‘Lisa, it’s me.’
‘You pick your moments, don’t you, Steve? I’m packing.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I told you where I was going. I’m going back there.’
‘Now? You’re going back now?’ he said.
‘There’s no time like the present. Look I’ve got to ring off. I’ve a train to catch.’
‘No, wait. Listen. DeMarney’s been to my house. He’s looking for me.’
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Lisa...Lisa!’
‘It’s okay. I’m still here. It just shook me a little, that’s all. This is not good. They’re not going to let it go. We know too much. We’re too much of a danger to them. They’re going to try to kill us.’
‘Yes, I know. I worked that out for myself. Look, I’m at the station, myself. Can you meet me here and we can go to Waterloo together? I’m going back to Dorset with you.’
There was another long pause. When Lisa spoke again there was no disguising the relief in her voice. ‘Give me half an hour. And Steve...’
‘What?’
‘Thanks.’
The line went dead.
He let out a heavy sigh and continued to look along the platform. His muscles and sinews were taut, coiled like springs, and adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Flight or fight, the classic stress response. There was nothing he could do now but wait for Billy and Lisa.
Exactly thirty minutes later Billy stepped out onto the platform. Steve emerged from the waiting room and waved to his brother. Almost immediately another figure appeared on the platform. Tall, suave, handsome and moving like a cheetah, Roger DeMarney came up behind Billy and caught him by the arm. Steve’s shouted warning died on his lips.
‘Oi!’ Billy cried. ‘Let go!’ And he tried to pull his arm away, but DeMarney’s grip was much too strong; and what frightened Billy more was the fact that the man was taking no notice of him at all. DeMarney’s attention was riveted on Steve, and although Billy found himself being dragged carelessly along the platform, the man hadn’t even so much as glanced at him.
The grip on Billy’s was painful, the man’s fingernails piercing the thin fabric of his shirt, digging into the flesh. The pain was bringing tears to his eyes, and he was furious at himself, being made to cry. As the man dragged him forward Billy noticed that his face, handsome though it was, was immobile and expressionless – completely bland, as though someone had wiped all expression from it with a cloth. Billy tried again to pull away but the fingers tightened and he cried out as a sharp fingernail cut his arm.
‘Let him go, DeMarney. You have no fight with him. He’s only a kid.’
DeMarney stopped walking, raised his arm slightly and in doing so lifted Billy off his feet, leaving him dangling in mid-air. ‘Steve,’ DeMarney said, his voice as bland and expressionless as his face. ‘Good to see you again.’
Billy kicked out with his foot and hit the man in the side of the knee. DeMarney hissed, but whether in surprise or pain Billy wasn’t sure. He lashed out again with his foot. But the man was ready for him this time and simply released his grip on Billy’s arm, letting him fall with a thump to the platform, then, with a speed that was astonishing, DeMarney pulled back his fist and let fly with it, catching Billy on the side of the jaw. Billy pitched forward, face-first onto the concrete platform.
Without even glancing down, DeMarney walked on, closing the gap between himself and Steve.
Steve’s eyes flicked from DeMarney to his brother who was lying unmoving on the platform, and back to DeMarney who was now less than ten yards away and approaching rapidly. When the gap had shortened to five Steve turned on his heels and ran, Ahead of him was the footbridge that crossed the track. He took the steps three at a time and reached the top in seconds. He looked back. DeMarney had stopped at the bottom of the steps and was staring up at him, a hint of a smile playing on his thin lips. At least there was now some expression there on that mask of a face.
Beyond him he saw to his relief that Lisa had arrived and was crouched over Billy, helping him to his feet. DeMarney followed Steve’s gaze and turned his head to look back along the platform. ‘Two bird’s with one stone,’ he said in little more than a whisper. ‘How convenient.’ He spun round and started to run back along the platform.
Steve shouted a warning but Lisa had already started running, Billy following close at her heels, back towards the station entrance. They disappeared from sight and a few seconds later appeared on the opposite platform. He ran across the bridge and down the steps on the other side to join them.
