Erin nodded.
“It's new to me too, if that's any consolation.”
“But you know something, right?” he asked.
“I have some pieces of the puzzle,” Erin admitted. “It's all to do with the cathedral tower. How it was built, why it stays up despite shaky foundations.”
Black gave a noncommittal grunt.
“Church architecture seems kind of harmless and rarefied, compared to what I've seen.”
“You'd be surprised,” Erin said. “You turn left here, then I'm home.”
The doctor pulled up outside Erin's apartment block. She unfastened her seatbelt and thanked him for the lift, but didn't get out.
“Anything wrong?” he asked.
“How about a cup of good coffee and some fascinating conversation?” she asked.
Black raised an eyebrow.
“I'm guessing that you mean both of those literally?” he said. “After all, doctor-patient rules apply.”
“Yep,” smiled Erin. “No ulterior motive on my side. Just a chance to discuss all this stuff with an unbiased observer. It might help clear my head. Hell, you might even figure it all out!”
“It's the least I can do,” said Black after a beat. “After all, I did turn down your marriage proposal.”
An hour later, the doctor sat in Erin's cramped living room staring at the scars on her hands as if seeing them for the first time. She had shown him the video clips of Ithuriel's appearance at the Masonic Hall. To his credit, he had not questioned their authenticity.
“I must be insane,” said Black. “But I believe you. What can I do to help?”
Wow, she thought. Easy on the eye and chivalrous too.
“You've already patched me up once,” she said. “Maybe just be ready to do it again?”
Black frowned.
“There must be something else, something more effective,” he said. “Some practical thing. For instance, this business with the tower needing to be fed–”
He stopped, and Erin saw his eyes grow bright with inspiration.
Uh-oh. I've seen guys get that look before. He's going to suggest something crazy.
Black clasped her wounded hand in both of his and began.
“Now, bear with me, because this is going to sound a bit bonkers.”
***
“It's getting crowded,” shouted Louise. “In a minute this place will be heaving.”
They were standing at the end of the bar in a far-from-quiet pub Amy had suggested. Any attempt to have a discreet conversation would be difficult.
“I know,” replied the intern. “I'm sorry. Friday night's a stupid time to suggest a quiet drink. Maybe we could–”
Amy stopped. She stood on tiptoe and looked past Louise at the pub entrance.
“What is it?” demanded Louise, turning to stare through the throng. She craned her neck but could see nothing except young people out for a good, if somewhat raucous, time.
“Don't look!” warned Amy. “I think I saw one of dad's friends come in!”
The girl picked up her glass from the bar and urged Louise over to a dark corner.
“It's okay,” Louise argued, as they struggled to make their way through the throng. “Nobody will try anything in here. And we are just colleagues having a drink after work.”
Amy looked wide-eyed at her boss, then laughed nervously.
“I suppose that's true,” she admitted. “I am very jumpy. And we can't talk here. It was a stupid idea, sorry.”
“Hey, no problem,” said Louise, downing the last of her Coke. “I'll take you home. Drink up! We can talk at work tomorrow, first thing, okay?”
Amy nodded and finished up her gin and tonic. Then they started to battle through the mass of noisy drinkers to the door. By the time they got outside into the winter's night, Louise was feeling faint. The cold, damp air seemed to hit her with the force of a blow.
“Wow,” she said, opening her bag to find her car keys, “glad I'm out of that place.”
“Yes,” replied Amy. “We'll have more time tomorrow.”
Something in the girl's tone made Louise pause and study Amy's face more closely. She realized that Amy was scrutinizing her, as if waiting for something to happen. There was a roaring noise in her ears, and she felt slightly dizzy. There was a peculiar after-taste in her mouth; nothing like the Coke she had just drunk. A terrible suspicion grew.
Oh God, Louise thought, as she stumbled and put a hand against the outside wall of the pub. Did she spike my drink?
“It's okay,” said a strange voice. “We've got you!”
A stranger exclaimed, “Oh dear, darling, how much have you had? Let's get you home.”
Two men Louise did not recognize appeared on either side of her and took her arms. They kept making loud, hearty declarations of concern as they dragged her along. Louise tried to fight but she was suddenly too weak and disoriented. Amy plucked the keys from her and within seconds Louise was half-thrown into the back of her own car.
“How much did you give her?” asked one of the men as Amy got into the driver's seat.
“Nearly the whole dose, I had to be quick,” Amy replied.
“That was risky,” said the second man.
“We've got her, that's the main thing,” retorted the first man.
The discussion continued as Louise lost consciousness in the back seat of her car.
***
After Doctor Black left, Erin climbed into bed after taking more painkillers. She fell quickly into a sleep tormented by ever stranger dreams. At first, she was simply lying in her bedroom with the ghosts of the Seven looking on. For a moment, she thought she might be awake. But then the children were joined by her father, who ambled into view wearing a Beach Boys t-shirt and cut-off jeans.
“Dad?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm always here,” he replied, sitting on the end of the bed. He was as she remembered him from her early childhood. Calvin Cale was tall and broad-shouldered with a wide humorous mouth, and dark hair and eyes.
