‘I’m fine Hilary,’ said Lizzie, her fists were clenched, but her face was forced into a thin, tight lipped smile. ‘It’s not your fault. Please I need to leave, right now.’
‘Lizzie, I can’t let you leave until I know you’re alright, please just come and have a cup of tea.’ Hilary pulled on her arm, gently trying to usher her away from the door. Lizzie began to resist but the sound of a car door closing sent Hilary into a conflicted panic. She didn’t want Lizzie to leave, but her dad’s office lay wide open with his highly confidential files scattered all over the place, and now he was home. Lizzie waited for Hilary to react, which she did by darting back up the stairs with an agility Lizzie would not have expected of her. She opened the front door and found a confused looking DCI Dunphy on the driveway.
‘Ah Lizzie, sorry for the delay, how are you? You’re not leaving are you?’ he said reading Lizzie’s intentions.
‘Sorry Mr Dunphy, something’s come up I need to go.’
‘Are you sure? It sounded important, the thing you needed to talk to me about.’
‘It can wait, really. Goodnight Mr Dunphy, please thank Hilary for her hospitality.’
‘Can I at least give you a lift home?’ he called after her, but she had already turned the corner of the street.
When Lizzie got home she found the house in darkness, which she was thankful for. She went straight to bed without ever turning a light on.
She lay staring at the ceiling most of that night, the images in the box indelibly burned into her memory. She tried reading but found she was scanning the same line four or five times without anything going in. She tried writing, to put the scattered jigsaw of her life together, but far too many pieces were missing. In the end she lay with her headphones pumping - far too loud – music into her head. The feedback and screaming vocals acted like an anaesthetic, overloading one sense and by doing so blocking out all others. Broken sleep eventually found her.
***
A smell of curry filled the house, which meant Janice and Maggie were having a night in. Maggie had all but moved in now, the occasional overnight stay had been replaced by the very occasional night in her own place; she had brought with her a certain harmony. The house had always felt a little empty, even when Lizzie and Janice happened to be home at the same time, which was not common. But now there was always someone likely to be in when you got home, you were met with lights turned on, the sound of a stereo or a television, or the smell of an Indian takeaway, the house felt properly lived in. Lizzie attached her smile and entered the living room.
‘Grab a plate kiddo, there’s tons here,’ Maggie pushed a foil tray filled with something pungent and red towards Lizzie’s foot. They had made a picnic on the rug in front of the television.
‘Thanks Maggie but I’m not really hungry, smells good though,’ she lied.
‘So what’s your Friday night plans? You look like you’re going out?’ said Janice balancing spiced onions on a shard of popadom.
‘Yeah, I’m heading over to Amy’s for a sneaky glass of wine, her folks are out of town, she having a girl’s night of her own, should be great fun,’ Lizzie said, rubbing her hands in exaggerated glee.
‘Good for you hon, but please, no walking anywhere, taxi there, taxi back alright?’
‘Sure don’t worry, once mugged twice shy, isn’t that how the saying goes? I’ll be safe, I promise. So what kind of raging night have you guys got planned?’
‘Curry, wine and an X-Files marathon. Don’t you dare mock,’ said Maggie slanting her eyes and sending a pointed finger at Lizzie.
‘Wasn’t gonna, sounds, erm, very rock and roll.’
‘Damn right,’ said Janice getting to her feet. ‘That reminds me, I’ll get the wine, you want a glass?’ she asked Lizzie.
‘No thanks. I’ll save myself for later.’ Janice slipped into the kitchen.
‘Right you, out with it, what’s going on?’ asked Maggie, suddenly serious.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve got her fooled but I’m not buying it, you’ve been acting weird.’
‘Weird? How so?’
‘Happy.’
‘You’re worried because I’ve seemed happy recently?’
‘I’ve known you a while now kiddo, even when you are happy you’re still a miserable little sod, so what’s going on? Is it a boy?’ This brought a genuine smile to Lizzie’s face.
‘I’m glad Janice has you Maggie, you say it like it is.’
