The Creator (Scarrett & Kramer Book 1)

by Neil Carstairs

  Kramer kissed the tears from his face. ‘It’s out now,’ she said.

  Ben nodded. Kramer lay on her back and let Ben rest on her, his tears cold on her skin. She listened to his breathing settle and become the rhythm of sleep. She stroked his hair and wondered how she had ended up like this.

  Because you liked him from the moment you met him.

  Dawson wanted him on the team so she read his file and looked at his photo. She didn’t think anything more than that until he stepped off the plane and she saw that sparkle in his eyes. Dawson had seen it too. The general had tried to warn Scarrett off and also told Kramer to keep her distance. That would have been easy to do if Scarrett had been back at base and she’d been out in the field. But no, they got stuck together and he grew on her like a tumour, inseparable but probably not good for each other. Especially now, with something living out there in the forest capable of raising the dead.

  Chapter 13

  Ben woke to the sound of Kramer opening the dresser. Bright sunlight spilled through the curtains and filled the room with a warm glow. Ben’s glow got warmer when he saw a nude Kramer sorting out clothes to wear. He bit back on a comment about not bothering to dress. Instead, he rolled onto his side to get a better view. She looked across at him. ‘You can get that grin off your face,’ she said.

  ‘Am I grinning?’

  ‘It was there when you were asleep. It’s even bigger now.’

  ‘Talking of bigger,’ he said.

  She pointed a warning finger at him. ‘No. First breakfast. Then we have to start our search.’

  Ben sighed and watched her some more before she finally made her selection and disappeared into the en-suite bathroom. He listened to the shower run and then stop. She came back out ten minutes later, dressed, her hair damp and her skin pink. ‘Water’s hot,’ she said.

  ‘So are you.’ Ben sat up.

  ‘Sweet talker.’ Kramer sat on the bed to rub her hair dry.

  Ben got up and had his shower. Margery waited downstairs in the dining room. She made them a Full English Breakfast that left Ben feeling bloated and Kramer told her they wanted to have a look round the village that morning. Margery didn’t seem to think there was much to see. Kramer explained how they’d had such a busy schedule touring London they wanted to chill out for a few days. Ben and Kramer finished breakfast, grabbed a couple of things from their room, and headed out.

  They walked back down to the pub to take another look at the sign. The building was locked and dark. Ben read the opening times off a printed sign in the window. ‘I still think it means something,’ he said.

  ‘We need to find that old-timer the barmaid told us about.’ Kramer led him on through the village, past the duck pond and up to the church. The church occupied the only high point in the village. It sat on a rise in the land that gave them a view of fields on one side and woodland on the other with the village’s buildings spread out in a haphazard pattern. The grey stone of the church seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Around the church lay a graveyard. Ben and Kramer threaded their way through the headstones. Ben didn’t seem to notice them. He kept his eyes on the church and its tower. Kramer read the inscriptions where they weren’t too worn. She saw some going back to the eighteenth century and guessed some she couldn’t read went back further than that.

  Ben stopped close to the church and said, ‘I hate graveyards.’

  ‘Because of your parents?’ Kramer asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Ben gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ She stepped close to his side and linked arms with him. Ben looked out over the village and surrounding countryside. He could see sheep and cows in fields towards the horizon. From somewhere else could hear the sound of a farm tractor. After a minute or two Kramer hadn’t unlinked her arm from his so Ben said, ‘What’s with the arm?’

  ‘We’re in this village as a couple. We need to act like that’s what we are.’

  ‘I thought we coupled quite well last night,’ Ben said.

  Kramer almost managed not to smile. For cover, she trod on Ben’s foot and said, ‘Don’t get too carried away. Margery said one of the birdwatchers is leaving today so she’ll have a spare room.’

  ‘But we’re here as a couple,’ Ben said, with a smile. ‘So that’s how we need to act.’

  ‘Couples can fall out.’ Kramer slipped her arm out from his and turned to the church.

  ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ Ben said.

