“Elle seras ici d’ici une minute,” he said. “Que voulez-vous que j’y fasse?”
She’ll be right here in a minute, what do you want me to do? Cally thought. He must be talking about me! She was certain of it.
She hurried back up the stairs. She needed help, and Simon’s room was on the third floor.
***
Cally bit her bottom lip and knocked gently on Simon’s door. She heard feet shuffling across the carpet. A moment later, the door opened a fraction and Simon appeared, leaning against the door so that his body filled the gap. He was wearing a bathrobe and his hair was damp and sticking up in clumps. “Cally, what’s the matter?”
“Simon, I need you to do something for me.”
Simon smirked. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask. Although you have caught me at a rather inopportune moment.”
“I have to call the police,” Cally said. “Right now.”
Simon tilted his head back onto his shoulders. “That’s a bit of an overreaction. I only meant…”
Cally took a step toward him and put her hand against the door. “Let me in. This is important. Someone’s broken into my room. I’ve been burgled.”
“Oh my god.” Simon stepped back and ushered her into the room. “You poor love. Naturally I’ll help if I can, but, erm, it’s a bit awkward.”
Cally followed Simon into the room. Simon seemed anxious, looking nervously around the room as though seeing it for the first time. Cally followed his restless gaze, taking in the two glasses of wine on the bedside table, the ruffled bedding. And when she listened carefully, she could hear the shower running even though the bathroom door was closed. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Like that, is it? I presume that’s Imogen in the shower.”
Simon visibly started. “We were just having a late meeting, about the script, and—”
“Don’t bother with your pathetic excuses, Simon,” she interrupted. “We all know about you and Imogen, and I’ve had just about all I can take this evening.” She ran her hands through her hair and let out a growl of frustration.
Simon adjusted his bathrobe. “Everyone knows?”
Cally fixed him with a look. “I don’t care about your private life, Simon. I just need some help. And if you want me to go on this trip first thing in the morning, you’d better pull your finger out and do something useful.”
“All right, Cally, love. Calm down. Tell me what you need.”
Cally took a breath. “I can’t go back to my room. I won’t feel safe in there.” She held up her hand to prevent Simon from interrupting. “And I don’t want to book another room. I don’t want the hotel staff to know where I am. I can’t trust them—especially that receptionist. I think he was involved, and he may not be the only one.”
“What? You can’t be serious,” Simon said.
“I’m not going to explain it now, Simon. Just take my word for it. I want you to call the police and report the burglary. And I need somewhere to spend the night.”
Simon nodded. “All right, I’ll make the call. And you’re welcome to stay in my room.”
“No,” Cally said. “But listen, I presume Imogen is going to spend the night.”
Simon half shrugged. “Well, yes, if you must know.”
“Fine.” Cally held out her hand. “Give me her room key. I’ll take her room for the night. I’ll go to Grand-Pressigny tomorrow, but by the time I come back, I want you to have found me another hotel. And since you’re the producer, I want you to deal with the police and the insurance people. And I want you to find me another laptop.”
Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Sure. No problem. But I’ll have to check with Imogen about the room.”
The bathroom door opened and Imogen stepped out, a white towel wrapped around her body and other around her hair. She looked from Cally to Simon and back again. “Are you all right, Cally? You look dreadful.”
Cally opened her mouth to speak, but Simon beat her to it. ”There’s been a little hiccup, Imogen darling. Cally needs somewhere to spend the night and we were wondering…”
“She can have my room,” Imogen said. She looked at Cally, and there was a warmth in her expression that Cally hadn’t seen before. “If that’s all right with you, Cally. It’s a bit of a mess, but you’re welcome to it.”
Cally gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, that would be great. I just need somewhere to get my head down for a few hours. It’s been a hell of a day.”
Imogen retrieved a pair of jeans from the floor and pulled a key card from the pocket. She offered it to Cally. “Here you go. Room 314. It’s just along the corridor. Make yourself at home. You won’t be disturbed.”
“Thanks,” Cally said, taking the key. “I’ll be out of your way first thing in the morning. I’ve got an early start.” She nodded to Simon then turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. She checked the number on the room opposite then headed along the corridor. When she found room 314, she hesitated. It seemed strange to be entering someone else’s room, but what other choice did she have?
She pushed the key card into the slot then opened the door slowly and felt for the light switch. There were three switches, and she switched them all on and peered into the room before stepping inside.
“Typical,” she muttered. Imogen’s room was much nicer than hers: more spacious, better decorated and more tastefully furnished. And while Cally’s room looked out onto the road, this room had two large windows that gave a spectacular view of the picturesque, floodlit garden at the back of the hotel.
Cally closed and locked the door behind her, double-checking the security lock. She crossed the room and made sure the windows were firmly fastened before drawing the curtains.
“This is ridiculous,” she murmured. She felt like she was in hiding: a prisoner on the run. But perhaps she was jumping to conclusions and frightening herself unnecessarily. Her meeting with Jake had been deeply unsettling, dragging up memories she’d fought hard to push away. But she hadn’t dreamed up the break-in, and she hadn’t imagined the strange behaviour of the receptionist, nor had she misheard his sinister words.
