by James Dawson
Lis’s brain went into overdrive. They’d assumed Ms Dandehunt was the killer because she’d had the diary and hadn’t given it to the police. If it contained clues to Laura’s murderer then obviously the killer wouldn’t want the police to get hold of it. But now Danny had the book. Danny or Dandehunt? Dandehunt or Danny? The killer has the book.
‘Lis . . . It’s not what you think,’ Danny said.
‘What do I think?’ she demanded, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Danny opened his arms and took a step towards her. She reflexively ducked back out of reach. ‘Oh, God, I know it looks bad,’ Danny muttered.
‘Why do you have that diary?’ Lis asked, trying to keep panic out of her voice. She’d been so blind . . . Laura had told her she and Danny were involved, but Lis had ignored it, willing to believe anything Danny told her. Had he killed Laura himself, or had it been his masked accomplice who’d now grabbed Delilah?
‘I . . . I found it,’ Danny stammered.
‘Yeah, right!’ The fight or flight impulse kicked in and flight won hands down – not least because, right now, Delilah needed her. Lis threw herself past Danny towards the open door, but he caught her in a second. Double her weight, Danny pinned her against the door frame, grinding her spine against the wood. She cried out in pain.
‘Wait!’ he urged. ‘Lis, I need to explain!’
‘Get off me!’ Lis screamed, but he retained his hold on her. Desperate now, she delivered a hard kick to his shin. He howled and let go of her instantly. Lis took off up the stairs.
Even with a sore leg, she knew a rugby player wasn’t going to be stopped that easily and she could hear him right behind her, limping as fast as she ran. She bounded up the first flight of stairs and was then faced with the choice of main exit, boys’ toilets or the stairs up to G2. Danny would just as easily catch her on the drive as the stairs, she realised. Her only option was strength in numbers. She headed for the Spanish class in G2.
She made it halfway across the entrance hall before he caught up with her. He reached out, seizing a handful of her blazer. Lis shrieked and wriggled out of the jacket, letting him pull it clean off her body. Slowed, but still burning adrenalin, she ran on to the longer flight of stairs.
‘Lis! Stop!’ Danny called, throwing the blazer to the floor. He sprinted forwards, grabbing at her legs from a lower step. ‘Will you give me a chance?’
She raced on up the stairs, focused on reaching the top. Danny’s footsteps were close though, and getting closer every second.
‘Goddammit Lis, you are bloody hard work!’ Danny cursed and reached for her again.
This time Lis felt his hand close around her ankle. Instinctively, she kicked backwards and Danny lost his grip. She heard a messy scrabbling sound behind her and looked to see Danny fall backwards down the stairs. He hit the floor with a dull thud. The force of it twisted his head around at a painful angle and his startled eyes closed. He lay there, limp and still like a rag doll. From his nose or mouth, Lis couldn’t tell which, crimson blood spilled over his chin.
Lis stared at him, unable to breathe. This was the part where she knew she had to run. He was bound to get up and come after her. Murderers always do in films. Yet she found herself unable to move. It was as if the struggle had drained her whole body. She watched, waiting for any slight movement from the foot of the stairs.
‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ an authoritative voice boomed from the very top of the staircase.
Lis turned to see Mr Gray jogging down towards her.
‘Lis?’ he said with concern. ‘Lis? What happened?’
He put his arm around her and slowly she felt her brain defrosting: she was safe, it was fine, she wasn’t alone. Lis fell into his arms like a marionette with its strings cut.
‘Mr Gray, Danny’s the killer!’ Lis sobbed. ‘He killed Laura. He was after me. And Delilah – someone’s got Delilah!’ The words tumbled over themselves.
‘What?’ Mr Gray pulled back. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘No! It’s all true!’
He looked into her eyes, searching for truth, and then glanced down at Danny. ‘Jesus, Lis! Is he OK?’
Mr Gray pushed her behind him and headed down the stairs to his unconscious pupil.
‘Stop,’ Lis begged. ‘He’s dangerous!’
‘Just wait there!’ Gray commanded. Her teacher cautiously leaned over Danny. Lis could see the blood, but was he breathing? Had she killed her boyfriend?
