by Nicola West
‘You can’t really believe that, can you? For fuck’s sake, Marlowe, you had memories of what was done here!’
‘Well, I hope you weren’t hanging on me being your star witness. Because the only thing I had memories of was a picture she entered in the show. It was just another bloody drawing like the ones in the journals. It’s not proof, Jarrah.’
He opened his mouth to say something, but I continued.
‘Look, I’m not saying I don’t believe her – I do, wholeheartedly. But you have no idea what we’re up against. This goes far beyond the names on that list. These people have friends in very high places. We only have one chance at this. And they’ll tear us to shreds if we go in half-cocked.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I just do,’ I replied. I didn’t want to explain about Owen’s editor – not yet, anyway. ‘Okay?’
He stared at me in disbelief but eventually nodded.
‘Fuck,’ he sighed once again. ‘I really thought there’d be something here.’
‘I know. I did too.’
We sat in the clearing together for some time, sipping on our water bottles and nibbling on the food we’d brought in complete silence. Neither one of us seemed game enough to ask when we’d be returning to the LandCruiser. It would be admitting defeat, and we were both too stubborn to do that.
‘I’ve gotta take a leak,’ Jarrah announced, climbing to his feet.
‘You’re more game than I thought. I’d rather my bladder burst than risk pissing out here.’
‘Why?’
I outstretched my right leg and pulled the bottom of my pants up to my shins. I tugged my socks down and examined my ankle. Jarrah looked at me like I was losing my mind, but I held up my index finger and repeated the process on my left leg. Sure enough, a leech was attached to the side of my ankle – already engorged on my blood.
Jarrah groaned, genuinely disgusted. ‘How the hell did you not feel that?’
‘They’re like little ninjas,’ I said, staring at the black blob. ‘You don’t feel a thing.’
A look of realisation washed over Jarrah’s face. Immediately, he yanked his pants up. Fortunately, his ankles were bare, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I think it’s almost full,’ I said, gently prodding the creature attached to me. ‘It’ll fall off once it’s finished.’
‘No, you weirdo! Use the bloody salt and get it off you.’
‘But he’s my friend.’ I pouted. ‘I’m going to keep him as a pet.’
He rolled his eyes, but I could see that he was fighting back a smile.
‘In all seriousness,’ I began, ‘removing them while they’re still sucking can make them regurgitate everything back into your bloodstream, and you can get an infection. I might as well just let him finish.’
‘All right. But he’ll need a name if he’s part of the team.’
I stared down at the slimy parasitic creature so desperately clinging to my flesh.
‘Owen.’
‘All right, Owen,’ he said, addressing the bloodsucker. ‘You take care of Lo while I take a piss. And tell your friends to stay away from my big leech.’
‘Ugh, seriously?’
He laughed before heading towards the tree line.
I stared at the writhing leech’s ever-increasing mass. I knew that, in the grand scheme of things, it was only taking a tiny amount of my blood, but there was still something predatory about it. A part of me was being harvested and would remain in that rainforest long after I’d left.
A blood sacrifice.
Lily was terrified of leeches.
The thought had popped into my mind out of nowhere. There was a memory attached to it – Lily’s feet covered in the slithering inkblots as her cries and screams echoed through the rainforest. My feet had been covered with them too, but I’d been fascinated. I’d clasped my hand over Lily’s mouth worried that she was scaring them. We were young – very young – but the memory felt fresh.
I recalled that, when we had returned to the Williamses’ home, my dad had immediately busted out the salt. But Michael had insisted on us waiting them out. Lily had cried the entire time, but I had squealed with delight as they expanded before my eyes. I could remember Michael looking at me with those all-seeing eyes, a hint of something like pride lurking somewhere behind them. It horrified me to realise that I wanted him to look at me like that again.
As if appalled by the thoughts floating through my mind, the leech detached itself from my flesh and fell to the ground. A Y-shaped puncture wound was all that was left. I squinted at the bite mark, but looked up when I heard footsteps. Jarrah was sprinting towards me.
‘There’s something you need to see,’ he breathlessly announced.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s proof, Lo. It’s the proof we need.’
CHAPTER 53
‘You did this,’ I said, staring in shock at the tree Jarrah had guided me towards.
‘With what, exactly? My fucking dick? My bag was with you the whole time.’
I ran my fingers over the carvings in the tree – seven layered circles forming a flower-like pattern, encased in a larger circle. The same symbol that Lily had drawn in her journal – over and over again – and the same symbol that she had shown the crystal store owner. What had the woman said? That the symbol in the photo had looked like it was carved into wood?
Had this been what Lily had photographed?
‘You really think I did this?’ Jarrah hissed in my ear, making me jump. ‘Look around.’
My eyes scanned the trees around me, and my heart began to race. Every single trunk bore the same symbol, eight perfect circles expertly arranged and carved deep into the bark.
We were surrounded. Each circle was like a piercing eye watching our every move. I could feel my breath getting caught in my throat.
‘That’s not all,’ Jarrah said, gently pulling me through the trees.
Normally, I would have fought back, but I was so shocked by the prevalence of those symbols that I allowed myself to be led by him. Not that it mattered much. We certainly didn’t have far to travel.