‘Fine avoid the question, but whatever it is tell me you’re being careful.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s all under control.’
‘Liar.’
‘Shrew.’
Janice returned with a bottle of something pink and a couple of glasses. ‘All right, I’ll leave you guys to your evening. Don’t wait up, I have a key.’
‘Okay hon, say hello to Amy. And no walking.’
‘If you can’t be good, be careful,’ added Maggie with a wink. Lizzie gave her a small nod in acknowledgement.
***
It’s amazing how quickly the days eat into the evenings when summer finally does arrive, Lizzie thought stepping out of the station into the onset of gloaming, but at nearly nine o’clock she was amazed at just how bright and warm it still was.
Lizzie walked and thought, trying to picture what was to come, trying to formulate a plan of action, trying to put her anger aside for something more productive. But anger had its uses too. The last time she had made her way to the Bodleian Library she had been so nervous it had been all she could do not to wrench her guts up, this time she was steady.
By the time the Library came into view daylight had all but lost the battle, a brave stoic gloom defied the hour but it would not endure for long. She stopped a good distance from the large arch encasing the main doors and watched for a few minutes. The only sounds were from revellers streets away, she focussed on the heavy ornate doors she had passed through during what had felt like a nightmare. A dark thin shadow told her the wicket door was sitting ajar. She approached the small door and pushed it open, taking her time to take a good look into the courtyard before stepping through. She walked as soft footed as she could over the cobbles retracing old steps. Only the tiniest echo came back to her from the enclosed walls as she placed each footstep carefully.
A voice from behind almost ended her right there.
‘Yer late young un, rest are inside over an hour ago.’
‘FUUUUCK,’ she said clutching her pounding heart, ‘you scared the life out of me.’ The old man jumped at her reaction and he remained quiet as Lizzie placed her hands on her knees to compose herself before turning back to him. ‘Are there many here tonight?’ she asked.
‘Sorry for startling you love, said the old watchman pulling over the wicket door she had left open. ‘There a fair few aye, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what goes on with you lot? Bit late for lectures I reckon.’
‘Even if I had a mind to, I’m not sure I could exactly.’
‘Aye, didn’t think so, well remind em I need em out by midnight, I don’t get paid after that and I’ll be buggered if I’m hanging about.’
‘I’ll tell them,’ said Lizzie turning and searching her memory for the route. She pushed through the door to her left and followed the corridor as best as she could remember, confident at first but after a few lefts and rights doubt started to creep in.
Halfway through one unfamiliar room with impossibly high vaulted ceilings and ornate Gothic windows, she doubled back to the last junction, sure she would have remembered coming this way. She looked both ways, nothing came to her, and she was about to select at random when her ears picked up a low dirge. She listened hard and discovered the stairwell leading down to be the source, this sparked her memory and she headed down. The low pitched drone grew as she descended and by the time she reached the bottom she could hear the noise for what it was, chanting.
The temperature dropped steadily as she continued on, another aide mem
oire of her last visit. She found the second stairwell down before long and remembered it to be the entrance to the chamber she had been taken to. She waited at the top of the stairs listening, the noise of some refrain filled the air, the handful of people present the last time would not have been capable of the wall of noise rising from below.
The noise of the chanting masked the sound of footsteps coming up behind her until it was almost too late. She turned to descend the stairs, the only possible hiding place, but it was pitch black within a few steps and Lizzie had brought no torch with her, she stepped into the stairwell deep enough to be concealed in shadow as the footsteps approached. She waited hoping they would pass her by but an arm holding a lantern appeared throwing the stairs and Lizzie into view.
‘Lizzie? is that you? What the hell are you doing hiding in the dark?’ a female voice asked. She held her lantern high and her face came into view.
‘Kara, hi,’ said Lizzie embarrassed. ‘It’s kind of a long story.’ Kara’s lantern revealed her to be wearing a long grey cloak with a hood lying around her shoulders; she held the light in one hand and a video camera in the other. Kara studied Lizzie’s face seeing something there to instil a sense of alarm in her.
