by N. J. Mercer
Martin was not relying on blind luck to achieve his end; he knew Rachel well and it did not surprise him when he learned that she often wandered alone in the vast grounds of the house, without even her foster sisters for company. He had decided some time ago that keeping a close eye on the gardens would therefore give him his best chance of meeting her. She was someone who enjoyed good company and, despite her youth, also valued moments of solitude; she needed time for quiet reflection – there had been plenty in her life for her to reflect upon.
It was imperative that he find her without her foster parents knowing about it because the warning he carried was about them. Her foster parents, her father in particular, had been responsible for the suffering of too many good people, and soon it would be Rachel’s turn, he was sure of it. He knew all this because there was a time, not very long ago, when he himself was closely associated with them. Martin had been a companion of evil and reaped his own selfish benefit in the process. With time though came deeper understanding, and he slowly turned against all the wrong he was witnessing. Had he been too slow in this? He didn’t know. He had sat back and done nothing for too long, colluded through his silence. Now he would take action and make amends because with his warning he also brought a plan, a way to save the girl; he just had to make sure she would hear him out. It was going to be difficult. Her foster parents had become increasingly possessive of her, and despite being fifteen years old she was under virtual house arrest without even knowing it.
He continued his progress around the wall, fearful of discovery and determined to complete what he had set out to do. By his reckoning, he had about three nights before the plans involving Rachel and her sisters were executed in this very house. He did not know exactly what was going to happen; he could guess that it would be something unpleasant beyond comprehension. Three nights to save three girls, he thought to himself, because by saving Rachel he was sure her two foster sisters would also be spared.
Ahead, Martin could see the first of four gates that were housed within the wall at regular intervals; each constructed with thick metal rods and possessing its own complex lock. Many times, in the dead of night, he had tried to coax these gates open; unfortunately, their simple, solid design had proven resistant to any forced entry. They were well maintained and as impenetrable as the wall. On reaching the first gate, he stopped suddenly, convinced that his senses were deceiving him; inside it, only a few feet away, was Rachel, leaning against an aged oak tree. This was the moment he had been waiting for! He guessed it was probably the tenth visit he had made here to look for the girl; however, having lost count some time ago, he could not be sure. It seemed that on this occasion his persistence would pay dividends.
Adrenalin surged through Martin’s body; he was like a hunter catching sight of its prey. All the time spent hanging around this damned wall, he thought to himself, all the cold damp days spying on the gardens; finally, here was an opportunity. His heart pounded with anticipation, and his mind became fraught with anxiety at the thought of blowing what could be his only chance of meeting Rachel alone and in the absence of her obsessive foster parents. A chance to pass on his warning before time ran out. For Martin, this was not just an opportunity to help a loved one, it was also an opening to redeem himself.
He thought quickly. Knowing what he had to tell her, he was undecided about the best way to do it. Not being one to work from a script, Martin decided to play everything by ear just as he always did, adapt to the girl’s reactions, improvise, this would be his strength … he hoped to God it would not be his downfall.
He took a few seconds to carefully scan the grounds beyond where Rachel stood; when satisfied that there was nobody else around, Martin made his move. Crouching down low to maintain some degree of cover from the surrounding woodland foliage, he edged towards the metal gate, closer to the teenager.
She was turned away from him. He could make out her familiar figure and short dark hair. She was dressed casually in jeans, trainers and a thick hooded top. Her slim frame leaned closely against the broad tree trunk, staring out towards the house as if she was concealing herself from somebody. Could she have found out already? Martin asked himself hopefully as he approached her. Now, close enough to make contact, he ducked behind a low branch, ensuring the girl could still see his face from amongst the leaves.
“Rachel,” he whispered guardedly; she did not hear him. The fear of giving himself away and losing this opportunity had made him overly cautious so he called out to her again, a little louder, “Rachel!”
The dark-haired girl suddenly spun her head around. Martin saw the startled look on her elfin face, her brown eyes wide with alarm. He smiled nervously, afraid that she might do something to give him away; she looked beautiful he thought, like her mother had. It took Rachel a few moments longer than expected to recognise what should have been a familiar face; Martin reasoned that he was probably one of the last people she had expected to see while strolling alone in the garden. The old oak tree that she was standing beside reminded him of a place from the past where she often stopped to spend a few brooding minutes on her walks.
“Martin?” she whispered, the look on her face quizzical rather than startled.
Martin was pleased that her voice remained so hushed. Bright girl, he thought. He had intentionally adopted an approach that demanded secrecy, and she had picked up on this straight away. As she stared at him, Martin spoke. “Rachel, stay behind the tree, don’t move … Please … you must keep quiet and listen carefully, there’s something very important I have to tell you.” He kept his voice low, unable to hide the desperation in it. He watched her intently, unsure how she would react.
