The Spider's Web

by Ben Cheetham

Jim brought up a map of North Yorkshire on his phone. Lockton was a village on the edge of the moors. The area was isolated and not far from the east coast. A good place to lie low whilst waiting for a private boat or plane out of the country to be arranged. A mile or so east of the village and the A169 was a belt of woodland that ran roughly parallel to the road. ‘More fucking woods,’ muttered Jim.

  He hurried towards his car, motioning for Reece to follow. He punched the destination into the satnav. The journey was a little over a hundred miles, roughly two and a quarter hours’ drive if you observed the speed limits. Which he had no intention of doing. ‘Lockton. That’s in North Yorkshire, isn’t it?’ said Reece. ‘What’s in Lockton?’

  Without answering, Jim twisted the ignition key.

  ‘Whoa,’ said Reece as Jim turned the car around. ‘I can’t just leave the crime scene.’

  ‘This is more important.’

  ‘You’ve got a line on Gavin, haven’t you?’

  ‘That was his mother who phoned me in the command unit. She gave me his mobile number. GPS indicates he’s hiding out near Lockton.’

  Reece’s eyebrows lifted high. ‘Shit, his own mum rolled on him. What does she want in return?’

  ‘She wants her granddaughter not to be raped and murdered.’

  Reece nodded as if to say, Understandable. ‘So I take it we’re doing this alone.’

  ‘No back-up, no chance of anyone leaking the surprise.’

  ‘Garrett’s not going to be happy.’

  Jim smiled grimly. ‘He never is.’

  Reece’s forehead creased suddenly. ‘Hey, I just noticed.’ He tapped his upper lip. ‘Where’s the tash?’

  20

  There was the metallic snap of latches being undone. The cushions were lifted. Light streamed into Emily’s blinking eyes. Through a blur of tears, she saw Gavin stooping towards her. He’d taken off the wig. Her heart kicked against her ribcage. He was holding the skinning knife! He slid it between her numb ankles and cut off the plastic cuffs. Then he lifted her into a sitting position. He didn’t cut the cuffs off her wrists. ‘Wriggle your toes,’ he said, removing the gag.

  Emily did so, slowly at first, gradually regaining normal movement as the blood tingled through her feet.

  ‘Are you thirsty?’ asked Gavin.

  Emily nodded. He put a bottle of water to her lips and she drank deeply.

  ‘Hungry?’

  Another nod. Adrift in the darkness, she’d come to a decision. She would play along with Gavin’s insanity. Try to gain his trust. Wait for him to let down his guard. And when he did, she would make another run for it. Her legs trembled as he helped her to stand. He replaced the sofa cushions and indicated for her to sit. She obeyed and he smiled at her. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. The beard had disguised the meanness of his small, thick-lipped mouth. He took a tray of long-stemmed mushrooms and a lump of what looked like some sort of red meat out of the fridge. As he sliced the meat, Emily’s gaze flitted furtively past him. Outside the windows on both sides of the motorhome, rows of tall pines shivered in the wind. Creases gathered thoughtfully between her eyebrows. Were they back in Sherwood Forest? Surely they couldn’t be. Imprisoned beneath the sofa, she’d struggled to hold onto a sense of time. Even so, she guessed they’d been on the road several hours before arriving where they were. It occurred to her that Gavin could have driven around in circles to disorientate her. But she doubted he would have risked doing so. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t stupid.

  ‘Is extra-bloody OK?’ asked Gavin. Emily’s eyes jerked to him. The fear in them receded a fraction as he went on, ‘Cook a steak too long and you kill its flavour and nutrients.’

  She nodded again.

  He frowned slightly. ‘You’re allowed to speak.’

  ‘Yes,’ Emily said, her voice flat.

  Gavin’s shrewd smile returned. ‘You know, you may look like your mum, but I think inside you’re more like me.’

  I’m nothing like you! Emily caught the words on her lips, not only because she wanted to stay on Gavin’s good side – if such a thing existed – but because she suddenly found herself wondering whether they were true. What if he was right? What if he’d passed something of his insanity on to her, like a hereditary disease? The idea of it was almost as frightening as her predicament.

