresome lump of flesh. To do that I need Jack Murrain’s body. He is mine to possess. Three: there is a woman from the Americas. Her name is Pel Minton. Once I have housed my spirit in Jack Murrain she will become my bride. Thereafter, I shall lie with no other woman.’
Anna clutched her heart as the awful truth finally penetrated her understanding. ‘Master! I gave you my life. For centuries I have waited patiently beside you beneath the mausoleum. Tell me you won’t take a stranger as your one and only love. Promise that I can continue to be your mistress.’
Justice Murrain took no notice of her distraught cries. With a benevolent smile he made fond shooing gestures. ‘Go, my friends. Tonight, enjoy yourselves. Because tomorrow our real work begins.’
Laughing, hooting, yelling, singing, the Battle Men rushed along the streets. That look in their eye? Pure madness. Utter insanity. Yet there was lust, too. A burning lust for flesh, for blood, for violence – for every sensation this new world could yield: willingly or not.
2
STARS BURNED WITH a fierce, cold light. Frost made the cemetery grass crunch beneath their feet.
Jacob Murrain stopped dead. Anger, frustration and anxiety clouded his face.
‘Pel? Jack? Isn’t there anything I can say to persuade you to drive to Calder-Brigg? It’s dangerous here.’
‘If it’s dangerous, Grandfather, I’m not going without you.’
‘But you don’t understand what Justice Murrain is.’
Pel said, ‘He’s evil, I know that much.’
‘It’s more than that.’ Jacob’s voice rose. ‘Many a man has done wicked things to others. Only rarely are they wicked to their own children. Justice Murrain took a knife and cut off his baby son’s thumbs. His henchmen were recruited from asylums for the criminally insane.’
‘We’ll fight this together,’ Jack insisted.
‘Justice Murrain told me today he planned to take possession of your body. Then he’s going to find Pel here, and …’ Pointedly, he didn’t finish the sentence.
Pel grimaced. ‘One of those monsters got inside my head earlier. But I know what to expect now. I can fight it.’
Hopeful, Jack said, ‘You believe you can stop it happening again?’
‘You bet.’
‘I hope to God you’re right, my dear.’ Jacob shivered. ‘Because the next few hours are going to be the most hazardous of our lives.’
Pel walked between Jack and his grandfather. Jack carried the shotgun that he’d brought back from Calder-Brigg. All three used flashlights to scan this field of bones at the ocean’s edge. She glimpsed the excavation trenches which were so grimly reminiscent of open graves. Stone angels glittered with ice, as if dusted with diamonds. In the distance, the roar of surf. Once more it would be launching its assault on the cliff. Dear God, the sea was attempting to possess the land, just as the ghosts of Justice Murrain and his henchmen tried to possess the human beings on this Godforsaken stretch of coast. Pel had made herself appear brave in the face of what happened today. Yet her insides fluttered. Her hands hadn’t stopped trembling. Even though her mind had been suppressed by the spirit of someone called Anna, who had died physically more than two centuries ago, she ha
d still known what had happened in the Murrain home. She could see, she could feel, she could hear. Her hijacker could have done anything using her body. Sex. Robbery. Assault. Murder. And she, Pel Minton, would have been powerless to stop it happening.
Jacob limped toward the squat building. At this time, little more than an hour after midnight, it resembled a black box against a montage of greys that were the grass and stunted bushes.
‘It’ll just take a moment to check the mausoleum,’ Jacob told them. ‘Then we’ll drive home. If need be, Jack, we’ll turn it into a fortress to keep that ancestor of ours out.’ He shook his head. ‘What worries me, can we keep those phantoms out of our heads?’
‘We’ll watch out for each other,’ Pel reassured him. ‘We know the warning signs.’
‘The problem is that we …’ Jacob’s voice tailed away. ‘Something’s wrong … the gate’s open.’ Despite his years, and that painful limp, he ran toward the mausoleum.
Their flashlights revealed the steel gate yawned open. A broken padlock lay on the ground. Jacob froze in absolute shock. He’s suffering a heart-attack. That was Pel’s reaction when she saw his pained expression. However, he pointed a trembling finger at the floor.
