The other woman’s response was unemotional. “We make the demands; we give the orders. You listen. The alternative is uninviting.” The line crackled then disconnected.
Agnes stared at the phone in her hand, the woman’s words echoing in her head. The anger leached out of Agnes’s body, leaving her breathless and off balance. For the first time since agreeing to play hostess, Agnes thought of the children. Gibson had hired a refrigerated truck from a rental place in Mandurah. She’d seen the obscene-looking vehicle parked behind the doctor’s surgery, powered by a thick black extension cord through the back window of the building. Inside were the bodies of the dead. Children’s bodies.
She hadn’t set foot inside the truck, nor would she. Gibson had explained to her how the bodies were being stored before the meeting today. He’d asked her to keep it to herself. Always the diplomat, she thought bitterly.
But now she had bigger concerns. She’d heard about big chemical companies and how they had shadowy employees who handled the wet work. The call had been a mistake – a big one. Damn Gibson. She’d allowed his bombastic attitude to get her riled up.
“Damn.” What had she been thinking? I wasn’t thinking.
Agnes continued to pace. What will she do? There was no way of predicting how the woman would react to Agnes’s threats. Her hands clenched into fists, squeezing tighter until her bright pink nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms.
“Now what?” Agnes spoke to the empty room. The idea of running came and just as quickly went. No, this was her town. If the woman came, she’d be ready. She continued pacing while tiny drops of blood fell from her hands, leaving stark red spots on the pristine cream carpet.
Chapter Sixteen
Maggie drove away from Jackson’s house, feeling dread twist and grind in the pit of her stomach. The feeling was similar to a bout of food poisoning she’d had the previous summer, only this time the clenching and spiralling in her gut came from fear. A sick feeling churned and nagged at her until a cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. It was nearly three o’clock. The roads were eerily quiet, allowing her the freedom to drive slowly while her mind raced.
Everything Manjula told her fit with what was happening in Thorn Tree. When she was sitting with the old lady, it had been easy for Maggie to accept the possibility that something supernatural was at play, but now the ordinariness of the suburban streets, the clear blue sky and the pleasant rows of well-maintained houses contradicted that theory. The world looked so normal that it was difficult to believe that something as unbelievable as demons could exist.
Maggie’s grandfather had told her stories about evil spirits that tormented the sick and then stole their hearts. He said that they were invisible and only a medicine man could see them. Maggie recalled her father laughing and pointing out that the medicine man probably used the invisible spirit excuse whenever a patient died. She noticed a line of crows perched on the front fence of a run-down fibro cement house, their black feathers shiny in the sun. So shiny it looked like they’d been dipped in oil. What, she wondered, would her grandfather make of the sudden influx of birds?
Maggie hesitated at the entrance to the back lane, noticing the way the buildings threw jagged shadows across the patchy strip of bitumen. Dark dots scurried and jumped amidst the gloom – more crows? She decided to park on the street and enter through the front.
The café stood in silence, unlit windows dark and empty. The abandoned feel made her skin prickle, yet at the same time, she loved the place. It was more than a business, it symbolised her new life and everything that made Thorn Tree her home. Her marriage was all about Richard and his dreams. His aspirations of becoming a real estate mogul. His feelings. Maggie had been window dressing and an emotional punching bag. She was nothing – hopeless. How many times had he screamed the words in her face? But the café, her house, her friends... they were hers. Hers alone. She pulled the keys out of the ignition and held them in her hand. What did she believe? Was there more to the world than the human eye could see?
She thought of Tess, Ollie, Eddie, Doug, Annabel and finally Harness. Could something evil really be stalking these people? Stalking her? The possibility that Manjula was right terrified her. Not just because she was afraid of the thing she’d seen in her dreams, but because people she cared for, maybe even loved, could be in danger.
