Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror

by Sarah England

  Then he rang Jes.

  “We’ve got more on the way too– about fifteen of us,” said Jes.

  “My career’s on this now, mate. If we don’t pull it off I’m finished.”

  “No, you’re life is on it. Sorry, but that’s how it is.”

  “Fuck. How did this happen to me?”

  “We’ve all asked ourselves that one. This is it though, Toby. Don’t mess up.”

  “Of course I won’t mess up.”

  “Is Becky on board with what she’s doing?”

  “She wanted to come but I told her to stay with Callum. He’s the most vulnerable, tied to a bloody bed.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Anyway she can’t run for toffee.”

  Jes laughed. “Bless her. Right, I suggest we meet outside The Highwayman at 2.30 am and travel in small groups.”

  “Okay. Everyone wears black head to foot and hiking boots. We’ll need some of my blokes at the abbey and the rest of us will go to the mill and cover all exits. This is massively off the radar by the way, and if it goes wrong a whole lot of us are in serious shit.”

  “We’ve got knives. And it won’t go wrong.”

  “No – no knives. Leave the arrests to us.”

  Jes laughed. “You’re fucking kidding me. We’ve waited decades for this.”

  “One thing. Where will the girl be, do you think? Alice?”

  “She’ll be with them at Tanners Dell.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “Of course I’m not – that’s what they do!”

  After Toby put the phone down he lay on the bed thinking it all through. Outside it was dark now and a flurry of snowflakes fluttered against the window. What would the next twelve hours bring?

  Suddenly he sat shock upright. Shit! What if they couldn’t get up there because of snow? Bridesmoor was well known for being one of the first places to get cut off in winter. They had omitted to check the weather forecast. Flicking on the television he watched the twenty-four hour news: heavy snow was forecast for high ground. Oh fantastic! Bloody fantastic! He switched off the sound and fell back against the pillows. Dear God and all his angels, we need some help.

  Well what could you do about the weather? Just pray…pray the kind of heavy snow that cut off villages like Bridesmoor didn’t come tonight. One more day was all they needed. Half a day even…he closed his eyes, melting into the dull ache that rhythmically throbbed inside his skull. Sleep began to drag him down, his eyelids heavy, and briefly he lost consciousness, surfacing a few minutes later with a start. In the half light of the television he reached for the phone and set the alarm for 2am, forcing himself to double check that it was 2am and not 2pm for sure before finally switching off the remote, pulling the blanket up and giving himself up to exhaustion for a few hours.

  You might change your mind later when it’s dark and you’re alone in that hotel room…

  Less than two hours later an arctic chill woke him up.

  In the adjoining room a bath was being run; from somewhere else there came the sound of canned laughter, and down the hallway a lift pinged. He glanced at the digital clock: just gone midnight. Damn, it would have been nice to have had another hour at least but he was frozen to the bone. The light had changed too, and for a while he lay observing the silvery outline of the furniture, his attention magnetically drawn to the door. He looked at that door for a long time. No, it was no good, it was impossible to try and sleep now – the chain was way too feeble.

  Pulling back the blanket he sat up and peeped through the gap in the curtains. Good, no snow yet. A heavy frost covered the cars down below but the night was starry and clear with a full moon overhead. He started to shiver and couldn’t seem to stop. Flaming hell, this room really was perishing. His mother would say it was too cold to snow and he smiled as he reached over to switch on the lamp – they use to argue about such daft things. Well that was odd, it had worked earlier. He checked the plug socket – yup, all switched on. He clicked the switch again – still nothing.

  Oh well, there was just enough light to see over as far as the dresser, which had a high-backed chair tucked underneath it. He stood up but immediately had to sit down again. It felt as if his brain had come loose inside the cranium and was banging against the skull. After a minute he tried again and stood swaying for a minute, just as a light breeze blew into his cheek. What the fuck?

