Chapter Thirty-One
Bert
* * *
Bert blew his nose in disgust. The forest smelt contaminated, as if someone had poured bleach, making it shrivel in its wake. He gripped the knife, his wheezing echoing in his ears. His eyes flickered to the ravens huddled on the bare branches. Their heads hung low as he glared at them for the late warning. All apart from the one with the missing tail feather and bloodied beak. Bert tried to count the years since he had seen his feathered companion. There was no mistaking the same glossy blue and purple coated bird. His guardian. Against all odds it had come back to see him finish the job. Bert lifted his arm high as he held his breath and beckoned the bird towards him.
The raven ruffled its feathers before spreading his wings wide and propelling himself from the branch to the ragged man below. With regal magnificence, it swooped through the thickening air.
Bert’s heart pounded as the bird got closer, giving no signs of stopping. Its wingspan was wide and strong, and it was the largest raven Bert had ever seen. He held his stance to welcome his old friend. The bird’s claws opened, grasping Bert’s skinny bicep, making it shudder under his weight.
‘Augh, Augh!’ the raven screamed, his cries slicing through Bert like a blunt razor. Bert hunched his shoulders, conscious of the strength in his domed beak. As the bird settled on his arm, Bert gave a humble sideways glance at the raven he had known since childhood. How was this possible? It was breaking all the boundaries. Bert’s eyes found the blood flecks on the bird’s beak. It was her blood. The raven had started what he had yet to end. Bowing his head, he scraped his beak on Bert’s sleeve before launching high into the sky. Just like all those years ago, he had laid down the gauntlet. And Bert would not let him down.
Bert had many voices in his head, but there was only one worth listening to. The one which gave him instruction to kill, and provided him with the tools to do so. It was the raven. Each predicted death brought a rich reward, but none would be so rich as ending the detective who tried to halt his mission. There was strength to be gained from killing those on his list, but the detective … she possessed enough psychic energy not just to replenish his body, but also to extend his life for years. The fact she was tormented by the recent deaths brought pleasure to his day. Bert said goodbye to the forest, a giggle rising in his throat. He had a prediction to make, and he couldn’t wait to see Jennifer’s reaction when she found out who it was.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jennifer apologised to the nurse as she fought to stem the blood dripping from her shaking hand. The sterile wipe had blossomed a bright red as the blood seeped through, dripping onto the counter and earning her a disapproving look. She took the wad of paper towels offered to her and sat in the hard plastic chair as she waited to be seen. Jennifer tried to think rationally. It was the shock that made her want to cry, nothing else. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was attacked by a territorial flock of birds. She could hear Will’s words now. That’s what happens when you go into something with blinkered vision, embellished with an overactive imagination. She gulped back the lump in her throat as she avoided the stares of the other patients, their sideways glances confirming that she looked a state. She thought about what she would say if someone like her turned up at the police station, shredded clothes, bloodied skin, and a wild look in her eyes. She’d be thinking mental health issues before they even got the chance to speak.
She stared forlornly at the floor and a pair of blue Crocs came into her vision. The skinny young man smiled apologetically at the other people in the queue and signalled her into a cubicle ahead of them.
Jennifer sucked in a breath as he peeled off the layers of blood-soaked tissues from her right hand. She was grateful for his kindly face. His dark eyes were tinged with shadows, and he looked as overworked as the rest of the staff she had seen that night. She knew the feeling. Thoughts of work made her heart flicker as she remembered the real reason behind her woodland excursion. The man responsible for the murders was still out there, and she had to get back to the investigation. The doctor’s voice broke into her thoughts as he looked up from under his thick wavy fringe.
‘This looks nasty, what happened?’
‘I was attacked,’ Jennifer blurted out the words. Her voice sounded strangled, and she took a deep breath to steady herself.
‘Attacked? Have you reported this to the police?’
‘No. It was a flock of birds. I was in the woods, I must have stumbled upon a nest or something.’
The young man frowned as he tenderly examined both her hands. ‘It’s unusual to see birds cause so much damage.’
Jennifer sighed. The last thing she needed was the well-meaning doctor reporting her injuries to the police.
‘Well, I’m a police officer, you see, I was investigating a case in the area. I was lost and slid down a ravine in the woods. I guess some of the injuries were caused when I fell over.’
‘Ah, I thought I’d seen you around. Well, this is going to need a couple of stitches, it’s quite deep I’m afraid. You’re lucky you don’t have tendon damage.’
Jennifer sat back as the doctor examined then dressed her wounds. Her right hand was gouged, and her legs and arms were scratched from the brambles. A nurse poked her fingers through the hole in the hood of her coat in amazement. Jennifer shuddered as the ravens crept into her memory.
‘Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?’ The doctor said. ‘You need to rest this hand.’
Jennifer nodded. She would have to call Will. She thanked the doctor and went to the bathroom to clean up, gasping at her reflection. No wonder those people had stared. If this is what she looked like after treatment, what had she seemed like before it?
Will got a taxi to the hospital. It made sense to drive her car back rather than leave it in the car park. He paled as he approached her, his face set in a worried scowl. She had to dilute the truth to save them both grief.
