‘Yes.’ Mark knelt down beside her. ‘Go and call, Col. Then come back down and give me a hand.’
Paula was standing on the bridge watching them. As Colin climbed up the bank and scrambled over the wall onto the pavement, she stared at him doubtfully. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘She’s not breathing.’ Colin ran towards the car.
Paula went after him. ‘If she died in the water, that means she was innocent.’ She looked bewildered. ‘So, why did she die?’
‘We don’t know she’s dead.’ Colin pulled open the car door and reached in for his briefcase, scrabbling frantically amongst sheaves of papers. Finding the mobile at last, he stabbed at it with shaking hands. He called the ambulance and then the police again, then he reached into the back for the old rug which lay there. When he climbed out of the car again, Paula was still standing by the bonnet, staring back towards the bridge. She seemed dazed. ‘She shouldn’t have died.’ She seemed to be indignant.
‘No, she shouldn’t.’ Colin walked back to the wall and vaulted over it, sliding down the wet muddy bank to where Mark was working on Lyndsey. ‘The ambulance is on its way, Mark,’ he said quietly. He bent and tucked the rug around her cold body. ‘Do you want me to have a go?’
Mark nodded. He moved back, so that Colin could take his place. ‘There hasn’t been any response at all,’ he said. He was shaking with cold. ‘I don’t think she’s going to make it. Who is up there?’
‘Only Paula. The others have vanished.’ Colin went down on his knees beside Lyndsey, putting his mouth over hers. Her lips were cold.
‘I’ll go up and wait for the ambulance.’ Mark was shivering violently now. ‘I’ll find something for you to put on.’ Somehow he hauled himself up to the roadway. Paula was standing where Colin had left her. She was crying.
In the distance they could hear an ambulance coming. Paula looked up. ‘They’ll save her, won’t they?’
Mark shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘She shouldn’t have died. She was guilty. She killed Alex. It was her knife. Her magic knife!’
He frowned. He was rummaging in the back of the car for a jacket. ‘No, Paula. She didn’t really kill him. You’ve imagined it,’ he said sternly.
‘She did.’ Paula looked bewildered. ‘I found his body.’
Mark glanced at her.
‘You heard her in the church. She didn’t deny it. She was proud of it.’
‘Where is he, then?’
‘At the old churchyard. Her knife is in his chest. He is quite cold.’ Her voice slid up hysterically. ‘I found him.’
‘Christ!’ Mark bit his lip. She meant it. He had pulled the jacket out of the car, about to put it on. He had second thoughts and put it round Paula’s shoulders instead. ‘I can vouch for the fact that Lyndsey had completely lost it, but, whatever has happened, you shouldn’t have done this.’
‘I had to.’ She shook her head weakly. ‘I had to. She had bewitched my children.’
The ambulance appeared, its blue light flashing. Mark stepped out into the road and raised his hand. In only a few seconds two paramedics were scrambling down the bank.
They watched the two men working on her, watched them glance at each other and shake their heads, watched them bend down again, listen intently, cover her face with a mask and lift her onto a stretcher.
‘She’s breathing. We’ve got a faint pulse!’ one of them said as they loaded her into the ambulance.
‘Thank God!’ Mark was standing on the pavement beside Paula. Gently he put his arm round her shoulders.
‘Here.’ The driver went back and pulled three foil blankets out of the ambulance. ‘Wrap yourselves in these. We don’t want anyone dying of hypothermia. No one else hurt? You all OK?’
Mark nodded. ‘Just cold.’
‘Right.’ The driver slammed the door shut and walked round to the front of the ambulance. ‘What the hell was going on here?’ He looked back at them all as he pulled open the door. Then he shrugged. ‘Anyone want to come with her? No? Well, if you called the police, they might not be here for a while. There’s trouble in Walton, and there’s been a big pile up at the roundabout near Elmstead. The whole area seems to have gone mad tonight. I’ve never known it like this, not in all my years in the service!’
They watched the ambulance pull away. Mark glanced at Colin. ‘There’s no point in waiting, then. I’ll ring them and tell them not to bother to come. That’s probably best.’ He glanced at Paula, then back at Mark. ‘What shall we do now?’ he asked quietly.