‘My God … it’s gone … the mosaic is gone!’
Jack hurried into the confines of the building. Sure enough, when he played his light on the three-by-three slab, in which the mosaic was embedded, it revealed a void of darkness.
Crouching, Jack examined the hole. ‘It’s been hacked out.’ He picked up splinters of stone. ‘Probably by something sharp. A hand axe, or a chisel.’
Pel shone the light, too, into the building in the hope that the mosaic had simply been abandoned there. What she saw disturbed her. ‘Aren’t those blood stains? There, Jacob. Near your foot.’ Quickly, she swept the light into the corners. For a second, she thought she saw a discarded coat, then: ‘Jack, there’s a body.’
Pel hurried to the crumpled figure.
‘Careful,’ Jacob warned, ‘they might be dangerous.’
‘It’s Kerry!’ shouted Pel in horror. ‘Kerry Herne, my boss! Oh no … her face … look what they’ve done!’
Jack crouched beside the still form. He gently eased back her blood-soaked hair. ‘Head wounds. She must have disturbed whoever was stealing the mosaic. Damn it! When I get my hands on them …’
It sickened Pel to see the once beautiful, lively face now so cold and full of death. She held her hand just inches from Kerry’s lips. ‘Jack! She’s still breathing. I can feel it.’
Jacob took the woman’s wrist. ‘A pulse. Thank heaven. Jack get her to hospital as quickly as you can.’
After handing Jacob the gun, Jack gently, yet swiftly, gathered the unconscious woman into his arms. ‘Pel, lead the way with the light.’
‘I’m not coming,’ Jacob told them. ‘You take Miss Herne to hospital.’
‘For crying out loud, you can’t stay here.’ Jack was aghast.
‘That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’ll search for the mosaic. It may have been dumped nearby.’
‘For once, forget that blasted picture.’
‘Son, it’s important. I’ve got to find it.’
‘I’m not going without you.’
‘OK.’ Jacob nodded at Pel. ‘Tell him why the mosaic’s so important.’
As Jack stood there, with Kerry in his arms, her head still dripping blood, Pel said with considerable force, ‘This entire area is holy ground, an ancient sacred site. One that your ancestors have guarded and worshipped at for at least 5000 years. At its centre is the holy of holies. Your grandfather has told you that the mosaic holds the ghosts of Justice Murrain and his thugs in the earth. Now it’s gone, they are free.’
Jacob nodded. ‘Pel is correct. I must find it.’
‘But they’ve been free for days. They got hold of me. Then we saw one take possession of Pel today. And Justice Murrain is using the body of Horace Neville.’
‘Justice Murrain was too clever for his own good. Horace is brain-damaged. Murrain is trapped in a malfunctioning mind. The others were only freed temporarily when part of the temple complex was destroyed by the sea. After a while, this occult mechanism can heal itself. It drew the wandering spirits back to the mausoleum and locked them down out of harm’s way. But with the mosaic gone …’
Pel supported Kerry’s head. ‘Jack, please. She’s so cold. If we don’t go now we’ll lose her.’
Jack struggled to make the right decision.
‘Go, son.’ Jacob handed Pel the shotgun. ‘Take this. I’ll be fine here until you get back.’
Clearly, Jack’s loyalties were divided. ‘If anything happens to you I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Jack, my boy,’ – the man gave a grim smile – ‘we are Murrain. With the blood of Justice Murrain running in our veins it is we who do the frightening. Now, please save this brave lady’s life.’
Jack gave a single nod. ‘Look after yourself. We’ll be back in an hour.’
This night of terrors had only just begun.
3
ROSS AND SCOTT Lowe watched their mother. Even though the clock revealed it was 1.30 in the morning she refused to go to bed. She paced the room. Every few moments she’d go regard the mosaic in the crate. Then her eyes would burn with an unsettling intensity. After that, she’d pace the room again. At times she’d pause to study her reflection in the mirror. At the ruin inflicted by fire all those years ago.
Once more, she returned to lock eyes with those of the Murrain ancestor in the mosaic portrait that Ross had removed intact. How closely the long dead Justice Murrain resembled Jacob Murrain. To see the grey eyes staring up into hers made her heart beat faster.
