Scaderstone Pit (The Darkeningstone Series Book 3)

by Mikey Campling

  Back at his desk, Trevor knew that if he leaned back in his chair, he’d be able to hear every word that Grigson said. Usually he did this surreptitiously, but this time he didn’t care whether his colleagues saw him eavesdropping or not.

  “Yes, it was a lucky find by this chap,” Grigson was saying. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” he went on. “The spring just drains into a ditch at the moment, you’d never notice it was there, but it’s mainly underground you see.”

  There was a long pause, and Trevor imagined Matthews growing red in the face and demanding to know why a bit of water was suddenly such a problem when they were going to blast the whole place to pieces anyway.

  “Quite, quite,” Grigson said, “But the water course has seriously eroded the underlying rock over many, many years. So while the two sides are fine, that far bank is not workable. Any excavation would be unpredictable and could have serious consequences.”

  Another pause, and Trevor would’ve given anything to hear what Matthews was saying.

  “At the very least,” Grigson said, “there would be severe subsidence in the land above the bank, which includes the recreation ground, and, as I’m sure you’re aware, the main road.”

  Grigson let out a dry laugh, clearly humouring his client. “Indeed, Mr. Matthews. But I’m afraid the town council may take a different view. And then there’s public opinion to consider.”

  A shorter pause this time. Perhaps the message was finally starting to sink in that Matthews wasn’t going to have everything his own way for once.

  “I quite agree,” Grigson said. “But did I hear at the Conservative Club that you’re putting yourself forward as a candidate to be our next Member of Parliament?”

  Trevor raised his eyebrows at that. Well played, Grigson, he thought. You’re a sly old fox after all.

  “I’m sure you will, “ Grigson said. “What was that? The worst that could happen? Let me see…”

  Trevor could hear the flicking of pages.

  “Yes. Here it is. Our man, Mr. Marley says, and I quote, the removal of the limestone deposits from the said part of the site would undoubtedly cause serious subsidence and/or a major landslip in the adjacent higher ground.”

  Trevor pricked up his ears at the mention of his name. Perhaps he was finally going to get some praise. But the moment of hope was all too brief. It was clear that the only credit he would get, was to be known as the man who’d pointed out the worst possible scenario. To Mr. Matthews, Trevor would forever be remembered as the man who’d thrown a spanner into the works; he was a fly in the ointment, a harbinger of doom. He’d rather he hadn’t been mentioned at all.

  If only he could walk into Grigson’s office and explain. He’d saved the project from turning into a complete fiasco. Without his intervention, the proposed quarry would’ve been delayed by months or even years.

  Trevor shook his head. He’d miscalculated. He’d underestimated Grigson and the whole plan had backfired. He needed to regroup and rethink. There had to be some way he could turn this situation around. But Grigson was talking again:

  “While we’re on the subject, I did wonder about this workman who found the spring. I’m assured that he’s the only person who went to that part of the site. He knows about the potential problem of the subsidence. Might it be an idea to put the man on the payroll when you open for business?”

  Trevor sighed. Poor old Brian was going to come out of this all right. It looked like everyone was going to benefit apart from Trevor.

  “I appreciate that, Mr. Matthews,” Grigson said. “But perhaps it may be as well to keep him on our side—keep him quiet.”

  It sounded like Matthews didn’t even have to think about this suggestion.

  “Yes, my thoughts exactly, “ Grigson said. “I’ll have the man’s details sent to your secretary today.”

  Grigson chuckled. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Matthews. It was a pleasure to be of service.”

  Trevor grimaced. He couldn’t bear to listen to another word. He stood quickly, toppling his chair. Joe said something, but Trevor didn’t take it in, didn’t even look at him. He left his chair where it lay and swept out of the office without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind him.

  He thought he heard Duncan calling his name, but he kept walking, his head down. He was two streets away before he even noticed the cold air stinging his cheeks, prickling his fingers. He dug his hands into his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders, but it didn’t help much against the chill breeze. I should’ve grabbed my overcoat, he thought. But it was too late to do anything about that now. He couldn’t go creeping back to Grigson’s with his tail between his legs.