Rachel, still looking confused, answered his question with her own, “Why don’t you meet me in the house?” As far as she was concerned, he was still welcome in the big old mansion, Martin thought. She did not realise how times and circumstances had changed, that if he entered her home again it would be unlikely that her foster parents would ever allow him to leave. Martin looked into her face, and he could tell they had not managed to turn her against him … yet.
The matter that brought him here was complex and desperately urgent; he would not be able to explain its every detail during this impromptu meeting. Instead, he would have to depend on the trust that existed between the two of them. “Rachel, when your mother was alive, I loved her more than anything in this world,” he said. “Now, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the closest person to me … we’re like family. I would do anything to make sure you weren’t harmed in any way. You know that’s true, don’t you?” He was edging towards emotional blackmail and didn’t like it, but time was scarce.
“Martin, you know you don’t have to ask me that,” Rachel replied. Before Martin could say another word, Rachel spoke up again, her voice wavering with emotion, “Where have you been, Martin? I was left here alone; seeing you was all I ever looked forward to. I haven’t heard a thing from you for so long, no goodbye, no phone call, no explanation. Where were you?”
Martin was taken aback by the mixture of blame and disappointment loaded in the question. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Rachel. “Rachel, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my fault. I tried to see you and they stopped me … your foster parents stopped me. That’s what all this is about, they started to suspect that I had turned against them and the terrible things they did. That’s why I am here now, Rachel.”
“What are you saying, Martin? What terrible things?”
Martin could see that hearing him speak in this way was frightening her; he had been the only true father figure in her life, and Rachel trusted whatever he told her. Martin paused, wondering how to word what he was going to say next. There was going to be no easy way to do it. “Rachel, you’re in danger in this house, you might have sensed it yourself already, umm … I don’t know, maybe you’ve noticed everyone acting a bit differently recently, a bit strange … something like that?” Martin looked at her; she was still listening so he continued
. “Have your foster parents been acting like they’re preparing for something, something big that they haven’t told you about, you know what I mean? Running around doing things urgently? You might have sensed that they are hiding stuff from you … have you noticed anything like that at all, Rach?”
Rachel nodded quietly; Martin continued, “Have you seen people coming to the house? Strange guests you haven’t seen before, coming and going at all hours and no one tells you about them, important-looking people, you might have been introduced to some of them, maybe even recognised them from the newspapers? And the noises, Rach! Have you heard strange sounds in the dead of night? Voices and … and vibrations as if they are coming from deep underground? Have you heard this stuff?” Martin could see that he really had her attention now; she must have been woken up time and time again by the disturbances he described.
“What’s going on, Martin?” Rachel asked nervously.
“There’s too much bad stuff going on to tell you everything now; just trust me, honey, you’ve got to get out of here. All these things, the noises, the visitors, it’s all bad. Tomorrow night I’m going to take you away. I want to sneak you out of your bedroom; it’ll be easy, the portico is just under your window. I’ll help you from there with a friend who’s good at stuff like this. Your foster father is an evil, wicked person, if only you knew half the things he did, Rach. Two thirty a.m. I’ll be there on the portico roof to take you away.”
“How did you find out about all this?” she asked anxiously.
“I learned about these things because, I am sorry to say, I was once a part of them. I didn’t fully understand what they were up to at the time … then I found this and it all became clearer.” From the inside of his jacket he took out a battered black diary.
Rachel gasped, “Mum’s diary – I thought it had been lost!” Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight of something so intimate from the mother she had loved so dearly; it opened a floodgate of emotion.
“Martin, I’m scared!” she said tearfully. “I’ve been scared for a long time, and hearing all this has made me really scared. Let’s go! Please take me with you.” It was Rachel’s and not Martin’s voice that sounded desperate now, she shifted from behind the large oak tree towards him, as if he could open the gate and take her away immediately.
“Don’t move, Rach! Stay there, behind the tree!” Martin ordered her almost angrily; he looked around the grounds and towards the house to ensure nobody was there. It was essential they were not spotted. Rachel, taken aback by the commanding tone of Martin’s voice, quickly retreated to the tree again.
Seeing her afraid magnified the paternal instincts Martin felt towards the girl, and he spoke reassuringly, “We can’t leave now or they will find us both. They have a lot of very scary friends, Rach. You must go back to the house, pretend nothing has happened. I’ll come back for you tomorrow night. I’ll be outside your window, on top of the portico, at two thirty a.m. with my friend. We’ll take you away; I have it planned. Okay? Tomorrow at two thirty a.m. – I already know your foster father will be out then. I’m sure I don’t have to say this … nobody must know that I’ve been here and spoken to you, or they will make sure I never see you again.”
Rachel nodded. She looks so scared, so vulnerable, thought Martin. He wanted to take some time to comfort her; with the risk of giving themselves away by doing so, it was not a chance worth taking. He gave her a wink and a smile instead, it was the best he could do. A small smile managed to find its way past the frightened look on her face. She’s a plucky girl, Martin told himself, she will be fine.
He suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and before I go, take these,” he said reaching into his jacket pocket, “and if you’re still unsure about leaving, then read the diary.” From his jacket he produced an amulet. It had a long gold chain from which there hung a large amber sphere. Its surface was carved with runic letters, and embedded at its very centre was a small skull, shaped from an unknown black metal. He carefully wrapped it around the old diary and tossed them both through the gates to land at Rachel’s feet.
“What’s this?” she asked, unravelling the strange item of jewellery.
“It’s something my sister gave to me before she … changed. Anyway, keep it with you, and make sure you have it when I come back tomorrow night. It’ll keep you safe, don’t show anybody. That’s it, Rach. I’m going, hon.”
Rachel put the two items into the large pocket of her baggy hooded top. Martin smiled at her before drifting back into the woodland from which he had so mysteriously appeared.
“Martin, wait … I …” started Rachel.
Martin turned around. “Rachel, I can’t hang about …”
Rachel gave a sad nod.
Martin hesitated for a moment to choose his words carefully. “I will come back and get you, Rachel, but if for any reason I don’t, then you must get away … you must get away alone.” With a final smile he disappeared into the woods. As he made his way through the trees he hoped Rachel would be ready for him. He knew she would trust him, certainly over her foster parents, probably over anybody; if she had any doubts, then he was sure the diary would convince her.
Martin moved quickly, stray branches whipped and clawed at his face; they could not slow him down. Before long, he had cleared the woods and emerged at a narrow winding B-road. He followed the road on foot for about a hundred metres to a discreet passing point where the rental car he had hired under a false name was parked. Looking over each shoulder to reassure himself that he was not being followed, he entered the vehicle. Despite wanting to drive away quickly, he chose to sit quietly for a few moments to calm his agitated mind; there was every chance that he would make a mistake if he did not. He was glad Rachel had the amulet; it was something his sister had given to him when she was still the good, loving person he always tried to remember her as. ‘If things change, Martin, this will keep you safe,’ she had told him. He did not know where on earth she had got it from; she was right though, things had changed, everything was so much stranger now, and whenever he had the amulet he was safer. It was not just psychological, things actually were different. Somehow, he was able to evade the Disciples far more effectively with the amulet.
Meeting Rachel had brought back cherished memories, those of the girl’s mother in particular whom he had loved so profoundly; although not formally engaged, they had planned to marry. During the course of that relationship, he had become very close to the young Rachel. If Louise had not died so prematurely, he was convinced they would all be living as a family now. Fate had been cruel and decided otherwise. Without further hesitation, Martin started the car and drove away.
**
He’s gone. Rachel was left in the garden feeling very alone. She had felt lonely before, especially since moving in with her foster parents two years ago; never had she felt alone as intensely as she did now. She pressed her body against the large oak tree; it was her only source of comfort.
Martin’s uncannily accurate words raced through her mind. There had been a definite sense of something unusual going on in the house recently. She had tried to ignore it. On a few occasions, she had ventured far enough to mention these noises to her foster mother in the hope of finding an explanation; her queries had been brushed aside with an excuse and a smile. The rumbling and vibrations would be blamed on old plumbing in the cellar. The voices and the visitors who came at odd hours also had a convenient explanation; apparently, they were business contacts of her foster father’s. They were coming from abroad, she would say, that’s why their timings were so unsociable. There was always something unconvincing about these explanations. On one occasion, Rachel heard a group of these men outside her bedroom at four a.m. They seemed to be speaking in perfect Scottish and English accents, discussing something mundane like how wet the weather had been over the past few days, or their gardens; they were certainly not visitors from overseas. The only reason she didn’t push the issue any further was because of a realisation she had
come to a long time ago; that despite their kindness, her foster parents were both quite eccentric and secretive. If they didn’t want you to know, then you wouldn’t; it was as simple as that.
She stood alone, wondering exactly what Martin had found out. It had been a few months since they last met. The familiar brown ruffled hair, narrow sideburns and keen greyish eyes had not changed; but his face, always so youthful and mischievous, now appeared exhausted and harassed. His looks now reflected every one of his forty years and more.
Still unsure about what to make of the strange meeting, she found precious memories of her mother flashing through her mind. Of all the people Rachel had known in her life, her mother had been the best, and after her mother, the person who had done the most for her, far more than her father ever did, was Martin. Following her mother’s death, he would meet her at least once every week just to make sure she was all right. It had been months since she last saw him. So he hadn’t been around for a while; that didn’t mean he had stopped caring. Maybe there was a reason for his absence … Lost in these thoughts, she did not notice her two foster sisters calling to her until they were only a few metres away.
“Rachel! We thought we would find you hiding away somewhere around here!” Meredith called out.
They had known each other for five years, and Meredith was quite aware of the various secluded spots Rachel frequented in the garden. Rachel fumbled with the amulet and the diary in her large pockets, ensuring they were concealed and secure; she smiled at her two approaching sisters as she did so.