Maggie ran her hand across the back of her neck. Her palm came away wet with sweat. She got out of the car and unlocked the café, letting the front door swing closed behind her. Turning the lights on in the kitchen, she made the decision to tell Harness about the Acheri. What choice did she have? Risk looking like a nut job in front of a man she had feelings for or try to handle the situation alone. If she did that and failed, more people might die. Or maybe I’m going a little bit nuts. She’d certainly had plenty of experience dealing with a disorganised mind.
Even before she married Richard, she knew things weren’t right. He had mood swings, one minute excited and making plans for the future, the next angry and depressed. She’d kept that side of their relationship a secret, even from her family and friends. She was so convinced that she could fix things and, just by loving him enough, make everything right. Look how that turned out.
Maggie pulled her phone out of her bag and dialled Harness’s number.
“Hi, Maggie.” He sounded pleased to hear from her. It was a good start.
“Harness, I need to talk to you. Can you…” She stumbled, not sure how much to say. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”
“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “But it might not be until about eight. Is everything okay?” Concern edged his voice. She imagined him standing alongside his Jeep or maybe sitting in his office, the phone to his ear. In her mind, she could see the way the fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepened when he concentrated. The urge to blurt everything out almost got the better of her.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it tonight... Okay?”
“Okay.” He sounded unsure but agreed.
“Thanks. See you later.” She ended the call, not giving him time to push for answers.
Remarkably, she felt relieved. Maybe laying her suspicions out for Harness would help her see things with a clearer mind, make the whole idea of an evil entity stalking the children seem so far-fetched that they’d both laugh. She put the phone away and opened the cool room door, taking out a large tray of lasagne and sliding it onto the workbench. She wanted Harness to convince her she was wrong, point out the insanity of Manjula’s story. Maybe then the niggling dread coating her insides like a greasy aftertaste would evaporate.
She took a large knife from the block and sliced into the lasagne. Cutting a sizable square out of the side, she put it in a take-away container, the rest she recovered with cling film. She planned on taking the smaller piece to Doug Loggie and keeping the rest for dinner tonight. A tub of lasagne wasn’t much, but at least she could let Doug know she was thinking of him. She didn’t want to imagine what he must be going through; how raw his pain would be. So much death. She shivered, so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the outer door open.
Gathering up her bag and the food, Maggie left the kitchen. With the afternoon sun fading and no lights on, the seating area was a spider’s web of shadows and angles. Something unfamiliar caught her eye, bringing her to an abrupt stop.
“Maggie, you look like you’re on a mission.” The voice was pleasant, almost conversational, but the dark figure behind the counter didn’t move.
Maggie’s heart jumped with a terrifying thump that reverberated in her ears. “We’re closed.” Her mouth was dry, as if all the saliva had evaporated, making it difficult to move her tongue. The words, as they stuttered out, sounded shaky and weak.
A chuckle, like dirt shifting at the bottom of a tin bucket. It was the laugh that triggered her memory, not the voice but the throaty snigger that was unforgettable. The travel writer from Agnes’s party, the one who’d manage
d to reduce Maggie to a stumbling wreck with a few carefully chosen words. With recognition came confusion. Why was the woman standing behind the counter in the obviously closed café? Was she looking for money? Instinctively, Maggie glanced at the front door, hoping to spot someone passing on the street.
She inched forward, not sure if she should run or stay while at the same time trying to remember the woman’s name. The new angle gave Maggie a better view of the woman’s face. Wide mouth stretched into a humourless grin together with angular cheekbones gave her a clown-like appearance. Prapti – that’s her name. They stood in silence.
If Prapti intended to rob her, Maggie wondered why she didn’t make some move. “I’m about to leave, so If you don’t mind...” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but it came out more like a plea.
Prapti ignored her, running her hand over the counter, long yellowed fingernails scraping the shiny metal surface. Maggie swallowed and watched the woman rub her forefinger and thumb together as if finding dirt.
“You really must try to keep this place clean or people might get sick.” She spoke slowly, finishing with another chuckle.