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Kramer said over her shoulder. She walked up to the big oak door into the church and turned the iron handle, expecting the door to be locked. To her surprise, it swung open on well-oiled hinges. Kramer walked into the cool interior of the church and Ben followed her.

  They looked down the length of the nave towards the altar. Stained glass windows depicting the crucifixion and resurrection let enough light in to allow Ben and Kramer to see the arched stone and oak beams overhead. A kind of subconscious silence pressed in on Ben. He thought it had something to do with knowing this was a place of worship. Not that he had ever had much faith in God since his parents’ murders but that didn’t stop the deep-rooted belief that he should walk softer in a House of God. Or maybe it was just the fact that the stone walls of the building were so thick no sound penetrated from the outside and Ben did not want to break the silence.

  It took him a moment to spot the boy. Partly because Kramer was a few paces in front of him, but also because he knelt on the stone floor of the transept in prayer. Kramer stopped, not wanting to disturb the youngster’s worship. One of them must have made a sound because the boy looked up. He turned to stare at them. The kid had a pale face and dark hair that clung to his head in an unruly mess. But his eyes made Ben freeze. They were jet black and Ben sensed a touch on his skin, as if in looking at them the boy had reached out to feel him. Or taste him.

  Ben blinked, or the boy did, and his eyes were an ordinary blue.

  ‘Hi,’ Kramer said. ‘Sorry we disturbed you.’

  The boy didn’t reply. He rose and walked off to their left, into the north transept where Ben heard another door open as the kid left the church. Kramer moved as if to follow him but stopped as Ben caught hold of her arm. ‘Did you see his eyes?’ Ben asked.

  ‘What about them?’ Kramer turned to him.

  ‘The first glimpse I got, they looked black.’

  ‘I didn’t see that,’ Kramer said. ‘He just looked normal to me.’

  ‘‘Yeah, normal enough to walk out when you said hello.’

  ‘We probably spooked him,’ Kramer said. ‘He thought he was alone when he wasn’t.’

  ‘Well, he spooked me.’ Ben past Kramer and walked across flagstones to where the boy had been kneeling. Where the nave and transept crossed a single, circular flagstone about three paces in diameter lay beneath the arched stone and oak beams of the church tower. The circular stone had some kind of carving inlaid into it but years, centuries Ben guessed, of people walking across the stone had almost worn the carving away. Almost, but not completely.

  Ben stepped back. He could make out the shape if he looked closely enough. It looked like a face, part human and part animal. He knelt, much like the boy, and traced his fingers across the incisions. Were those horns coming out of the head?

  ‘What is it?’ Kramer stood to one side. She wouldn’t be able to see the picture from there so Ben made her walk around to stand behind him. He showed her the pattern of lines. Jaw, cheekbones, eyes, horns. Kramer pursed her lips and said, ‘It’s a goat.’

  ‘I think it’s a man,’ Ben said.

  ‘Still a weird thing to have in a church.’ Kramer looked round. ‘Everything else is pretty standard stuff. Altar, choir stalls, pulpit.’

  ‘Kind of makes sense if you think about it,’ Ben said. ‘If it’s the devil, then all the worshippers and the priest get to walk on him. Show him who’s the boss kind of thing.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Kramer said. ‘Not much el
se to see. Shall we go?’

  They left the church by the door the boy had used. They could see part of the manor house above the tops of the nearest trees, and some more of the village. A red post office van drove along the main street. Ben thought it didn’t get much more English than this.

  ‘We’re not getting very far,’ Kramer said.

  ‘I hate to agree with you, but you’re right,’ Ben said. ‘It’s almost like we need another event to happen. That way the psychics may be able to pinpoint something for us to investigate.’

  ‘Should we get one of them in? Maybe that guy Alex? If Margery has a spare room he could stay with us.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘And if he’s too close that he can’t tell where the psychic emanations are coming from then it’ll be a waste him being here.’

