Flee

by Caroline Gebbie

  “Jenny, how are you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day.” Simon sounded agitated. “I had a terrible nightmare last night, about your parents, and I can’t reach them, by phone or by magic. I feel a darkness building, and, well, I know your father was worried about your ascension to power.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jenny interrupted, as soon as a gap appeared, trying to find out how much he knew. A sickness rose in her stomach, and a calm rage added fire to her words.

  Simon drew in a long breath, which seemed to rattle across the miles. “I think you’re in danger. I think something terrible has happened to your parents and I know you need to come to me now. I am the only one who can protect you. Where are you?” he asked.

  “I’m safe, with a friend, and I’m not telling you where.” Her words sounded petulant and silly, she should trust him.

  “Why, what has happened?” Concern raised his voice a notch.

  “You know, damn it. I think only you could have done this, and now you pretend to be my friend. What sort of fool do you think I am?”

  “Jenny, wait. I am your friend.” He paused, “So, it’s true, your father is dead. What about Helen?”

  “Mum too” Jenny’s voice wobbled. She bit her lip in confusion, so wanting to believe Simon. He could protect her. And there was the message from her mum. What should she do?

  “I’m so sorry.” Simon’s voice seemed far away and a little lonely. “Jenny I know we’ve had our differences, but you have to trust me, you are in danger. I feel a dark force building, there’s a mage, one I don’t recognize, and he is close to you. If he finds you, he will want to use you in a sacrifice on your thirtieth birthday.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m safe. I’m at a friend’s and thinking of staying here till after Saturday. Simon, I think the Police will want to talk to you.”

  “Ok, I’ll ring them, but do me a favor. Meet me.”

  “No I think I’m safer here,” she said.

  “You don’t understand. I tried a locator spell last night, and I can’t find you. Which means the person who committed these crimes is hiding you. This means if he doesn’t already know where you are, he soon will.”

  “Simon, how can I believe you? How many times have I heard you and dad laugh that you two were the only ones who could harm each other? There is no other powerful mage out there, even if I believe in this magic crap anyway.” She hung up the phone in frustration. Sitting back down on the bed hard, she dropped her head into her hands. The pain was so intense, and the images of her parents so vivid. “Oh, mum. Who do I trust?”

  She heard footsteps, followed by a knock. “Can I come in?” Robert asked.

  “Sure.”

  He opened the door and entered a concerned look on his kindly face. “How are you? Did I hear talking?”

  “Simon rang me.” She looked at him and attempted a smile.

  “Did you tell him where you are?” he asked, a little sharply.

  “No, I’m too afraid of him for that, but part of me thinks I should go to him. Robert what do I do?”

  “Why did he ring you?” Robert asked, his head tipped slightly.

  “He said he had a nightmare about mum and dad.” Her voice faltered on the names. “Said he tried to locate me and couldn’t, so he was worried.” She raised her eyebrows, silently asking Robert for his opinion.

  “Well, it sounds a bit suspect to me. If he knew something was wrong maybe he...” He ended the sentence there, leaving the question hanging. “Anyway, do you believe this locator spell nonsense?”

  “I’ve seen some amazing things. Remember that kidnapped boy a couple of years ago?”

  “Yes, I was impressed with that. Come on anyway let’s get you some dinner.”

  “No, I’m still not hungry.” She cast her eyes down, looking at the phone. Should she ring him back?

  “You have to eat,” he said. “Besides its tomato soup, my own recipe.” His smile was infectious. She tossed the mobile lightly onto the bed and followed him from the room. He was trying so hard. It was the least she could do, yet somehow she did not see the soup filling the hole of despair inside her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jenny shifted her position at the small desk for the hundredth time. She stared at the swirling circles on the laptop’s screen, allowing them to gently numb her mind. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. It was no good. She could not concentrate. She closed down her business’s online ordering system. A job that usually took her less than an hour today seemed to have taken all afternoon. She would find herself gazing into space, or just weeping.

