Splintered Ice

by Stuart G. Yates

  Handcuffing Sullivan securely to the door handle, David watched as Larry leaned across Hannah. When her eyes flickered open, Larry cried out. She sat up. “Larry,” she said, wide eyed, looking confused. “That little bastard hit me!”

  Larry tried to move back, but the confines of the car prevented him. Even from outside, David could smell her perfume, the soft swell of her breasts so evident. Poor Larry was besotted, poor bloke. As if sensing this, she reached forward, her fingers falling on his arm. “Oh my, Larry, you're so excited.” Larry moaned. “Where's David?”

  “Outside.” His throat sounded tight, his voice husky.

  She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “Go and get the gun, Larry. Then, release me and we'll be on our way.”

  “On our way…What do you mean?”

  “You and me, silly. We'll leave all this behind. It doesn't make any sense does it, any of it?” She stretched her neck, looking out past his shoulder into the night. “Take his gun and kill him, Larry.”

  “Kill him? I don't think…Christ, Hannah…kill him?”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips. She motioned towards Sullivan. “Look at him, a waste of space. Not like you,” her fingers rubbed against Larry's crotch and he groaned. She smiled, her lips moist, “Not like you, Larry. Get David's gun, kill him, then come and let me free. We'll dump Sullivan and go back home.” She leant forward, her lips against his, “Then we'll make love all night – every night.” She smiled again and again, brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. “Go on, get it over with,” she said softly.

  Larry was out of the car before she said another word. He swung around and yelped in surprise to find David standing there, resolute, eyes hard, unblinking. “You cuffed them?” asked David.

  “Give me the gun.”

  “What?”

  “The gun, the one Matthew gave you. Give it to me.”

  “Why, Larry?” David's voice, so low, unruffled. “What are you going to do?”

  Larry thrust out his hand, his voice was trembling. “Just give it to me, David.”

  There was a long pause as the two men stood, merely an arm's reach away from one another, staring into each other's eyes. The atmosphere between them was charged, electric almost, the tension palpable. Larry wasn't going to give way; he knew how skilled David was, he'd seen that with what had happened to Brian. But he wasn't going to back down, even if it meant he would have to wrestle the gun from David's grip.

  But there was no need. David suddenly reached to his waist band and handed the gun over, holding it by the barrel. Larry looked at it for a long time, then closed his hand around the butt. “Thanks,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Are you all right?”

  Larry's eyes came up. He nodded, his mind made up. “I'm fine. This is just something I have to do.”

  Both Jed and Matthew stood, stunned by what they saw. A vast room, grandiose in its decoration, four blazing chandeliers spaced along the ceiling, each pair on either side of a large, glass skylight, which allowed natural light to pour through. Along each wall, Greek style plinths, topped with burning candles, flanked tall lancet windows. A gleaming, polished wooden floor rolled out before them, in sharp contrast to the rest of the house. This was a well looked after ballroom, fit for a fairytale prince and princess to dance the night away.

  But there would be no dancing that night.

  A press of people, perhaps thirty or more, stood in a semi-circle, facing the centre, and a woman, dressed in a thin cotton robe, which revealed the curves of her body beneath. Suspended from the ceiling her by taut ropes, arms stretched high above her, she stood on a tiny, wooden stool directly below the glass portal. In obvious distress, her mouth a thin line, eyes red-rimmed, the mascara stains running down her cheeks, hair a dishevelled mess, soaked in sweat, a long, gurgling moan escaped from her broken lips.

  “As the first light of dawn touches her,” said the voice of a man, stepping out from behind the suspended woman, face covered by a deep cowl and holding a very evil looking knife that glinted in the candle light, “it ends.”

  Hands quickly relieved the guns from the numbed fingers of the two gaping intruders. Roughly they were pushed towards the centre of the semi-circle, stumbling, powerless to resist. Mesmerised by the sight of the woman, Jed caught her eye and for a moment something flickered in her face, recognition, a wave of sadness and regret. Jed felt his stomach turn to mush, his bowels loosening. “Mum,” he muttered in a low, terrified voice.