She shuddered.
There was something very wrong in all of this. Maybe she should’ve listened to Jake more carefully. Maybe she should’ve trusted him. He’d tried to explain why he was so worried; he’d tried to warn her.
She sat down on the bed and took out her phone. Jake’s number was easy to find, and he answered her call straight away.
“Jake, it’s me, Cally.”
“Are you all right?” Jake asked, and she could hear the concern in his voice. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” Cally said. “Well, that’s not strictly true. I’m a bit shaken up, that’s all. I got burgled. They took my laptop.”
“Bloody hell,” Jake said. “I’ll come over. Wait in the lobby. Stay somewhere public where people can see you.”
“No, there’s no need for that,” she said. “I’m OK. But I think you were right. There’s something…something more to this than I thought. And I don’t feel safe.”
“Listen, I should really come over. I haven’t even got back to my hotel yet. I can be there in ten minutes.”
“I don’t understand,” Cally said. “It’s only a short taxi ride. You should have been back ages ago.”
“Erm, I decided to walk after all,” Jake said. “But never mind that. I’m turning around now. I’ll be back at your hotel in a few minutes.”
“No, really, Jake, I’m fine. I’ve found another room. You must be very near your hotel by now. I don’t think you should be on the street for longer than necessary. Go back to your hotel, but be careful. Check your room. Make sure there’s no one there before you go in.”
There was a delay before Jake replied. “Are you sure you’re safe?”
“Yes, honestly. I’m staying in another room. Hardly anyone knows I’m here, and I’ve locked the door and checked the windows.”
“I don’t know. Are you sure you’re
OK?”
Cally smiled. “I’m sure, Jake. Just get back to your hotel room as quickly as you can. Call me when you get there.”
“All right, Cally. Maybe you’re right. Listen, I’m almost back. I’ll call you in two minutes.”
“OK, Jake. I’ll talk to you then.” She hesitated, an idea forming in her mind. “We need to talk. I think you should come with me tomorrow. It will get us both out of town for a while, and maybe if we put our heads together, we can figure out what the hell is going on.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Shall I come over to you?”
“No,” Cally said. “They’re sending a driver for me in the morning. I’m getting picked up at half past seven. We’ll pick you up at your hotel just a few minutes after that.”
“OK. I’ll be ready.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? It’s a two-hour drive each way, and I feel kind of bad dragging you along after giving you the brush off earlier.”
“Cally, the only reason I came to France was to talk to you. That’s all I want to do. So I’d love to come along with you. It’s perfect.”
“That’s very understanding of you.”
“OK,” Jake said. “I’m here now, at the hotel. I’ll hang up and call you when I get into my room.”
“You can stay on the line if you want,” Cally said.
“It’s all right. My battery’s getting low. I’ll hang up now before my phone switches itself off and freaks you out. I’ve got a charger up in my room. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“OK. We’ll talk soon.” Cally ended the call then sat looking down at her phone. Somehow, she felt a little better. Talking to Jake had reassured her in a way that her brief conversation with Simon had not. Jake understands, she thought. He’s on my side.
She set her phone down on the bedside table then looked down at the duvet and smoothed the white crinkled cotton with the palm of her hand. She couldn’t lie down and relax and she certainly couldn’t just sit and wait for Jake to call; she had to do something.
She looked around the room and her gaze settled on the writing desk. Imogen’s sleek, white laptop was there, buried beneath a clutter of make-up brushes and cosmetics. Cally stood and crossed to the table then carefully extricated the laptop. Its screen sprang to life as soon as she opened the lid. Good—Imogen hadn’t locked the screen, so no password was needed.
Cally took the laptop back to the bed and made herself comfortable, propping the pillows up against the headboard and setting the laptop on her lap. Within minutes, she was deep into her research, finding websites that she thought she’d forgotten and chasing down leads to verify her sources. She worked quickly and with complete concentration, so when her mobile phone finally rang, it startled her. She looked at the phone’s screen. It was all right. The call was from Jake. It must’ve taken him a while to charge his phone. She let out a sigh of relief and answered the call.
Chapter 19
3550 BC
HIGH UP ON THE ROCKY LEDGE that Cleofan had shown her, Glowan sat on the hard ground, resting. She cradled Banain in her arms and sang to him softly as she rocked him back and forth. He liked that. It soothed him to sleep. He looked so peaceful. He didn’t understand the danger they were in.
She sighed. At least she felt a little safer on the ledge. It had been a difficult climb, but Cleofan had helped her. First she’d had a good long drink at the spring, and then they’d clambered up the rock face slowly, one careful step at a time. He’d told her it would be worth it. He’d said that no one else knew about the ledge, so there was little danger of her being discovered—so long as she kept the baby quiet.
Glowan stroked Banain’s hair. They should be safe enough. For now. But when she looked up into the darkening sky, she shivered. The sky was clear and already the chill air nipped at her fingertips, her ears, her nose. Soon it would be colder still, and she had no fire.
She looked around the ledge. There was no shelter here. It was flat, apart from a big mound of rocks at one end. There were some sticks lying on the ground though; they would make good kindling, and she always had a few scraps of dry tinder in her pouch. But could she risk making a fire? The flames would be visible from some distance, and in the still air, the smoke would leave a clear trail that anyone could follow.