Paula had begun to tremble uncontrollably.
Mark opened the back door of the car and he gently pushed her inside and closed it on her, then he walked round to the driver’s door.
‘Perhaps we should go back and find out what happened to Mike? What a mess!’ He glanced at the back seat where Paula was huddled, moaning quietly to herself. ‘Do you believe her?’ he murmured.
Colin nodded. ‘Why on earth would she make something like that up? The whole world has gone mad! I reckon anything is possible. Something must have sent her over the edge.’
‘Do you think we should go up there and look?’
Colin turned and peered at Paula. ‘Did you call an ambulance when you found your husband?’
She frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’
Mark started the engine. ‘I know where it is. It’s where Alice took her non-film.’ He threw the car into gear. ‘We’ll drive up there, Paula, and check what’s going on, OK?’
‘What’s the point?’ Paula was shivering violently inside her silver paper wrap. ‘No one can help him. She killed him. And the water rejected her.’ Suddenly she started to laugh. ‘You realise that means that God has already found her guilty!’
115
Bill had managed to climb the hill behind the village. The mist was thick up here, now the rain had stopped, the smell of evil very strong, swirling up from the sea.
Not many people knew about this place. Once it had been sacred. Bronze Age men had buried their dead here. In the Iron Age there had been a temple. Then came the gods from the northern lands across the seas. Not necessarily evil. Not then. But powerful, knowing how to release the energies of the land; knowing how to draw in that mist from the sea.
It was hard to summon the Ward. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Traditionally they assembled at sundown in every town and village; the spirits, the ghosts, the elves, the fairies of the land, and then they would spread out along the spirit paths to weave the circle of protection which kept the area and its people safe. In most places now, the Ward was long gone, the old ways forgotten, the spiritual, psychic centres of the towns exposed, helpless before the onslaught of so much evil. There were people who still understood. Young Lyndsey had told him that. Fountain people, they called themselves, some of them. But as far as he knew there weren’t any round here. Here there were very few any more to understand or care.
Maybe the Ward would consider it ill-mannered for him to invoke them? Maybe they had disappeared from here, too. But when he had visited Spindles and St Mary’s churchyard he had sensed them there standing back, watching. And in the gardens at Liza’s. And they used to watch over Barker’s shop. But nowadays they were wary; shy; unwilling to come forward.
Shivering in his old tweed coat and woollen muffler, he tried to steady his breath, calm his thundering pulse, exhausted after the steep climb. Slowly he raised his hands. ‘Help us,’ he whispered. He could feel his father’s talisman snug against his chest beneath his vest and shirt and heavy sweater, the secret sigils reassuring. Strong. ‘Help us. Come forth. Drive out this vile mist …’
His voice was weak. They couldn’t hear him. With a shiver he looked round. On his own he wasn’t strong enough. He needed Mike. From the very start he had sensed that. This wasn’t cunning versus Christian. This wasn’t the Elder faith against the new. This was good against evil. This was dark against light.
He didn’t know the words any more. Perhaps he never did.
All he had was an honest heart and the desire to save his town. Perhaps it would be enough? If they were still there. If they were listening. If he could convince them.
116
‘Emma, wait!’ Mike had run after her up the road, where she turned away from the rectory and passed the next two houses. There the streetlights stopped and the road turned into a country lane. It was very dark and she was hard to see in the distance. ‘Emma!’ he called again, panting. ‘Wait. We have to talk.’ She was splashing through puddles, dodging overgrown branches in the hedge, drawing steadily ahead of him until the lane curved away towards the east and he lost sight of her.
He couldn’t afford to lose her now. Forcing himself on, he tore up the lane, slipping on the mud where a tractor had gone up the centre of the tarmac leaving a trail of debris behind it. ‘Emma!’
He turned the corner and there she was, waiting for him. In the dark he could barely see her face, but she was smiling.
He skidded to a stop, warily. ‘Emma, is that you?’ He was panting heavily.
She laughed. She was scarcely out of breath. ‘Emma has gone. I told you.’ She paused, her head a little to one side. ‘So, you couldn’t resist coming after me, Matthew. You fancied me, didn’t you! You wanted me in your bed. And so here you are, to see if you can persuade me to spare you. But you see, it won’t work. Not this time. Not ever again.’
