The Man Who Vanishes: a gripping horror thriller spanning 3 timelines: One Man. Everywhere. (The Vanishers Book 1)

by J M Gonzalez Riley

  After a while, Kayn decided to circle around them and continue with his search, moving cautiously away from the edge of the clearing. But one of the gypsies spotted him and cried out.

  The gypsies fell silent at once, staring in his direction. Kayn froze.

  ‘Reveal yourself!’ one of the gypsies shouted from the clearing.

  After a pause, Kayn raised himself slowly and stepped into the clearing, his eyes darting from face to face.

  In the centre sat an old man, dark and withered as the trees around him and wise as the river that ran on the other side. He held a small bowl, which he shook and emptied into a leather cloth stretched before him on the ground. Kayn looked at the cloth and saw bones that had been worked with a knife into smooth, even shapes.

  The old man stared at them for a while, then looked up from the bones at Kayn, his weathered face etched with deep lines that criss-crossed each other in a mesmerising pattern.

  ‘I am the king of this clan,’ the old man proclaimed. ‘Now, tell me, what brings you into the forest?’.

  ‘I came looking for berries,’ Kayn replied.

  Laughter rippled across the glade. All laughed heartily except the old gypsy king, and all Kayn could do was watch and wait for the commotion to die down before he could speak again. But the old king beat him to it.

  ‘You came to the forest of Bluebell to look for berries?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Yes,’ Kayn replied.

  Hearing the tone of their king, the gypsies fell silent at once.

  ‘Do you know anything about this forest?’ the old man pressed.

  Kayn shrugged.

  ‘No.’

  The old king nodded slowly, pensive.

  Kayn felt uncomfortable with the silence. He wanted to know what it was in his words that had sparked all the amusement a moment ago.

  ‘My friend sent me. He cannot travel far himself.’

  ‘He is no friend of yours,’ the old king said. ‘Nobody has ventured into this forest for nigh on a hundred years. And with good reason. Your friend will not be expecting you back from your trek.’

  Kayn’s mouth fell open.

  The gypsy king motioned to the ground beside him and told Kayn to sit down.Kayn obeyed. The rest of the gypsies gathered around and took sitting positions on the grass.

  The old king gathered the bones into his bowl, then shook it and tipped it upside down. The bones came rolling out onto the cloth. There, he stared at them for a long time before he looked back up at Kayn. Though it was almost impossible to know, Kayn was sure that the old man was scowling, as if something he had read in the bones troubled him deeply.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked the gypsy king, his voice almost a harsh whisper.

  ‘I’m Kayn. I came from the hamlet down the hill, just beyond the forest.’

  ‘No,’ the old king shook his head. ‘That is not what I asked you. I asked: who are you?’

  Suddenly, Kayn felt empty. Everybody watched him, waiting for his answer.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last, looking down, away from the gazes.

  The old king nodded, slowly, almost to himself. His eyes were drawn back to the bones on the cloth, from which he seemed to read some terrible truth.

  ‘A man with no past,’ he said, almost in a whisper.

  Kayn shuffled uncomfortably in the silence, aware of the piercing eyes on him.

  ‘Tell me your story,‘ said the old king. His tone had a kinder edge to it.

  Kayn shrugged, not sure that he understood his meaning. ‘I don’t remember who I am,’ he said feebly.

  ‘Then tell me that which you can remember,’ said the king.

  Kayn thought how best to start. It seemed that the forest itself and everything in it now held its breath in anticipation of his tale, so much so that refusing to speak now might provoke unwanted consequences.

  ‘I found myself just outside the hamlet, one night not long ago,’ he began. ‘It was raining and there was terrible thunder and lightning in the sky. I cannot remember anything beyond that point.’

  He looked around at the faces about him and wished suddenly that Tiffany were here with him.

  ‘Go on with your tale,’ the gypsy king urged him.

  Kayn resumed his story.

  ‘I was taken into the hamlet, into the care of the sire. But not for long. It seems they are waiting for a Witchfinder, and they thought I might be him.’