At 1.40 that morning she took a deep breath before announcing, ‘You’ve done good work, Ross. But it’s not enough. I want Jacob Murrain here in the house. I want him down on his knees, begging me for forgiveness.’
The two middle-aged brothers exchanged puzzled glances.
‘Remember what I told you, boys,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t lay a finger on Jacob Murrain. You must hurt the ones he loves.’
4
JUSTICE MURRAIN STRODE through the centre of town. Crowdale was his. Two centuries ago, his pet lunatics had served him well. They’d terrorized the townsfolk so completely that they’d given him money, food and drink. They’d also supplied him with young men and women as playthings. Fresh flowers of youth to be enjoyed until they were all broken up and useless. Soon, he would ensure that fine old custom was restored.
Tonight, he was content for his Battle Men to enjoy their recreation. They’d been confined so long in the cemetery dirt beneath the mausoleum that they needed to taste life again. It was essential they reacquaint themselves with sensation, pleasure and gratification. Numbering some 200, comprising both male and female, his Battle Men experimented with their new bodies. The gluttonous youth had finished the water melon. Now he discovered the joys of discarded pizza in a bin behind an Italian restaurant. A naked woman dabbled in a motor car. She drove it at lightning speed up and down the street. Its original owner had caught his foot in the seatbelt as she’d hurled him from the vehicle. His mangled corpse painted crimson lines on the tarmac as it was dragged at ninety miles an hour.
Justice Murrain knew that the phantoms which had taken possession of those modern men and women, would be learning from the minds they had conquered. Their speech would adopt a modern idiom. They’d soon understand modern technology – all those computers, phones, cameras, vehicles, televisions, and so on, which adorned the lives of modern humans. When the woman smashed the car into a house, the force of the impact catapulted her body through the windscreen, through the living-room window, and no doubt deposited mangled meat and bone on the carpet.
No matter. Though the ghost would be evicted from dead flesh his Battle Man would find a new host in moments. Good, they’d soon learn that they could discard a broken body for new. His henchmen would become consummate Bone-jackers. He smiled. H
e enjoyed using the phrase. That’s what they were now. Bone-jackers.
Pleased, he whistled a merry tune, then he sang himself a little ditty, ‘Hey, hey-ho, my boys, a bone-jacking we will go.’
One of his Battle Men, wearing striped pyjamas, raced past him. He pushed a terrified woman in a wheelchair. Its silver wheels spun. She clung on to the arms of the chair for dear life. Whether her abductor intended pleasure or pain Justice Murrain could not say. Not that it mattered. He watched fondly as the man sprinted along the road, pushing the wheelchair, and the screaming woman, in front of him.
A window smashed. From a house, a pair of femme fatales were laughing as they dangled a youth from an upper window by his ankles. He was starkly bare. Blood ran from the area of his groin. He still managed a din of a noise though. His yells were enough to set dogs barking in the neighbourhood. The two women soon tired of this merry-making. On the count of three they released the yowling teen. Smartly, he dropped headfirst on to a concrete path. The blow silenced his voice, while simultaneously it released his brains on to the ground. In this cold air they steamed, billowing clouds of white.
Enjoying what he saw – and approving mightily of his Battle Men’s bloody games – he walked on.
5
SCARLET NUMERALS, BLAZING from the bus-station clock, pulsed 2:03. Pel Minton sat in the back of the pick-up, cradling Kerry’s blood-soaked head on her lap. The injured woman’s breathing was frighteningly shallow; her eyelids hadn’t so much as flickered during the drive here. Time and again, Pel had gently tried to wake her boss but she remained deeply unconscious. ‘Don’t die on me,’ Pel urged. ‘Please hang on; we’re nearly at the hospital.’ Then to Jack, who drove the pick-up. ‘How long now?’
‘Less than two minutes.’ He crushed the gas pedal to the floor. The motor screamed as he raced along the deserted road. Only it wasn’t deserted for long. When he turned at a crossroads, he braked hard.
‘Jack,’ Pel begged, ‘don’t slow down. Kerry’s pulse is so weak I can hardly feel it.’