Mike was watching her carefully. ‘So, Sarah. How do you intend to kill me?’ He kept his voice light; unthreatening. ‘Tell me, have you a knife? A gun? Or are you going to do it with a spell?’
To his relief he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She was frowning.
‘No spell is strong enough, Sarah. Not now,’ he went on, pushing his advantage home. ‘He has gone. Gone forever! Do you hear me? I am not Matthew Hopkins. He tried to possess me but I fought him. I will fight him again, if I have to! Leave it, Sarah. God will deal with Matthew. And he has comforted Liza.’
She shook her head. ‘Liza wouldn’t want to be comforted by God. She worshipped Satan.’ Her accent thickened again. ‘As I do. And he is more than a match for your God, parson.’
‘I don’t think so, Sarah.’ Mike smiled. ‘I believe that love and light can win against hate and darkness every time.’ His breathing was steadying now and he was feeling more confident as she continued to stand there talking to him. She had no weapons. There was nothing she could do.
‘Emma, I want you to be strong,’ he murmured quietly. ‘I know you can hear me. We can push this woman out. God is with us here. We can do it. I am going to command her spirit to leave you. Are you ready?’ He took a step forward.
She didn’t move.
He raised his right hand to make the sign of the cross. ‘In the name of God the Father; in the name of God the Son, and in the name of God the Holy Spirit, I command you, Sarah Paxman, to leave this place now. I command you to leave Emma alone and never return.’ He managed to make his voice ring out powerfully against the muffling thickness of the mist.
He paused. Somehow he had expected some sign. Some great struggle. But Emma made no sound at all. She continued to stand there staring at him.
The silence lengthened. Then suddenly she laughed. The sound made his skin crawl. ‘So, priest! What do you do now? I’m still here!’ Her eyes sparkled, almost coquettishly as she tossed her head and turned, striding away from him into the darkness. A little further on, the lane debouched out onto the hillside where the short rabbit-cropped grass was studded with wet furze, and she moved ahead of him out onto the hill at the very edge of his vision, fading in and out of sight as the wisps of mist trailed around her, caressing, drawing her on. Mike stumbled into a rabbit hole and swore quietly under his breath. He mustn’t lose sight of her now.
‘Emma! Emma, wait!’
Her only reply was another peal of laughter.
Somewhere to the left of him, higher up on the hillside he could see a patch of light. A bonfire? A powerful torch? Emma had turned the other way, instinctively seeking the darkness.
‘Emma!’
It was then that he saw the stooped figure, wrapped in coat and muffler, emerge out of the mist.
‘Bill? What are you doing here?’
‘I am trying to summon the Ward.’ Bill straightened his shoulders. ‘Where were you, Rector? We needed you at Hollantide! The evil flooded us from every side. Every Devil and demon was there and you chose to go away!’
‘I didn’t choose to, Bill.’ Mike stared round anxiously. He could no longer see Emma. ‘I had no choice. But I was praying for you.’
‘Aye, well. I need you to pray now, too. You and I need to stand shoulder to shoulder, Rector. Do you have your holy water?’
Mike shook his head.
‘Then bless this.’ The old man held out the wet branch which he had pulled from a tree in the hedge at the bottom of the field. ‘And flick it into the mist. With your blessing it will be holy. By tradition it is sacred. It will do the trick. You and I together can summon the Ward, Rector. We can drive out the evil and rescue that young woman’s soul while we’re about it.’
‘Where is she?’ Mike was staring into the mist.
‘Not far. She’s hiding from the light on the hillside there.’
‘What is it?’ Mike frowned, feeling the beads of moisture condensing on his eyelashes.
‘Fairy fire.’ Bill chuckled. ‘Make no mind, Rector. It’s not Christian, but it’s strong and it’s good. We’re on the same side, Rector, remember? It seems to me you don’t think you’re strong enough for all this, but you are. You can do this.’
Mike glanced at him. He was right. He could do this. His faith was strong enough. He raised his right hand over the branch of rowan in his left and made the sign of the cross.