  “Cut her down, Jonathan,” said Matthew suddenly, his voice strong and loud, sounding alien in that strange, oppressive atmosphere. “Then you and I can settle this, once and for all.”

  The man flung back the cowl. It was Jonathan. He laughed. A maniacal cackle, without amusement. “You think this is just about you, Matthew? Always so bloody sanctimonious, always thinking that the world revolves around you and you alone.” He shook his head, the smile dying on his lips. “Wrong – this is about so much more. It's about the future, everyone's future.”

  Jed sucked in a breath. “Please,” he said. For a second, everyone in the room turned their faces to him. He noticed, for the first time, that everyone was dressed in robes, some in red, others in white. This was the cult that Matthew had spoken about, its members assembled here, but for what? Sacrifice? For what purpose? Jed looked at Jonathan pleadingly. “Let her down, Jon. She's not part of this.”

  “Oh but she is,” spat Jonathan, stepping closer. “She's the absolute reason why this is happening now, Jed. She left my father, you see. All those years ago. Broke him, destroyed him. Then him,” he jabbed his finger towards Matthew, “the Devil's spawn, caste from the same mould as her – he destroyed my father and my mother. And if that wasn't enough, she then does it all again, breaking you into pieces. You.”

  Someone in the circle gasped as Jonathan reached out and touched Jed's face. Jed stood rock still, unable to even breathe. A single tear rolled down Jonathan's face. “You're the innocent in this, Jed. I waited, because I knew she would leave you – you and your father. When I discovered the news, I conjured up our meeting at the lake. To draw you in. To use you.”

  “Use me?”

  “I had no choice. What else was I supposed to do? This harridan, she broke your dreams, yours and your father's.”

  “So all of this was in order for you to have your revenge?”

  “I've suffered, Jed. So long.”

  “And all of those people, the ones you murdered? Miles? My friend?”

  “So sentimental.”

  “You're a fucking monster, Jon.”

  “No. Not a monster. I loved you …” His voice trailed away and for a moment it was as if he were struggling within himself, struggling to find the determination to continue. At last he sighed. “But you too must die, my sweet, innocent child. Unless…” He took a step backwards, “Unless you join us, Jed. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Tell me you would. You could be with me – with us. You would like that, wouldn't you, Jed?”

  The world became a distant place, the present ethereal. Jed felt he was floating, all the fear suddenly leaving him, his heart soaring, everything light and clear and fresh. He could barely form the words, “Oh yes!” He fell to his knees and Jonathan came up to him, holding his head, pressing him close. Jed broke down, his whole body wracked in shuddering sobs. Gently, Jonathan stroked his hair and looked up, smiling in triumph. Jed turned in the direction of his gaze and saw Matthew standing there, teeth clenched, the muscle bunched along his jaw.

  “You're a fiend!” screamed Matthew. He jumped back, reaching inside his coat, ripping out the automatic pistol he had concealed there. A ripple ran through the assembly. A woman cried out, some of the men swore.

  From somewhere, one man's voice rang out, dismissive, arrogant, “Your weapons can't hurt the master, you fool! This has been ordained.”

  Another, confident, unshakeable, shouted, “He is the chosen one, the light that will guide us. Put down that gun, surrende
r your will to his!”

  “We need the blood of one who is blighted,” said a woman, “to relieve the world of its contagion.”

  “Mum?” Jed looked up as Jonathan turned and walked towards the suspended figure of Mary Meres. Throughout she remained silent, teetering on the little stool, but now her mouth opened. Her lips, so dry and cracked, forced her to work hard to moisten her throat, swallowing repeatedly. “Jed,” she managed at last, “Jed, try and fight it. Don't listen to him, try and—”

  “It's pointless, Mary,” said Jonathan, standing right beside her, “He's with me now.” He looked towards her son, who still sat on his knees, staring into space. “Aren't you Jed?”

  Jed smiled, “Oh yes,” he gushed. “I love you.”

  A collective sigh oozed from the surrounding group. Time dripped by, expectation gathering. What would happen next?

  Voice trembling, Matthew stepped forward, “No, Jed. No. You have to do what Mum says – you must fight it.” But his voice, so weak now, held no conviction – as if he too accepted the inevitable. As if to underline the hopelessness of it all, a robed man stepped forward and gently took the pistol from him.