  They left the church grounds, turning back towards the village. Ben saw a couple of cars parked up outside the pub and an old man with a collie sitting at one of tables with a pint of beer in front of him. ‘Do you think that’s the same old man the girl in the pub told us about?’

  ‘Ask,’ Kramer said.

  Ben angled across the road. Dog and man watched them approach. Ben said, ‘Hi. Is your name Bill?’

  ‘Aye.’ The old man took a sip of his beer. His eyes slipping to Kramer as she crossed the road to join them.

  ‘The girl who works here says you know about local history,’ Ben said. ‘We’re on vacation and would like to know some background about the village if it’s okay with you.’

  ‘I got no problem with that,’ Bill said. ‘Other than talking is thirsty work.’

  ‘Right.’ Ben sat across the picnic table from Bill. ‘What are you drinking?’

  ‘Pint of best.’

  Ben turned to Kramer. ‘Pint of best for Bill. I’ll have the same and get yourself something as well.’

  Kramer gave Ben a ‘what did you last slave die of’ look but walked into the pub to get the drinks.

  ‘You’ve got her well trained,’ Bill said.

  Ben winced. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just don’t say that when she’s around.’

  Bill gave him a gap-toothed grin. ‘Like that is it?’

  ‘Worse,’ Ben said. ‘She’s got sharp elbows and a kick like a mule.’

  The old man laughed and raised his pint glass to Ben. ‘Best kind of woman is the one who’s got some life in her. Keeps life interesting.’

  ‘Oh, life is very interesting when she’s around,’ Ben said.

  Kramer came out of the pub with a tray and three drinks. Bill thanked her and said, ‘Your husband says you’re what makes life interesting for him.’

  Kramer looked at Ben. ‘That’s sweet, honey,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to explain that more to me later.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ben said to Bill.

  ‘So what questions have you got?’

  ‘Well the first is this pub sign,’ Ben pointed up. ‘What’s with the girl and the rose thorns piercing her skin?’

  ‘That goes back to the seventeenth century. Local legend has it that the lord of the manor found out one of his serving girls was a witch. He tied her to a post in the middle of his rose garden and let the plants grow around her and eventually into her. Because the girl was a witch she didn’t die until the stems and thorns penetrated her flesh and pierced her heart.’

  ‘Not a nice way to go,’ Ben said.

  ‘They had strange ways about them back then, that’s for sure,’ Bill said as he finished his drink and started on the pint Kramer had bought.

  ‘And this wasn’t murder?’ Kramer asked,

  ‘Not back then.’ Bill wiped foam from his lips. ‘As the local lord he owned most of what you can see and everyone either worked for him or paid him rent. What he said passed as the law hereabouts.’

  ‘And were there many witches around here?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Records show plenty of accusations but not much proof. If a woman wasn’t married or was a widow then she was fair game for an accusation of witchcraft.’

  ‘But were there actual covens?’ Kramer asked.

  ‘There’ll be some who say there were. But the historic records are written by the people in charge. Landowners, church rectors and the like. Ordinary people were illiterate so nothing survives from them apart from legend.’

  ‘And the lord of the manor you spoke about,’ Ben said. ‘Is that big house over that way his family’s place?’

  ‘It was the house he lived in. It’s changed hands a fair few times over the years.’

  ‘Who owns it now?’ Kramer asked.

  ‘Some outfit that cares for children with behavioural problems. Was a bit of uproar when they first moved in. Everyone local thought the village would be overrun with kids stealing things and taking drugs. There’s been a couple of problems but nothing too bad.’

  ‘Maybe that boy we saw up at the church was from that house,’ Ben said to Kramer.

  ‘He could have been,’ Kramer said, and then to Bill she added. ‘We went into your church and this boy was in there. He looked about fourteen, had a big mop of dark hair and pale skin.’

  Bill shrugged. ‘Probably. There aren’t many kids that age live in the village any longer.’

  ‘Talking of the church,’ Ben said. ‘We saw this stone on the floor. It had some carving in it that looked like a face.’

