by James Dawson
A hot tear trickled down her cheek. She understood everything now. They were linked. All of them. On her first day at Fulton she’d been drawn to Laura as much as to the others. Perhaps some sort of magnetism in their bloodline had pulled them together. But Lis had been too late to reach Laura. Much too late.
Her gaze fell on Mrs Rigg and something new blossomed in Lis: anger. ‘You killed your own daughter!’ she exclaimed, aghast.
‘She wasn’t my daughter, not any more,’ Mrs Rigg replied icily. ‘She belonged to Satan. You all do. When she told me about the dreams, the birds, I knew she was in league with the devil. There was nothing I could do. She had to die.’
‘Right, you keep telling yourself that!’ Lis snapped. She couldn’t keep that one in.
The older woman marched across the room, rage burning across her face. ‘You little bitch!’ She pulled back her arm ready to strike, but Gray intervened, catching her hand.
‘Don’t get too close,’ he told her. ‘It could be a trick. Remember what you’re dealing with.’
‘You said the pepper would protect us from spells,’ Jennifer said, pointing at the pot on the desk.
‘You can never be too careful with witches . . .’
They’re scared of me! Lis realised. Could she use that? She tried to give them a compelling look, but it probably just came across as sullen. The tape around her wrists was loosening, though. As subtly as she could, she tried to wriggle her fingers out from the bindings. Play for time, she told herself.
‘So you killed Laura?’ Lis remarked. ‘Nice. She hadn’t done anything wrong.’
‘We knew there’d be four of you so we started the search straight away,’ Gray told her. ‘We traced the family trees. You three, all from old Hollow Pike families, thick as thieves. Didn’t take much to figure it out, to be honest. We’ve been watching you ever since.’
‘It was you outside my room last night!’ Lis suddenly realised. ‘You pervert!’
Gray winked. ‘You put on quite a show with Mr Marriott, by the way. It was so easy – I heard you tell him you were looking for the diary at school, we just had to wait here until you were dumb enough to break in. I wish it had been someone else though, not you guys. You guys are great! Every school needs its freaks!’
‘Well, then, let us go! We haven’t done any witchcraft. We’re not evil.’
He stood tall, serious and business-like. The fire of hatred burned in him. ‘I’m sorry, Lis. Do you know how important being a Righteous Protector is? It’s everything. A blessed role. A God-given duty. The Righteous Protectors are what stand between good and evil. We’re everywhere, Lis, quietly keeping the world safe from your kind.’
‘Your power is evil,’ chipped in Daphne. ‘It’s in your blood.’
‘That’s not true!’ Lis cried. ‘Do I look evil to you?’
‘Sorry, Lis. That’s not how it works. It doesn’t matter how you look. Evil can take many forms.’ Gray turned to the others. ‘Right, how do we do this? Which one first?’
‘Wait!’ Lis pleaded. ‘Kitty and Delilah have nothing to do with any of this. They’re nothing . . . It’s just me! Let them go.’
Daphne shook her head. ‘Always four!’ she screeched and grinned. ‘You, Laura, Kitty and Delilah!’
And then, out of nowhere a silver object flashed through the candlelight – a pair of scissors curling around Mr Gray’s neck like the deadliest of snakes.
A skinny hand clutched the blade to the teacher’s throat.
‘And Jack,’ said Jack.
Living the Dream
Jack’s hand trembled, one blade of the scissors digging into the stubble on Gray’s neck. Lis could see that Jack’s eyes were wide open and wild with fear. ‘Right. This is what’s gonna happen,’ he said. ‘If anyone moves I will cut Mr Gray’s throat, and I mean it, I will.’
‘Who’s he?’ asked Jennifer, staring at Jack.
Lis had never been so pleased to see anyone in her entire life. This was her moment. She finally managed to tug her hands free and bent down to pull the tape off her legs. As she did so, Jennifer snatched the dagger from Daphne and swung in for the kill, but she stopped when Gray yelped in pain.
‘Put down the knife! Now!’ Jack barked, drawing a drop of blood.
‘Jack. Just relax. We all know you aren’t going to hurt your teacher. You’re one of the good boys . . .’ Gray cooed, trying to charm him.