‘I’m OK,’ she smiled. ‘I went to the woods to see if I could find the van and fell down a ravine. I must have disturbed a nest of birds because they started attacking me. It looks a lot worse than it is.’
‘You’re not to go off like that on your own again. Honestly Jennifer, it’s like you have a death wish. There’s a serial killer on the loose and you’re just putting yourself in the line of fire.’ Will winced as he turned over her bandaged hand. ‘And what’s happened to your hand?’
Jennifer hunched over, wishing she had just called a cab and gone home alone. But she was still feeling woozy and upset. She needed a warm set of arms, even if it did come with frantic nagging.
‘They’re just scratches. The doctor gave me couple of steri strips where I gouged my hand on a dead tree branch when I slipped over on the leaves.’
‘Leaves? You must be a bit concussed, there’s no leaves on the ground yet.’
‘Mud, I meant mud. Can we just go home? I’m really tired and I need coffee.’
They went back to her place at her insistence. Her rising anxiety levels meant the clutter she overlooked in Will’s flat would now grate on her nerves. Will left her soaking in a hot bath as he went out to buy food, promising he would leave her kitchen as clean as he found it.
She closed her eyes as she tried to decipher her visit, picking through her experience in an effort to take something positive from her ordeal. This figure, the Raven, he was like her, of flesh and bone, but heavily influenced by something in the forest. She had felt his presence near, so he couldn’t have lived very far away. But with the ravens on his side, he was a lot stronger than she gave him credit for. She had sensed dark sacrifices from long ago, and the land was soaked with blood. Thick with dark energy, it could easily envelop the young or the vulnerable. Help me, Someone, help me, the words that drew her into the forest rebounded in her head. The same words she screamed when the ravens were attacking her. Had the forest echoed her words long before she uttered them? How was that possible?
Jennifer g
roaned, easing further into the bathwater until it touched her chin. Too exhausted to process any more, she rested her bandaged hand on the side, the sharp aroma of disinfectant filling her nostrils as it stung every scratch and open wound. The pain was comforting as it purged the woodlands from her body, and she allowed her mind to wander while the tea lights flickered on the edge of the bath. The smell of antiseptic brought her to another place, a little boy in bed, staring out at the forest … the picture changed to the same boy, bigger now, digging up a pack of tarot cards from the earthen forest…
Jennifer abruptly snapped out of her vision to banging on her bathroom door. The water was freezing cold, and all but one of the tea lights had extinguished. Will was hammering on the other side.
‘Jennifer, are you in there? If you don’t answer me soon I’ll have to force open the door.’
Jennifer blinked as she grounded herself, her pruned fingers reaching for a nearby towel. ‘I’m fine … I must have dozed off. I’m getting out now.’
She pulled the plug and watched ribbons of blood-tinged water swirl away. Her mind raced as she patted the goose bumps on her skin dry. Her vision provided her with more than an insight into a little boy’s past. It brought her deep inside the mind of a killer.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bert
* * *
Bert scratched the new scrub of beard forming on his chin as he stared through the grimy window of the derelict room. He would be here soon, his next pawn in the game. Emitting a little chuckle, he thought of his next victim. Officer Knight was sure to shed a few tears over this one. She would blame herself, and she would be right. His targets didn’t deserve their so-called second chance, and the fact the interfering detective knew them gave them even higher priority on his list.
His thoughts were interrupted by a scuffling noise downstairs. His heart thumped a dull throb in his chest. What if it’s the police? He placed the open can of beans on the floor and cautiously walked out of the room to investigate. The police don’t normally hum, he thought, and peered out over the stairwell on the landing. A small skinny man sung to himself as he rifled through his bag, picking out scraps of food to eat and talking to his dog.
‘Look at this, Tinker, we’re going to dine well tonight. Ham sandwiches.’
Bert’s yellow teeth glistened as he drew back his lips in a sneer. He shoved his hand into his pocket and sharply drew back his finger as static electricity snapped from his tarot cards in response. His instincts had been proven right.
Bert snuck back into the bedroom and waited. Sliding out a half-empty bottle of whisky, he placed it on the bare floorboards and resumed eating his cold beans. The stage set, he waited for his prey to come.
Soft footsteps pressed against the stairs, followed by a hoarse bark. ‘Oh jaysus, mister, ya frightened the life out of me. I thought we had ghosts up here.’
Bert smiled, raising one wiry eyebrow in mock surprise. ‘Don’t mind me. Anyway, looks like you’re at an advantage with your guard dog there.’
‘Tinker? He just looks out for me, that’s all. I was planning to stay the night here, it’s a bit rough outside, and I don’t have anywhere to take me dog. Is that OK with you, mister?’
‘Sure. Care to share a drink?’ Bert raised the bottle and George shuffled over, keeping a tight hold of Tinker, whose hackles rose in spiked formation. Head lowered, he emitted a low rumbling growl before stopping to lick his paws.
The atmosphere between George and Bert warmed as they siphoned the whisky. The bottle drained and George looked sorrowfully at the empty tumbler before placing it back on the flask that Jennifer had loaned him. Sitting back against the wall, he interlinked his fingers as he placed them behind his head, wondering what she would bring him tomorrow. The shuffle of cards made him open his eyes and glance in Bert’s direction.
