Church of Sin (The Ether Book 1)

by James Costall

  Ash sighed. He wondered just how much evidential value was in this kid’s mind. He guessed that depended on whether this was a massacre – a random act of violence – or, like Alix mentioned, a mini-Jonestown.

  He read on with a little less enthusiasm, skipping large sections that looked uninteresting, trusting his judgement on what was useful and what wasn’t. He stopped and read when he saw reference to a church.

  The church at White Helmsley is haunted. Not many people know that. Never go to the church alone because the Devil lives there. That’s why people don’t go.

  ...

  This one time Craig and I had a dare that we could go and spend the night in the church so I told dad I’m going to sleep at Craig’ house and obviously he tells his mum and dad (yeah, he’s got both – lucky bastard) that he’s sleeping at mine and we take sleeping bags and meet at dusk by the church. It was really weird. We go in and there’s this light shining at the end of the church but there’s no electricity or nothing like that so we can’t work out where its coming from. I say it’s an angel. Craig said it was the Devil but we shit ourselves and leg it back to the bus shelter. We spent the night at Craig’ house and his mum makes us pancakes for breakfast.

  A few pages in and Ash ran his hand through his hair. Someone – presumably one of the techies or the DI at South Glos – had highlighted large sections of text. He read on, a little more alert.

  A man came to visit today. Never seen him before. I opened the door and spoke to him. He was odd. Not odd-funny like Craig but odd-weird like someone from Warcraft or something. Said could he speak to dad but he’s asleep on the sofa. Too much beer. I had a few too when he fell asleep which is probably why I didn’t close the door in the guy’s face. He said he was going to start the church again and I said good luck with that because the Devil lives there and he laughed. Said he’d been and didn’t find the Devil but did I believe in God? I said I dunno, never thought about it and he said good or something. He gave me a leaflet which I put in my bookshelf. Didn’t read it because I hate reading. Takes all my energy to do this blog let alone read some shit this guy left.

  ...

  That guy came back. Shit he’s scary. This time dad wasn’t dead and we spoke to him together. He said that he’s from a new religion. One that’s really big in America but not big over here. Sounds crap but whatever. Can’t remember what the name was. Something weird. Church of Whatever. So what about it? Would we be interested in going to church? Dad says would he be interested in opening up the pub again and he said no. Think he left then.

  ...

  So Craig says to me one day have you spoken to the Harbinger? And I’m like what the hell are you talking about? And then we talk for ages and I think he’s losing it but then I get it he’s talking about the guy who wants to start the church again. The weird guy that came the other night. Come to think of it I don’t know his name but Craig calls him the Harbinger for some reason. He asks me whether I believe in God and I say I don’t really know, never thought about it but probably I guess. Dad doesn’t so I guess that means I do. He says that this guy wants to start the church again (I say I know that already) but he’s really into it. I’m not convinced but I say to Craig that if he wants me to go with him then I probably would. I have headaches all day.

  ...

  I’ve spoken to the Harbinger today. He doesn’t say that’s his name, doesn’t tell me what his real name is but Craig still calls him the Harbinger. Must be like Prince of something. We talk for ages. Says he’s spoken to everyone in the village and they agree the church should re-open. Do I believe in God? Have I thought about the afterlife? What happens when I die? Loads of dumb questions over and over again most of which I answer with “don’t know” or “don’t care” but give the guy credit he keeps on talking. Then he says something that freaks me out. He says he knows how I feel about Craig. Now that’s really weird because I’ve never said anything about how I feel about Craig. Maybe because I’m not sure. He says he can help me understand me and I feel a little better about things.

  ...

  Dad was pissed all day but went out in the evening. I think he went to see the Harbinger. He came back sober somehow and went to bed early. Told me I need to loosen up for some reason. I felt sick for most of the day. More headaches too. I keep looking at the church. You can just see it from my house. I keep feeling I ought to go there with Craig again – take another look around.

  ...

  Didn’t go to school. Bus didn’t stop long outside to wait for me this time. They rang dad I think but he didn’t answer. Long conversation with the Harbinger again. He says he understands me and asks about God again. This time I tell him I believe in something but not sure what. He says that’s good. He says there’s a meeting at the church tomorrow night and I ought to go and say something. He says I’m important to him which is weird because I don’t even know the guy. He’s probably a kiddy fiddler or something. Is that too much to ask? Headache no better.

  ...

  Stay in all day painting a picture of the church from memory. Then up all evening until the meeting. When I get there it’s only him (the Harbinger). We talk more and drink water from the font (which apparently you’re not normally allowed to do). Can’t stop thinking about the church and God and I tell him this. He says that’s good and what would I say to God if I met him. I say I don’t know, perhaps why he took mum away from me. He asks me about Craig and I can’t remember for a moment who he means so he then says something I also can’t quite recall. Something about time being up or whatever. Damn the flesh that- can’t recall it. Then we talk about sin. He asks me what I understand and I say it’s about murder and rape and stuff. He agrees but says it’s more than that. It’s about a way of life and then says some stuff about rape which doesn’t make sense but when I think about it later it does. I can’t explain it any better than that.