  Kayn didn’t miss the small gasps and the looks that passed between the gypsies at the mention of the Witchfinder.

  ‘But they soon realised that I am no Witchfinder,’ he added quickly, ‘and threw me out back into the night. I would have perished in the cold and the rain but for one man who saved me. The same man who sends me to the forest in search for berries. That’s all I remember. Other than the dream in which I learned the name of the one who sent me here, into this place.’

  The old king was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke.

  ‘I am troubled by some of the things that you have told me. But tell me now, who sent you here?’

  ‘Her name is Dayna,’ Kayn answered solemnly.

  The old king watched him long and hard.

  ‘Who is Dayna?’

  Kayn shrugged.

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  An air of slight unease had fallen upon the gypsies. Kayn wondered suddenly if they may know who and where Dayna was, and felt a glimmer of hope.

  ‘Tell me more of the Witchfinder,’ said the gypsy king, changing the subject. ‘When is he coming?’

  Kayn shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. Soon.’

  The old king looked pensive.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ’But I do not understand why the man who saved you now sends you here to your demise.’

  Not for the first time, Kayn wondered at his meaning.

  ‘Why do you think I would perish here?’ he asked him.

  The old king raised an eyebrow, then a smile broke across his old face, a set of good strong teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

  ‘A tale for a tale, eh? Very well, I'll tell you only what I know. I will tell you about she who dwells in the forest of Bluebell.’

  Kayn found himself holding his breath.

  ‘Serapia,’ said the old king in a whisper.

  ‘Who is Serapia?’ asked Kayn quickly, feeling his hope diminishing fast.

  The old king watched him curiously.

  ‘You don’t remember?’ he asked Kayn.

  Kayn shook his head.

  ‘Should I remember her?’

  The old king held his gaze.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Serapia is an Incantatrix.’

  Kayn shook his head.

  ‘What is an Incantatrix?’ he asked.

  The old king paused before answering.

  ‘A powerful witch.’

  Kayn gasped.

  ‘She was driven from the hamlet many years ago,’ the gypsy king continued, ‘by the then Witchfinder General. She fled into the forest, where a band of gypsies, led by my father, helped her escape her persecutors, for which deed our kind alone is granted safe passage through these parts.’

  He took a deep breath.

  ‘It is said that she made the forest her home, and that it answers only to her wish. The deeper you go in, the greater the danger. Few fools have ventured yonder, in search for her, right to the heart of the forest where the river bends back on itself. But never has a man outside our kind returned alive from those parts.’

  Kayn gasped again.

  ‘The forest is haunted?’

  The old gypsy king nodded gravely.

  ‘My father once told me about her powerful magic, and I fear it still, though I have not witnessed it.’

  Kayn was chilled by the account.

  ‘The knowledge was passed on from our fathers that the Incantatrix will one day send her chosen one to purge the sons and daughters of those who drove her out. We do not question her, but await her messenger. And then
what will be will be.’

  There was a long silence as Kayn absorbed what the old king had told him. Suddenly, he realised that this was the prophecy Titch had spoke of earlier. His mind raced. Could Dayna be the Incantatrix? Was he her chosen one?

  A deep silence had fallen across the clearing. The gypsies were staring at him.

  Kayn suddenly felt fearful of the gypsies and wished to be away from them and the forest. He stood up quickly.

  ‘I must go,’ he said hastily, backing away toward the edge of the clearing. The old king nodded and looked back at the bones on the cloth.

  ‘Go,’ he said, ‘and farewell. But I must warn you that I see in the bones that we will meet again soon.’

  Kayn reeled back, turned and ran.

  Kayn hurried back along the trail, keeping the river on his right, wishing to be out of the forest which had grown dim already.

  As he ran, his thoughts were in chaos. The forest felt ominous and he grew fearful of it in every way, knowing what he now knew, his heart beating fast and hard, betraying him to the forest. He wondered fleetingly if the woods would give him away to the Incantatrix.

