Now she knew that the dangers of which he had spoken were all too real. She also knew that she was a child, just fifteen years and one day old. She would not be able to out think her captives who were all adults and she guessed practised at the crimes they were committing against her. But perhaps if she thought more than them she could still make things hard for them. They would after all have other things to think about whilst she had only one thing on her mind, escape! “Never give in; never give them an inch without a fight.” Uncle Leon was right.
She reached down and took off one of her shoes and turning it, took it firmly in her hand. She walked across the cell and stood and made herself look at the image on the crucifix. It was just as obscene as she had thought, the figure of the Imp horned and grotesque, the overemphasised male phallus, the pointed ears.
She had had the impression it had been affixed deliberately to scare her rather than being an integral part of the crucifix and she saw she had been right. It was attached by a small screw through the stomach area. She lifted the shoe and beat upon it until it fell to the floor. She had never hit anything so hard in her life. She was almost disappointed when it came off so easily. She put her shoe back on and kicked it under the bed hoping it would shatter against the stone.
She turned and examined the fixture on the crucifix. It was simply suspended by a half circle of brass from a separate large hook which had been screwed to the stone on a small iron plate. She reached out and taking the weight of it she tried to lift it off. It was heavy. Considerably heavier than she had expected but she was able to lift it. She inverted it and there at the top was another half circle of brass. With some difficulty she managed to get it over the hook and hang the crucifix - now right side up, onto the wall.
She stood looking at it, filled with many emotions but the strongest of them was a sense of her elemental being. The thing beneath the bed - more dreadful by far than anything she had ever imagined - could not take from her, her bond to Jesus himself. ”Suffer little children to come unto me.”
Cherie knelt and prayed. She prayed for her brother and parents, prayed for Uncle Leon and prayed for the safety of her soul beyond the awful fate she feared awaited her. As she prayed she cried. Instinctively she knew she was living on her nerves and they were running out of resources.
When she looked up a man was stood looking through the grill and watching her. His ginger hair was strangely dark, a deeper red than any she had ever seen.
She heard the bolt being withdrawn and he opened the door. Instantly she knew she wasn't going to run past him, he was massive! His shoulders filled almost the entire door space. He looked as though he could lift her with one of his powerful hands.
“Do you speak English”? He asked in a pleasantly friendly voice. He looked about twenty years old.
Cherie was not going to let them know that. It was one of the few advantages she had and she was not about to give it up. She shook her head and tried to look confused. Already she was thinking. If he came into the cell and to one side she would be gone in a flash.
He switched into French, obviously needing to think about his words. “My French is not good. I am Harold. I must look after you. You understand?” Cherie nodded yes.
He turned slightly and pointed along the tunnel. “There is food and a bathroom there. You can go and eat and get clean. I will stay to bring you back here afterwards.” He stepped back and pointed again.
“Eat at every chance you get.” That was twice she had remembered those words, the last time had led to her being drugged. She stood and thought about it, ignoring him completely. She was already a prisoner, totally within their power so drugging her again was surely pointless? The food was necessary if she was to remain strong. She would do it Uncle Leon's way then.
She walked past him and turned into the tunnel. Some other words of her Uncle's clear in her mind. She made sure she took in every detail she could learn even adjusting her pace to allow herself time to think.
There was a bigger cave at the end with a four seat table and chairs. Along one wall a typical kitchen sideboard made of cheap wood. The same external style light fittings, one each end, the cable stapled to the stone. On the table were some small side plates containing cold meats, bread and some hard-boiled egg.
On the side away from her a door was open and she could see a shower unit, modern and clean and a mirror, she guessed there was a toilet out of sight to the left. This whole place had been prepared for purpose; they were expecting to have prisoners. The thought was chilling.
Ignoring the food she crossed and went into the bathroom and closed the door. There was no lock. She used the toilet and had a wash, taking her time to make sure she examined every joint in the plastic piping, every possible source of something she could steal for use as a weapon. Short of trying to rip out a section of the plastic piping there was nothing.
She back down on the toilet seat to think. He was far too big to attack and looked to have considerable physical strength but he had not struck her as being very intelligent. Perhaps she could outsmart him somehow. She decided that her best short term plan with him was to try to get him to relax in the hope that he would let his guard down and make a mistake. Harold didn't know it yet but he had a new friend.
She went back into the cave outside and smiled at him. “Thank you, I feel better now.” She told him. Assuming he would understand her French. She pulled out a chair and sat down. He had already taken one and was sat in front of the only other exit, door that matched the ones to the cells along the passageway.