‘He’s alive,’ Mr Gray announced. Danny stirred and the teacher recoiled in shock.
Lis wasn’t going to wait for round two. She raced down the stairs, slowing only to step carefully around Danny’s body.
‘Where are you going?’ Mr Gray asked.
Lis continued to run across the entrance hall back towards the main office. ‘To call the police!’ she shouted back to him. ‘Then this whole thing will be over. We’ve got proof now.’
She trotted down the last few steps and into the office, now more familiar with her surroundings. Hauling a phone across the first desk she came to, she lifted the receiver and began to dial nine, nine, nine. She’d never done this before; she hoped it would be pretty self-explanatory. This was it. After this phone call it was out of her hands forever. She could find her friends, make sure Dee was OK and live happily ever after.
A warm hand pulled the phone out of her grip and calmly placed it back in its cradle. She turned and found her face inches from Mr Gray’s.
‘I was just calling the police!’ she exclaimed, utterly confused.
‘Oh, Lis,’ Mr Gray said in a new, patronising tone. ‘You can’t call the police.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Danny didn’t kill Laura.’
And then he took a step back and swung his fist at her face so fast she didn’t even have time to blink. The fist made contact and, after a split second of the most crushing pain she’d ever felt, Lis stopped being aware of anything at all.
Witches
This dream topped them all. This time, Lis had broken into school after hours, watched a hooded figure kidnap her mate, and then essentially kicked her boyfriend down the stairs! What could it all mean?
No, wait . . .
Her eyes fluttered open to see long, white rectangles moving past her face. Where was she? Searing pain emanated from her nose and she tasted coppery blood in her mouth.
Oh, God, it wasn’t a dream. Danny . . . Mr Gray . . . It had all happened. It was still happening.
Lis realised her legs were in the air. The oblongs she’d observed were strip lights. She was being dragged. Snapping into action, she wriggled like an eel, letting out a pitiful cry for help.
‘Lis, hush,’ said Mr Gray, who was doing the dragging. He pinned her feet together to stop her from kicking out. ‘We’re almost there now. Don’t make a fuss.’
Using her arms, she tried in vain to claw her way in the opposite direction, digging her nails into the tiled floor, but she couldn’t get a grip. Gray had the drop on her and all the momentum.
‘Lis, will you calm down? You’ll only hurt yourself!’
She swore, and again tried to kick herself free from his hold. She felt herself starting to cry with fear and frustration.
‘Please don’t cry. Men are physically incapable of dealing with crying girls. It’s a fact of life.’
Lis swore again, more loudly. Why was he being so weirdly pleasant? Why not just finish the job?
Suddenly, the texture against the small of her back changed as a mighty pull from Gray dragged her through a doorway and onto carpet. The niceties ceased as he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her onto her feet.
They were in G2 and it was full of people. Lis’s head spun wildly from the horizontal to vertical shift and the overpowering peppery smell that filled the room. She took a second to adjust.
Her gaze first fell on Kitty and Delilah who were both taped to chairs in the centre of the classroom. All the other chairs and
tables had been stacked neatly around the perimeter of the room. Lis gasped: relief at seeing her friends alive, mixed with an equal measure of terror. Kitty and Dee had been crudely bound with brown packing tape, their arms, legs and mouths restrained. It was something you’d expect to see in a terrorist’s home movie, not in real life.
Lis twisted round in Mr Gray’s hold, searching for Jack. He wasn’t there. But several other people were. She immediately recognised Jennifer Rigg, Laura’s mum, standing elegantly in the corner, immaculate as she had been in her own home. Sitting next to her and holding a pile of ancient-looking books was little old Daphne from the library.
This was too weird. Why weren’t they helping her? Why were they just sitting there?
‘Help me!’ Lis yelled, staggering as Gray pushed her towards a chair. ‘Please!’
At least Mrs Rigg had the good grace to look away. Daphne seemed to find her plea funny.
‘Welcome to Spanish for Adults,’ Mr Gray sneered. He shoved her down into a chair and Jennifer Rigg strutted to his side, carrying the tape. Within seconds Lis’s hands were secured behind her back.
‘Leave her mouth,’ Gray instructed. ‘Now, let’s talk.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lis begged. ‘Please, just let us go. We haven’t done anything wrong!’