  He ran, spurred on by his fear, over thick tree roots and shrubs that seemed to reach for him in the darkness. His mind raced. What if he was the chosen one after all? What if he was under some spell that prevented him from remembering his way back to the witch until his mission had been accomplished? That way, if the folk in the hamlet – or the Witchfinder General, when he arrived – discovered him and took him for questioning, he would be unable to give her secrets away.

  Was he was the killer they were all looking for?

  A shiver ran through his body as he ran.

  But Titch had told him that it could not be him, for he had watched him sleep all night.

  Hadn’t he?

  Kayn reached the tree line and came out onto the hill top. He stood on top of the hill, drenched in sweat, his lungs burning as he gulped fresh air. He sat down, panting, catching his breath, awash with relief.

  When finally he began to make his way down the hill, he spotted the two figures on the glade down below and knew straight away who they were. He descended slowly, so as not to disturb anything on his way down that might alert them to his presence. He wanted to get up close and see what transpired down there.

  Although the descent was treacherous, especially so in the gloom, Kayn was aided by the light of the full moon. When he reached the edge of the plateau, he remained there rather than venture into the flat clearing, watching the two figures in the centre.

  Tiffany was sitting on a flat rock. Titch was in front of her, talking, mostly with his hands, but uttering words also. Kayn couldn’t make out any of what he was saying from this distance. For a moment, he wondered whether the little man had been lying about Tiffany’s deafness. He watched him talk, waiting to see if she would reply, but after a short while it became evident that Titch was doing all the talking and that Tiffany’s input consisted only of nods and hand gestures.

  At least Titch had been truthful about that. But Kayn felt otherwise betrayed by him. Why had the little man sent him on a suicide mission? He recalled how miserable Titch had become after the incident with the village brute. He had almost pleaded with him not to go back into the forest. Perhaps Titch had changed his mind after the he had saved him from the brute.

  He realised then that the little man seemed to be in distress. He hung his head low when he wasn’t talking, and threw his hands up in the air dramatically when he was, slapping the dust at the end of each sentence. Perhaps the little man’s conscience was heavy with guilt.

  Tiffany consoled him, gently patting his back, and Kayn couldn’t help wondering how much of Titch’s despair was feigned. Then, all of a sudden, Titch leaned forward and kissed Tiffany. And then began to knuckle his way toward the edge of the plateau and down the remainder of the hill, toward the hamlet.

  Tiffany remained seated on the flat slab, watching the moon. Kayn chose that moment to stand up and walk into the glade.

  She noticed him as he approached and watched him. Kayn smiled as he reached her, unsure of what he would tell her or how. Her expression was one of curiosity, her eyes bright and warm. Kayn sat on the ground in front of her.

  ‘I just came back from the forest,’ he explained.

  Tiffany watched him and shook her head gently from side to side.

  She sees through me, he thought guiltily.

  ‘Well,’ he started. ‘I…stopped for a rest at the top, and saw you two, so I came down.’

  Her eyes stared into his, then, to Kayn’s relief, a little thin smile played on her lips.

  ‘He sent me for berries,’ he said. ’But I didn’t find any. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.’

  A cloud passed over the moon overhead, drawing a shadow across Tiffany’s face. Kayn felt sure he had seen her frown, or scowl, just then. When the cloud passed away, her expression was as serious as the stone she sat on.

  Kayn decided not to lie to her again.

  ‘There are no berries in that forest,’ he said.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Titch sent me there to get rid of me.’

  Tiffany looked away. When she looked back at him, her eyes had filled with sadness. She nodded, and hugged herself.

  Kayn wasn’t sure of what she was trying to convey.

  ‘I think he regrets it, though,’ he said quickly.

  Tiffany smiled and nodded, hugging herself again.

  Perhaps she meant that Titch was a baby, Kayn thought.

  ‘The forest,’ he began, searching for the right words, ‘is strange.’

  Tiffany’s eyes grew wide. She made the shape of a triangle and pointed at the ground in front of her. Kayn looked where she pointed but there was nothing there.

