She was right: even though I was scared I still had my magic. I might have used it rashly in the past but now, I realised, I had to use it wisely.
The next thing to come out of my mouth was a Latin phrase I hadn’t used in years. My first Latin teacher wasn’t a practitioner so hadn’t placed a great deal of emphasis on the quality of my pronunciation. For him it was more of an academic exercise and so I did what most students do when given the option: I fudged the articulation and, in so doing, developed bad habits which dog me to this day. During one of my seminars with my Invocations Master at Newton she asked me to stop reading. When I asked her why she said, “Because I can’t stand it any longer.”
Suffice to say that I’m not a natural when it comes to delivering spells in Latin. But the old stuff is often the best stuff.
I jumped down off the Land Rover and found myself a space. I had to get this spell absolutely right if it was going to prove effective. I took extreme care with my diction being especially careful about where I placed my plosive sounds.
Plosives and fricatives, Ma Birch used to say. Get those right and you can forget about the rest.
The wind tugging at my hair was the first sign that it was working. The leaves made a skittering sound as they blew across the face of the road. The vehicles were still a good distance off but they were closing fast and I needed more time.
The words came tumbling out of my mouth, fully formed, coming in such quick succession that I started to panic wondering what I would do if my memory failed and the words just dried up.
But the words didn’t stop. They poured out of me like water from a hose, flooding the night with their ancient forms.
The wind had become a solid thing now and I raised an arm to shield my face as it worked itself into an impenetrable vortex, sucking up the leaves from the side of the road and whipping them into a rising spiral.
As the vehicles reached the dip in the centre of the road, they were going far too fast. The lead van driver must have realised and brake lights flared. The two vans slowed markedly while the truck seemed to fly ahead.
My dress was flapping around my legs threatening to break my train of thought. As I struggled for control, the wind veered away from the road, the swirling leaves at the centre making it easy to focus on. It dipped into a long, thin trench on the far side of the road which must have been filled with leaves. Instantly they were siphoned up into a conical shape which danced back and forth as I attempted to control it.
The enormity of what I’d created nearly caused me to lose focus and I had to fight to pull the column back towards the road. A sense of joy - elation almost - was threatening to overwhelm me as I marvelled at what I had created. At that moment the tornado leapt across in front of the truck swallowing it completely. When it finally re-appeared it veered wildly off the road. The driver fought to regain control but it was too late. The vehicle flipped over and went tumbling off into the distance.
The van that had been following braked hard, fishtailing across the road as the driver fought to control it only for the second van to drive right into the back of him.
I brought the mini-tornado back towards them, the noise of the leaves impacting against the side panels sounding like thunder. When, eventually, they turned their headlights on it looked as if they were being boiled alive. But after a minute of buffeting, the cone of leaves started to lose its shape and slowly began to unravel.
When I looked down both hands were shaking uncontrollably. Carlotta said, “That was … That was…”
But I was too busy watching the vans. Four men climbed out and engaged in a brief discussion. Two of the men were carrying rifles. One of them pointed at me. I looked across to see Carlotta disappearing over the other side of the Land Rover.
The four men spread themselves wide taking no chances. I had to assume that they were working for Kohl which pre-supposed that they would stop at nothing to get the job done. I was banking on their being confused by what had just occurred. If I could only try and disorientate them further then I might be able to get away with this. A vertigo spell seemed appropriate though it would have had a much higher likelihood of success if they’d all stayed together. As it was, I wondered whether I’d be able to effectively target all of them.
“Don’t even think about it.”
The man wearing a red plaid shirt raised his rifle and approached with measured, unhurried calm, his eyes scanning the area.
“That was pretty impressive with the leaves and everything. Try that again though and I’ll put a bullet in you.” He said all this in a matter-of-fact tone but there was something about the practised manner of his approach that told me he meant every word.
He stopped a short distance away, showing no signs of lowering the weapon. Where his shirt had been pulled up out of his trousers by his raised arms, I could see the white bulge of his belly. He indicated for the man next to him to approach me. The man came over and slipped a pair of plastic ties around my wrists. He was so close I could smell his body odour. He pulled the ties tight before withdrawing.
The next one was taller and thinner, dressed in a green military jumper with the sleeves rolled up. He used a pair of clippers to cut a chunk of my hair before sealing it in a clear plastic bag.
“Insurance,” said the guy with the shirt.
“You’re going to need it.”
He sighed and stepped forward, swinging the gun in a low arc. As it reached the top of its swing he shifted his grip before driving the rifle butt into my face.
Next thing I was lying flat on my back in the dirt.
“You, check the Land Rover. You, have a look at our guys. But remember: walking wounded only.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The guy with the body odour helped me to my feet and pushed me in the direction of the vans. I couldn’t see very well as I had blood running into my eye but I turned once to see the skinny guy in the green jumper checking inside the Land Rover. I got shoved in the back for my troubles but it was worth it.
