More minutes of silence passed as Alix, Harker and Baron stood motionless waiting for the figure to speak. At last, Baron broke the silence.
“Lord, this Host is-”
But he never finished. Baron felt his ribs crack at the suddenness of his propulsion as he was sent sprawling backwards across the church until he struck the northern wall with such force that the stone gave way and for a moment Alix thought the wall might collapse around him. He lay slumped up against the broken stone, a trickle of blood running down his forehead.
Ernst Stranger turned to Harker. Alix had recognised him immediately: the small features scrunched together to reveal too much excess greased skin around his forehead and cheeks, the rat-like quality to everything was unmistakable. Except that his eyes no longer darted around the room like a caged animal. Rather, he had no eyes at all. Just two black holes that lacked every trace of humanity. From his tiny mouth a noise emitted, the most dreadful sound that Alix had ever heard. There are certain sounds that repulse us. They make the hairs on the back of our necks rise and our hearts reel and swell in our chests. They can bring us from a state of sleep to a state of absolute unadulterated alertness in seconds. The sounds of our fellow human beings in distress. The sound of the dying, of the suffering, of the sick. The sounds of war and rage, bitterness and misery. The sounds of fire spreading out across a city, of walls crumbling and the ground shaking. The sounds of panic and terror. The sound a mother makes when her child is lost.
Alix heard all of these sounds – this unholy chorus – emerge in a heartbeat from Ernst Stranger’s mouth. It was a sound that drove utter horror into her.
Harker fell to the floor. She did not collapse. She fell, like a statute. Stiff and inanimate. Like she had just turned to stone.
Devil’s Tongue, whispered a small voice in Alix’s head. The language of the Ancient Ones.
Ernst watched her fall and then turned his head slowly to look – if looking was something he was actually capable of doing – at Alix. She felt the blood drain from her head and for a moment she thought she might have succumbed to the same magic that had so easily taken Harker. She thought about running, skipping over the pew to the right where she might find some cover behind the pillars. Or to the left where a wooden door led to the belfry. But then what? How could she escape a monster with so much power? Her arms dropped by her sides as she realised the hopelessness of the situation. And this was her, wasn’t it? She had done this. She had released this evil. And now it would destroy her.
The pain was the most excruciating pain she had ever felt. It was as if something had buried itself under her skin, all over her body and up her arms, something sharp and with jagged edges like glass and when she was flung from one side of the church to the other the glass shattered inside her, cutting deep into her muscle and tendons, ripping arteries from their channels and electrifying every nerve in her body. She was thrown around like a child might treat a disliked toy until finally she was thrust back against the altar where she lay winded and broken. She could taste blood in her mouth, she had lost feeling in her legs and her shoulder wouldn’t respond, the arm having come loose from its socket.
She opened her eyes. Ernst, or what was left of him, was standing over her. His arms drooped by his sides, he looked utterly indifferent about the suffering he had caused. He looked at her strangely, like one might regard a particularly tricky crossword puzzle, like she was of vague interest to him but no more. Then he put out his hand and she felt a new a sensation. It was similar to the feeling of fainting, the last few seconds of consciousness when that icy cold nausea washes through your brain and you lose control; except it didn’t stop. She didn’t slip into unconsciousness. She felt her head tip back and her eyes glaze over and then something jolted in her stomach and she had the sensation that something was being dragged up through her wind pipe. Was he pulling her stomach out through her throat? Then it was in her head and her face was burning hot as he drew the demon from her. There was a horrible screaming in her ears. She tried to resist but it was useless. In her mind, they passed each other. Alix and Azrael. At least, that is what she thought until she looked again and she realised that she recognised the face of the voice in her head. She called her name in the dark – Zara! – but no sound came. Just a breeze. And the crack of thunder.
She felt something warm on her face. Warm and sticky. The feeling of separation was gone. The screaming stopped.
Her eyesight returned, the church came into focus. Ernst Stranger was looking at her but his expression was different. He looked annoyed about something.
She saw the hole in his head before he fell.
Behind him, Ash stood with the Glock extended to where Ernst’s head had been, his chest heaving. Their eyes met. She had absolutely no idea what to say.
A week later...
Chapter 91
Gloria looked up from behind the Governess Care Home reception desk and returned Alix’s smile.