  “It is all as it should be,” said Jonathan, a slight note of regret coming into his voice. “I've waited so long for this moment, Matthew. I've dreamed about it, seen it played out in my mind a thousand times. And now that the moment has come, I find that I'm slightly saddened. Sad because with you and her gone, I will have to find a new focus. Perhaps,” he rubbed the side of his mouth with a forefinger, “perhaps Jed will help me seek out others that need to be cleansed.” He smiled again. “David, of course, shall be the first.” Mary moaned above him and Jonathan looked to her. He brought up his hand and the knife he held played at the tail of her robe. “My only regret is that you will not see him die, Mary. But he will, trust me. In the most awful way imaginable. And Jed, my sweet, innocent Jed, he will do it for me. Won't you, Jed?”

  “Oh yes. Yes, of course.”

  “When this is over, and you and Matthew lie eviscerated about the floor, I will bring David in and bathe him in your blood. Then Jed will dissect him, limb by limb, organ by organ. He will cut him up and burn each bit in an open fire, whilst he still lives. They used to do it in the olden days, Mary. They knew how to inflict pain, those wonderful people! We can learn so much from our forefathers, don't you think.”

  “You learned a lot from yours!”

  Her words were like slaps across his face. Wincing, for a moment is seemed Jonathan was lost for something to say. Slowly his eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth, your slut!”

  “Your father was a bloody bastard, just like you!” She was shouting now, “A thug, a violent bully, abusing me and Matthew.”

  “You're talking rot, woman - lies!”

  “Truth, Jonathan. The truth he never told you, truth you never knew. How he beat me, kept me a virtual prisoner in my own home, controlling everything I did, the people I could talk to. He was a monster, Jonathan.”

  “Liar!” Suddenly, the knife blade flashed in Jonathan's hand, slicing through her thin robe, exposing her flesh. The material fell away in long shreds and she stood there, the whiteness of her body like alabaster in the intense glare of the candlelight. The assembled group broke into, a low sort of mantra, repeated over and over. And with it, a new light grew more noticeable. The morning sun was rising, its rays coming through the glass portal above. “Corrupted, faithless harlot!” screamed Jonathan, brandishing the knife above him, preparing to kick away the stool.

  “Jonathan!”

  Matthew went to rush forward, but strong arms held him back and he struggled uselessly in their grip. It was all falling away, everything lost. He threw back his head and wailed.

  “By the spilling of your blood, we rid the world of your malevolence as we welcome the dawn!” Jonathan tensed himself, drawing back the knife. Mary screamed as the sunlight poured down over her. “Behold, a new beginning!”

  Bathed in a golden glow from the rising sun, which made her seem almost magical, Mary let her face fall back to soak up the rays. She groaned, as if she knew her life was about to end.

  With a resounding crash, the great twin doors burst open. Every face turned to see Larry storm in, and stride forward.

  “Jonathan!”

  Kepowski's mouth quivered. “How…?” he managed in a stunned voice.

  Larry merely smiled, brought up the gun and shot Jonathan right between the eyes.

  For a moment, a ripple of disbelief ran through the assembled crowd. As Jonathan crumpled to the ground, the knife clattering beside him, all hell broke loose, the assembly screaming as one, scattering in all directions, their reason for remaining now gone, lying grotesquely on the highly polished floor, the blood ballooning around his shattered head.

  Breathing hard, Larry stared down at Jonathan Kepowski's dead body, as the stampede of people buffeted past him, escaping, not a thought for anything or anyone anymore.

  Matthew pushed his way over to his mother and very gingerly, using the knife Jonathan planned to use in a much deadlier way, cut through the rope that suspended her from the ceiling. Her body fell limp into his arms and he gently eased her to the floor. He brushed the hair from her brow and held her, glancing towards Larry. “She's okay.”

  Nodding his head, a distant look on his face, Larry stuffed the pistol into his waistband. He went over to Jed, standing as if in a sort of trance and gently laid his hand on his son's shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Jed's lips moved, but no sound escaped and his eyes, as he looked up, seemed glazed, unable to focus.