‘Are you alright pet? Cause ya don’t look it.’ The concern in Kara’s voice was clear, and was unexpected.
‘Not really Kara no,’ said Lizzie. The drone from below continued, a steady mantra repeated over and over. Kara paused, placing her lantern on the ground. She looked at Lizzie, and then to the stairwell and then back to Lizzie where she studied her face. She seemed to be taking in the significance of Lizzie’s presence, weighing up the meaning and magnitude of this unexpected encounter. She turned square on to Lizzie, placing a hand on her shoulder and said:
‘Something’s going down tonight, right?’ Lizzie nodded.
‘Something bad, and it’s probably best I’m not around to find out exactly what that is.’ Kara said, a statement, not a question.
‘I think that would be wise,’ said Lizzie. Kara squeezed her shoulder and paused once again before lifting the light. Lizzie was grateful for Kara’s unanticipated understanding and tenderness.
‘Do you need this?’ said Kara handing the lantern to Lizzie.
‘Thanks.’
‘You might as well have this an’ all.’ Kara unbuttoned her cloak at the neck, swept it up into her arm and handed it over. ‘See ya around Lizzie. Whatever’s going on, be careful will ya.’
‘Thanks Kara,’ Kara turned back up the stairs while Lizzie pulled on the cloak and raised the hood over her head.
Light raised, Lizzie descended. She laid the lantern on a step three up from the bottom illuminating the door in front of her; from behind it the voices became clearer, a great chorus perfectly united. She gripped the handle and timed the turning of it so to be masked by a particularly loud point in the chant, the pattern of which now familiar. Lizzie barely heard the latch give and she slowly pushed the door.
The sudden increase in volume took her by surprise and she paused wondering if it had simply been the opening of the door or if there had been some change to whatever ceremony was in full flow, but the voices continued the pattern unaltered. She applied pressure to the door and pushed softly opening it in a slow smooth arc. Judging she now had enough space she stepped through catching her first glimpse of the assembled crowd.
At least three times the number from her last encounter stood with their backs to her, all clad in the same grey cloak, hoods up with their arms spread wide at waist height palms up. They stood in uniformed rows, three lines of perhaps eight, facing the stone altar where Sully stood facing Lizzie’s side of the room. His eyes were closed, for the moment. His own cloak was black and he carried in one hand some kind of rod.
He wore a hat, triangular in shape, with a silver adornment on the front. On the altar stood candles of various heights and colours and other items she could not make out from her distance. Four grey cloaked figures, two on each side, stood beside Sully facing out, no doubt assisting him in proceedings. The assistant’s hoods were down and Lizzie could see one or two of them had their eyes open. Lizzie quickly pushed the door closed and joined the back row hoping to avoid detection, keeping her eyes on the altar for any signal of disruption. She mimicked the stance of the others, standing next to a tall figure who glanced at her suddenly sensing her arrival. He gave a double take and Lizzie heard him drop the chant, she turned to look at him and found Void looking down at her, dumbfounded. His mouth dropped open to speak but nothing came, Lizzie widened her eyes at him nodding towards the altar warning him to get his head in the game. He shook his head like he was coming round from a blow and faced the front.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he whispered, keeping his arms stretched out as with the others. Lizzie too kept her eyes to the front.
‘What am I doing?’ she said in an angry whisper. ‘Why are you here? You promised me you bloody idiot.’ Lizzie flicked her eyes round sure she must be arousing suspicion, but no sign of it was obvious.
‘I’m sorry,’ croaked Void under his breath. ‘I just think that you’re wrong, and if there’s a tiny chance that you’re not, I want to help. I want to figure out what’s going on and I can’t very well do that sitting in my flat twiddling my thumbs can I? I thought you were handing all this over to the police?’ Lizzie sighed and turned to him.
‘There’s been a… development. No time to explain. But we’re not safe,’ she said, evidently a little too loudly. A girl in front of her turned to see what the disruption was. This caused a few others to turn and look, the domino effect was rapid and resulted in a couple of the creepy altar boys to start looking in her direction too.