I couldn’t see the other one over by the crashed vehicle. I thought he might be administering first aid but, when I heard two gunshots, I was forced to re-consider. If I’d had any doubts about how serious these men were then I was going to have to think again.
“Got one!”
Green jumper must have found Carlotta.
The two men brought me to the rear of the lead van. “You’ll have to take that other one with you,” the one with the plaid-shirt was saying,
“Why can’t you take her?” Body-odour asked.
“Because we’re taking this one,” he tightened his grip on my arm. “Shoot the other one if you want but – at two grand a head – I’d think twice.”
They opened the rear of the first van and pushed me inside. With my hands tied behind me I lay on my side trying to make sense of everything. There were no windows so it was pitch black inside. Added to that was the ammonia reek of urine. When the van started up I had to spread my legs just to stop myself being thrown around.
The air was thick and heavy. There was no ventilation in the back. It was impossible to deduce how many people I was travelling with because when I tried to ask to speak they shushed me into silence. They were afraid and with good reason. When I tried to speak a second time someone told me to shut up.
We stayed in there for what felt like an hour but was probably more like a few minutes, though it was more than enough. I was heartily sick of being thrown around every time the van made a manoeuvre and it came as a great relief when we finally came to a halt. There were voices outside but it was difficult to hear what was being said. Then the door opened.
“Everybody out!”
The man with the body odour helped pull us out of the back while the one with the plaid shirt stood back and kept us covered with the gun. It felt cold outside after the warmth of the van and my flesh rose up in goose pimples. We were on a wide path closed in one both sides by high hedges. There was a metal gate at one end and I watched as
the other van came through it and parked next to ours. I went over and waited for them to un-load the girls. I wanted to see Carlotta; let her know she wasn’t alone.
Only they didn’t open the second van.
They were waiting while someone backed a flat-bed truck down the path. There wasn’t a lot of room to manoeuvre. He pulled the wheel around so that the truck was wedged awkwardly across the front of the gate. Once he’d parked, the driver got out, locked it and then hurled the keys over the hedge.
A quick and easy way of ensuring that no other vehicles would be coming after us.
Behind me, the Novices were huddling into groups. One of the women who I didn’t recognise held my gaze for longer than was comfortable. I watched the play of emotions on her face. I saw the same look on the faces of the other women. They were disappointed in me and I could understand why. Like everyone else they’d had any dealings with since they’d arrived in the country, I had let them down. Just when they were at their most vulnerable and starting to relax; just when I was starting to earn their trust I had abandoned them. And what was happening now was just another step along the road to their final betrayal. Each step they had taken had led them here.
They didn’t care who these men were or who had sent them. They had known deep down that this was coming and had been foolish enough to think that it might be avoided. Kohl or Kinsella, it was all the same to them. They’d lost their liberty a long time ago, if they lost their lives now then who’d be surprised? They were a kind of human collateral, moved from place to place in an enterprise the purpose of which eluded them.
A heavily built woman being shepherded across the path slipped and nearly fell. She only managed to stay upright by grabbing another woman’s arm. As she straightened she laughed shakily, aware that everyone was watching her.
It wasn’t long before they started moving us all along. There were fourteen of us in all.
The track we were following curved around behind a bank of trees and I tried to work out exactly where we were on the estate. Unless I was mistaken, we had driven back in the direction of the main house so it could only be a matter of time before we were discovered. It didn’t make any sense. How did they intend to transport us all off the estate? But then, as we came around the side of one of the hedges, I got my answer. We’d walked out of the Scottish Highlands and into a war zone.
Three helicopters were being loaded underneath bright arc lights. I recognised them as the ones the Navy use for air-sea rescues. Sea-Kings, if I wasn’t mistaken. Packed into such a small space, under such intense lighting they looked and sounded enormous.
I had to calm myself. Had to clear my mind. I opened my mouth hoping to pacify the other women but my throat closed when I saw them looking about in shocked silence. They would pose no further threat to the men. They were already beaten. Kohl had won.
I thought about what might be happening on other parts of the estate. Wondered if Silas even knew that his sister was missing. But the estate itself was huge. Big enough to need two estate managers and a farm manager. An image of Sebastian lying on the ground suddenly came to mind and I forced myself to think of something else. Slowly, Sebastian’s image started to recede.
Three helicopters. Which meant that we were going to be separated off into groups. That complicated things even further. I couldn’t allow myself to be parted from Carlotta. Just couldn’t let that happen. I turned back to look along the hedge but there was still no sign of her.
The first thing I had to do was to take out one of the helicopters. Numbers were tight and with just one of them disabled I’d be undermining their carefully laid plans. None of the men would want to be left behind. Creating a power surge is often the best way of disabling an engine but that would require a lot of energy on my part; energy I didn’t feel that I had. There were any number of vehicles parked up but no obvious tools that I could utilise. Lots of guns though. Perhaps I could use one of those. All I had to do was get my hands on one without getting shot.