  He let out a quiet hiss of frustration and carried on walking, not even sure where he was heading. I shouldn’t have let it get to me, he thought. I should’ve stayed in the office and had it out with the old man—argued my corner. But he’d been too angry. He’d lost his temper and made matters worse.

  Trevor stopped walking and looked up and down the street. Should he go back and try to explain why he’d stormed out? He shook his head slowly. They can all go to hell. None of it mattered anymore: not Grigson, not Matthews, and definitely not the damned quarry.

  Trevor snorted under his breath and started walking once more, crossing the road and heading for home. The office would be closing soon, and it wouldn’t be open again until the day after Boxing Day. It gave him a bit of breathing space. Perhaps, after Christmas, he’d come up with a plausible excuse for his rapid exit. And maybe he’d even manage to turn the situation back around. After all, he still had his trump card to play. I really do know where the bodies are buried, he thought. And Trevor allowed himself a grim smile. Yes. He still had some moves he could make. But he’d have to play the long game. He’d have to wait until the quarry was opened before he dropped his bombshell. That way, the stakes would be so much higher.

  I can wait, he thought. I can wait as long as it takes.

  Chapter 38

  2021

  I DIDN’T HESITATE FOR LONG. Deep down, I knew I had to see this through. I took one last look around the compound then followed Crawford into the building and closed the door behind me. The buzzing noise filled the room, throbbing and reverberating from the concrete walls. I stepped forward, and as my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I realised the room was bathed in a faint blue glow. I couldn’t see what had happened to the metal container; Crawford wasn’t using his flashlight, and the air was still thick with acrid smoke.

  Slowly, I walked toward the centre of the room. “Crawford,” I called out. “Where are you?”

  His reply was unnaturally loud, his voice echoing in the cavernous space, and his words sent a shiver to slide slowly down my spine: “Come closer. It’s beginning.”

  I set my mouth in a grim line then walked toward the sound of his voice. As I neared the centre of the room, the blue glow intensified, and I saw that the metal container was in ruins. The sheets of solid steel that had once been its walls were lying on the concrete floor, charred and distorted into dark, twisted shards of scrap metal. And there, standing proud above the shattered remnants of its former prison, was the black stone. And it was…it was alive. Its surface squirmed with a tangled web of crackling blue beams that danced and sparked over the smooth black rock. Every inch of the stone was wrapped with writhing ropes of light. And as I watched, they grew brighter and brighter, etching their frenzied patterns into the backs of my eyes, until I could see little else but the bright lines and their afterglow. But I couldn’t look away. Was this what other people had seen when I’d been taken by the stone? Was this what my own father had witnessed when he’d rescued me that day? I shook my head. It was no wonder he’d never spoken much about it; it was too hard to comprehend.

  I stood and stared at the stone, transfixed, and I didn’t see Crawford coming at me until it was too late.

  “You’re coming with me.” He grabbed my arm roughly and pushed me forward.

  I tried to shake free of
him. “No! Get your bloody hands off me!”

  But Crawford span me around to face him, and when he raised his hand, the blade of his knife glittered in the blue light. “You’ll do as I say. There’s no other option.”

  “Just let me go,” I insisted. “You’ve got what you wanted—you’ve seen the stone. Now let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

  A slow grin crept across Crawford’s lips and he pulled me close until his mouth was next to my ear. “Not just yet,” he hissed, and I felt his breath on my skin. “First, you’re going to make the stone work. You’re going to help me whether you like it or not.”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” I tried to pull away from him, but he thrust the knife toward my face and I froze; he’d cut me before and he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

  “Save your energy,” he snapped. “You’re going to need it.”

  “All right. All right.” I took a steadying breath, but I kept my eyes on the knife. “Just tell me what you want to know. I’ll tell you everything, but only if you put that knife away.”

  He shook his head slowly, but he lowered the knife. “Not here. Move. We need to get closer.”