Maggie’s eyes shifted back to the door. If she ran, it would only take her a few seconds to reach it, but she’d have to pass Prapti, who could easily lunge over the counter. As if reading her mind, Prapti looked at the door and shook her head.
“You’re always in a hurry. A hurry to leave me at the party, a hurry to leave the old woman’s house.” Prapti paused, allowing her words to sink in.
“How do you know about that?” Maggie managed to keep her voice even, although the muscles in her legs were itching to move. She needed to get closer to the door if she had any chance of making it out of the café before the woman tried anything. “You’ve been following me?” She kept talking and half-turned to the nearest table. She didn’t like turning her back on the woman, but putting the food down allowed her to take a step closer to the door. There was a flap in the middle of the counter; without warning, Prapti flipped it back, letting it slam against the flat surface with a crack. She moved with surprising speed, putting herself between Maggie and the exit. Instinctively, Maggie stepped back and braced herself, certain Prapti was about to grab for her.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” Prapti sounded wounded, but the clown smile didn’t waver. If possible, the woman’s mouth appeared to cover almost the entire lower half of her face.
“What do you want?” Maggie’s heart rate kicked up a notch, making it hard to keep her breathing under control.
“To offer my condolences, of course. I heard about your friend and her dead baby. I know squaws grieve hard over dead infants.” The whites of her eyes seemed to catch the light, reflecting it back like beacons. “It must be very hard for you.”
Up until that point, Maggie’s only thought had been escape, but the raw cruelty in Prapti’s words triggered something Maggie didn’t know she possessed. Rage, cold and sudden, flared up, washing away the fear and pushing her to act. Without realising it, Maggie stepped towards Prapti.
“Get out of here.” She spoke through gritted teeth, her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Prapti held up both her hands. “Now, now. I don’t want you to go on the war path.” Her strangely luminous eyes widened with mock surprise.
Maggie could see the woman enjoyed taunting her, so she forced herself to speak evenly. “Is that it?” She shrugged. “Have you finished? Because I have things to do.” She glanced at her watch as though bored with the conversation.
It was clearly not the reaction Prapti hoped for. Just for an instant, the edges of her smile shrank. Maggie felt a little spark of satisfaction. Her momentary triumph wasn’t lost on Prapti. When she spoke, the mocking tone was gone, replaced by a voice that was deep and thick with anger.
“You.” She jabbed a finger under Maggie’s nose. “You have no concept of what’s happening here. Do you really think a savage like you can be anything more than an insect to us? You and the old hag think you know so much.” The words were spilling out, her teeth moving like blades on a hacksaw. “You weep over a few dead children, but don’t see the beauty in what we do.” She paused, stepping towards Maggie. With the two women only a metre apart, she could smell something sour and musty. The odour filled her mouth and threatened to turn her stomach, but Maggie stood her ground.
“Stay out of this.” Prapti’s neck jutted forward, and for a second, Maggie thought she might bite her like a savage dog. “Go back to your house with the pretty red flowers and mind your own business. If you do as you’re told, your boyfriend might keep his worthless life.”
Maggie held the woman’s eyes – pitiless black holes of madness.
“Get out,” Maggie responded flatly. The anger that raced through her veins like poison only moments earlier was dissipating, seeping away under the barrage of Prapti’s hatred. Her knees shook. It wouldn’t be long before her legs gave out and she sank to the floor. What then? Would the woman pounce on her?
Prapti shrugged and turned away, walking slowly towards the exit. When the door slammed shut behind her, Maggie slumped against the nearest table and clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a panicked shriek. A moment’s relief, little more than enough time to take a steadying breath, came and just as quickly vanished. Prapti wasn’t really gone. Leaving the café might be a sick joke, another way of taunting her, and any minute, she’d burst back in.