“You get your looks from me, Erin, but your stubbornness from your mom,” he said. “And yes, of course I can read your mind, I'm in it.”
“Dad, what am I supposed to do?” she asked, sitting up. “How can I help them?”
Calvin looked round at the Seven.
“Those crazy kids,” he said, smiling. “They need to be liberated. Who doesn't? But they're holding up that fancy tower. Quite a dilemma.”
“Yeah, thanks, I knew that,” Erin replied testily. “You got nothing, I take it?”
“I got a couple of things,” her father replied. “One is, don't let them finish it.”
Erin did not understand at first. Then realization dawned.
“You mean the tower? It was finished hundreds of years ago. Wasn't it?”
Her father shrugged, then made a 'zip the lip' gesture.
“Rules, honey. I can only drop hints, not solve the entire puzzle.”
Erin sighed. “So what was the second thing?”
“They've got your little friend,” he said.
“What?” Erin asked in alarm. “Who?”
But Calvin Cale had already stood up and faded away into the wall of darkness that surrounded Erin's bed. The Seven came closer, their faces hidden by the hoods of their homespun robes.
“Guys,” Erin said, “I'm doing my best but it's a tough one.”
The ghost-children reached up and removed their hoods. Erin had braced herself for the eaten-away faces of the long dead. But instead, each boy was young, fresh-faced, almost angelic.
“We know it's hard,” said the oldest. “We're being very patient. We just wanted you to know it wasn't us. We're not hurting people. But we can't stop them.”
“Who? What's happened?” Erin demanded. “Somebody just give me straight facts!”
The boys' faces darkened, and she saw the flesh cave in and then start to crumble away. They replaced their hoods and she saw that their fingers were n
ow mostly bone and rotten gray cartilage. The nails became talons once again.
“We're being very patient,” said the leader, as they stepped back and faded into the darkness like her father.
The dream-scene shifted suddenly. Erin was still sitting up in her bed, but now she was looking down at Weyrmouth, the old city laid out below her like a map.
Sure beats Google Earth, she thought. But what am I supposed to be looking at?
Erin's viewpoint swooped down towards the cathedral. Again, the tower stood apart from the rest of the vast, stone structure. The tower was alive, its stones – semi-transparent to Erin now – interlaced with a network of dark fibers that resembles nerves or blood vessels. At the tower's base, five hearts pulsed beneath the floor. Another was encased in the foot-thick wall halfway up, the seventh was part of the tower's roof.
The hearts and souls of the Seven.
The tower swept closer and now Erin could see more pulsing lights. The tower's victims, amassed over seven centuries, consumed to ensure its survival. At first, she tried to count them, but soon gave up. There were hundreds of faint nodes of light, trapped men, women, and children, enslaved in death by Ithuriel.
But why? Why do such a monstrous thing?
The tower came closer still, and now Erin noticed something new. The network of dark strands did not just converge on the souls of the Seven. There was another nexus where the strange fibers clustered. This was a black blot halfway up the side of the tower on the north facing wall. It seemed to be a gap in the structure, a small niche containing – nothing. Yet it was apparently crucial to the complex enchantment Ithuriel had woven through the living stones.
Before Erin could puzzle over this anomaly, she was suddenly snapped back to her familiar bedroom. It took her a moment to grasp that she was awake, and that her phone was beeping. She groped for the cell and checked. Louise had sent her a video, which was very unlike her. Erin opened the file, still feeling sleepy. The content shocked her fully awake.
The clip was just over twenty seconds long and showed a figure trussed up with tape in the corner of a room. The camera moved closer. It was Louise. For a horrifying second Erin thought she was dead, but then the small figure moved, made a distressed noise through the heavy industrial tape covering her mouth.
“Don't contact your friends in the police,” said a male voice, coming from off-camera. “We will know, they will not be permitted to help you, and you'll never see her alive again. We will be in touch.”
Erin waited. A January dawn was breaking by the time she received another message. This time it was a simple text.
YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE. DO YOU OFFER YOUR LIFE FOR HERS?
She didn't hesitate over the reply.
WHERE?
Chapter 10: Mirror, Mirror
Louise woke in pain. Her hands and feet were trussed together behind her and something was fixed over her mouth. She could still see, though, and tried to take in her surroundings despite a throbbing headache.
The room had a generic, corporate look, but she recognized it at once. She had visited the Masonic Hall many times for various civic events. The only major difference was the elaborate, antique mirror standing on a small table against one wall. It looked incongruous, and somehow menacing. Louise thought of all the legends and beliefs surrounding mirrors.
Portals to another world, where strange and powerful beings dwell.
She switched her attention to the people milling about. They were exactly the type of respectable, middle-aged men she would expect to meet here in less peculiar circumstances. She recognized businessmen, a couple of lawyers, an accountant, and – most worrying of all – the local police commissioner. Martin Roker was holding court at the center of the group.
“Sorry,” said Amy Roker.
Louise twisted her head round to look up at the intern.
“He is my dad,” Amy went on. “At first I was really upset about it all. Still am, really. But he explained that we owe it all to Ithuriel, the master. All our money, status in the city. Just like these people. We stop serving him, and all that goes away.”