  He pushed me toward the stone. I tried to hang back, but he still had the knife in one hand while his other hand was clamped around my arm. I’m younger than him, I thought, and stronger too. But Crawford knew how to fight; he’d proved that in my hotel room. And now, he seemed more determined than ever. He propelled me across the room, and where I stumbled and dragged my feet, he moved with the implacable certainty of a predator stalking its prey.

  We were very close to the stone now. My mind reeled. I was still trying to think how I could get away, but I was dazed and confused. In front of my eyes, my worst nightmares were coming to life. The black rock’s restless energy filled the room, as if the stone was reaching out with invisible fingers to draw me in. Dazzling beams of blue light flickered faster and faster, strobing through the whirling clouds of thick white smoke, and the stone’s droning din crept into my skull.

  Something inside me snapped and I planted my feet firmly on the concrete floor, making Crawford stop in his tracks. “Not one more step,” I said. “This is near enough.”

  Crawford looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “All right,” he said. “Tell me how it works. I have the amulet, and I know it’s important. I know it’s the key. But I need to know more.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t know how it works. I don’t know anything about it.”

  Crawford growled in frustration. “Yes you do,” he insisted, raising his voice. “I’ve used the amulet. I’ve seen things with it. But I’ve never been able to control the stone.”

  With a sudden rush of realisation, I understood what he wanted, and a cold dread stirred in my gut. “No! You want to use it. You’re insane. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I’m going through and you’re going to take me.”

  “I can’t do it,” I said, and the words caught in my throat. “I can’t. I just can’t. It’ll tear me apart.”

  “But you’ve done it before,” Crawford said. “You’ve been through and you’ve come back. You must know how to do it again.”

  A wave of panic surged through me, and I struggled against his grip. But he held up his knife and fixed me with his cold glare. “Listen to me,” he growled. “I have to get out of here. And you’re coming with me.”

  “No,” I said, forcing the words out between clenched teeth. “I won’t do it.”

  “Do you think you have a choice?” he snarled. “Do you really think I’ll let you walk out of here alive if you don’t help me?”

  I didn’t reply. I focused on the blade, trying to push the fear from my mind, trying to think what I could do to escape from this madman.

  “I can kill you now,” Crawford went on, “or we can use the stone together and you can take us back to 2014. After that, I don’t care what you do. You can come back here if you want to.” He paused and his expression softened. “If you do what I say, you’ll be free. You’ll be alive. You’ll be able to carry on with your life. Your father will be safe. And Callisto too. Once I’m safely in the past, you can do what you want.”

  I shook my head, but his words sparked something in my mind. Perhaps there was a way to beat him, a way to be free of him forever. “All right,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I’ll do it. Let me go and I’ll help you.”

  “That’s better,” Crawford muttered.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but without warning, Crawford span me around, pushing me back until I came up against the stone. The blue beams snapped and whipped at my arms then writhed across my body. They leached the heat from my skin and I gasped, fighting down the swell of panic swirling in my stomach.

  “Concentrate,” Crawford said. “Control it. Tell it to take us back to 2014.”

  A savage coldness seeped beneath my skin, taking my breath away, but I forced myself to speak. Everything depended on it. “You have to be on the stone as well.”

  Crawford shot me a look of pule malice. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

  “It’s the only way to make it work.”

  Crawford set his mouth in a grim line then shifted closer to the stone, leaning his shoulder against it. The lights sparked and crackled across his body, but he scarcely flinched. And he didn’t let go of my arm.

  “I need…I need the amulet,” I said.

  “Not a chance,” Crawford sneered.

  I ground my teeth together, fighting against the icy pain in my arms, my legs. “I have to hold it. It’s the only way to control what happens.”

  Crawford hesitated then he pocketed his knife and held the amulet out toward me, extending the chain that held it around his neck. “You can hold it, but it stays on the chain.”