‘Yeah, well, it’s always the quiet ones . . .’ Jack muttered. ‘Now, let them go. All of them. Do it!’ he snapped at Daphne and Jennifer.
Lis finally freed herself and kicked the chair out of the way. Jennifer had placed the dagger on the floor as instructed, but it was still nearer to her than to Lis. If Lis grabbed for it, Jennifer could easily get to it first.
‘What are you waiting for? Move!’ Jack lacked conviction, panic broke his voice into a high-pitched squeak. Nonetheless, Daphne slowly started to untie Delilah.
What happened next was a blur. Moving like lightning, Mr Gray, a good five inches taller than Jack, swung to the side and wrapped his arms around him. In a heartbeat, he had floored Jack, despite Jack’s efforts to jab him with the scissors. Distracted, Lis failed to see Jennifer reach for the dagger on the carpet until the woman was already bearing down on her with the blade. Thinking fast, Lis grabbed a plastic chair and swung it at her face. The metal legs clanged against her skull and Jennifer fell back into Daphne’s arms with a pained screech.
‘Lis, run! Get help!’ Jack yelled from where he was pinned underneath Gray.
She hesitated for a moment, watching Jack’s rescue crumble and wondering what she should do.
‘Lis, go!’ yelled Jack. ‘Get the police!’
Lis didn’t wait any longer. She turned and ran.
The clatter of classroom furniture ringing in her ears, Lis sprinted to the fire exit. As she hit the metal bar, the fire doors mercifully swung open and she tumbled out into the freezing winter night. Which way to go? This was the back of the school, with no access to the front driveway. Think, brain, think! On this side she had netball courts, the rugby pitch and the copse. Of course . . . the copse. It all became horribly clear. Mrs Gillespie had told her that her dreams were a warning . . . a warning about this, and she knew exactly what awaited her in the black trees.
Lis turned back to the fire escape, but heard heavy footsteps from inside the school, getting closer. Dream or no dream, there was no other way out – literally. Maybe she could even use her dream – a map of the tangled paths through the copse formed in her mind. She was certain she could reach the other side of the wood, the safety of home. This time, she would ensure the nightmare had a happy ending. Besides, what choice did she have? It was do or die. Hopefully do.
‘Go get Danny Marriott. He’s by the main entrance,’ Lis heard Gray shouting to Daphne and Jennifer inside the building behind her. ‘We can’t have any witnesses. Kill him! I’ll get Lis!’
Move! Now! Lis told herself. She squeezed down the side of the netball court, heading towards the rugby pitch. If she could get into the copse then she could employ the darkness, the trees, the little secret dens. Gray would be just as lost as her. And if she could reach the other side . . . Hollow Pike, the police, safety.
Looking back she saw Mr Gray emerge from the fire doors. She’d been spotted.
Back in G2, Jennifer knelt on Jack’s chest, crushing him to the floor.
‘Got you now, you little bastard!’ Jennifer snarled. Jack responded by spitting straight into her face.
Jennifer slapped him. Daphne came to her side and the women dragged Jack across the carpet as he kicked and shouted.
‘Against the table!’ Jennifer commanded, pulling out the tape and wrapping it around and around Jack and the table legs as if trying to mummify him. ‘You have to kill Danny!’ she added. ‘If he wakes up, we’re all in deep trouble.’ She handed Daphne the ornate dagger.
‘OK, deary. I’ll be back in a minute, don’t you worry.’
�
��Just you wait till Lis calls Kitty’s dad,’ Jack growled. ‘He’ll make you wish you’d never been born.’
Jennifer laughed. ‘Idiot! Your little mate’s never going to reach the police. She’s exactly where we wanted her! You didn’t think we were going to kill you in the classroom, did you? She’s dead meat.’
As soon as she reached the dilapidated boundary wall that separated the playing fields from the copse, Lis yanked her skirt up and clambered over the crumbling stone. She scrambled over the top and fell down the other side, now oblivious to minor aches and pains. Her crushed nose was entirely numb, what were a few more cuts and scrapes?