  Robert had come with her earlier when they walked Rosie. The countryside was lovely, with rolling hills and lush green trees. It should have been pleasant, relaxing even. They found a nice farm track where Rosie ran for the sheer joy of it. With her head down and her jowls flapping wildly, the dog had raced up and down the muddy lane. Every smell was exciting and had to be investigated. She would stick her nose to the ground and sniff heavily. It had even been funny to see the usually immaculate Robert in jeans and wellies. But Jenny just found herself angry, the gentle breeze infuriated, rather than soothed. A robin that followed them incensed, rather than intrigued her. Would she ever see beauty again in a world that could be so cruel?

  A rap on the door sent shock-waves of panic down her spine as Robert’s head appeared around the door. “I have to go out for a while, visit with the police and check up on a few things. Will you be ok?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine.” She looked up at him comforted, by his calm strength and reassurance. “Should I come with you?”

  “No they just want to see me, for the moment.” He watched her for a second longer before turning. “Ok, I’ll see you later,” he called, leaving the room. The door closed behind him with a finality that struck her as cruel. She sat, frozen in a forgotten time, her mind going over and over the previous night’s events. The message from her mum haunted her. Jenny this is about you, flee, get to Simon Hide. That message would not leave her mind. The sight of her mum’s blood-smeared finger pointing towards the wall was burned into her memory. What effort must it have taken to write that message? Her mum’s injuries looked… Instantly fatal. A terrible thought crossed her mind. Had her mum written the note? If the killer was Simon and he wanted to get hold of her, could he have written it?

  Distractedly, she stared at the screen. Nothing made sense. She stood abruptly and almost toppled the chair behind her. She steadied herself and sucked in deep breaths. They became gasps and then tears as she neared hysteria. She closed her eyes to ground herself and decided to ring Simon.

  She reached behind her to the bed, searching the covers absently for the mobile she had dropped earlier. Annoyed at not feeling it, she looked at the bed. It was not there. The blanket where Rosie sat alert and ever comforting was in the middle of the bed, the rest of the sheets appeared empty – no mobile. She moved the covers, straightening them out as she searched for the phone. She pulled them back to see if it lay underneath, then bent over and checked under the bed. “Oh, where on Earth did I put that phone?” she asked the empty room. She checked her bag, the dresser and all around, but the mobile was no-where to be found.

  Jenny left the room and absently retrieved the house phone from the hallway. She wandered back as she dialed her own number. She could hear it ringing in her ear, but there was no corresponding ring in the room. The mobile was not here. How could she lose it? Rosie cocked her head to one side, deep brown eyes watching her with a compassion and understanding that was hard to fathom. Jenny smiled at the dog and then stared around at the bright, cheerful room. It could grace the covers of any magazine. It was perfect, and in that moment she hated it. She fought down the overwhelming urge to tear up this facade of normality.

  She hung up the phone and dialed again. This time she wandered out into the corridor, and down the hallway with its happy smiling pictures of the family. There was still no ring, into the kitchen, neat and Spartan, no ring. Th
e living rooms spoke of an orderly and perfect family life, but there was no ring there either. The mobile was not in the house. Panic ceased her and then she thought maybe the battery was dead? Stop being so damn paranoid. She replaced the phone handset and trudged back to her room, head down and deep in thought.

  As she was about to sit down, her laptop pinged, informing her she had mail. She sank down, weary and defeated. Sliding the chair under the makeshift desk, she caught her ankle and cursed inside at the pain.

  She clicked on the icon, opening her mail account. The email was from Simon. Her hand hesitated over the mouse as emotions from joy to fear seemed to rock her like a boat on heavy seas. If she opened it, could he find her? Was she safe here? Rosie got up and crossed the bed to her. She pushed her wise head under Jenny’s arm. Signaling that Jenny should trust her instincts or that that she realized her mistress needed comfort. Jenny rubbed her head and looked down into those big brown eyes. “I’m being paranoid aren’t I?” she asked.