  I looked at the amulet. There were already tiny flashes of blue light crackling along the curved lines of its pattern. I don’t know what I’m doing, I thought. Anything might happen. But Crawford hadn’t left me much choice. I had to try something. And if I could somehow use the stone against him, then even if it took me into the past, Cally and my dad would still be safe. Slowly, I reached out and took hold of the amulet, gripping it tight in the palm of my hand. I concentrated hard, remembering the first time I’d seen the amulet. I pictured the old man who’d held it. I remembered the barbaric men who’d captured me: their cruel faces masked by swirling black lines, their dark eyes round with greed, their teeth bared in savage glee. I remembered the way their nostrils had flared in excitement when they’d looked at me, the way their eyes had rolled in a frenzy of bloodlust. I’ll bring him to you, I thought. You can do what you want with him.

  And suddenly, I smelt wood smoke, and the sickening stench of rancid raw meat filled the air. The savages were close now, ready to rush in and grab us from the stone. We were going to meet them and as soon as we arrived I’d give Crawford a shove in the right direction. They’d deal with him soon enough. I only hoped I could escape back to the present before they could take me too.

  I glimpsed a movement from the corner of my eye, and when I looked away from the amulet, there was no crowd of savages, and no roaring fire. But there was someone else.

  The man stood in front of me, hunched and fearful, the stone’s blue light flashing in his eyes. He stared at me, his face etched in horror and amazement. I could see him as clear as day, but I hadn’t travelled back. I was sure of it. There’d been no sensation of falling, no icy darkness. And I could still move, I could still breathe. It’s a message, I thought. The stone is showing him to me. But why?

  And then a voice whispered in the darkness, calling out to me: a gentle voice, no more than a soft murmur, like a mother comforting her baby. I looked at Crawford but he didn’t react. He just kept his eyes on me, staring and cold, as if he’d heard nothing.

  “Bring him to us,” the voice murmured. “Bring him now.”

  “I will,” I said. “And then I’ll leave you in
peace.”

  Crawford scowled at me. “What? What are you doing?”

  I looked him in the eye. “It’s all right. Just keep quiet. I’ve got to concentrate.”

  Crawford opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment the door burst open and slammed against the concrete wall. Bright beams of white light sliced through the dusty darkness, and a chorus of commands split the air: a jumble of warnings yelled out in French and English.

  Crawford’s eyes darted to one side, and I took the only chance I’d get. I focused hard, gathering every last scrap of strength. And then I went into action. I held the amulet tight then pulled my hand back hard, breaking the chain apart, ripping it from Crawford’s neck. At the same time, I slammed the heel of my other hand into the centre of Crawford’s chest, throwing my shoulder into the blow, swinging my body around. I pushed Crawford as hard as I could against the stone then used my momentum to push myself away from him.

  Crawford’s eyes went wide as the air left his lungs. He bared his teeth in a roar of pure fury. And the stone attacked.

  The crackling beams descended on him in a ferocious, snarling tangle of unbridled energy. The beams swiped at my hands, and I cried out in pain and staggered backward. But Crawford did not move. He was pinned to the stone, cocooned in a savage whirling wreath of light. The beams bit into his skin, sizzling as they arced across his flesh.

  I watched in stunned horror as Crawford was devoured by the stone. A tremor shuddered through my body, and I hugged myself, trying to rub some life and warmth back into my arms. I’m all right, I told myself. I got away. And it was true. Crawford was trapped but I was free, with breath in my lungs and blood pulsing in my veins. I was safe and in my own time. I’d done it. I’d beaten him.

  But as the lingering traces of the bitter cold faded from my fingertips, I couldn’t congratulate myself. Crawford still stared out at me, his face contorted in a silent scream of abject agony. I knew the pain he was suffering. And I knew what was going to happen to him next. The stone was ripping him from his reality, tearing him apart, flinging him into a pitiless void of misery and despair. Perhaps he’d be taken back thousands of years to the time I’d tried to conjure in my mind. Perhaps the stone had other ideas for him. The soft voice I’d heard, whispering in the darkness, made me wonder if Crawford’s fate might be even worse than I could imagine.