“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop him.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer.
He looked deeply into her eyes. “Something else happened up there twenty-five years ago, didn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I am angry at the way I’ve been treated by my family. But I also know how this Raven creature made me feel. He made me want to kill them. And if he could do that to me in a matter of a few minutes, what did he do to them that made them treat me like that?”
Claire looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I can’t tell you, Martin.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“If I tell you, it won’t make sense.” She looked up again, hoping he would forgive her one day. “Sometimes you just have to experience it for yourself.”
“Like having kids?” Collins chipped in helpfully from behind them. “People can tell you everything they know about what it’s like to be a parent, but until you experience it for yourself, you can never fully understand.”
“Probably not the best analogy,” Claire said, “especially as I’ve never had children. But the principle’s right.”
The Salthouses had disappeared from view now. Martin gestured to the door. “Time’s moving on. Will you let me get out?”
Beside him, Adam sighed. “I’ll take you up there,” he said. “But it’s just to save you some time. When we get there you’ll be on your own.”
He shifted into gear and pulled out again.
Sixteen
If the Raven was preparing to leave, it stood to reason that he wouldn’t have followed them. On foot, the fastest way to the clearing was along the path Martin and Tanya had taken the first day he was in the village. Taking those concepts into consideration, it seemed reasonable to assume that they would be safe to return along the track by which they had left. It had the added advantage of allowing them to turn off and head part way into the woods. This would leave them a shorter distance to walk, as Martin had found out when Ian brought him that way the previous morning.
When they passed the row of cottages at the edge of the village, they could see two of the front doors had been left open. Light from the hallways spilled out on to the street. Martin recognised his family home, but wasn’t sure about the other one.
“The Dakins,” Claire said, in answer to his unspoken question.
“I know you don’t want to tell Mr Gates here what’s going on,” Collins said. “But can you at least fill me in on what he already knows?”
“In all honesty, Inspector, you wouldn’t believe us if we did.” The voice came from behind him.
He turned in his seat. Squeezed in with the McLeans, movement was awkward, so he couldn’t adjust his position well enough to see the man who was speaking. Low down on the floor and with the streetlights casting moving shadows as they passed by, both men seemed to be little more than dark and blurry outlines.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you believe in sorcery?”
“Are you telling me this is about witchcraft? Are we about to interrupt some kind of pagan ceremony? Wicker Man kind of stuff?”
“I think that proves the point,” the voice said.
For a moment Collins thought the comment was directed at him. Then he heard the other amorphous form respond. “I think you’re right.”
“Are you two taking the piss?” He was finding this more than just a little annoying, bearing in mind that it wasn’t that long ago when he’d risked his life to help Gates and the McLeans to escape - and at the insistence of these four people from a farm that didn’t appear on the map.
“And he’s definitely not going up to the clearing,” the first voice added conversationally. “Too much anger.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Beside him, he felt Tanya McLean flinch. He suspected more at the tone than the words themselves. He was sorry for that. She had already gone through a bad experience, and he didn’t want to make it worse. But the blokes in the back were talking in riddles and sounded as if they were making fun of him. He was happy enough to be the butt of a joke in the right circumstances, but as far as he could tell, at least half a dozen soldiers had been killed within the last hour and an atomic bomb had been stolen in the last twenty-four. Leaving aside the death of the dog, he suspected there was more yet to be uncovered, none of it pleasant. The brutality and the ruthlessness of whoever was responsible should be enough to have them all on guard and pulling together as a team. Not taking the bloody piss!
One of the men leaned forward, his face materialising in the half light. He could see it was Mason, and as he spoke Collins realised he had been the first to speak.
“Forgive me, Inspector,” he said calmly. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you. But you have to know that the creature we are facing tonight...”
“I didn’t notice you doing much of the facing,” Collins snapped irritably.
Mason raised his hands in a gentle gesture of supplication. “I was speaking figuratively, Inspector. I’ll try to choose my words more carefully.”
Collins slumped back against the door. “Fuck!” he said, though it was more of a mutter. Mason’s composure was frustrating, yet it had also knocked the legs out from under his anger.
They had turned off the main road now, and the light from outside had virtually disappeared.
“I wanted to make a point, Inspector, and I went about it the wrong way. Any one of us here in this vehicle has the possibility of coming face to face with that creature.” Collins felt Tanya pull away from him. He suspected she was looking for comfort from her husband, though as he was still unconscious he could only be effective in the same way as a teddy bear would be against the bogey man in the middle of the night. “It feeds off anger. And rage. And hate and pain. Any negative feeling you have, Inspector, will make you less effective. You know that from your own experience. If you’re resentful, or jealous, or bitter or angry, you can’t function as efficiently. When you go up against criminals, you give them an edge if you’re suffering from any of those emotions, don’t you?”
Mason paused, but Collins didn’t respond. Just waited.