The bread was a dead give-away of which country she was in. Only in England was the bread so bad! But this morning it didn't matter, what mattered was building up her resources so she ate as much as she could manage. He did not speak whilst she did so. He sat and smoked two cigarettes, one immediately after the other as though he were nervous. His eyes roamed over her ceaselessly making her feel decidedly uncomfortable.
Unobtrusively she studied him. He was six feet tall and wide as a farm wagon, really powerful. His hair was badly cut but the darkest red hair she had ever seen. He bit his nails badly and he wore a large ring with some sort of black motif on it. He had not cleaned his shoes since he'd bought them. He was a physical challenge but she doubted if he was a mental one. Somehow or other she had to force her will upon him. He was the only sign of weakness in them she had ever seen. She thought as she ate.
“Is it possible to have some hot coffee please, this was cold. I'd be very grateful. I've been very cold all night.” She gave him a broad smile.”
He didn't react at once. She assumed he was translating her French to zombie. He stood up and took the pot and without answering her he went through the door beside which he had been sitting and she heard him draw the bolt across it. She waited for a few moments, then swiftly went and looked through the grill, her first chance to get a look outside her prison.
It was a real disappointment. Another narrow tunnel hewn from the limestone and at the end about ten yards away a flight of six or seven steep steps which led up to an open door. Beyond it she could see nothing. Then as she stood there looking the woman from the kidnap stepped into view from the right about halfway along the tunnel. There must be another tunnel there which was invisible from this angle.
The sight of her made Cherie feel a terrible anger. She was the cause of all her problems. How could one woman do this to another? She put her hand down over the nail file. Even if she died here she was going to even up at least that one score. Regardless of the repercussions she was going to leave her mark on her.
Making sure they were both out of sight Cherie crossed swiftly to the sideboard. It had a door at either end with three drawers between them. She opened the cupboards first. Crockery one end, glasses cups and saucers the other, useless! The top drawer had some spoons and forks and some paper serviettes and concealed beneath them some plastic knives in a clear plastic bag. The second drawer was completely empty. The lower drawer had a folded table
cloth, chequered and cheap and beneath it treasure! A pair of scissors and a small screw driver. She stole both at once.
She sat down knowing that in a small way her luck had turned a corner. The scissors were a much better weapon than the nail file. They could be lethal. If she had the nerve to use them they could even disable the Zombie. But could she do that - stab someone in cold blood? It was an awful thought, they really would kill if she had the courage.
He was not a lot older than herself. She wondered how much he knew of why she was here, where she came from or why they chose her? A few minutes of thought were all it took to clarify that. They would not trust anyone with such a secret who was not involved and subject to the same risks as themselves if things went wrong. He was - despite his age - one of them.
She heard him coming; he was whistling some tuneless noise. Quickly she checked that the scissors and screwdriver were not showing through her clothes and then she pretended to be startled when the door opened.
He was carrying a larger pot of coffee and a newspaper. “It's hot and I brought you something to read too. It will be boring for you today.” Again she had the Impression he was not a very intelligent man. He had after all brought an English newspaper to someone who he thought did not speak English.
She poured coffee and asked if he was going to have some too. He thought about it before going to the sideboard and getting himself a cup. He didn't bother with a saucer. She poured coffee for him and began to drink her own.
The newspaper told her where she was, The Herald Express, Torquay. Devon. England.
“My name is Cherie. I am from Belgium.” She smiled to disarm him if she could.
“I'm not supposed to talk to you, just feed you and make sure you are able to use the bathroom.” Already he was betraying that he would find that difficult. Cherie was delighted.
She thought carefully for a moment. “How can talking do any harm?” she said quietly. I can't run away though a locked door can I? And anyway you’re much too big for me to be able to get away from.” His French seemed to be better than she had thought. Was that why he had been chosen to be her jailer?
“He'll know if I disobey - so please just drink your coffee and then you must go back to your cell.”
“How will he know? We are only being polite, you’re not doing anything wrong.” She tried to keep her sentences short and simple to make sure he understood.
“His powers are beyond your understanding. You have already seen one of them.” His face had hardened and he suddenly wasn't harmless any more. So he too had been out there in the woods the previous night, or at least knew fully what had happened.
Cherie steeled herself to talk about it. “What was that thing?”
“That's his 'familiar', You know what they say about witches and cats I'm sure - that's the sort of 'familiar' you can have if you are powerful enough.” He looked very smug. It was obvious to Cherie that he admired the man, perhaps admired anyone who had that power. She realised that he was seeking such power himself. That would be why he was the man's servant, prepared to act as a jailer to a kidnapped girl.
“So he is powerful then - so powerful that he preys on young girls.” She tried to goad him, to see what his response would be. If she could keep him talking he would forget he should be keeping his mouth shut.