  ‘Or a goat,’ Kramer said.

  Bill looked at Kramer. ‘Goat?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, like Baphomet.’

  Bill’s eyes narrowed. He took another sip oh his beer and said, ‘The church is twelfth century. The idea of Baphomet as a goat is much more recent.’

  ‘Levi,’ Kramer said, ‘late nineteenth-century French writer.’

  Bill reached down a stroked the collie. ‘Hear that Patch? She knows Levi.’

  ‘Not personally,’ Kramer said. ‘I’m just a little too young to have known him but the worship of Baphomet goes back to the Knights Templar. That’s plenty old enough to fit into the church.’

  A car pulled up in the pub’s small parking area and a middle-aged couple got out. Bill nodded hello to them as they entered the building. He seemed to wait to give them time to reach the bar before he said, ‘So why are you here?’

  ‘We’re on vacation,’ Ben said.

  Bill said, ‘And you just happen to know about Baphomet and the Knights Templar?’

  ‘We’re educated tourists,’ Kramer said.

  The old man studied them. ‘It could be something else. You’re just speculating based on your knowledge.’

  ‘So what is it?’ Ben asked.

  ‘The church stands on an old pagan site of worship. Back then human sacrifice wasn’t unknown amongst pagan druids. Legend has it that the site of the church was a well used by druids to placate a local god. When they built the church the Christians tried to keep the well and use it as part of their services but three times the tower collapsed into the well. The stone you’re talking about is the capstone to the well. It was only when the stone covered the well and trapped the god that lived there beneath it that the tower remained standing.’

  ‘And what does the carving show?’ Kramer asked.

  ‘The face of the God of the Well. The one the druids gave their sacrifices to.’

  ‘Does he have a name?’ Ben asked.

  Bill shrugged. ‘The Old English is Scieppend, it means The Creator. Whether that’s a name or a description I don’t know.’

  ‘The Creator,’ Ben said. He looked up towards the church. ‘Sounds interesting.’

  ‘Have you noticed any strange events recently?’ Kramer said to Bill.

  ‘How recently?’

  ‘Last couple of years.’

  Bill sniffed. ‘There’s always strange things happening. Livestock found dead and half-eaten. Lights in the sky. Earth tremors.’

  ‘In the last two years?’ Ben asked.

  Bill looked from Ben to Kramer. ‘Do you want to tell me what you are doing here?’

  ‘We’re tourists,’ Kramer s
aid.

  Bill scratched his chin, took a sip of his pint and said, ‘I’ve been around the block enough times to know the truth when I hear it. And that’s not the truth.’

  Ben ignored the old man’s comment and said, ‘Is this all in the last couple of years? Or does it go back further?’

  ‘Centuries,’ Bill said. He didn’t take his eyes off Kramer.

  ‘But has it got worse more recently?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Well?’ Bill prompted Kramer. ‘Why are you here?’

  Kramer hesitated and then said, ‘We’re researchers for a website back home. We investigate paranormal activities. There have been some incidents that seem to link to this village.’

  Bill smiled. He reached down to pat his dog. ‘See, Patch, I was right all along.’

  ‘Right about what?’ Ben asked.

  ‘About the changes. They started not long after the manor was taken over.’

  ‘The boy who was in the church...’ Kramer said.

  ‘Came from the manor house,’ Bill finished for her.

  ***

  Madeline Fall put her ring binder onto the table top and said, ‘So Nathan, how are we today?’

  The boy didn’t look up. He rarely made eye contact but he did normally acknowledge Madeline’s presence by turning his head at an angle. Not today. Today he stared down at the Formica surface as his finger made a circling motion. Round and round and round. Madeline let him do it. Stopping him would only cause emotional distress. From what the staff in the home had told Madeline, Nathan’s emotions had been like a rollercoaster this last few weeks. Madeline opened her binder. ‘Shall I start?’ she gave him time to respond. ‘Carla tells me you have been taking walks in the village? Has that been helpful?’