She rocked her baby back and forth, and chewed at the inside of her cheek as she pictured the Wandrian: their knives in their hands, and snarls on their lips as they ran though through the gathering gloom. When they hunted, they slipped silently through the flickering shadows, their blackened faces blending into the darkness. She would not see them approaching until it was too late.
She shook her head. Better to suffer the cold than to let those vermin know where she was hiding. And perhaps, if she moved around a little, she wouldn’t notice the cold so much.
She stood up slowly, being careful not to wake her baby, then crossed the ledge, rocking Banain gently in her arms. When she reached the mound of rocks, she turned, but as she began to retrace her steps, something made her stand still and listen.
She’d heard something: a faint voice, whispering, like the broken babble of a rushing stream. She held her breath and turned her head slowly from side to side.
There it was again. The voice echoed in the still night air, and she should not tell which direction it came from. A chill crept across her skin, and Glowan pressed her baby tighter against her chest. She backed away across the ledge, retreating from the edge. She looked frantically from side to side, but there was no one else there. It could only be the spirits calling out to her. “No,” she whispered. “Not now. Leave us alone.”
The voice grew louder and Glowan shook her head. “I don’t understand. What do you want?” She bit her bottom lip. The spirits were angry with her. They were warning her away. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong, but she was certain that she should go from this place. She should run as fast as she could and without looking back. But could she climb down in the dark without anyone to help her?
No. She would never make it. Better to hide and wait until sunrise. She retreated to the back of the ledge then she sat down, pressing herself into the corner, with the mound of rocks on one side and the steep slope rising at her back.
Her baby whimpered and she looked down. She was holding him too tightly. She took a breath and loosened her grip, rearranging the furs to make Banain more comfortable. “It’s all right,” she whispered, “it’s all right.” She rocked him gently to and fro, but she couldn’t sing to him. How could she? The spirits were looking for her, calling her name, whispering, muttering their filthy promises. The Wandrian must have sent their dark demons to find her, to drag her back to them.
But what could she do? Nothing, she thought. Nothing but try to stay hidden until the morning. When the sun rose, she might be safe again. She made herself as small as she could, huddling against the unforgiving stones, and stared out into the gathering darkness, shivering. She stroked the furs wrapped around Banain’s tiny head. “I won’t let them take you,” she whispered. “I’ll never let them take you away from me.”
Anything was better than that. Anything.
She let her hand creep down to her pouch. The striker was there: heavy, solid, dependable. One blow to Banain’s head, she thought. One blow and he’ll be safe from them. Safe forever.
And in the dark and fearful places of her imagination, the demons howled and cursed in their bitter fury.
***
In the village, Cleofan awoke suddenly. The fire still glowed in the hut he shared with Odely, and its embers cast soft shadows on the underside of the wooden roof. He lay still for a moment, gathering his muddled thoughts. What had woken him? Had he heard something? No. He’d had a strange dream, that was all. Nothing but a dream.
He scraped his hand across his face. “Such a dream,” he murmured. “Such wonders.” He closed his eyes and saw again, the strange images from his dream. He’d seen the strange weapons Glowan had shown him, but they’d been
carried by a dark figure—a giant of a man. The man had stood over a huge block of dark stone and brought the weapons down hard against it. Then suddenly, the man had vanished, swallowed up by a burst of noise and light. And in his place there’d been a much younger man, his face covered in swirling black lines. And then, without warning, the dark rock had changed, rising up out of the ground until it had grown taller than the man. The man had wailed and beaten the rock with his bare fists in a frenzy of desperation. And Cleofan had woken with a start; the man’s terrible cries still ringing in his ears.
Cleofan opened his eyes and stared into the soft shadows that always lurked in the corner farthest from the fire. The dream was a message from the Shades, that much was certain, but what did it mean? He placed his hands on his stomach. A strange hunger burned in his belly, as though he hadn’t eaten for many days.
I need something, he thought. But what? What must I do? He rolled onto his side, and his bed of dried bracken rustled as he moved. The dream had a meaning, but he’d forgotten some vital part of it. There was a gap in his memories where some thought had slipped away. If he could only bring it to mind and see it more clearly, he’d know what to do. He sighed and let the dream come back to him, watching its strange tale over and over again. And there it was—the thing he’d been missing.
Cleofan gasped and wrapped his arms around his chest. Throughout his dream, he’d felt as though he was being watched. And now he remembered. From the corner of his eye, he’d glimpsed a shadowy figure—a man perhaps—creeping toward him. But every time Cleofan had turned to look, the interloper had slipped away silently, vanishing into thin air. He’d never seen the man clearly, but he was sure of one thing; each time he’d caught sight of him, the man had crept closer.
“He’s coming,” Cleofan whispered. “And he means us harm.”
Beside him, Odely stirred and Cleofan lay still, listening to her breathing. He didn’t want to wake her. Not yet. He needed some time to think. Should he tell his wife about Glowan? Should he tell his family, his neighbours? After all, if this woman had brought a threat to their village, he should warn everyone.
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