Sitting up, George rubbed his fingerless gloved hands together.
‘I love a game of cards. Do ya play poker?’
Bert shuffled the cards from hand to hand in expert fashion. They were large and feathered, but comfortable in his grasp. ‘They aren’t playing cards, they’re tarot.’
George shuffled nearer on his bottom, giving Bert a look of caution. ‘You should be careful with those, the dark arts aren’t to be messed with.’
‘It’s only a bit of fun. Haven’t you ever had your fortune told?’ Bert said.
Inebriated from the whisky, George gave a little chuckle. ‘When I was thirteen, I had me tealeaves read by a traveller on the common. A big fat lady named Ruby. Sure I was too busy looking at her ample chest to take in what she was saying. God, they could have suffocated me but what a way to go, I would have loved it.’
‘Would you like me to read for you?’ Bert said, forcing a smile.
George gave a little chuckle, the image of Ruby still alive in his memory. ‘Sure, why not.’
Bert laid out the cards in the usual manner and waved his hands over them as the images came into play.
‘What do ya see?’ George said, his eyes flickering from the cards to Bert.
‘I see you started off very differently to what you are now. You were well educated, but left home at an early age.’
George opened his eyes wide in amazement. ‘Well would ya credit it, you’re right, but it’s nothing I like to dwell on now.’
‘You’re very alone: apart from a few kind faces, it’s just you and your dog.’
‘I’m happy on my own. It’s exactly how I want it.’
‘It won’t always be. One day you’re going to return to your past. It hasn’t left you and it never will,’ Bert said.
George frowned. ‘I’ve put all that behind me.’
The candlelight exposed the doubt on Bert’s face as he spoke. ‘But you haven’t, have you? The truth is you have a lot to answer for. You think you’re punishing yourself now, but deep down you know it’s nothing in comparison to the act you’ve committed all those years ago. I can see it, here in the cards.’
‘I only agreed to this to be sociable. I don’t want to talk about it or think about it any more. So if you don’t mind I’m going to sleep.’
Bert turned over the last card. ‘I’m sorry, friend, I can’t stop a prediction once it’s started. You can close your eyes if you wish, but I’m going to finish.’
George folded his arms and shuffled back against the wall.
Bert revelled in the little man’s discomfort. The wind howled mercilessly outside as the rain beat against the path, and he knew George couldn’t bring Tinker out in that. He carried on, ignoring the fact that George had closed his eyes. He didn’t need him to be awake for the reading. Hell, now he had started he didn’t need him there at all. But it was always more fun revealing the ugly truth with the participant present. Bert snickered to himself as he watched his past open up in front of him. Officer Knight would not have been so charitable had she known of his history. It was distasteful to say the least, and he did not need to repeat it aloud. Bert read out his future like he was reading out the news.
‘You will return to your past by seeking out the highest point in Haven. From that point you will jump from the roof as an act of penance.’
George frowned as he opened his eyes. ‘You’ve lost the plot, mister. I’d never leave me little Tinker to fend for himself.’ He rolled the idea around in his head before commenting further. ‘And I don’t agree with suicide. Every day of life is a gift, and it’s a slap in the face to your creator if you bail out without very good reason.’ George gave an imperceivable nod as he agreed with himself. ‘Lots of people are lonely. It’s not a good reason.’
Bert regarded him comically. The reactions were always the same. They ask for the truth then get mad when it’s delivered to them.
‘I read what I see,’ he said, picking up his cards and sliding them into his pocket.
‘Well I wished I never asked now, you’re after putting me in bad form.’
Bert smiled and handed him what was left in his mug. ‘Here
, I’m done with this. You want it?’
George nodded gratefully and outstretched his hand to grasp the neck of the bottle.
‘I’ll leave it with you. I’m heading off now, places to go, people to see.’
‘You don’t have to go, mister, I’m not vexed really. I can stay downstairs if you like.’
‘No, it’s not that, this was just a stopgap until the rain eased. I really do have somewhere to go.’
George raised the bottle, ‘In that case, sláinte, and no hard feelings.’
Bert tipped his hat and gathered up his belongings. ‘We’ll meet again I’m sure.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jennifer could tell by the way her sergeant was drumming her pen on her table that Claire did not believe her in the slightest. She had meant to tell the truth but she was too embarrassed when under scrutiny, and the last thing she wanted was to be told off for taking stupid risks.
‘Are you sure nothing else happened?’ Claire asked, lifting the pen and clicking on the head in the most irritating fashion. The clicking seemed to permeate Jennifer’s brain. If it weren’t for the murder enquiry, she would have taken some time off work to clear her head.
‘No, honestly,’ Jennifer said in her most convincing voice. ‘It was a stupid accident. I don’t know what I was thinking, going snooping in the woods when it was so muddy.’
‘Perhaps if you wore some suitable footwear?’ Claire said, pointing at her heels. ‘Although they’ve certainly reduced in height. Seeing someone new?’
Jennifer spluttered on her coffee. ‘How do you relate my heels to being in a relationship?’
Time To Die Page 17