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing you’d best forget it,” the guy in the plaid shirt was having to be shout to be heard. “Not if you want to see your friends again.”
To make his point he jarred the rifle barrel against my ear. The other women stepped back, eager to get out of striking distance.
As we got closer, the noise of the helicopters grew oppressively louder and I could feel myself being buffeted by their powerful down-drafts. The helicopter at the north end of the enclosure had the number three written on the side in white tape, the one in the middle had the number two taped underneath the cockpit window. I couldn’t make it out but I imagined that the helicopter sitting at the southern end was number one. The first two helicopters had knots of women standing in front of them in a kind of holding area.
I found myself wondering if this had been the plan back at the university: wait until the women had been rounded up and then bring in the helicopters for the extraction. But then, where would they have landed?
The answer was obvious: they’d have used the playing fields. Kohl’s efforts had been disrupted that time but now, it looked like everything was going to plan.
I was desperate to catch sight of either Paula or Nastya. I thought that, with a little bit of help from one of them, we might be able to pull together some kind of response that would, at the very least, win us some time. But that started to look less and less likely as the helicopters were readied for take-off.
My ear was burning and, when I went to rub it, my fingers came away covered in blood. One of the other women passed me a scarf which I pressed against the wound.
We came around the side of a large panel van and then stopped dead. They had one of the demons with them. It lurched towards us but was pulled up short by the length of chain attached to its metal collar. The other end of the chain was held by a solid figure with a blue tattoo covering one half of his face. A smaller man with receding hair stepped forward and poked a black pole at the creature’s side causing it to jerk involuntarily. Some kind of cattle prod.
The big man had to keep a firm grip on the chain as the creature twisted first one way and then the other, its eyes swivelling.
“There, there my love.”
Kohl appeared from nowhere dressed in a roll-neck sweater under a thick wool overcoat. He delicately took hold of the demon’s jaw while he examined its mouth. He wore fingerless gloves. Satisfied, he released the creature and indicated for the man with the cattle prod to approach. The man moved warily, switching the cattle prod to his other hand. The demon saw the prod and edged away.
Kohl gestured towards it and the man looked down as if seeing it for the first time. He handed it to Kohl who tossed the prod into the air, catching it by the handle.
He studied it for a moment before driving it into the smaller man’s chest. There was a loud spitting sound and the man was knocked off his feet. As he hit the floor he immediately started going into convulsions.
Kohl threw the cattle prod over to the man with the chain.
Behind him, I watched as a group of women were herded aboard the first helicopter. I caught sight of a short black girl being pushed forward by one of the guards. She was roughly the same height as Kosi but, from that distance, it was impossible to be sure. We were all going to be loaded onto those choppers one way or another and there was nothing I could do about it.
“How did you find us?” I asked.
Kohl squinted at me. “Why is that so important?”
I tried to approach him but Mr Plaid-shirt had grabbed hold of the plastic tie binding my wrists and pulled me up short.
Kohl made a gesture and I felt the ties being snipped open. It was a relief to get my hands free.
“How did you know where we were?” I asked. “Was it the phone call?”
Kohl snorted his amusement. “Oh, I see. You’re wracked with guilt because you think you’re the one who gave the game away?”
“Something like that,” I had to strain to make myself hear
d over the sound of the engines.
“I’ve been tracking people for the church for longer than I can remember. And do you know what the first rule of tracking is? They always contact their loved ones. Always. Touching when you think of it. I might have suspected you’d ring your father but, in the crunch, you went for your flat-mate. So far so predictable.”
He turned to the guy in the plaid shirt, “How many of them had phones?”
The man held up four fingers.
“See,” Kohl said. “Four mobiles between them, but they made up for it with the number of calls they’ve made. Hundreds. You only need to trace one.”
I listened to that with a growing sense of bewilderment.
“Don’t feel so bad. It was inevitable that we’d find you eventually. Difficult to make such a large group disappear. Almost impossible without a good plan.”
He came across, shooing my guard away and taking me by the elbow. He walked me back towards the demon. The other men stood up straight, casual conversations ended, guns were raised.
The demon loomed over us, so close that I could see the bristling hairs around its beak. But when I pulled away, Kohl’s grip tightened so that he could pull me nearer. The demon looked unhealthy up close, it had a grey mottled tinge to its shell and its front legs were trembling.
What was he trying to do – intimidate me?
Kohl made a gesture with his hand. “It’s dying.”
The creature cocked its head as if it understood.
“They can’t survive out here. It’s a shame but there you are.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
He pulled his lips back over his teeth. “It’s difficult to see it like this but there is one thing it can still do for me.”
Kohl turned and held out his hand. One of the gunmen came forward with a glass vial. He snapped off the top and poured a thin brown powder into Kohl’s palm. Kohl lifted his hand and then blew the powder so that it lightly coated the fine hairs along the demon’s head.
Bitter Moon Page 21