Gray looked at her, genuine sympathy in his eyes. ‘You know what, Lis?’ he breathed, leaning in so close he was almost nuzzling her neck. ‘I’m gutted it’s you, I mean it. I prayed and prayed for it to be someone else, but it’s not, is it? It’s you.’
‘I don’t know what you mean!’ Lis screamed. She saw tears well up and spill from Delilah’s eyes. Even hard-as-nails Kitty was wide-eyed with fear.
‘Really?’ Gray smiled. ‘That’s not true, is it? Witch!’
He was calling her a witch? Shouldn’t it be the other way round? She glanced around the room, absorbing everything. Candles burned on the window ledges and on the teacher’s desk where they surrounded a bronze bowl of burning incense, which filled the air with the pungent peppery smell Lis had already noticed. It was as if they’d all been transported back in time, hundreds of years, to the dark days – the darkest days – of Hollow Pike. Lis remembered the old etchings of burning torches and burning bodies, and the tortured faces of the witches tied to the stake as eager crowds looked on in glee.
And then she got it. The Crucible. The jigsaw was finished and it wasn’t a pretty picture.
‘What are you?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘Well, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you!’ He smiled. ‘We are The Righteous Protectors. I doubt you’ll have heard of us; we’re not really down with the kids. We don’t have a Facebook page.’
Oh, she’d heard of them. Suddenly she wished she’d taken the time to read Dandehunt’s book herself.
‘I’ve heard about you,’ she said.
The adults in the room bristled. The colour drained from Jennifer Rigg’s face. ‘I knew it. They’ve known about us the whole time.’
‘Be quiet,’ Gray ordered. ‘And just what did you hear?’
Lis paused. Play dumb or tell the truth? She figured it was much too late to play innocent. These were the professionals after all. ‘You’re some sort of church group . . . From years ago. You protect Hollow Pike? You chase away the ghosts and goblins.’
The adults laughed, except Gray, whose expression was suddenly overcast, a storm brewing.
‘Do you think this is a joke?’ he growled. ‘Our ancestors founded the Righteous Protectors almost four hundred years ago to purge this town of people like you! The townsfolk, your so-called “healers” and “wise women” were sinners. They danced with the devil and look what they got: children started to disappear, plague arrived. The witches hexed this town. We purified Hollow Pike.’
He reached under the neck of his shirt and pulled out a delicate silver cross, identical to the one Lis had seen Jennifer wearing at her home. ‘Our families have continued God’s work for hundreds of years,’ he went on.
‘You’re related?’
‘Not all of us. Names change over the years, but we’re all Sternes. Meet my cousin and my grandmother. The Sternes were right there at the beginning, the proudest witch-finders – we even helped translate the Malleus Maleficarum. You’re not the first witches we’ve dealt with.’
‘We’re not witches!’ Lis exclaimed truthfully.
Again, the little congregation laughed heartily. ‘Then what would you call yourself, deary?’ Daphne spoke up from her chair.
‘Nothing! I’m just a girl.’
‘Lis!’ Gray chastised. ‘You have such low self-esteem! You’re so much more than just a girl!’ He knelt before her, examining her keenly. ‘Haven’t you ever had a dream, Lis – a dream where you see things that haven’t happened yet? Haven’t you ever had a feeling of déjà vu that you couldn’t quite place? Haven’t you ever noticed the way birds seem to follow you?’
A tear stung Lis’s eye and rolled down her cheek. He knew her better than she knew herself. She gave her ties an experimental tug but she was tightly bound. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Mr Gray wiped her tears away, and she flinched at his touch. ‘That’s interesting. In the past, witches couldn’t cry under torture – it was one way of spotting a malefica. You must be very powerful indeed. We’ve been watching and listening closely, Lis. Does the name Rushworth mean anything to you?’
Saying nothing, she nodded. Her gran – her mother’s mother – had been Vida Rushworth, that much was true.
‘Everything changed when you arrived,’ Jennifer spat. ‘Laura’s dreams began . . .’