Amy hunkered down, patted Louise on the shoulder in a surprisingly tender gesture.
“Dad told me that once they get what they want, you'll be all right. Nobody will be the wiser and everything can go back to normal.”
Louise tried to ask a question, forgetting the tape over her mouth.
“I understand,” said Amy. “I know she's your friend, but she's getting in the way. So when she's – you know – out of the way, it'll be all right.”
Seeing Louise's expression, Amy laughed nervously.
“I just mean she'll leave town, that's all! That stuff about a sacrifice was just metaphorical, you see. It makes sense once you understand the symbolism of it all.”
Oh dear, thought Louise. You really are very stupid, Amy.
***
Erin dressed in loose, warm clothes then went outside into the chill January dawn. She spent half an hour walking in a park near her apartment before ordering a cab to the Masonic Hall. When they arrived, she made a point of hugely over-tipping the driver. He would remember her, the generous American. Witnesses might be important, later, she reasoned, if her last movements had to be pieced together.
A dark-suited man was waiting in the foyer of the building and, without a word, he gestured for her to proceed up the stairs. At the top she saw open double doors, a small crowd. Amy Roker was waiting, with a nervous smile. Erin walked quickly up to the intern, who flinched.
“She wasn't hurt!” Amy squeaked, her voice breaking with nervousness.
“Indeed she was not,” said a stocky man holding a glass of wine. “Come in, Miss Cale. We can start.”
Erin walked past Amy into the room, saw a group of men putting on hooded robes. Some glanced at her nervously, not willing to meet her eye. The room was the one in the video files sent by Jen Deighton.
So this is where they hold their board meetings with Nick, alias Ithuriel.
She turned to the stocky man.
“Martin Roker, I assume?”
The man gave a small, ironic bow.
“And you're leader of this – what is it? Cult?”
“We are the Shadow Council,” said Roker. Erin sensed he was trying to sound more confident than he felt. “We keep things orderly in Weyrmouth. Smooth things over. Make sure certain events are explained away, or conveniently forgotten.”
“Classic conspiracy crap, I get it,” responded Erin briskly. “Cut to the chase. Where's Louise?”
Roker gestured with his wine glass. Erin saw a pathetic figure trussed up by the far wall. She turned to the stocky man and raised a fist.
“You bastard!”
Roker flinched and Erin lowered her hand with a smirk.
“Untie her!” she snapped.
“You are hardly in the position–” Roker began, but then, seeing her expression, he clicked his fingers. “Free the prisoner!”
Behind her, Erin heard the double doors close. There was an extra click.
Locked in. Not encouraging.
“So what are you clowns planning?” she asked loudly. “Because I know you're not going to let either one of us go.”
Amy Roker, who was struggling to remove the tape from Louise's wrists and ankles, paused to look up, mouth open.
“Didn't daddy tell you, Amy?” called Erin. “He's planning to kill both of us. We know too much.”
“No!” insisted Amy. “That's not true.”
“Of course it isn't,” chimed in Roker. “We merely wish you to stop interfering. If you give your word, Erin, in the presence of our master, that will be enough.”
Erin couldn't stop herself from laughing. She exchanged a glance with Louise.
“Yeah, you're definitely going to kill us both and risk the fallout,” she said. “I'm guessing the cathedral, tonight maybe? Not here, it would stain this nice carpet.”
Even as Roker blustered more denials, his expression told the t
ruth. Amy looked between Erin and her father, clearly conflicted, but unable to accept the obvious truth.
***
“I still can't raise either of them,” Jen explained as she and Carr left the police station, ostensibly to contact an informant. “And I called the museum. Neither of them has turned up for work, according to the janitor.”
“Okay,” said Carr, “This is our excuse to go AWOL. Never mind a bit of amateur sleuthing at lunchtime. We take as long as it takes.”
They agreed to split up, with Carr going to Louise Tarrant's home while Jen went to Erin's apartment building. Neither found anything out of the ordinary. Frustrated, they discussed further options. Carr favored the Mason Hall, but as Jen pointed out, they had no right to simply walk into the place and search it.
“True,” he said, “unless something happened. Like an attempted burglary. Then we'd definitely have to go inside and poke about.”
Jen grinned.
“You're not suggesting, I hope, that we engage in anything illegal?”
“Heaven forbid, Detective Sergeant Deighton!” exclaimed Carr, in mock outrage. “It would bring discredit upon ourselves and the force if we did anything illegal. Like, say, smashing a window at the back of the building.”
“Just so we're clear that we're definitely not planning to do that,” said Jen.
“Definitely not,” replied Carr. “I'm appalled at myself for even hinting at it.”
“Good,” she said.
They drove a while in silence. As the Masonic Hall came in sight Jen said, “You realize we'll lose our jobs, pensions, the works?”
“Yeah,” said Carr as he pulled up opposite the entrance. “But I hear there are many opportunities in private security.”
They began discussing how much damage they'd have to do to justify entering the building when a large window on the second story blew out, showering the street below with shards of glass.
Blood of Angels (Curse of Weyrmouth Series Book 2) Page 14