  Rosie just whined, sat down and wagged her stump of a tail adoringly.

  Jenny clicked on the message.

  Dear Jenny

  I visited your parent’s house this morning. A great atrocity had been committed. I think you know about it, which is why you are afraid of me. Please understand I did not commit these crimes. I have contacted the police. I know I will be a suspect, but I could not leave Helen and Alex lying there. Doris is missing, her car was in the drive, but I could not find her. Jenny, I hope she is safe with you, but I can-not feel her presence either.

  Please contact me, or come to me here at Wyleford Woods, where you can be safe. Your mother left a note telling you to flee to me. Trust her even if you don’t trust me. Remember, many years ago I swore an oath to protect you, always. That was a blood oath between me and your parents. It cannot be broken without considerable cost to me. I tell you this as I need you to trust me.

  The only reason to kill your father would be to get to you. As the daughter of a powerful mage, coming up to her thirtieth birthday, you are at risk. There are forces after you I can-not recognize.

  FLEE means -- First Life, Eternal Energy. It is a ritual for immortality. Well, not exactly, as it comes at a price that must continued to be paid. I do not know if your mother meant that when she used it. It could have been a clue for me, though it is usually the father killing the first born, so I am confused.

  Please, please let me help you.

  Yours forever,

  Simon

  Jenny read the email again, and confusion furrowed her brow. If Robert rang the police last night, why were the bodies still at the house? And where was Doris? Why had Simon not mentioned that the police had already been informed? Why had they not spoken to him this morning as a suspect? She cried out in frustration as the questions seem to swarm into her head and buzz around, leaving her dizzy and weak. A huge well of sorrow burst up and reduced her to tears.

  She found herself on the floor. She rocked and hugged Rosie till the tears dried up. Then she sat back at the key-board and typed into an empty document.

  I have to keep myself together.

  I have to find out where Doris is.

  I have to find out if I can trust Simon.

  How do I start?

  Staring at the screen, an idea came to her. Jumping up, she crossed the room as excitement built up inside her. She was doing something. She rushed down the hall-way to the phone. Picking it up, she dialed the local police station, remembering the number from last year when a gang of motorbike thugs had been causing problems behind her mum’s house. It brought a smile to her face. Her dad had wanted to send a spell against them, causing them to fall from their bikes whenever they came within five hundred yards of Raseby Manor. Mum had laughed but had not allowed the spell. Jenny remembered thinking it would have been kind of cool.

  The phone rang, once, twice, shrill and uncompromising in her ear, and then “Louth police department…” The line went dead. Jenny placed the phone back on the cradle and picked it up again, no dial tone, just silence. She tried again, rattling the cradle on Robert’s old fashioned phone. Nothing. What was going on?

  She sprinted back to her room her mind made up. She would contact Simon by email. As she rounded the door, the laptop screen flickered, going on and off. She reached out but just before she got to it, it switched off and powered down. A small wisp of smoke rose forlornly from the casing. “That can’t be right,” she whispered. “Now what?”

  She was stood bent over the desk, trying to reboot the fried laptop, when Robert walked in. It seemed as if anguish crossed his face for a second, replaced with a smile as she turned to greet him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. A puzzled expression pulled his brows together.

  “My computer just blew up, I think.” She raised a hand to her head and rubbed her painful temples. She turned to look at him. “Robert, the phones are down. My mobile’s gone missing and now my laptop self-destructs. What’s going on?”

  “Welcome to the countryside. The phones are always out. Your computer, I don’t know. Were you on the internet when the phones went down?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Well, there you go. We get spikes on the line. One probably took out your laptop. I’m sorry. We’re supposed to have a filter thingamajig.” He shrugged his shoulders in apology.

  “And my mobile?”