  ‘I was the quiet type too when I was your age,’ he continued. ‘I was like a closed book. Lord Cernunnos taught me how to open up and let the world and all its pleasures in. His is the voice that can never be tamed. The voice of the wild things.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Listen to the forest, Emily. Can you hear it? It’s telling you to be yourself. To live without guilt, shame and remorse.’ He ran one hand down over his face and chest, stopping just short of his groin. He looked at her, his eyes faintly glassy. ‘I can see in your face that you don’t hear it. But don’t worry, my love. You will soon. And then we two shall be as one.’

  Emily felt tears rising in her again. She held them back with everything she had.

  Gavin speared the steaks and laid them in a frying pan with the mushrooms. The aroma of frying meat filled the motorhome. It was a smell Emily normally liked. But right then it made her stomach churn. After a few seconds, Gavin transferred the contents of the pan to a plate on a fold-down table. He sliced off a corner of steak. Blood seeped from the almost raw meat. He lifted a fork towards her mouth. ‘Open wide, my love.’

  She forced herself to do as he said. The meat had a strong gamy flavour. It was as tender as any she’d eaten. As she attempted to swallow it, her throat contracted with the urge to vomit. Clamping her teeth together, she somehow managed to push it down her gullet. ‘Now for a mushroom,’ said Gavin.

  ‘If you take off the handcuffs, I’ll feed myself,’ said Emily.

  Gavin cocked his head as though considering her offer. ‘I’d like nothing more than to remove the cuffs, but look what happened last time I trusted you.’

  ‘Please, Gavin, I promise I’ll behave.’

  He blew a little laugh through his nose. ‘Who said I want you to behave?’ Emily held back a shudder as he slid his callused hand along her jaw. ‘I want to see the real you, the wild, untamed you.’ He resumed feeding her, adding, ‘And another thing, don’t call me Gavin. I rejected that false name when I shed the bonds of society. My true name is Clotho Daeja. We’ll have to find your true name too. To know your true name is to know your true self. And to know your true self is to know what is divine.’

  I thought nothing was true, Emily resisted the urge to sneer at him.

  To her relief, he ate the second steak and half the mushrooms. ‘Do you smoke?’ he asked, seating himself cross-legged on the floor at her feet and rolling a cigarette.

  Emily shook her head. ‘I tried it once, but I didn’t like it.’

  ‘That’s good. Smoking pollutes the body. I only smoke on special occasions these days. And what could be a more special occasion than this?’ He lit his cigarette and peered up at Emily like a disciple waiting for some revelation. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Emily was silent a moment, then began awkwardly, ‘I like hanging out with my friends, listening to music, going to the movies—’

  ‘No you don’t,’ broke in Gavin. ‘You just think you like those things because society has conditioned you to fit in, to be a consumer. I want you to look inside yourself and tell me what you really like.’

  Emily’s forehead puckered. What do I really like? she wondered. She’d never given it much consideration. She’d always just gone along with what her friends did. ‘I… I kind of like silence. And I like the night-time. My friends are afraid of the dark, but I’m not.’

  Gavin nodded as though he approved. ‘Tell me, if you were a wild animal, what would you be?’

  Emily’s eyes dropped in thought, then she said, ‘I’d be a bird.’

  ‘A bird flying free through the silence of the forest night.’ Gavin
clicked his fingers. ‘Adaryn Purae. The pure bird. That’s your true name.’

  ‘Adaryn Purae,’ murmured Emily. It sounded like something from a fantasy novel.

  ‘Say it loud,’ said Gavin. ‘Let the Lord of the Forest hear your voice.’

  She repeated the name. Gavin closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as though he was inhaling her voice. ‘Again, again.’

  He began to sway in time to the name. And, almost unconsciously, Emily found herself swaying too. A warm woozy sensation was sliding over her. She felt like she’d swallowed dust and there was a bitter taste in the back of her throat. Gavin’s eyes snapped open and she saw that his pupils were huge and black. ‘I feel funny,’ she said.

  Gavin burst out laughing. His laughter climbed to a hysterical pitch as Emily continued, ‘I think I’m getting ill.’

  ‘You’re not getting ill,’ he said, between gasps. ‘You’re getting well. The magic’s starting to work.’

  Emily closed her eyes and when she opened them it was as though she was seeing Gavin through the wrong end of binoculars. He looked like a wizened laughing gnome. What’s wrong with me? she wondered. Have I been drugged?