  You might change your mind later when it’s dark and you’re alone in that hotel room…

  Fear prickled up and down his spine and he had a word with himself. This was stupid, and stupid and stupid – get a grip! He had a serious job to do in a few hours’ time and it was essential to get a few more hours sleep. It was just a case of securing that door so he could relax better. Slowly he walked across the room so his head didn’t pound too badly, picked up the dressing table chair and rammed it firmly under the handle. Good, now maybe he could get some rest.

  After that he paid a visit to the bathroom, had a pee and drank a glass of water. In the mirror, bleary pin-hole eyes looked out from an ashen face. Man, that was rough. He leaned forwards to examine the stubble and was just thinking about trying to shave with the bic razor provided, when the shower curtain rings clinked. Frowning, his reflection eyed the scene behind. What was that? God, he really was badly spooked. This was…

  Then it happened again. He whirled round and yanked the curtain back. There was nothing there. Oh, for fuck’s sake! He needed to sleep. It was concussion, a bump on the head, all the stories he’d been told… Where the hell was the thermostat anyway? It was freezing in here.

  Somewhat crossly he stalked back into the bedroom, not noticing at first, but then the full horror of it hit him.

  The chair was back underneath the dressing table.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty

  Friday 31st December/Saturday 3am

  A light covering of snow glittered like Christmas icing over the moors.

  Few words were spoken as a large group of men broke into two factions outside The Highwayman – one would head straight down to Five Sisters Abbey in Woodsend; the other would travel west for Tanners Dell. Under the brilliant light of a full moon and a galaxy of stars, they had to move quickly, darting into the shadows and keeping low until protected by the forest. All had been briefed extensively and knew what was at stake, although Toby suspected the police officers wouldn’t have a clue about any dark tricks they might encounter on the way. Well, it might happen, it might not – they wouldn’t believe it if he told them; so as long as he had his wits about him – and Jes was definitely well prepared having learned his lesson before many times – they should be okay. A lot depended, he supposed, on whether Ida knew they were coming or not.

  Scooting over Drovers Common close to the hedges, he said a little prayer inside – something he hadn’t done since he was a child. It was when you knew something else really did exist, he thought, that your world spun on its axis and after that nothing was ever quite the same. An owl hooted and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Was it that witch or was it just a bloody short-eared, head-swivelling, flat faced bird? Oh dear God, help me not to lose my mind. Help me to find the strength to face whatever happens tonight…

  Under Jes’ command, the other group skirted the woods in packs of twos and threes. The north wind cut into their faces and snow crunched beneath their boots, twigs snapping underfoot. The forest branches were piped white and tiny crystals glittered in the moonlight as they tramped along. Once level with the Deans’ cottage, he signalled for the troop to stop. A black dog was growling with bared teeth from where it stood tied to a rope in the yard. Crouching low, Jes inched towards it before throwing down a piece of meat laced with enough sedatives to knock it out for a week. The muscle-rippled creature sniffed it, pawing it around.

  “Go on, eat it, you thick mutt,” he murmured silkily.

  Eventually the dog took a bite, before wolfing it down. After a few more minutes the dog whined a little and san
k onto its haunches. Then the men crept past. The track was deeply rutted from the wheels of 4x4 trucks, before gradually petering out to a single dirt track. This soon gave way to virgin snow and a hushed silence as they travelled further around to the north east side of the woods. Without the shelter of the trees it was a biting wind that howled over the moors and they put their heads down, until eventually on the left they came to a tiny, sheltered copse containing an ancient cemetery. This was the one Linda Hedges had stumbled on, as had Kristy when they’d each come looking around Woodsend. The Sisters of Mercy had fostered many children in their day, most already ill through poverty and disease, and the graveyard was mostly populated with tiny headstones, now askew and partially sunken, the inscriptions illegible. Walking past at a pace, each man felt drawn to stare at the ring of wrought iron railings around the graveyard, and the small shimmering white stones within. And each was still looking when Jes stopped short and they almost toppled into each other.