‘Quick. Out this way,’ Steve said, pointing to the exit. ‘We’ll lose him in the town.’
DeMarney glared across at them and dropped from the edge of the platform, onto the tracks. He took two steps towards them then reeled back as the scream of an air-horn filled the air and the London bound express train thundered through the station. It was so close that DeMarney could have reached out and touched it. By the time the train passed, the station was empty.
They were approaching the relative safety of the shopping precinct when Lisa looked back. ‘There he is,’ she said. They were several hundred yards away from the station but the image of DeMarney striding from the station entrance seemed to fill her vision.
‘Is he coming after us?’ Billy said, a tremor in his voice.
‘No,’ Lisa said. ‘He’s just standing there, watching.’
Steve shouted, ‘Lisa, look out!’
Ahead of them a woman stepped out from a shop doorway. She turned to face the three of them. Tall, elegantly dressed, hair impeccably swept into a French pleat, Sarah Delacourt stood before them spreading her arms as though to block their path. The expression on her face was serene, totally placid.
‘It’s Sarah!’ Lisa gasped and veered out into the road. The woman made a grab for her and caught the sleeve of her jacket. Steve barrelled into her, making her lose her grip, sending her crashing to the ground. Billy stared down at the woman as he ran past her. The woman glared back at him and hissed.
‘We’ve got to get out of here. With both of them in town we don’t stand a chance.’ Steve yelled back at them.
They ran into the precinct and into the cool, air-conditioned interior of Marks and Spencer. They threaded their way through the racks of dresses to the escalator, and then climbed the moving staircase three steps at a time. On the first floor they ran past rack of ties and men’s underpants until they reached the back of the store and a footbridge across to the multi-storey car park. They reached the lift and pressed the call button. The doors opened immediately and they all but fell inside. They were panting, leaning forwards to catch their breath. Steve pressed a button.
The lift descended, then stopped and the doors opened. Cautiously they crept out of the lift into the rather dank surroundings of the car park’s basement. Steve knew it well. For years he and his friends had hung out here. There was a storeroom with a dodgy lock they used as a meeting place.
‘Why bring us here?’ Lisa said.
‘Be patient. It’s just along...here it is.’
He found the door, jiggled the handle and it opened. ‘Just like that,’ he said with a grin.
They walked inside. The place was filthy. Empty coke cans littered the floor along with burger boxes and various other pieces of litter.
‘Well this is nice,’ Lisa said sarcastically
‘Well, there’s no way we can go home,’ Steve said. ‘They know where we live.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Lisa asked.
‘Give it an hour then head back to the station and get on a train to London.’
‘London?’ Billy said. ‘I want to go home.’ Enclosed in the relative safety of the storeroom he was almost back to his usual argumentative self. His jaw was aching though, where the man had thumped him.
‘And then to Dorset,’ Steve said.
‘Oh, brilliant,’ Billy said. ‘I can’t go to Dorset. I’ve g
ot a match tomorrow.’
‘Would you rather go home and have DeMarney knocking at the door again?’ Steve said irritably.
Billy slumped back against the wall. No, he didn’t want that either. Dorset was a good hundred miles away. ‘I don’t understand all this,’ he said. ‘Who was that woman who threw herself in front of us...and who’s DeMarney?’
Steve glanced round at his younger brother. ‘Get comfortable. It’s a long story.’
19
The atmosphere in the small room in the multi-storey car park had taken on a definite chill as Steve reached the end of his account. Billy was sitting on a wooden orange box in stunned silence, shaking his head. Lisa leaned against the wall, eyes downcast. Listening to Steve tell the story had brought it all back to her in vivid detail, and she was feeling again the loss of Cat, Tim, Sean and Susan. There were tears stinging her eyes, but she fought them back.
Finally Billy spoke. ‘So all this happened, you come within inches of getting yourselves killed, and now you want to go back there... and worse, you want to take me with you. No fucking way, Steve. No way at all.’