“Experiencing those feelings doesn’t just give the Raven an edge. He feeds off it. Your weakness makes him stronger. It’s what you might call a double whammy. That’s why we can’t let you go in.”
“You can’t stop me,” Collins protested.
“Yes we can,” Mason said with a confidence that left Collins in no doubt that he meant it. “But it would be better for us all if you simply accepted what I am saying as fact.”
“That this...Raven...that you keep referring to is basically some kind of supernatural being?”
“Something like that.”
Years of police work had put him up against all kinds of villains. There were some things he’d witnessed that he couldn’t take home with him. Those memories had to be stored in a separate compartment in his mind, locked away where they couldn’t get out and scramble his brains – and his life – for good. And there were times when he did wonder whether the bastards that had committed those crimes were truly human at all. But they were. The evidence showed it. Whatever it was that had caused them to visit so much violence on others – and the shrinks had plenty of factors they could throw in to explain their behaviour – in the end they were just nasty people. And so was the Raven.
That didn’t mean he shouldn’t be treated with caution. But an armed response unit sounded like a more effective solution than trying to stay calm.
“You’re not going to go along with this, are you, Inspector?”
Up ahead, they caught the first glimpses of the converted barns. As they did, the headlights suddenly went out. Distracted by that, Collins didn’t notice Mason lean a little further over the back of the seat, his hand outstretched.
Seventeen
Cutting the lights mad
e sense, although it puzzled Martin for a moment. They were getting closer to the woods, and Adam didn’t want to warn the Raven that they were on their way. What surprised Martin was the fact that Adam didn’t slow down. There was some light coming from one or two of the barns, but not enough to provide a clear view of the track ahead of them. In spite of this, the Land Rover eased through the bends effortlessly. Martin peered at Adam, trying to work out how he was doing it, but in the darkness he couldn’t make out his features at all. Then they were turning off the track and passing between the trees. The engine note changed as Adam shifted down the gears, careful to keep the revs down. No point in turning the lights off then announcing your presence with a roaring engine. They slowed down as they negotiated the trees. More often than not, Martin was only aware of them as they appeared in the side windows – and sometimes not even then.
Behind him all was quiet. He didn’t know what had happened to Collins, but he guessed Mason had decided to shut him up for a while.
He leaned closer to Claire. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, keeping his voice low. It seemed strangely intimate. Though the idea of intimacy was strange to him anyway, he realised.
“Don’t worry about it. I do understand.” She’d turned her face towards him. He knew because he felt her breath on his cheek.
“I wish I did.”
Her hand touched his, squeezed it gently. “You will.” She didn’t make it sound as if his understanding was something to look forward to.
Resting his head against her shoulder, he reflected on the roller coaster of emotions he’d experienced in the last hour or so. After years of resentment – albeit suppressed – how was it that he suddenly cared so much about his family? He thought he’d come back for an explanation, or possibly revenge. And less than an hour ago, he’d been desperate to exact that revenge. But now he just wanted to save them from whatever fate the Raven had in store. His only doubt was whether he was up to it.
Mason’s words to Collins kept going through his mind. The chances were that he would be angry or frightened or any of those other negative emotions. If that would only serve to make the Raven stronger, what chance would he have against him?
The Land Rover slowed some more, then Adam turned it sharply to the right and stopped.
“That’s as close as I dare take her,” he said. “Ideally I’d like to turn around so we’re facing the other way, but I don’t even want to show reversing lights.”
Martin looked past Claire through the passenger window. In the distance there was a faint orange glow. It flickered, as fires do.
Adam placed his hand on Martin’s shoulder. “You’re on your own now,” he said flatly.
Claire opened the door. It creaked in the stillness of the night, but no demons came rushing out of the darkness to attack them. Martin followed her out, and was struck by the chill in the air. He hadn’t been aware of it earlier. Then again, he and Collins had been running and carrying Ian between them. Stepping out from the warmth of a vehicle filled with seven others made it more noticeable.
They walked away from the Land Rover, towards the firelight. He felt Claire’s hand in his. It seemed right.
Starlight shone down through the trees, offering limited illumination. It was enough for him to see her face, though. She looked concerned. He hoped it was for him.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said. It was an admission he didn’t want to make in front of the others. Somehow he felt safe with her.
She lifted her hand to his face. “You will when you get there.” She said it with a confidence that he certainly didn’t feel was warranted. Yet he took strength from it.
“Will you be here for me when I get back?”
A sad look crossed her face. “That could be very complicated, Martin.”
He grinned and, for a moment, he looked the image of the cocksure surfer dude he had cultivated over the years. Nodding his head in the direction of the clearing, he quipped: “And you think this isn’t?”
It took a moment. She hesitated before smiling back at him. Then she hugged him and told him what he wanted to hear.
Eighteen
They had parked about half a mile from the clearing. In daylight, he guessed it would have taken him about ten minutes to walk to it. After tripping over several fallen branches and tree roots, he decided against trying to match that.