  The gnome hopped to its feet and approached her. She shrank away as it reached for her with hands that appeared massively oversized in comparison to its arms. ‘Lie down, Adaryn,’ it said, manoeuvring her onto her side. ‘Sleep.’

  She closed her eyes again. Lights were flashing behind them as though she’d looked into the sun for too long. ‘I can’t sleep.’

  ‘Shh. The Horned One is coming. He will be here soon. You must sleep and be ready for him.’

  Emily shook her head weakly. The lights were making her brain pound. And there was a buzzing in her ears like she’d stuck her head into a beehive. The sound travelled through her, vibrating along her bones all the way to the tips of her toes. She could no longer feel the sofa beneath her. But she wasn’t falling like before. She was floating. No, not floating. Flying. She was a bird flying higher and higher into the sky. Far below – so far it was little more than a dark shape – was the motorhome. And all around, like a limitless ocean, was a forest.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said again, opening her eyes. The gnome was gone. So was Gavin. She sat up with a gasp, her gaze darting around the motorhome. She was alone! Am I hallucinating? she wondered. Or is this real? She instinctively bit her lip. Pain. Pain was real. This was her chance! She stood up and, swaying precariously, tried to take a step. Her feet seemed impossibly heavy. She felt sweat pricking out on her face with the effort of moving them. There was the sound of a toilet flushing. A door adjacent to the kitchen area opened and Gavin stepped into view. He’d stripped down to baggy white underpants, over which his large, solid-looking stomach bulged like a sack of grain. The spider’s web tattoo seemed to thrum with a faintly irradiated light. He was holding a pen and a notepad.

  ‘I thought you were sleeping,’ he said, frowning knowingly at Emily.

  ‘I’m thirsty.’

  Gavin retrieved the water from the fridge and put it to Emily’s lips. She gulped it down and exhaled with relief because it was like a cool hand caressing her throat. As he guided her back to the sofa, she asked, ‘What are you writing?’

  ‘Our wedding vows.’

  Now it was Emily’s turn to laugh – a horrified laugh that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried to stifle it.

  ‘That’s it,’ grinned Gavin. ‘Let it out. Let it all out, Adaryn.’

  Upon hearing the name, her laughter grew even louder. She doubled over, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. Gavin’s a bad dream, she thought. And I’m going to wake up any minute now. Please let me wake up. Please… But she didn’t wake up. She twisted away from him, pressing her face into the sofa. The laughter finally died away, but not the tears. They continued to seep into the cushions. Images danced behind her eyes – her friends, her on-off boyfriend, her school. People and things she would never see anywhere but in her mind again. Gavin wasn’t the dream. They were.

  ‘I know you’re in pain,’ said Gavin. ‘That’s because the old you is dying. But don’t be afraid. Soon the new you will be born.’

  Shut up! Emily screamed in her mind. Shut up! Shut up!

  After a while – she couldn’t have said how long a while, time seemed to be doing strange things – she glanced surreptitiously at Gavin. He was hunched over his notepad at the table, his tongue poking out in a look of idiot concentration. Her nose wrinkled. At that moment she didn’t fear him. She merely loathed him with an intensity she’d never experienced before. She wanted to cut off his stupid tongue. As though she was looking at herself from outside her own body, a vision appeared of her doing it with his hunting knife. Then she saw herself plunging the knife into him over and over again, a maniacal grin twisting at her mouth. Oh my God, she thought in horror, I am like him!

  She rolled back towards the cushions, trying to make her mind a blank space. But more images kept coming at her – fragmented memories from her entire life. Sometimes they flashed before her eyes as if she was on the brink of death. Other times someone seemed to have hit a slow motion button. She felt strangely disconnected from the memories, as though they belonged to someone else. They began to blur and flow into each other, like colours in a child’s painting. Nothing made sense any more. Nothing was true. The world was dissolving into one big brown mass of shit. It made her want to puke. Nausea pushed irresistibly from her stomach into her throat. Lurching upright, she vomited a sludge of half-digested food onto the floor. Not the floor of the caravan. This floor was grassy and strewn with daisies. Her gaze jerked around. She was in a small clearing, encircled by oak and pine trees. She was no longer wearing her jeans and sweatshirt, but a long green dress with flared sleeves and a jagged hem. And her hands were free! Her bewildered elation at the realisation was tempered by the thought, This isn’t real. I’m tripping.