Landing awkwardly in the undergrowth she picked herself up, deliberately heading away from the light of Fulton High and into the deepest darkness; it was now an ally in her escape.
‘You’re not going to make it, Lis!’ Gray called. She saw him appear at the top of the boundary wall. ‘Give up now! It’ll be easier that way.’
Not bloody likely. Lis fled, her muscles aching. Her legs weren’t used to this punishment, she was no runner. Blackness enveloped her and she could no longer see where her feet landed. Brambles ripped at her tights, and her feet sank in sticky mud. But she had to keep going: deeper and darker, deeper and darker.
Mr Gray’s footsteps behind her grew closer, driving her forwards. How close was he? Keep running. Don’t stop. Her lungs seemed to be shrinking, retracting into useless, painful weights within her chest. She couldn’t go on like this, she was making too much noise and her pursuer had a longer stride. As thin branches scratched against her face, she grasped the rough bark of the nearest tree trunk. Pressing her body close, she clung on, lowering herself to kneel among the twisting roots.
She listened hard. Where was he?
Suddenly, a brilliant flash of lightning rocked the copse, shaking birds from their sleeping perches. It was followed a blink later by deep, furious thunder.
What is it they say? Lis thought. The sooner the thunder follows the lightning, the nearer the storm. Another white bolt of energy forked across the sky with another thunderclap so loud Lis could feel it shake the air.
A storm was on its way.
A pair of sheep’s-wool-lined winter boots shuffled down G Corridor. The dagger held out in front of her, Daphne reached the top of the long stone staircase that led to the entrance hall. The school was silent, save for the steady ticking of the clock. Spread-eagled at the foot of the steps lay an unconscious youth. He looked heavy – and although they weren’t supposed to kill anyone inside the school, how on earth was she meant to get him outside? Too bad, she’d have to kill him there. You can’t plan for everything, can you?
Holding the bannister, because the stairs were steep and she had a bad hip, Daphne started to descend towards the boy Simon had called Danny. Poor thing. None of this had anything to do with him. Oh, well – one boy wasn’t worth the risk of exposing the Righteous Protectors, not after so many centuries of secrecy.
Halfway down the stairs, she stopped and drew a deep breath in through her nose. Lavender. Without any shadow of a doubt the school smelled of lavender. ‘Lavender?’ she muttered to herself, feeling anxious now. ‘Who’s there?’
She didn’t see the rounders bat swinging at the back of her head until it was far too late. Daphne slumped to the cold stone steps.
The rain fell heavily; sheets of water streamed down through the branches. Lis’s uniform was plastered to her skin as she dared to peek out from behind her tree trunk. Somewhere close a twig snapped underfoot. The storm was a hindrance and a help; the brilliant lightning could easily illuminate her position, but at least the roaring thunder disguised her ragged panting.
High above her, in the skeletal branches of the trees, birds circled like bats. It was as if they shared her panic. She couldn’t stay here all night. Gray would find her eventually. Becoming the darkness, Lis slunk away from her hiding place. If she ran uphill to the highest point of the copse she’d be halfway to Hollow Pike.
The rain created a swamp under her stupid canvas pumps, yet she ran with renewed vigour, the birds noisily chanting their support. Her sprint was childlike, too frantic and desperate to be athletic. Fire burned through her thighs as she struggled to keep going over the uneven earth, the footpath utterly lost. Gnarled branches reached down from the trees like talons and clawed at her hair, which hung in tangled ropes around her face. Freezing water ran into her eyes, blurring her vision. Time and time again Lis smacked into trees, her only comfort the knowledge that Gray was at an equal disadvantage.
She paused, trying to regain her bearings. Was she going up or down? Had she changed direction? She was surrounded by trees that seemed identical in the dark. There were no landmarks, no sign posts. She was lost.
‘Lis!’ she heard Gray cry, bloodlust in his voice. ‘I see you!’
She ran.
‘You know, the devil bore children with the witches through incubi and succubi,’ Jennifer said, as she strutted up and down the classroom, looking oddly beautiful in the dancing candlelight.
‘You’re a nutjob!’ Jack snapped.
‘The Beast walks the forest.’ She stroked Delilah’s hair. ‘But you know that, Delilah, don’t you? You’ve felt it too.’