  ...

  Something keeps ringing like the phone but no one answers. I’m not sure about myself anymore but I don’t feel ill, except in my head. People in the village don’t wave anymore. They just stare at the church. I see them looking through their windows and patios. Some stand at the foot of the hill and look up. Others are filming it. They’re all waiting for something but I don’t know what. I don’t know a lot of their names but they’re familiar to me. Like ghosts.

  ...

  Ghosts can kill you if you wish hard enough for something that doesn’t belong to you. I don’t know why I’m writing this.

  ...

  I can’t get the church out of my mind. I want to go there. We all do. But I know that it’s not right yet, not the right moment. But soon. Phone keeps ringing. I’m permanently hungry. I saw Craig the other day. Back of him anyway. He was sat on the wall looking at the church. I shouted his name I think but he didn’t turn around. I don’t really mind what he thinks about me anymore.

  ...

  God lives in the church. I think I understand. God needs to save us all from ourselves. We are all evil. We are all capable of evil. I think about a boy near me often enough to know about evil. I think about going into his house and raping him. So God needs to purge us. He will take away the evil thoughts and we will all be saved. I have been told this and I know it to be true. But God needs to be with us here on earth. He can’t purge us from heaven, we are too far gone. It will be like the coming of the water to destroy mankind and there will be Noah and the animals on the ark. So God came to earth and he’s in the church. I’ll go there with the others when the time is right and we will save mankind together.

  ...

  It is tomorrow. Our Lord has shown us the time when I will walk through the valley of the shadow of death and sacrifice myself for mankind. I am the Saviour. The Light. The One True Way. From my blood will rise the Church of Sin and end the age of mankind.

  Ash put the text down and sat back in his chair, hands behind his head, deep in thought. The Harbinger. Something tangible at last. A manipulator. Someone playing a game, m
anaging to turn the village to the belief that death was somehow important. Like Alix had said. Like Jonestown. But how? How had this man bent the minds of those people so far they were prepared to die for his cause? And what was his cause?

  It was getting late. He thought about going home but the worry that Penny might be there put him off. He needed to deal with that somehow. He thought about telling Alix about it. She’d probably know what to do. After she’d finished laughing of course.

  No. He wouldn’t tell Alix about Penny.

  Chapter 3 8

  Despite the stinging in his eyes, he managed to smile when she poked her head around his door. He watched her wander in casually and take the chair in front of him. She wore jeans and a maroon woollen tunic with a grey scarf round the neck, a stark contrast to the power suits and six inch heels that the other women wore at the office. Nothing flashy but she did looking good effortlessly.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, looking over the desk. Ash’s room was a tip but his desk quite immaculate. He suffered from the paradoxical traits of hating mess but having no interest whatsoever in tidying up. He had systems, sort of, which were occasionally used but generally his way of coping was to neglect his room but keep his desk fairly clear.

  “You were right. Maybe.” He tossed Jacob Lightfoot’s blog across the table. Alix picked it up and thumbed through the pages. He talked her through it but he could tell she was reading it and not listening to him. After a while, she put it down and looked up.

  “Okay. So this is the point where we all agree that I’m right?”

  “No. This is the point where we agree that maybe you’re right.”

  “Same thing, isn’t it?”

  He smiled but she could see how exhausted he was. There were bags under his eyes and the empty coffee cup on the side was heavily stained from repeatedly being topped up.

  “You could use some sleep,” she offered but in truth she felt equally tired.

  “And per chance to dream,” he muttered. “But I have more evidential gems to show you.” He moved the mouse a little and the blank computer screen lit up. It took their eyes a few moments to adjust. “Drink?”

  She was looking at the screen and hadn’t noticed he had turned round and produced a dark green bottle of something from under the desk.

  “Port?” she scoffed. “You drink port? What are you, seventy-five?”

  He ignored her and filled a glass, pushing it towards her. He didn’t have another one so poured the rest of the bottle into his coffee cup. She examined the purple liquid uncertainly then, feeling his eyes watch her and not wishing to be rude, she took a sip. It tasted like cough medicine but she managed to hide her dislike of it.

  “We’ll find her,” she said suddenly but she felt foolish almost immediately. She should feel just as under pressure as he was to find Megan Laicey. He nodded sadly.

  “We’re going to need to find her, quickly.”

  It seemed such a pointless and self-evident exchange of words but Alix nodded back anyway.

  “How do you manage,” he began, swivelling his cup around as if trying to find the words, “to remain so...”

  “Calm?” she offered. Unemotional, was what he probably wanted to say. She’d been asking the same question for a while now.

  “I was going to go for completely detached but calm is just as good.”

  Now it was her turn to smile, although a little part of her was annoyed at the insinuation. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She cared a great deal. She just had a different way of showing it.

  “Go to a place where I’m in control,” she said finally.

  “Blue-sky,” he said.

  “Yes. My blue-sky.” She took another sip of cough medicine and looked at him. Something bothered her about what he had said but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “How did you get on with – what was that guy’s name? – Doctor Crow?” she asked.