  The feeling of unreality was reinforced by the music drifting into the clearing. It was the sound of a flute playing a slow, haunting melody. Emily scrabbled backwards on her hands as a figure, naked except for a leather belt strung with multicoloured ribbons, emerged from the trees. The figure had a red face and black-ringed eyes. Curling horns sprouted from its head. For a terrifying instant, she thought she was seeing the Horned God sprung to life. Then she noticed the spider’s web tattoo. It was Gavin!

  In time to the music, Gavin pranced around the clearing, thrusting his hips in Emily’s direction. She watched as though mesmerised as the music and his grotesque dance gathered pace, gradually building to a shrill, frantic climax. The music stopped suddenly and Gavin dropped to his knees in front of Emily, bowing his face to the ground. ‘You are my goddess,’ he said breathlessly, ‘and I am your god. Today we become as one.’ He grabbed her hand, took a ribbon from his belt and wrapped his right wrist tightly to her left with it. He raised their bound hands to the sky. ‘O Horned One! We call upon you. O Dark One! We call upon you. O Lord of Life and Death! We call upon you. O, Cernunnos! Come to this sacred grove. Come to us who await your blessing. Come! Come! Join with us in the binding of our life forces.’

  The clearing was silent a moment. Then a deep male voice boomed from amongst the trees. Emily stiffened. Was it a trick? Was someone else in the woods with them? Or was she going mad? Perhaps that’s what Gavin wanted. To drive her crazy. To break her and remake her in his own image. ‘Hear ye the words of he whose names are beyond count and comprehension,’ proclaimed the voice. ‘I am the fire that burns wildest, the flame that rages in the hearts of the free. I am death and rebirth, the night and the sun. Mine is the voice all must heed. And I bless this union with all earthly pleasures.’

  ‘Thank you, O Great Father!’ Gavin called back.

  Emily shook her head violently. ‘This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.’

  The voice spoke over her. ‘Look deep into each other’s eyes now. Come together and let your vows be the entwining of your limbs and the interm
ingling of your sacred seed.’

  Gavin turned to Emily. The paint on his face was streaked with sweat. Red dribbles ran down his chest and belly towards his penis, which poked like a third horn through the ribbons at his waist. ‘Yes, my Lord,’ he said thickly.

  ‘No!’ screamed Emily. ‘No! No!’

  21

  Jim drove fast, but the journey seemed to go by excruciatingly slowly. They passed the outskirts of Doncaster, Leeds and York, barely speaking except when Jim’s phone rang. It was Garrett. He switched the phone off. He didn’t want to have to lie about where he was and what he was doing. ‘Turn yours off too,’ he said to Reece.

  ‘What if Staci calls?’

  ‘Turn it off,’ Jim said with slow emphasis.

  Reece reluctantly did so. ‘When she gets back from South Africa, I’m quitting the force. I don’t care about the job any more. All I care about is being with her.’

  Jim said nothing. Reece glanced across at him. ‘Well aren’t you going to try and convince me out of it?’

  Jim shook his head. ‘I’d do the same thing if—’ If Margaret was alive. That’s what he’d been about to say. But even after all these months it was still too painful for him to speak her name.

  They passed through the quiet little market town of Pickering. The road undulated gently between drystone walls and hedgerows that enclosed grassy fields and pockets of woodland. The sun was softening in a big blue sky. ‘Where the fuck is this place?’ muttered Jim. Moments later he spotted a lane branching off the left-hand side of the main road. ‘Lockton ¼’ read a sign. To the right of it was an open farm gate. A dirt track led alongside a hedgerow towards a line of trees.

  ‘That’s got to be it,’ said Reece.

  Jim turned onto the track. He drove slowly, keeping the engine revs low. At the far side of the field, the track dipped out of sight of the road and passed through another farm gate. This one was closed. A sign on it read ‘Private Woodland’. He stopped the car and scanned the woods. There was no red van or any other vehicle to be seen. He quietly got out and opened the boot. He lifted out a stab vest and a metal truncheon and proffered them to Reece.