Lisa pushed herself away from the wall and walked across to where Billy was sitting. She crouched down to bring her face level with his. ‘We have to go back there, Billy. Isabella Senice has survived through the centuries by luring young people into her circle and draining them of their life force. This isn’t about Steve and me, or you either for that matter. This is for all those who have gone before, and for those who might follow. We can’t let her continue.’
Billy raised his eyes in exasperation. ‘Oh, give me a break. What do you think we could do against her? You said yourself she’s been doing this for centuries. What on earth makes you two think you can put a stop to her?’
‘We’re not sure that we can, but we owe it the others to try,’ Steve said, simply. If he had been doubtful before about going back to Dorset, recounting the story had convinced him that they had to do it. Visions of Sean and Susan lying in that filthy shed, and of Cat and Tim, drained of their life force from within, reduced to desiccated husks, made it impossible to turn his back on Isabella Senice. The evil had to be stopped.
‘When the van crashed,’ Lisa said, ‘we carried on walking along the road. Eventually we managed to hitch a lift to Ringwood in Hampshire and from there got a train home. The next day I went to the library – they’ve got Internet facilities there – I spent the day doing more digging. I found the same document Tim found, but there was nothing there to give any idea how to fight her. Then I searched for some more information on witchcraft. It’s really surprising just what kind of stuff is out there. Once you know what you’re looking for, you can find out about everything. There are various ways to kill witches. Fire, obviously, but that won’t work with her… same as drowning. Beheading seems the best bet.’
‘You’re not serious,’ Billy said.
‘That evening, after the library, I rang your brother but...’
‘I didn’t want to know,’ Steve said. ‘I suppose I was still in shock. I just wanted to blank it from my mind.’
Billy shifted uncomfortably on the orange box. ‘But you’ve changed it now... your mind that is?’
‘The idea of going back there, back to that house, scares me to death... but if there’s the slightest chance we can end this evil and destroy Isabella Senice, then I realise we have to try.’
‘Come on,’ Lisa said. ‘They must have given up searching for us by now.’ She went across to the door and opened it quietly. She peered out through the tiniest crack, but the car park looked quite empty. ‘All clear, I think.’
Billy pushed himself up from the box and ran to the door, grabbing Lisa by the arm and pulling her out of the way. ‘Then I’m out of here,’ he shouted as he yanked the door open wide and ran out into the gloomy, petrol-reeking interior of the car park.
‘Billy, wait!’ Steve called after him. ‘What about Dorset?’
Billy was running towards the exit. He looked back over his shoulder. ‘Screw Dorset!’ he yelled back, and disappeared down the stairwell.
As Billy barged past Lisa she stumbled and fell to the floor. Now Steve went across to her and offered her his hand. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
They made their way to the exit and were about to get into the lift when they heard a cry from below.
‘That was Billy!’ Steve said, and rushed across to the wall of the car park and looked down to the street in time to see DeMarney and Delacourt pushing a struggling Billy into a black Mercedes.
‘They’ve got Billy,’ he called back to Lisa, who was still standing at the lift, her finger on the button, holding the doors. Steve ran back to the lift and hit the button for the ground floor, but by the time they reached the street the Mercedes and Billy had gone.
Steve buried his face in his hands. When he took them away again, there were tears on his cheeks and a steely expression on his face. He started to walk briskly away from the car park, leaving Lisa standing there watching him depart. ‘Steve, where are you going?’ she called after him.
‘Dorset,’ he said quietly. ‘To get Billy back. Coming?’
Lisa hadn’t told Steve the first time she had the dream, the night before they left for the seminar. She didn’t tell him the second time either.
It was the first night after they got back. She was still terrified; they both were. She couldn’t sleep but eventually she drifted off into what seemed like a deep sleep.
Only it then seemed as if she awoke.
The house was her parent’s house but it was different.
It was dark, and she was walking along the landing. Her parent’s bedroom door was closed.