  “Ah, yes. Not amazingly illuminating save that he reckoned Anwick was gay. I guess he was trying to say that, because he was gay, his marriage was just a sham but, more importantly, he can’t have been having it off with the maid so-”

  “So why did his wife try to kill her?”

  “Something like that. This whole thing stinks. From top to bottom, Alix. And I can’t even interview my main suspect because he’s being held in an institute that doesn’t even exist officially.”

  After a while, Ash sat back in the chair with his leg crossed over his knee.

  “I can offer you a theory,” he said, although in a tone that suggested he doubted she would like it.

  “Offer away.”

  “Keera found out that the land around Innsmouth is extensive. It runs to about seventy acres and is owned by none other than Walter Cargil M.P.”

  “The Home Secretary?”

  “The very same. Last seen, I gather, fighting off more allegations of sexual harassment from the staff.”

  “From the staff or with his staff?”

  “Very good but I think Private Eye have already used that pun. Anyway, the point is it’s owned personally by a very greedy politician and its prime development land, or least it would be-”

  “- If it wasn’t nestled up to a mental home.”

  “Exactly. Although there are examples of housing developments near secure mental institutes, the house prices are generally lousy and developers are nervous of investing. Not the place to bring up kids if they have to hide in the basement every time one of the nutters goes missing. Which happens a lot, so I’m told.”

  “Unless everyone thinks it’s decommissioned.”

  “Well that’s the theory but it seems to me to be one step lower than even Cargil would be able to stoop. Anyway, it’s the best I can do at two o’clock in the morning.”

  “It’s not bad,” she admitted.

  “This is better.” He started messing around with the mouse again and she turned her attention to the screen. The picture had a grainy, colourless quality, like most CCTV footage but she could see a man pushing a trolley towards the camera down a narrow corridor. The trolley had a zipped up bag on it. “So here’s our man now taking Katelyn’s body to the morgue. I’ve managed to slice together his complete journey which means the switch has either already taken place or takes place in the morgue itself.”

  The man with the trolley stopped and called a lift.

  “He seems not too bothered about anything,” she noted. “Not looking around or checking over his shoulder. Relaxed. Like it’s just a normal day.”

  “As it might well be for him but then this happens-”

  After a short while of waiting at the lift, the footage suddenly jumped and distorted for a split second before dying. It jumped back a moment later to show an empty corridor.

  “Spooky,” she said.

  “It gets better.” He rewound a few seconds of tape and stopped just before the image broke up. “Watch what happens when I play it frame by frame.”

  The image jiggered along, a few seconds for each frame; little snap shots of time only half recorded properly. He stopped at one particular frame and she let out a small gasp of air.

  “Jesus.”

  “Weird, isn’t? The tech guys can’t work out what happened but they say there’s nothing wrong with the system. It’s this one frame. And that’s it.”

  She stared at the image. Her stomach turned.

  “Oh Jesus,” she said again.

  “Yeah, I know. I reckon in the blip we lose about four to five seconds of time max but-”

  “No,” she interrupted. “No, it’s not that. I know that guy.”

  Chapter 39

  “Make it clearer,” she said. “Can you do that?”

  Ash played the footage again, right up to the point where the image jumped. The software could enhance an image a little but it was still pretty crude. But clear enough. At the top of the screen was the figure of a man striding down the corridor. After a while, the image changed line by line and large
boxes of different shades of grey became more defined pixels and from the granular mist there emerged the unmistakable features of a thin, emaciated face in which two dark eyes had sunk making it look more like a skull than a man’s head.

  “Shit,” she said. “I know this guy.” He looked at her unbelievingly. “He was at Innsmouth,” she said at last. “Omotoso called him Ned. He was the guy who opened up Anwick’s cell. He’s a nurse. Or a guard. I’m not sure which. The lines are a little blurred over there.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Totally. That’s him. That’s Ned. Check his height. He’s massive.”

  More clicking and a series of green lines appeared around the guy in the corridor. Ash’s computer made a whirring noise and a few seconds later a small box popped up at the bottom of the screen.

  “Six five,” he announced. “That is tall.”

  “That’s him. No doubt.”

  Ash sat back in his seat thinking things through. It didn’t make sense, but then again nothing on this case made sense. And it was a link, of sorts.

  “Okay,” he said, “so this guy works at Innsmouth. He’s probably had to sign the Official Secrets Act like us. But he’s a nurse, maybe, so he knows his way around a hospital. But other than that I’m not sure I get any of this.”

  “Neither do I. But that’s Ned.”

  Ash thought about it. Someone working at Innsmouth, the secret institute where Anwick was held, was seen at the hospital on the day that Katelyn Laicey’s body went missing. It was too big a coincidence to ignore. But then Anwick had referred to Ned in their encounter. Satan’s lapdog, he had called him.

  “I need to speak to Anwick again,” she said.

  “We’re off this case,” he reminded her.

  “Then why are you still up at two looking through CCTV footage?”

  “Off the Anwick case but we have a child to find. But you’re not going back to Innsmouth.”

  “Why not?” She looked at him indignantly.