Delilah could only scowl at her.
‘Why do you think your mother left town in such a hurry? We discovered her little secret . . . She just ran away and left you, didn’t she?’ Jennifer whispered.
A muffled expletive tore from Delilah’s mouth and she rocked her chair back and forth, dying to get her hands on Mrs Rigg.
‘You’re one to talk about parenting,’ Jack spat. ‘Great job you did with Laura!’
Jennifer wrapped her fingers in Jack’s hair and twisted his head back. Jack yelped. ‘Don’t think I won’t kill you here, you little fairy,’ she snarled. Then she froze and sniffed the air. ‘Lavender,’ she stated.
‘What?’ Jack struggled against his bindings.
‘For protection . . .’ Jennifer went on, though she seemed to be talking to herself now.
The scent of lavender grew more potent, filling G2. The air almost seemed to thicken, filling with a sweet-smelling, hazy fog. Jack’s eyes began to water, but at least Jennifer released her grip on his hair. ‘What the hell?’
Disconnected voices drifted into the room like wraiths in a mist. They came from nowhere and everywhere, as if the walls themselves were speaking. The voices were soft, gentle, dreamlike. The words became louder and clearer. Safe in your light. Safe from harm. Safe from fear. Safe in your light. Safe from harm. Safe from fear. So mote it be.’
The chant was repeated, round and round like a carousel, the room starting to spin with it. Jack felt nauseous and lightheaded; the lavender fumes were overpowering. His vision swam in and out of focus.
‘Stop it!’ barked Jennifer, picking up Jack’s scissors from where he’d dropped them in the struggle. ‘What’s going on?’
The voices grew deeper and stronger, less childlike and more sinister, this time seeming to come from below, from the bowels of the earth. Safe in your light. Safe from harm. Safe from fear. Safe in your light. Safe from harm. Safe from fear. So mote it be.
Jennifer blinked hard and peered through the lavender smoke. Was it her imagination? Had writing suddenly appeared on the walls, or had it always been there? Old Latin incantations seemed to seep out of the plaster, blood red letters transforming into pentagrams which then swirled and reformed, taking a new shape. The images merged together to form a shadow that rose up the walls, sweeping onto the ceiling. The shadow was roughly the size of a man, but the head was more like that of a goat or bull, with two curved horns on either side of the face. Thick arms ended in hawk-like talons.
The silhouette loomed over Jennifer Rigg, bearing down on her as it grew larger and larger. The woman backed into the farthest corner of the room, cowering away from the monstrous shadow. ‘Please, no. This can’t be happening,’ she croaked. ‘Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy
. . . Save me . . . NO!’
As she screamed, the windows shook in their frames.
Keep going! Lis powered forwards, swiping at hanging branches that got in her way. She no longer cared in which direction she ran as long as it was away from the footsteps behind her.
And then suddenly the ground wasn’t there any more. Lis’s legs gave way, and she fell, landing painfully on her left hip and tumbling awkwardly down a slope. As she ploughed through thorns and brambles she wondered if she’d fall forever. She closed her eyes and waited for the end to come. Eventually, she slid to a halt in slick wet mud.
A freezing, creeping sensation rose up about her legs. She was in water: the brook. Fresh, hopeless tears streamed down her face. Clawing at reeds she tried to pull herself clear of the stream, but found herself sliding back in the slippery mud. No! This couldn’t be happening. But it was, and she’d been here before.
The water, the pebbles, the rain, the birds . . . the dream. Everything about this situation was the same and also different. Her dreams had merely felt real. This was real: surround sound, high definition. It all made sense now, of course. Lis and Laura, linked by blood, by Hollow Pike, by Pike Copse, by murder. And not just Laura’s murder, but the murders of all those women who had died at the hands of the Righteous Protectors. Were they drowned in this very water?
Lis was well rehearsed at this part. This was where she had to crawl. Maybe this time it would end differently . . . She hoped so. She started to move forwards. Rain pelted her, streaming down her body and into the brook and she wondered if she could let the stream’s little current take her, but she wasn’t sure in which direction it would carry her: into Hollow Pike or right back to Fulton?