As she walked she thought she could hear music playing; piano music – rock music, but old fashioned – something from the nineteen seventies. The music she had heard at Spike’s. Then she was running, along the empty corridors of her old school, like the first dream; into the concrete stairwell, clattering down the stone steps, through the school’s foyer to the assembly hall. All the while the music was getting louder, and voices were now added to the piano accompaniment. A hymn, stirring, rousing, being sung with gusto by hundreds of young, strong voices. The rock music, all synthesisers and guitar was being drowned out.
She burst through the double doors to the hall and stopped dead. The assembly hall was empty. Empty except for two figures sat hunched over the piano. The figures were dressed entirely in black. Even the heads were covered by some kind of cowl. Lisa approached on tiptoe, trying not to make a sound. She wanted to see who was sitting at the piano, but was fearful in case they turned and saw her. She was terrified it was the same figure as before. But who was the second person?
She moved slowly forwards until she could see the hands moving over the keys, picking out the melody. Long thin hands, impossibly bony, tipped with hooked, claw-like fingernails.
It was happening again. Lisa could feel the blood pounding in her veins. Her head was thudding throbbing and aching as if a giant bird was pecking at her brain.
A yard away and the figures turned suddenly in the seat. The cowls fell back and she found herself staring into the face of her parents. They were grinning at her – a grin that seemed full of malevolence and evil. As she stared back, her parents’ features swam in front of her eyes, the flesh twisting and shifting as if melting and reforming. Within seconds the faces resembled nothing more than a greyish white, doughy mass, set with tiny, black eyes that stared at Lisa with undisguised hostility.
Lisa backed away, a scream rising in her throat. Slowly the monstrosities that were masquerading as her parents were rising from its seat. Another step backwards and then her arms were grabbed from behind and pinned to her sides by two powerful hands.
A woman’s voice, low and harsh, whispered in her ear, ‘Just in time.’
Then she awoke and realised the tentacles of Senice House were entwined around her and she couldn’t walk away from them.
20
Senice House was in darkness, and looked empty. Steve and Lisa stood in the cover of some trees and watched for any sign that the place was occupied, but after fifteen minutes they had seen no evidence there was anyone in the house.
The journey down had been mercifully brief. They managed to get a fast train to London, and then an express to Weymouth. The taxi dropped them at the edge of the woodland, and this time they found their way quite easily to the house, despite twilight closing in around them.
‘Perhaps there’s nobody here,’ Lisa said.
Steve grunted. He was mostly silent on the journey down. He blamed himself for Billy’s abduction and until he got him back safely he wouldn’t rest.
‘I’m going in anyway,’ he said.
‘We’re going in,’ Lisa said.
Steve shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ he said and took a step forward.
Lisa grabbed his arm. ‘Steve, don’t shut me out,’ she said. ‘This is my fight too.’ In fact, she thought but didn’t say, it was me that had to persuade you to come back in the first place.
‘They’ve got Billy,’ Steve said shrugging her hand away. ‘I’m going to get him back.’
Lisa glared at him. ‘Right. We’ll split up. You go in the front, I’ll take the back.’
‘We should stick together,’ he said.
‘It wouldn’t make any difference. We’re just as vulnerable together as we are apart. At least if we split up we’ll have double the opportunity to find Billy.’
He couldn’t argue with her logic. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Ready?’
She nodded. ‘Good luck. I think we’re going to need it.’
To Steve’s surprise the front door was unlocked – closed, but no one had bothered to turn the key. It opened smoothly as he pushed it, and as it swung open he saw that the hall was empty. Quietly he stepped inside, looking around quickly. All the doors leading to the ground floor rooms from the hall were closed.
He really had no idea where to start looking. He didn’t even know for sure they had brought Billy here – he had just assumed they would return here, to bring Billy back to Isabella Senice. He crossed the hall to the drawing room and opened the door. He wasn’t even sure what he would do if he did manage to find his brother. He didn’t know how to fight the witch, or DeMarney and Delacourt for that matter, but he had to do something. He had got Billy into this. It was up to him to get him out of it.
A Weaving of Ancient Evil Page 11