  ‘You mean the witch burnings?’ he asked her.

  She nodded, making the triangle sign again.

  Bonfire, he thought.

  She looked away again.

  Kayn marvelled at her beauty. He wandered what kind of thoughts she had, in her silent world. But time was getting on, and he was anxious to get back to the stable before Titch bedded down for the night and locked the stable door.

  He stood up, looking down at her.

  ‘I will go now,’ he told her, pointing down toward the hamlet.

  She stood up with him, close to him, and he felt his want for her grow. His eyes must have held something of his thoughts then, because she gave him a peculiar look.

  He looked away, biting his lip. He felt unsure of himself, being unable to interpret her in the way that Titch could.

  Tiffany walked on ahead of him, toward the edge of the glade. He followed her, his eyes on her moonlit hair and her smooth shoulders. When they reached the edge, she came to a stop and turned to him, offering him her hand. Tentatively at first, Kayn reached out and held it. Then, without warning, she ran off the edge and down the hill.

  Kayn trailed behind her, almost tripping over headfirst as she dragged him on by his hand. He managed to regain his balance half way down the hill, drawing up level with her, catching the childlike smile that played on her lips as she leaped over boulders and sidestepped all manner of overgrown weeds that could easily have caught their footing and sent them tumbling down the hill.

  She can’t do this with Titch, he thought, regretting the thought almost immediately.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, they stood panting, catching their breaths. She was grinning at him, pushing him away playfully. Kayn grabbed her and pulled her close, and then, instinctively, he kissed her on the lips.

  Tiffany drew back, shocked. Her hand flew to her open mouth, her eyes wide, staring at him as if he had struck her in the face.

  Regretful, he extended his hand in apology, but she took another step back. Then, before he could say anything, she turned on her heels and ran back toward the hamlet.

  Kayn stood there for a long time, confused, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. He
had completely misjudged her playfulness. Suddenly, he felt apprehensive about returning to the hamlet. He dreaded seeing Titch and telling him what had just happened. But he felt even worse at the thought of what Tiffany might tell the little man the next day, or worse, her father.

  Kayn found the stable door unlocked and entered with his heart in his mouth. He half expected to find Tiffany there, crying, and Titch, enraged, ready to throw him out into the night. Instead, he found only Titch, slumped on the straw , the candle light burning next to him.

  As Kayn stepped in, the little man sat up, startled. His mouth fell open when he saw him and he jumped up from the straw, his eyes wide.

  ‘Friend!’ he cried, knuckling across the floor toward him. ‘I was waiting for your return! Look!’ he pointed toward a dark corner. ‘There’s bread and some dried fruits, and your bed is ready for the night!’.

  Kayn gave him a stern look. On his way down from the hill he had decided not to mention anything about what he knew, perhaps even to act as if nothing was out of place. But the incident with Tiffany earlier on had changed his mood and he was in no frame of mind to pretend.

  ‘You sent me to the forest to die,’ he said flatly.

  Titch gasped and choked.

  ‘If you wanted me out of your stable, you should have told me so.’

  ‘No!’ cried Titch. ‘Oh, dear. I was wrong to send you into the forest. But you insisted upon it!’

  ‘You insisted upon it the first time,’ Kayn barked.

  ‘But I tried to stop you,’ said Titch feebly.

  ‘You’ve been trying to get rid of me ever since I stepped in here. Because of Tiffany.’

  The little man looked shocked, his mouth opening and closing silently.

  Kayn was tight with anger and envious of Titch, of the bond he shared with Tiffany, of the fact that he could never enjoy a bond like theirs with her.

  ‘You want me out of the way because you see me as a threat. You’re scared that she might lose interest in you. And you want her all to yourself.’

  Titch fidgeted on the straw. Kayn could see that he had hurt him.

  ‘And you would have had me die up in the forest,’ Kayn said, slowly.

  Titch hung his head low. If he had any words with which to defend himself, then he chose not to speak them.