‘Help us, friends!’ Bill was calling into the darkness. ‘Bless this place. Bless that young woman. Bring the light back to this land!’
Mike could see her now. She was standing still, staring back towards them. In a few quick strides he was at her side. ‘Sarah Paxman, I command you to go. In the name of God, of Jesus Christ and of the Light, I command you to go!’ He lifted the rowan and flicked it across Emma’s shoulders, showering her in ice-cold droplets of water.
She screamed.
‘No!’ Her hands went to her face, clawing at her eyes. ‘No! I can’t see. I’m blind!’
‘Emma, fight. Drive her out.’ He stepped towards her. Groping for the chain around his neck, he unfastened it. It took only seconds to hang the little silver cross around her neck. She shrank back, sobbing. Bill joined him. ‘Here. Give her this as well.’ He dragged the pendant from his own neck and put it over her head to hang next to the cross. Emma subsided onto her knees in the mud, sobbing. ‘I can’t …’ She was finding it hard to breathe. ‘I can’t see.’
‘You’ll be all right, girl.’ Bill put his hand on her shoulder. The two men held their breath, watching Emma carefully, then Bill gave a long contented sigh. ‘Rector, look.’ He nodded behind them up the hill. A woman was walking away from them into the mist. A woman in a long gown.
Mike’s mouth fell open. ‘Sarah?’ he whispered.
Bill nodded. ‘She’s gone. Your woman here will be all right now. The Ward will deal with that other one.’
‘So it worked? They came?’ Mike looked down at the rowan branch in his hand.
‘It worked. They came.’ Bill chuckled again. ‘I reckon tomorrow we’ll find the mist has gone. The sun will come out again.’
Mike sighed. He turned back to Emma and held out a gentle hand. ‘Emma?’ he said cautiously. ‘Can you hear me? Do you remember the little prayer I taught you? I want you to say it. Christ be with me, Christ within me. Say it, Emma.’
She smiled wearily. ‘Mike?’
‘Say it, Emma. Christ be with me.’
‘Christ be with me.’ She repeated it faintly. ‘Mike, what has happened? Why am I here?’ She was looking round in confusion. She put her hands up to her face and pushed the wet hair off her for
ehead. ‘Have I been sleep-walking?’
Mike nodded. He smiled with relief. ‘That is exactly what you’ve been doing, Emma. Come.’ He held out his hand. ‘I want you to come back down out of the mist.’
She went to him hesitantly, still confused. ‘I don’t understand – ’
‘You don’t have to.’ He put his hand round her shoulders. ‘Are you coming, Bill?’
Bill shook his head. ‘I reckon I’ll stay out here for a bit, Rector. I’ve got some thank yous to say. I’ll follow you down in a minute.’
Mike nodded. Turning back towards the lane, he guided her back over the grass through the mud and onto the road. From there they made their way slowly down towards the church. Somehow it felt right that they should go there.
She followed him without protest as he led her into the porch and through the door. Stepping into the nave, she stopped and stared round, and he saw her frowning.
‘It’s all right.’ He took her hand gently and led her up towards the chancel. ‘Do you remember being here before?’
She stopped again. ‘I was here with Lyndsey?’
He nodded.
‘Where is she?’
‘I don’t know.’ He bent to pick up the candlestick lying on the floor where it had fallen after he had wrestled it from her hand. Setting it on the altar, he replaced its candle and reached for his matches. ‘There. That’s better. I like candlelight.’ He was watching her carefully. Soaked to the skin, her hair straggling round her face, she looked desperately tired and her eyes were full of unhappiness. But they were Emma’s eyes. The wild, vicious gaze of Sarah Paxman had gone. She pushed her hands deep into her pockets, shivering, and as though she could stand no longer she suddenly sat down on the kneeler which ran along the altar rails. Mike sat down beside her and after a moment’s hesitation he put his arm round her shoulders. Her hair smelled of rain and incense and whatever scent it was she wore – something musky and mysterious. Without thinking he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and she leaned back a little into his arms. ‘It’s peaceful in here,’ she murmured. ‘I’m so tired, Mike. I’d like to stay here forever.’ She sighed. ‘This is a safe place. Sarah doesn’t like it here.’
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