  “I can’t help you with that one. You had it this morning, I think.” He looked down at his hands, rubbing them before he said. “Look, you can use my computer, but the phones may be a day or two. Sorry, we’re used to it.”

  “Can I use your mobile?” she asked.

  “You could, but I had my briefcase stolen last week, and I haven’t replaced it yet, sorry.”

  Jenny turned away from him, her palms were sweaty and anxiety beat a merry tune in her stomach. What should she do? She needed to know who was telling the truth. She turned back to face him, angry now. “Simon says the police had not been called and that Doris is missing?” She managed to keep her face calm. A steel band of determination held her growing anger.

  “Well, Simon wants you to believe him. I have just come from the police. I can assure you they are looking for him. He is a suspect. They want you to stay here for a few days when they will bring you in for a statement, probably early next week.”

  “Damn it, Robert, why should I believe you over Simon?”

  He counted on his fingers. “Well, I’m not a mage. I arrived as the killer was leaving, and you’re here with me safe.” He raised his eyebrows, opened his arms and smiled reassuringly.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She rushed into his arms, burying her head on his firm shoulders. He was right, she felt comforted and safe in his arms, but doubt nagged at her mind. Simon had been sworn to protect her that she did remember. But did she? She had been very young and a vision came into her mind of Simon old, yet they were the same age. Had it been his dad?

  Robert pulled back, a little embarrassed. “Let’s get you my computer.”

  Rosie sat on the bed, a grumble low in her throat and her eyes were ever watchful.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pain roused Doris from a fitful sleep. The wounds on her shoulders had started to fester, and thin yellow pus oozed over stiff and sore muscles. She felt alternately cold and miserable and hot and feverish, and the sleep hadn’t helped her rest but had left her even more exhausted.

  She blinked eyes that were sore, sticky and blurred, and gradually her surroundings came into focus. The mist was still there, poised, like some living circle of hate that surrounded her. It pulsated gently and she could feel it in the air, cold and clammy like sweat. From the pit a noise caused a spike of adrenaline that sent waves of heat down her arms. The hole appeared to exhale. The breathing gradually increased in volume, as she came fully awake.

  Despair washed over her as she remembered how helpless she was. She ached like Hell had beaten her up and spat her out. Her bladder was bursting, a
nd the bonds at her ankles and wrists cut deep into her flesh. Blood wept from the sores and dribbled down her skin. She cried out in anguish and the mist seemed to contract back at the sound of her voice.

  The breathing continued to resonate, slowly and surely rising from the depths of that cold, lifeless pit, rising towards Doris. She shuddered.

  What more could be thrown at her?

  She listened, concentrating on the sound, it was an inhalation followed by a wet slippery exhalation. It was increasing in volume, as if something was slowly slipping out of the pit and creeping towards her. At the far end of the room, a light heralded the entrance of the Numen. He strode towards her. A boyish grin showed he was in the mood for fun. Doris strained back against the cross but had nowhere to go.

  “Hi, Doris, my beauty, how are you?”

  “I need the bathroom.”

  “No problem, my love.”

  He approached, a wicked twelve inch blade shining malevolently in the darkness. He waved it before her eyes, showing off its ornate carving. She recognized the patterns. They were similar to the tattoos on her body left by him so many years ago. They were the same markings, the same figure of eight, and the same snake’s head that terrified her with a wink in her dreams. He held the knife between them, his eyes binding hers to his over the evil looking blade. Quick as a flash, he turned the knife, bringing it so close to her face, that she could feel the chill off the blade. He caresses her just below the eye with the flat steel and moved it smoothly down her cheek. Its coldness kissed her skin as he scraped it across her cheek. Then, slowly, he dragged it down her face, so smooth that he caused no damage. Her breath stopped. She felt cold and still as marble, her eyes wide, as terror suffocated her.

  He stopped at her chin and pulled the knife away. His eyes followed it as it glided her down to her throat. He touched the tip into the hollow at the base of her neck and held it until a single drop of blood wept onto the blade.