“He’s not in a good mood,” she said.
“Really?” Alix took the signing in book and added her name. She quickly scanned the page. Her father didn’t seem to have had any other visitors this week, although that wasn’t unusual.
“It was ever since that funny night we had. Do you remember?”
“Yes. Strange, wasn’t it.”
“Whole world goes mad in one night. Whatever next. We lost three residents that night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Awkward buggers, the three of them. What about you?”
“Didn’t really notice anything.”
Alix passed the pen back to Gloria and made her way down the heavily patterned corridor. She passed the day room and made only a cursory glance through the glass window - her father never spent any time in there – but it was enough to see four or five residents glued to a TV screen. It was a report about last week. They hadn’t reported on any other news since. More hastily assembled footage of car crashes, suicides, fires. A few sporadic riots had broken out in Manchester, London, Birmingham. Looting, stealing. A woman near here had been raped.
Not anarchy. Not yet. But a start.
The world felt His coming, remarked Azrael. And yet since then, nothing.
She nodded and inhaled deeply as she reached his door.
Are you sure you’re ready for this?
“No,” she said before letting herself in.
Vaughn Franchot was sitting by the window at a chair eating his lunch on a table that sat across his knee. She walked in and took a seat – the only other seat – on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t look up but continued to chew loudly.
“Well?” he said after a while.
She looked out of the window on to the snow covered courtyard. The sun shone brightly. On the rooftop of the building opposite, three ravens had gathered.
“He’s here,” she said.
“Who’s here?” He cut into the steak. Red juice trickled out and around the plate. He liked it blue; barely sealed on both sides.
“Sin.”
Perhaps he faltered. Perhaps he didn’t. It was hard to be sure.
“Speak sense, girl,” he demanded.
She paused, thought about her next words carefully.
“What are you eating?”
“Steak.”
“Is the food nice here?”
“It’s too dry.”
“They have a good selection though.”
“Perhaps.”
“How about the tea?”
“Cold.”
“But it’s decaf.”
“What of it?”
Finally he looked up and their eyes met, briefly. For a moment it looked like he might say something but in the end he put his head back down and cut into the meat again.
“I’ve only come here to know one thing.”
“Then make it quick.”
“Where is Zara? Where is my sister?”
He stopped eating, dropped his fork onto the plate and stared at
her. “She’s gone, Alix. Why torment me further with ridiculous questions?”
“Is she on this World? Is she on the Ether?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me-”
“Lie to you? You insolent little brat! Who the Hell do you think you are?”
“You knew all along. You knew everything. You always have. You’ve played me.”
“You’re deranged.”
“I’m your daughter.”
“You’re no daughter of mine.”
She stood so suddenly that even he glanced up cautiously, fork gripped tightly in his hand. For a moment they just looked at each other; unspeaking, unblinking. Then without another word she left.
After the door had slammed behind her, Vaughn Franchot placed his cutlery down and pushed aside the plate. He moved his hand down his chin thoughtfully and stared out of the window. From the corner of the room, a shape moved into the periphery of his vision.
“There will come a time when you will have to tell her the truth.”
“That time has not yet come, Lilith.”
Amanda Harker walked elegantly round to face him. He didn’t look at her but continued instead to find interest in the courtyard.
“Why not?” She picked up a book on the side, idly flipped through the pages. There was a smile of sorts playing at the corners of her mouth. “She knows some of the truth – perhaps the biggest truth – already.”
“Because I have divorced my remaining daughter to avoid her becoming embroiled in this mess,” he seethed. “How can I explain that to her? That is your problem, Lilith, you have lived for so long as a human and yet you know nothing about us.”
“Perhaps that is true. But I am no better than you.”
Vaughn grunted. “Is it true?”
“That the Hollow One has been released? Yes. It is.”
“How?”
Harker laughed and chewed her tongue, as if she was relishing what would come next. “Your little Pandora, of course. Fulfilling her side of the prophecy. Like I knew she would. And so your emotional deconstruction was utterly pointless, Professor Franchot. How unfortunate.”
“Get out!” Vaughn looked up sharply, his face twisted with anger.
Harker narrowed her eyes and waited a moment before withdrawing from the room.
“We are done now, anyway,” she said.