When we entered the second clearing, my mouth gaped. In my earlier shock and disappointment, I’d completely forgotten it had existed. I imagined it from the only angle I’d ever seen it from, above – the view from Google Maps. It was much smaller, attached to the side of the main clearing like a misshapen tumour, and broken up by a cluster of dense trees that mimicked the rest of the rainforest. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you’d never find it.
It was utterly perfect.
‘Look,’ Jarrah said, pointing to the ground at the centre of the clearing.
I raised my hand to my mouth. Though whether it was out of shock or simply a precaution against the feeling of nausea churning my stomach remained to be seen. It wasn’t a satanic temple, it wasn’t a bunch of goat heads on spears, and it certainly wasn’t a portal to hell. But it was proof – tangible proof of Lily’s claims.
Jarrah was right – they had been complacent. And, as I stared at the eight giant circles worn deep into the ritual ground, I finally felt a sense of power surge through my body. This was it. This was exactly what we needed.
‘And there,’ Jarrah said, interrupting my thoughts and pointing to the southern end of the clearing.
I looked at the cluster of large stones and immediately recognised them from the doodles in Lily’s journal. She had expertly recreated the peculiar natural formation that served as the ritual altar, and I pictured the tools she had drawn lying on top of the flattened stone. A chalice, a crescent-shaped boline knife and the circular branding iron used to inflict the eighth and final mark.
‘Jesus,’ I muttered as Jarrah pulled me towards the centre of the clearing.
It was difficult to tell from the ground, but the large circles formed the same flower-shaped pattern as all the other symbols. However, the imprints in the ground seemed to be the catalyst for those marks –
what all the other instances were signifying. After all, in the centre lay the remnants of a large fire pit. Knowing what it was used for made my stomach churn.
‘Fuck,’ I said, choking back bile. ‘That’s where they…’
I couldn’t finish my sentence and felt my body involuntarily double over as I began to dry heave. I wanted to vomit, but nothing would come out. Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and I spat onto the ground.
I’d always believed Lily’s claims but, up until that point, that’s all they’d ever been. They were stories. Horrifying stories, but stories nonetheless. It was like history books retelling holocausts, survivors of freak natural disasters talking about the aftermath, or the disembodied conversations between victims and emergency service dispatchers during terrorist attacks. They had undeniably happened, but it never quite seemed real to those who hadn’t experienced it firsthand.
The gravity of what had happened in that clearing hit me and I crumpled to the ground. It felt like every ounce of my energy had been sapped from my body. I just wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole – to obliterate everything I was and would ever be. I needed it to be over. I couldn’t go on. Not when I knew what had happened here.
But then, I saw it – a glint of green shimmering in the sun’s light. It looked like some kind of crystal, but I couldn’t be sure. It was sitting at the edge of the fire pit and something about it called to me. ‘This is important,’ it seemed to say. I unsteadily climbed to my feet, but I could feel my energy returning. I had remembered why I was there. Not just for Lily, but for all the little boys and girls in those fox masks – the ones who had been hunted in that rainforest for decades.
They would be my strength. I would do this for them.
I walked over to the fire pit – trying to purge my mind of what was contained within the ashes – and bent down towards the illuminated green crystal. But it wasn’t a crystal. It was glass. The broken shard of a wine bottle, not unlike the ones I had helped Michael clean up at the show ball.
‘What is it?’ Jarrah asked. I gasped before spinning around to face him. In my anguish, I’d completely forgotten that I wasn’t alone. I was glad that wasn’t the case.
‘More proof,’ I said, turning the shard over and laying it on the palm of my hand. ‘Proof of what they do here.’
Jarrah walked over to examine it. Part of the wine bottle’s label was still intact on the shard, and it bore an unsettling logo. The words ‘The Foxes’ could be seen underneath a familiar-looking crest. In the centre, there was an illustration of a person in fox-hunting attire, similar to the ones Lily had drawn, but not in her style. The top of the person’s head had been broken off but, if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say that they had been drawn wearing a black fox mask.
‘What the fuck?’ Jarrah said, leaning in close and squinting at the shard.
‘You know Lily’s mum is a winemaker, right?’
‘Yeah.’
I pointed at the crest. ‘Rose Valley Wines – her winery – uses this crest on all their bottles.’
He nodded.
‘But I’ve never seen this particular design before,’ I continued. ‘And I know their vintages pretty well. I think it might be the family’s private label.’
‘The ceremonial wine Lily spoke about in her journals? The one imbued with…?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Fuck,’ Jarrah said, physically recoiling from the shard in my hand. He stared down at the fire pit, as if only just registering its significance. ‘Wait, Lo. Look.’
He kneeled down and pointed at the ash.
‘What?’ I asked.
He leaned his face towards the ash and gently blew.
‘What the fuck,’ I snapped, jumping away from the sooty plume.
‘Look!’ he repeated.
As the cloud of ash subsided, I finally saw what he was talking about. ‘Fuck,’ I gasped. ‘Are they –’
‘Bone shards,’ Jarrah replied, confirming my fears. ‘We’ve gotta get back to the car and call the cops. This is all evidence.’