  In the middle of the path sat a large fox, its black eyes pinpricked with red pupils.

  Jes motioned the others to stay back as he reached into his rucksack for the slaughtered chicken he’d brought precisely for these tricks. Flinging it onto the path he retreated, watched and waited.

  The emaciated fox was suffering badly from mange, and before long it crawled forwards to inspect the offering. Still with its eyes firmly on Jes it began to drag the chicken back across the dirt, then picked it up in its jaws and shot into the snowy woods. There was a collective sigh of relief and a few minutes later the abbey ruins came into view.

  After many hundreds of years, there was little left save a few dry stone walls, an old well and the remainder of a large, ivy-clad archway. In the centre ground it was clear where the division of rooms had once been and Jes indicated where they should start digging. The earth was ice-hard; and in total silence the men unhooked their rucksacks and began to unload a grim cargo of pick axes and spades, amid flurries of fresh snow swooping down from the moors. Around them, the wintery woods shrouded what they were about to do. And what they might find.

  ***

  The other group had kept up a pace and were now entering Carrions Wood opposite Bridesmoor church. Toby split them up at this point and directed them onto separate paths. Tacitly and armed with night vision glasses, each then picked their way through the undergrowth as stealthily as huntsmen, ducking down every few seconds to check they hadn’t been seen.

  As soon as the mill was in sight they positioned themselves to surround it; and once all was in place, Toby and one other officer darted towards the building. The only sound apart from their own breathing was the continuous pounding of cascading water as, backs to the wall they scanned the darkened kitchen window. As before, all seemed empty.

  “Let’s go,” Toby whispered.

  Inside the kitchen the air was icier than a morgue, the stone floor slippery with damp.

  “Careful underfoot,” Toby hissed.

  Padding further in, it was obvious the upper floors were totally deserted. They stood as statues, listening hard to make absolutely sure, before Toby gently tried the cellar door. The handle turned but the door wouldn’t budge. He put his ear to the keyhole to be met with hissing silence. Again his ears strained for the slightest hint of chanting or voices but there was nothing.

  He and his partner exchanged a complicit glance. Then Toby took out Cora’s key and turned the lock. The door swung open and he pocketed the key before leading the way down.

  Like descending into a cave, each step took them further into a pit of darkness, the only sound that of dripping water. Underfoot the stones were as sheet ice and each clung onto the railing, until finally they were standing in the blackened vault underneath Tanners Dell.

  The huge horizontal mill wheel dominated the basement and provided something to hold onto as they felt their way across the chamber towards the series of archways, which ran the length of the building and beyond. To who knows where, Toby thought. All the way to the mine? Without night vision glasses it would have been coal-face black. With them the place was extremely creepy and it was difficult not to be distracted by the carvings of macabre figures performing obscene acts, which could now be seen in the stone – half-human, half-beast. Various skulls sat in nooks and hollows; and black mirrors, inscriptions and diabolical drawings of demons and devils adorned the cavern walls; the insidious drip-drip-drip of water almost hypnotic in the background.

  They both noticed the smell of burning.

  “Chasing the dragon?”

  Keeping flat to the walls they started down the long, arched corridor, eyes fixated on the smoky gloom at the end of the tunnel. The further they advanced the stronger the sweet, heady scent, and before long there was flickering firelight on the walls. Still, it seemed a long way off and they had much further to go. Venturing further and further underground, Toby realised they must be under the moors by now. This was no basement; but a series of purpose-built underground tunnels with ante-rooms and chambers, like castle dungeons that went on and on… Peering into one of the vaults with the advantage of night vision glasses he baulked at what he saw. Affixed to the slimy wet stone walls was a heavy-duty array of metal chains and clamps. At the far end was an iron chair nailed to the floor and everywhere there was horrific graffiti etched into the stone where victims had scraped out their torment using bones. Several skeletons still lay slumped where they’d died and decayed. Good God! With an incline of his head, he kept the other man from seeing it. They had to keep moving.