*
There hadn’t been a space outside the Governess so Alix made her way back through a little residential estate and back into town. Things seemed to have calmed down since last week. People were dusting themselves off. Putting things in context. They were speaking of freak coincidences and giving lame re-assurances.
The people of the Ether have an amazing capacity to ignore the obvious, the Necromire remarked as she approached the lift of the multi-story car park.
“Yes, we’re good at that,” she agreed.
Inside, the lift stank of piss. The dark walls were covered in graffiti. She pressed the button for the ninth floor and felt the metal box start to move.
“If He is here, as we think,” she said thoughtfully, “then will he have survived the bullet?”
Most likely. He is not weak like us. He will need a human Host to have any influence over the World but destruction of his Host will not mean His destruction.
The lift stopped and the door opened. It was freezing on the roof. She only wore a top and a thin jacket. She didn’t feel the cold much anymore. Bright white, fluffy clouds had gathered overhead. It would snow again soon.
“So He’s out there. Somewhere,” she said. “Looking for a Host.”
On the far side of the rooftop a solitary car was parked. A figure stood next to it puffing on a cigarette.
“You’re smoking,” she observed as she reached the car.
“Old habit,” Ash admitted, tossing the cig into the snow piled up against the wall. “Not sure why I’ve started again.”
“Dying does funny things to you.”
He nodded in agreement and they got in the Outlander – she took the passenger seat.
“Thanks for driving me,” she said. “I’ll get a new car at the weekend.”
“No problem.”
He struck up the engine and they drove in silence. Through the town to the Downs where they’d ploughed the snow off the football pitches. There were a few matches playing. Amateur football meant a lot of running around shouting and little actual football from what she could tell.
“Here’ll do.”
He pulled up where the road swung round back on itself next to a wall that overlooked the gorge which cupped the river in its hands. In the distance, they could see the outline of the suspension bridge.
“What next?” He asked, turning to her. She had her hand on the door handle.
“For you or for me?”
“There’s no for us?”
“No,” she said quickly. Then, softly, “I need some space.”
He smiled and looked down at the gearstick.
“What will you be doing in your space, Alix Franchot?”
She hesitated before answering. “Thinking.”
“Well, let me know when you’re done thinking.”
“What about you?” She sounded genuinely concerned.
“I’m on what they call reflection leave. Suspension for all intents and purposes. For a few weeks while they carry out an investigation.”
She nodded and pulled the handle back. The door clicked. He reached across and took her arm. She closed her eyes.
“What happened to us, Alix?” She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. In the end she turned to look at him. In his eyes, all she saw was confusion and sadness.
“What do you remember?”
“The world caving in around me. I was suffocated by it. I remember an agony I’d never felt before. And the feeling of utter hopelessness; like I’d lost everything. It was all irretrievable. I was the last human being on the planet. Until...”
He paused. She swallowed. “Until what?”
“Until I heard your voice calling my name from the shadows.”
She nodded slowly, reached over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she got out of the car without another word.
Chapter 92
Baron sat nervously in the swivel chair, his hands fidgeting on his lap. He could barely see anything in the room. The only source of light came from a small, slit window set high in the wall looking out on to the street.
In the gloom, two shapes moved.
“You have deceived us, Belial.” The voice was that of a child’s.
“No, Master. I have done everything that you required of me.” There was no mistaking the tremor in his voice.
Megan Laicey stepped into the light. Her hair was straggly and unwashed, falling over her face so that only one eye was visible. She was small but looked nothing like a child. Her face barely resembled human. Her sister did not emerge, but clung to the darkness behind her. Hovering like a shadow in candle light.
“The Host you have obtained for me is inadequate. These bodies are incapable of sustaining us for long.”
“By unfortunate chance, Master. Not design, I assure you. Given time, I will procure a more acceptable Host for you. The girl from the Prophecy and the girl who brought you from the Inter-World are, I believe, one and the same.”
“Perhaps. For now, I have divided myself in two so the strain on these weak bodies is reduced but in this form my control over this World is limited. You will be my eyes and ears for the time being, Belial.
“And this time you will not fail me.”
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Copyright James Costall 2014
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any fo
rm or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
Cover design by Dan Hilliard, Hilliard Design Limited. Copyright 2014
All rights reserved.
Church of Sin (The Ether Book 1) Page 42