Maggie pushed off the table and stumbled to the exit, clicking the lock in place with trembling fingers. For the second time in ten minutes, adrenalin flooded her system, giving her the strength to run through the shop. Sliding across the kitchen, she slammed into the back door, slapping her hands against the wood. The lock was in place, just as she’d left it on Saturday night.
“Jesus.” She spoke to the empty room before turning and leaning her back against the door. This time her knees really did give out, but instead of fighting to stay up, she allowed herself to sink to the floor.
Prapti hadn’t really threatened her. No, she threatened Harness. The woman made no move to actually hurt her, yet the possibility of violence felt so real. Maggie rubbed her hands on her jeans, trying to wipe away the clammy sensation that crept over her skin. She needed to think, to collect herself. Why was Prapti following her? Menacing her?
Maggie forced herself to take slow, even breaths, dragging air in through her nose and blowing it out through her mouth. The sound of her own breathing, slow and regular, helped calm her jangling nerves. The kitchen, while dim, looked normal, familiar. I’m safe, she can’t get in. Her mind threw up an image of Prapti, dark bottomless eyes surrounded by unnaturally luminous whites. The whole encounter had an almost nightmarish quality. She thought of the way the woman laughed and the cruel lilt of her voice. It was… Maggie searched for a way to rationalise what she’d felt when Prapti was in the café. Evil. Maggie drew her knees up to her chest. She felt like she was in the presence of evil.
It took five minutes of calm breathing before she trusted her legs enough to stand. Phoning Harness was her first impulse, but she quickly rejected the idea. If she heard his voice, she’d most likely breakdown, and right now, she couldn’t afford to look like an alarmist. No, she had to be in control when she told him about the Acheri. After all, Prapti hadn’t touched her, and until she had her emotions under control, there was no way she could explain to Harness how she knew Prapti was evil, without sounding hysterical.
It occurred to her that she no longer had any doubts about Manjula’s story. At least not the part about something evil at work in Thorn Tree. The realisation was terrifying and liberating at the same time. Maybe some part of her had always known that the world was a mystical and dangerous place. Darkness had touched her and in a few hours shattered a lifetime of learned ignorance.
She went back to the shop, her legs more or less steady. Not strong – not yet, but she’d settle for steady. Grabbing the phone out of her bag, Maggie made a call.
Jackson ans
wered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Where’s your grandmother?”
“Still asleep. I think you wore her out.” He gave a hesitant laugh.
“Can you go and check on her?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just do it.” Maggie was too worried to be polite.
“Okay.” He sounded hurt, but his feelings would have to wait.
It took a few minutes for him to return.
“Maggie, she’s fine. A bit put out because I woke her, but otherwise, she’s good,” he said.
“Jackson, I’m sorry I snapped at you, but there’s a woman – I think she might be dangerous. I’m worried about Manjula.”
“Is it about the Acheri?”
“Yes, it is.” Maggie hesitated. “Did she tell you about it?”
“Yeah, but I only half believed her.” This time there was no trace of humour in his voice.
“Jackson, is your dad home?”
“Not till about five. Why?”
“Look, when he comes home, tell him... I’m not sure what you should tell him, but be careful. The woman’s name is Prapti. She made some threats. Mentioned Manjula, not by name, but I think she followed me to your house.” She could hear Jackson’s breathing on the end of the line. “She’s Indian and… I think she’s dangerous. Just be careful. Okay?”
“Okay, Maggie. You too.”
Maybe it was the realisation that the things his grandmother had been telling him could be true or the possibility that they were all in danger or both, but suddenly Jackson sounded older.
Chapter Seventeen
The Chief Quarantine Officer, Franklin Wooton, arrived at the station at a quarter to two – half an hour late. He introduced himself to Harness and offered no apologies or explanation for his delayed arrival. Wooton, a tall, thin man with a fine, grey comb over, was immaculately dressed in a blue suit and silver tie. Harness noticed the man’s shoes were highly polished, the depth of the shine bouncing light every time he moved. Once the greetings were out of the way, Harness offered the man a coffee.
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