I stared down at the white pieces, my pulse rattling in my head. ‘But it’ll go through my dad. As soon as he hears the location, he’ll know. He’ll cover it up – just like he covered up Lily’s markings.’
‘Then what, Lo? We can’t just leave this here. You said we needed corroborating evidence – well, here it is!’
I could feel my chest growing tight and helplessly ran my fingers through my hair. My eyes darted from the fire pit to Jarrah’s fraught face. He was right – this was everything we needed. But what good was that when my dad could make it all go away?
‘Photos,’ I announced. ‘We photograph everything, and then we get out of here before anyone sees us. If we can’t trust the cops, we’ve gotta go over their heads. We’ll leak everything to the press – Lily’s journals, the pictures of the marks on her back, and the pictures from here.’
Jarrah’s face buckled. He seemed unsure of the plan.
To be completely honest, I was too. I didn’t know how far the cult’s reach truly was. Sure, they had connections to Owen’s paper, but that didn’t necessarily mean the entire Australian media was in their pocket. Surely if we were able to get the evidence to a broad range of national newsrooms, then someone would bite. And once they did, the police would have to act. It would make them accountable.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best one I had.
‘I’ll do it tonight,’ I continued. ‘The journals are still under my mattress, but I can photocopy the pages and compile the photos. Send it all by post so they can’t trace it. Stick it all in the parcel boxes overnight so no one sees my face. Though, it’s not like they won’t know who sent it. I’m the only person who could have taken the photos of the marks on her back.’
‘Then don’t include them. Seriously, Lo. The pictures we take here and copies of the journals will be more than enough. No one knows we saw her journals, and no one will know we were here – you don’t need to implicate yourself.’
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I already had – that Owen had likely already told them everything.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘People need to see the marks – they need to see that my dad covered them up. It proves that the cops are involved in all this. They tie everything together.’
‘I dunno, Lo…’
‘Look, it’s not going to come back on you, okay? It’s my decision and I’ll face the repercussions.’
‘That’s not what I –’
‘I don’t care,’ I barked. ‘Now, let’s get these photos so we can get the fuck out of here before someone finds us.’
He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it.
I was glad he did.
CHAPTER 54
We spent the rest of our time in the clearing and its surrounds, painstakingly photographing everything we could. I used my camera, while Jarrah used his phone. We both carefully scrutinised the altar stones, but there was nothing that suggested anything untoward. It had been months since the last ritual and – even if it had fallen on a cult member’s eighth hunt and featured an actual sacrifice – the blood would have long been washed away in the summer storms.
Speaking of storms, while we were hard at work, the sky turned from a pristine blue to a murky grey. It made things appear all the more ominous. The air felt charged. I just wanted to get out of there.
‘What about the bone shards?’ Jarrah asked.
‘What about them?’
‘What if they get rid of them before anyone has a chance to investigate?’
‘I mean, the fact that they haven’t done it before now shows that they probably won’t. And tomorrow’s the funeral. They’re going to be distracted by that.’
‘Maybe we should still take some? Just in case?’
I stared at the bone shards in the ash. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was touch them, but he was right.
‘Have you got anything t
o put them in?’ I asked.
He kneeled on the ground and began digging through his bag. I did the same.
‘Nothing.’ He sighed.
My hand brushed against the salt container, and I pulled it out. ‘This might work.’
He stared grimly at me before nodding towards the pit. Apparently, I was the one who would have to do the deed. My stomach lurched.
I unscrewed the lid and poured the salt onto the ground, before grabbing a pinch and throwing it over my left shoulder. Jarrah seemed bemused.
‘Hey, I’m doing everything I can. I can’t risk any more bad luck at the moment.’
He nodded understandingly, and I kneeled in front of the fire pit before carefully scooping a small pile of ash into the bottle. Parts of it stuck to my fingers, and I once again fought back the urge to dry retch. I gently shook the bottle, making sure I’d caught a few pieces of bone – they looked even more horrifying close-up. I screwed the lid back on and noticed that my hands were shaking. I slapped them against my pants, trying to get rid of the excess ash.
‘You should probably take a photo of the bottle next to the pit,’ Jarrah said. ‘Just so you can prove it came from there.’
It was a good idea, so I did what he said. But just as I pressed my finger down on the shutter, a harrowing scream pierced the rainforest.
It sounded like it had come from a child.
I lowered my camera and saw that Jarrah was staring at me with a horrified expression. I had secretly hoped that the sound had come from deep within my own mind, but that didn’t appear to be the case. The echo of the scream still resonated around the clearing, and my pulse whooshed in my head.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Jarrah whispered.
‘I dunno,’ I said. But I certainly had a pretty good idea.
‘Don’t you think it sounded like a kid? Like a kid screaming?’
Before I had a chance to answer another scream rang out – it seemed closer this time – and was undeniably child-like.
Jarrah sprang to his feet, staring in the direction the scream seemed to have come from. I unzipped my bag to put my camera and the salt bottle back in, and Jarrah spun around as if startled by the sound. I held up my hands apologetically.