‘Please,’ Lis begged. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’
Gray sighed, becoming impatient. ‘OK, I suppose there’s time for a brief history lesson. Sitting comfortably? So, our ancestors, the Righteous Protectors, first rode into this hellhole nearly four hundred years ago. It had quite the reputation, as I’m sure you’re aware. They stormed the forests and dragged the witch women from their homes. In accordance with the holy law, the witches were tried, convicted and executed.’
‘You mean they were tortured until they confessed?’ Lis demanded angrily.
Gray’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t rise to her taunt. ‘Unfortunately,’ he continued, ‘some of their bastard children survived. Some of the locals felt sorry for them, can you believe that? They looked upon the witches as “healers” and that sort of thing. The pitiful creatures got wind of us coming and agreed to hide the witches’ spawn.’
Suddenly, Lis saw where this was heading. It was impossible, though. She would have known. Someone would have told her – her mum or gran . . .
‘The Rushworth family was one of those suspected of taking in these devil children and raising them as their own. We could never prove it though . . . until now. Laura was a Rushworth witch. And so are you.’
‘What?’ Lis demanded softly.
Jennifer spoke very quietly, candlelight flickering across her glacial features. ‘She was adopted. I . . . I couldn’t have my own children . . .’
Daphne moved across to Jennifer’s side. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Jenny. You couldn’t have known you were taking in a witch.’
Gray gripped Lis’s shoulders, his voice suddenly deep and deadly serious. ‘How could we have been so stupid? The oldest Protector family in Hollow Pike and we almost allowed our bloodline to be tainted.’ Suddenly, the weird light tone returned. ‘That’s right, Lis, your grandmother was Laura’s great-aunt. Only neither of them knew it because Laura’s real mother never told anyone she was pregnant!’With a flourish, Gray produced Laura’s journal from his inside pocket and showed it to the room.
He must have picked it up in the office after he punched me, Lis thought. She saw Mrs Rigg flinch.
‘Jenny, do you want to do this bit, or shall I?’ Gray asked.
‘Simon, please don’t,’ she replied in her clipped, fake accent.
Gray smiled. ‘We don’t know how
you did it, but you somehow managed to get hold of Laura’s other diaries, didn’t you? But you’ve been looking for this one, I understand. And rightly so! It’s a page turner! The one where Laura finally learns who she really is – a witch.’
Lis pursed her lips. She tried to make eye contact with Kitty, wondering if Kitty’s restraints were any more breakable than hers, but Kitty was nearest to Daphne, and on Daphne’s lap lay a nasty-looking ornate knife. It was some sort of ceremonial dagger with a leather hilt and a long, wavy blade. Lis was too far away to see it, but she knew the blade had a delicate pattern inscribed into the metal. She knew it because she had seen the knife before – in her dreams.
‘So I’m guessing Laura was your coven leader, right?’ Mr Gray asked Lis. ‘She wouldn’t have had it any other way.’
Lis was about to deny this when she noticed Kitty shaking her head. Did Kitty have a plan? Lis wasn’t sure, but as long as Mr Gray was talking, he wasn’t using the dagger. Play along with him. And where was Jack? And Danny? Oh, God, poor Danny! If one of them had called the police, all she had to do was keep Gray talking. At the same time, she continued to rub her wrists together, trying to loosen the tape that held her.
‘Whatever,’ Lis said with as much conviction as she could muster.
‘Four witches make a coven. A new coven in Hollow Pike. We can’t have that. Now Kitty and Delilah we’ve suspected for a long time – Kitty, you’re a witch through your grandfather of course, and we all know about your mother, don’t we, Delilah?’ Behind their gags, Kitty looked puzzled, obviously oblivious to her supposed witch bloodline, while Delilah’s eyes flashed with rage. Mr Gray continued. ‘You made four when you came here, Lis, and that’s when Laura started having the dreams, started asking her father questions. He told her she was adopted and then it was only a matter of time before the four of you started practising dark magic. We had to end it.’
Lis’s heart broke on the spot. Oh, poor Laura, suffering the nightmares all by herself. She’d been going through the same things as Lis but with no one to talk to. No wonder her last few months had been so tumultuous! Lis knew exactly what that felt like, but at least she’d had the others in the end. If only Laura had opened up that day on the field, things could have been so different. But the Righteous Protectors had killed her, just like they were going to kill Lis and her friends now.