  Then at last – the haunting sound of a trance-inducing chant – and shortly afterwards they turned the final corner.

  “Opium,” said Toby as they stationed themselves on either side of the archway.

  The other man whispered. “Summat else an’ all – summat disgusting!”

  “Don’t breathe it in,” Toby hissed. “They hypnotise themselves with it.”

  The chorus of voices had escalated now, echoing around the chamber in a guttural, animalistic frenzy of excitement.

  “They don’t sound human,” his colleague hissed back.

  Toby shook his head, his heart banging hard as they peered into the vast chamber.

  A ring of people in domino robes and masks were holding hands while walking round and round on an intricately engraved floor. A huge inferno of a fire lit up the room and shadows leapt around the walls as the chanting rose to a crescendo. Some of them were roaring like wild animals, howling and screaming. The dancing became manic with robes flung off to reveal the sweating naked flesh of mostly overweight, wrinkled, saggy old men. Using voices laced with malice and hate, they were repeatedly chanting a specific incantation: “Poison her soul, wither her mind, leave no trace of her behind, let their cry be in pain, let them lie and go insane…”

  The name: Rebecca

  “Rebecca. Rebecca. Rebecca”.

  The man at the head of the circle then held high a macabre doll made of what looked like straw and hair before throwing it into the flames. A feverish cry of triumph went up and then quite suddenly the naked figures fell to the floor in a hiss of submission. A grotesque creature had emerged from the shadows.

  Toby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  The creature wore the mask of a horned goat and an elaborate cloak of feathers and fur. Was this for real? Wasn’t this just some kind of stupid adult games party for the thrill-seeking deranged?

  And yet he was riveted to the spot, mesmerised by the figures crawling around on the floor like snakes, writhing about in a complicit act of inhuman wretchedness, the willingness to participate like some kind of contagious disease. And at the same time he understood with a stab of abject horror that no, this wasn’t a stupid adult party because in the middle of the circle lay a bundle of something in a sack, and that something was alive, crying and struggling to get out.

  The ceremony now rapidly reached its climax and the horned figure held a knife high above its head, steel flashing in the firelight, the terrib
le image flickering across the far wall, as it threw back its head and let out a bestial, blood-hungry scream of triumph.

  “Fuck, it’s a sacrifice,” said Toby.

  They ran in.

  Vaguely he remembered grabbing the animal in the sack and running from the room just as mayhem broke out. In a melee of confusion there were men shouting, “Freeze!” and people thrown to the floor. It looked like the entire police service had suddenly turned up.

  Toby reeled. Where the hell had all this lot come from?

  A tap on his shoulder gave him the answer as he backed out of the room with what turned out to be a trembling puppy in his arms. Sid Hall’s face glowed above his torch like something from a B movie. “I’ve not worked in CID all these years without knowing a thing or two. Got you covered, soft lad.”

  It was a grim scene. Fifteen adults, all men bar one, being filed out of a desolate old mill in the early hours of New Year’s Day. With their hoods yanked back they kept their heads down as each was handcuffed and led through the woods to the police vans and ambulances waiting on the lane. A sole cameraman snapped each of their snarling faces as they emerged blinking in the moonlight, and several were lifted screaming and grimacing onto stretchers.

  Toby met the full glare of Ernest Scutts’ rage as he was shoved none too gently into the back of a van. Scutts paused long enough to hurl a rounded, blackened gob of spittle in his face and hissed, “You don’t know what you’ve done, you little snot. We raised Lucifer. And if you don’t believe me you soon will.”

  “Oh fuck off,” said Toby. “I’m not in the mood.”

  Word came from the abbey there could be dozens of small corpses buried there. It would take days, if not weeks, to unearth them all and then a team of forensic scientists would have to be involved. The area had been cordoned off as a major crime scene.

  “What a way to start the New Year,” Toby said to Jes as they stood watching. “Are you all right, by the way?”