“He has no interest in you beyond using you to get your Uncle to do what he is told. As long as you are here he will have control of him too. He can control anyone he wishes to.”
His words made Cherie remember the woman and the moments before she passed out. She had not remembered it until he spoke, she felt as if he had struck her. How could they possibly know about Uncle Leon? Was he already seeking her and they had found out about it?
She needed time to think, to allow herself to cope with the fear that his words had engendered within her. Even Uncle Leon would be helpless against the terrible thing that had threatened her. No one could possibly overcome such a monstrous thing. The awful power it projected was so utterly unworldly, so completely evil it would be beyond any man. That it was capable even practised at the most unspeakable things had been apparent in the merest touch of that projected will. Like a door opening to the black abyss of hell itself.
She could feel a knot forming in her stomach. Uncle Leon would not be expecting to encounter such a danger. Probably like herself twenty four hours ago he did not even know of the existence of such hideous things. He would have no warning whatsoever of the type of adversary he was up against. She remembered the terrifying, alien speed with which it had leapt towards her, the thought chilled her.
She didn't have to say anything to get more information. He was sneering at her now, openly enjoying her obvious discomfort. “You have a stupid Uncle who should not have been all over Torquay sticking his nose into things that don't concern him. We've been watching him running all over Europe like he owned the place; he will regret his days of prying on the Master's business. One visit from the Master’s friend and he'll spend the rest of his life gibbering in a padded cell.”
Cherie had been thinking hard. “Out think them if that's the only weapon you have,” her Uncle had told them repeatedly. It wasn't the only weapon she had anymore but somehow, she knew, she did not have what it would take to stick the scissors into this man; she might into the woman though. There was an account to settle there that made her feel a hardness inside herself that she had not known existed when she set off to buy her birthday shoes.
“And you’re hoping that by being his servant, one day you'll have a 'familiar' too. Is that why you’re here cleaning up behind him? You’re hoping to be better than other people” She said it to get a reaction, keep him talking, don't let him think.
At once he rose to the implied insult. “I already have one! It's not as powerful as his - of course not - but it does possess real power. It would keep you busy that's for sure.” He leered at her; pointedly looking at her breasts as if that would make her understand what he could have if he wanted it.
“You'd dance to my tune if I wanted you to. You’re lucky he is protecting you.” He was visibly squirming on his chair.
Her servant jibe had elicited a far stronger reaction than she had anticipated. The young man's face had turned angry and flushed. He was obviously very sensitive to any questioning of his standing amongst them or his own capability. In fact she thought he doesn't seem to be very stable at all. His face was an ever changing picture of his inner emotions. Once again the thought crossed her mind that he was their one known weakness.
A second thought chased the first very rapidly - he was quite possibly dangerous too! Not that she thought he was dangerous in the way the albino man had been but in a rather more normal male way. She folded her arms across her chest to deflect his interest in her figure and tried desperately to get more information about Leon.
“Uncle Leon knows a lot of important people in Torquay, he will soon find me. He catches minor criminals like you every day. He runs a whole division of Interpol; he isn't just a local police officer.”
“Oh well if he is so bloody clever why is he all over the newspaper telling everyone who will listen that they haven't got a clue! He should have gone back to Belgium while he had the chance!” He was openly sneering at her. “If he is so important in Brussels he should have stayed there where he probably does know important people, but he doesn't know any here. It says in there that he has never been here before. You can read it for yourself. That's why I brought you the paper so you would know he isn't going to rescue you” He suddenly pointed a finger at her threateningly.
“It's his fault entirely that we had to come and get you and unless he behaves it will be you who pays the highest price not him. You'll be ours to practice on.” The leer he gave her was disgusting.
His instability was growing by leaps and bounds. He was so agitated and emotional. Cherie could see that he was really quite a dangerous individual, he must have been very easy for the albino man to recruit.
“So what! It isn't as unusual as you probably think coming from some silly useless village in a tin pot country. He is the head of thirteen square covens! Thirteen by thirteen! Do you know what you have to achieve to be that powerful! Of course you don't you’re just a little country bumpkin!” He was physically moving around on the chair and spittle appeared in the corner of his mouth.
Cherie was shocked. He was unwinding in front of her like some spring driven toy gone wrong. She wondered if she had gone too far. If it was possible for madness to be in someone's eyes so she could actually see it?
The temptation to drive him over the edge was there. She wanted to strike back at them desperately but there was nothing to gain and perhaps a chance of real violence which she needed to avoid. She knew that she had to manipulate him more intelligently than that. She had won her first battle, this one she could beat and she knew it! She just needed time to think about how to use him.
Lucifer's Abbey Page 10