Lizzie saw one of them whispering into Sully’s ear and she knew the game was up. The chant stuttered and quickly collapsed.
All faces were now turned to her. Lizzie took hold of Void’s arm and pulled him down to her level.
‘Stay near the door,’ she said solemnly. ‘Be ready to leave.’ She released his arm, dropped her hood and walked forward through the rows of the congregated.
Sully stared at her approach, incredulous. She made for the altar while the crowd grew anxious with misapprehension and they began to talk amongst themselves, once or twice she heard her name uttered. Lizzie threaded her way through the bodies and stepped up to the altar. Sully waited for her to speak, but when she did it was not to him.
Lizzie instead turned to one of the assistants.
‘Hello Robe,’ she said. ‘You’re looking well, for a corpse.’
Twenty Three
The clamour ceased when Lizzie spoke.
Sully turned to see that Lizzie was addressing Dale and Todd, the American students, who stared back at Lizzie, only Dale wasn’t Dale, he was Robe.
Sully rubbed his eyes and focussed on the boy, he and several of the onlookers suddenly saw him for who he was, there was no miraculous metamorphosis, no removing of a mask, he had always been Robe, only he had been Dale a moment ago, they would have sworn it, but then nobody would recall having looked at him closely that night. Robe dropped his hood as Lizzie spoke, his hair was different and he wore Dale’s makeup, but he was Robe plain as day.
‘Well this is interesting,’ said Robe. ‘Nice to see you Liz, how long have you known?’
‘Not long,’ she said, ‘only since I got a look at the photographs of your dead body. Whatever little magic trick you played on them was pretty well done, you couldn’t make out much what with the face all mutilated, combine that with the badly out of focus images and anyone would struggle to identify much, but I could see enough to tell me that the unfortunate bastard lying in the dirt in your dressing gown wasn’t you; and if I had to guess who it was I’d say it was poor old Fletcher judging by the gnarled old pointy hand, the rest sort of fell into place after that.’
‘Poor, Fletcher? I thought you’d be pleased, you detested your old English teacher didn’t you?’ The noise returned to the room as those pres
ent began to mutter amongst themselves, trying to make sense of what was happening on the Altar. Sully backed up a few steps, Robe’s presence filling him with unease.
‘Pleased?’ said Lizzie, disgusted. ‘That you murdered an old man?’
‘Oh Lizzie, come now, let’s not be melodramatic, what I did to poor old Mr Fletcher was nothing but a kindness, a mutually beneficial trade. I needed a blood sacrifice and a vessel to summon The Serf here,’ Robe flicked a thumb toward Todd, or whatever posed as Todd. ‘And Fletcher needed putting out of his misery. Seriously, to live as miserable an existence as he did is the real crime, if you’d been there the night I went to his house and took his body you would have seen a man too drunk, and too determined not to live, to feel any sympathy for him.’
‘Robert what have you done?’ said Sully now looking at Todd.
‘Everyone out,’ he yelled across the room sending panic amongst the hooded figures. Void pulled open the door to allow others to run.
‘Serf,’ said Robe calmly, pointing a nod at the door. The Todd shaped creature stepped forward, a gush of wind swept through the room extinguishing a few of the candles and the door slammed shut before anyone managed to pass through sending Void skidding across the floor.
‘What is that thing Robert, what in God’s name have you done?’ said Sully taking hold of Lizzie’s arm pulling her away from the creature. ‘What have you done with Dale and Todd?’
‘Todd is still in there somewhere,’ he said tapping the side of the Serf’s head and looking at the creature disdainfully.
‘Dale, I’m afraid, was necessary collateral damage, couldn’t be helped. As for this thing…’ he paused eyeing the Serf, thinking. ‘Consider him, or rather it, like the filth that collects under your fingernail when you scratch the surface.’
‘The surface of what?’ said Lizzie, unable to take her eyes from the huge frame of the Serf.
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