The high he’d felt when he left Claire fell away rapidly. As he made his way through the woods, he was reminded of the dream. Or rather, the memory of that night in nineteen sixty-four. No clothes to find this time. But he knew that was only because he was following a different path. There were similarities, though. The trees partially illuminated by the moonlight; the scurrying of creatures on different sides of him; the occasional glimpse of birds in the branches. And up ahead, the glow of the fire growing larger as he moved nearer.
Before long, he began to wonder how much was reality, and how much was the memory. The sensations he felt were identical to those he’d experienced during twenty five years of nightmares. Apprehension was an understatement; terror very much an overstatement. He knew there was physical danger. The Raven was more than capable of killing him. Or worse. But he wasn’t concerned about that as much as he was about what he was going to find when he reached the clearing. Which was how he’d felt before. The difference this time was that he had already seen some of it.
In spite of that, just as he had when he was eight, he kept on, slowly but surely making his way towards the fire. Still a few hundred yards away, a gust of wind blew in his direction, and he momentarily felt the warmth of the flames. Sound came with it. Muffled voices. They sounded subdued. A product of the distance or the Raven’s control over them? He couldn’t tell.
He could see movement, silhouettes and shadows shifting around the flames. His throat seemed to tighten. It was the prospect of what he might see. The image of his mother laid out on the ground flashed into his mind. He made a conscious effort to push it aside. But it shot back in as soon as he relaxed. She had been in her thirties when he’d seen her like that. A disturbing enough vision. What if she was like it again? He didn’t know her age, but knew she must have been around sixty. She looked older though.
Then the humour kicked in.
What the fuck am I thinking? Her age isn’t the important thing here. She’s my mum!
And he couldn’t help himself. He chuckled. Just for a moment. But it was enough. It broke the spell. The image of Anne Gates submitting to a sexual act was banished from his mind. At least until he reached the clearing. The thought sobered him, but the images stayed away.
Even though there was no wind, he began to hear sounds from the clearing. Voices again. A few words that he couldn’t make out. Muted and brief. There was no dialogue. More like instructions being given. And there was the crackle of burning wood, and the rustle of leaves. He guessed they were on the ground and being pushed around by feet moving through them.
The trees suddenly seemed to part before him as if they were being pulled aside by some supernatural power. Startled, he stopped moving, and as he did so the trees did too. It was an optical illusion, he realised, a result of the angle from which he’d approached the clearing. But it meant he had an unobstructed view of the fire now. Figures seemed to be dancing on the far side of the clearing. He could make out their heads and shoulders over the top of the fire. As they turned, swaying in time to music only they seemed to hear, the firelight reflected off their naked skin.
Reluctantly, he stepped forward again, forcing himself nearer. The gap between the trees opened still further, revealing more of the clearing. He saw the Raven. Because he was dressed, he stood out from the others. He had discarded the clothes he’d been wearing at the house, but the new ones were familiar to Martin. In this light, it was impossible to tell the colour. Everything he had on was dark: the long cloak, the shirt, trousers and boots. They might have been black or brown or possibly even blue. Black seemed the most likely. The only lightnes
s came from the pale face, which currently looked very self-satisfied, and from a chain that hung around his neck, its links flickering with reflected firelight. Something dangled from the chain, but from this distance Martin couldn’t make it out.
A few moments passed before he realised that he was focusing on the Raven to avoid having to look at everything else. He was now less than twenty yards from the edge of the clearing. There was nothing in the way to obscure his view. Swallowing hard, he braced himself.
He’d assumed that seeing his mother performing a sexual act with someone else would be his worst nightmare. As he took in what was actually happening, he realised that it would have been a blessing. With all his senses reeling, he was oblivious to the Raven’s attention turning towards him.
Nineteen
It had been a disappointing day. But now it was time to move on. He had things to do back home, and he wasn’t going to achieve anything here at this time. For now, he would use these people to build up his energy levels. He didn’t need the energy to travel, but he knew he might need it when he got back.
He stood to one side of the fire and watched the spectacle before him. Naked bodies obeying his every command. Not that he said a word. His will was stronger than that of all the other people in the clearing combined. Effortlessly, he bent their minds, twisting them into shapes they couldn’t possibly comprehend. Much to his amusement - and their horror.
And now the revulsion they felt at their own actions flowed into him.
The Salthouse family. Their eldest daughter, Monica, had been here last time, and they were remembering her now, the grief tearing them apart. Images of her hanging in a barn. She had only been able to find orange binding twine. Her strangulation had been long and painful. Their other daughter, Teresa, was with them tonight. Nearly thirty, she was on her knees at the side of her mother, trembling because she already knew her fate and, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t scream or cry for help. To add to their pain was the guilt over Peter, still lying in hospital, kept alive with machines and a continuous flow of morphine. The son who was conceived at a similar gathering twenty five years earlier.
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