  “He will be,” said Matthew, voice echoing around that vast, now empty space. They were alone, the sound of motor cars outside starting up and roaring off into the distance indicating that the assembly was making good its escape.

  Larry put his arm around Jed and held him close. “I hope so. Dear God in heaven, I hope so.”

  37

  The wind blew unbelievably strong, almost knocking him over as he stood, hands deep in the pockets of his padded coat, staring out across the bleak, unforgiving moor. It was said that there had been no cover for the men as they stood, in clumps, bombarded by the Hanoverian guns, shattered from a distance, frustrated that they could not get to grips with the enemy. But in this weather, how could anyone move, let alone fight? He marvelled, not for the first time, at their heroism but also felt depressed that they had not retired and sought a better place to fight and die.

  “Come inside.”

  Jed turned, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. He smiled. The rain lashed across her face, but it didn't seem to bother her. No doubt she was used to it, living and working here daily. It was a place where the sun rarely shined.

  Edith took his hand in hers and led him back inside the visitors' centre. It was warm and dry in there, but the atmosphere remained gloomy. There was no one else. Was there ever anyone else? She seemed to sense his thoughts and her face looked sad. “This can be a soul-destroying place at times. Culloden…synonymous with our lives, don't you think?”

  “Edith, you know too much.”

  They both laughed at that, even though, quite possibly, he had spoken the truth.

  She brought him a cup of tea and studied him. “What will you do now?”

  Jed shook his head, stirring the spoon around and around, “Go back home. Mum will probably move back in, look after me for a while. I've got my place in University, so it'll only be for a few months.”

  “University…” her voice faded away, her face taking on a dreamy, faraway look. “Your father won't be away for long.”

  “Won't he? I don't know – he killed someone, Edith. I think they'll lock him away for a long time.”

  “But it was all due to such extraordinary circumstances. I think the court will be lenient, especially when all the facts come out.”

  “You think they will, all of them?”

  A little laugh. “Well – perhaps not 'all', but your father w
as acting out of self-defence, or preservation. He saved your mother's life, yours and Matthew's too I shouldn't wonder.”

  Jed pushed the tea away, not having taken a single sip. “Jon said I was to become one of his own. I don't think he would have killed me.”

  “And that makes it better? Could you have stood there and watched him kill your mother?”

  “I can't remember a thing about any of it…only his voice. That was all that mattered at the time.”

  “You were under his spell, as they all were. He had enormous influence over everyone he met. He melded everyone to his will. Sometimes that influence could lead them to commit the most dreadful acts. I think, as the investigation continues, we'll discover that some of the others in that room were responsible for the deaths of those poor innocents who had crossed his path.”

  “I think Brian Randall was responsible for most of them. Nurse Willis, her boyfriend. My friend, Miles … He was Jon's instrument.”

  “His acolyte.”

  Jed rubbed his face with both hands, suddenly feeling very tired. “I hope they find him.”

  “That might have to be up to you, Jed.”

  He stared at her and although he felt like arguing, it soon dawned on him that she spoke the truth. His life would never be the same again or, most certainly would never be safe until Brian Randall was behind bars.

  “And that girl, the one who brought you here?”

  “Janet?” He shook his head, the memory of her consisting only of a few, fleeting images. “I don't know. Why she ever gave me that note, I'll never know.”

  “Perhaps she had woken up from her dream, the dream he had conjured up for her. Jonathan's persuasive powers knew no bounds. Will you look for her?”

  “Where do I begin?” He thought about it all. Brian and Janet, one an enemy, one a friend. A friend. Was that what she was? Could she ever be possibly more than that, or was that all just part of the fantasy. But to seek them out, to find the answers, he would have to delve once more into the darkness that Jonathan Kepowski had created. It would be best to leave it all up to Matthew. He could pick up the pieces, tidy everything up. And not just Brian and Janet. Hannah Randall and Inspector Sullivan, they would pay for what they had done. And Dad. Poor Dad. How long would he have to languish inside a prison cell? Mum and David, could they rekindle their flame? Perhaps. Perhaps not. So much had happened, so many things ripping away the vestiges of self-respect. Could anything be salvaged, he wondered.