I have seen what awaits you.
Will recoiled, turning to see Jordi frozen rigid, as if something had not only walked over his grave, but jumped up and down on it. ‘You heard that, didn’t you?’ Will said. Jordi was too afraid to nod. When Will turned back, Uriel breathed no more.
2
Evelyn’s body felt heavy in the flimsy deckchair. She had stepped out to the front of the manor to get some fresh air, acknowledging there was little point trying to go to sleep, so it would be better if she did something to knock the cobwebs out of her system. Ever since she’d been woken by the castigation of Vladimir, she had not been able to drift off again. The one occasion around five am when she almost did, a whisper filled her head, making her sit up with a start. She was certain it was Greg. His voice seemed so distant, yet she could tell he was calling for her.
Back on Alton farm when she prepared to leave, she thought that although her life had flipped upside down, at least it was a new start. Now, it felt like she’d traded one brick and mortar prison for another. Celeste had promised answers, and so far delivered very few. It felt as though they were simply sitting around, waiting to die. Many of the others displayed their anxiety through their behaviour, and if last night’s drama was anything to go by, things were getting much worse. Evelyn, however, kept hers at bay, but it tore at her insides just the same. Without the calming presence of her Unkindness, she could not imagine how she would have coped. She tried so hard to shake the experience of Cradleworth’s visitation. It would not go away. She knew that once the inevitable arrived, they would need to search their fear to find their courage. Where would she look for hers?
The pressure built in her head again. Evelyn leaned forward in hope of some instant relief. It did not arrive, worsened still by the painful squawking of her ravens. She’d never heard them sound like this, never heard any birds sound like this. She forced herself from the deckchair and plodded back to the house, half-expecting to find them killing each other.
What is it, dears? Evelyn tried to focus so she could link with their minds, but it only increased the pain in her head. The ravens flapped, falling into each other, some moving dangerously close to the edge of the roof tiles.
They sent her a message, a slow aching sense of loss. The kind of loss experienced when she had wept on the planting soil over the body of her husband. The feeling overwhelmed her, turning her legs to jelly. The shadow of an old woman cast itself over her again. Celeste’s voice permeated the silence, seeping in through the strained connection with her Unkindness.
It’s Uriel. I fear he has fallen.
How did it happen?
It is unclear. The Carriers sense that he might have returned, which means he may have possessed vital information.
‘Uriel.’ Evelyn remembered the reverence of his voice as it led her across the fields behind Alton farm to the mystic trunk of the witch elm.
I am sorry for your loss, Evelyn. He was aware of the great risk involved in doing what he did. I know the bond between you and him was the strongest. Life is to be sacrificed now, and Gods must pay the greatest price.
Evelyn steadied herself. So what now? Uriel’s news could have been crucial.
We need to hope that Kaleb and Josie succeed in finding what they seek. It won’t stop Cradleworth, but it may delay him. They will be sacrificing their current lives for a greater goal, just as they did back on Kal Denon. This time it will provide the rest of you with a chance to save their souls.
Evelyn thought of Kaleb and Josie out there on their own. She yearned for her children, and Greg. The strength began returning to her legs. Will my carriers be all right? she asked.
They are wounded. They have lost their leader, but their power will return, and they will prove themselves during the battle.
Celeste’s connection melted away. Evelyn looked once more to the roof of the manor, before returning to the warmth inside its walls.
3
Jerrico had not woken during the night. He’d drifted in and out of REM sleep, dreaming of Cradleworth, the destruction he’d brought upon Walton. When he eventually opened his eyes, it took him a few seconds to realise where he was and what he was doing there. The red tinted light crept in through a gap in the curtains. He rolled over to put his arm around Kate’s warm body and discovered the other side of the bed was empty. A slight indentation in the mattress and a scrunched section of top sheet were the only traces left of her. He launched himself to the edge of the bed to look for her shoes on the floor – gone too. As he sat up, he jumped at the sight in the opposite corner of the room. Clover knelt, back against the wall with its scrawny legs crossed, twisting the tip of its knife under one of its deceased fingernails.
‘What have you done with her?’ Jerrico snarled.
Clover replied with its usual rotten grin. ‘Did Jerrico honestly think he was gonna defeat Cradleworth and live happily ever after with his princess?’ Clover drawled. ‘She’s scared out of her mind, but she still doesn’t wanna be near him. What does that say, huh? Princess knows she don’t belong here. She belongs with the rest of em, and that’s where she’s gone to be.’
‘Then she’s gone to die.’ Jerrico jumped up from the bed and started to dress.
‘No point trying to stop her, already long gone. Besides, the little girl won’t let Jerrico leave this time.’ Clover did not attempt to prevent him from going. It just sat and continued to peck at its disgusting fingers.
Jerrico stormed downstairs to the front of the house. Evelyn stood in the kitchen making her second pot of tea when she heard the front door slam behind him. Stuart and Heven were also awake and rushed to see what was happening.
Jerrico quickened his pace through the manor’s grounds, heading for the tree line.
‘Jerrico!’ Stuart shouted. ‘What is he doing?’
‘I don’t know, kid,’ Heven replied, as they followed Jerrico outside.
Ashley appeared behind them with Evelyn in tow. ‘He’s going after Kate,’ Ashley said. ‘Celeste will never allow him to leave again.’
‘Stuart, you might not want to watch this, dear.’ Evelyn tried to hold on to him but he shrugged her off.
‘Jerrico!’ Stuart shouted again.
Jerrico could not hear his friend or anything else. He desperately tried to find some trace of Kate, but he could see nothing. On entering the woodland, he felt Celeste invading his thoughts. ‘Fuck off,’ he whispered under his breath. The foliage thickened, and Jerrico sensed that it closed in on him too. He battled on, striking out at any branches that blocked his way. Eventually, his jacket became tangled. He tugged violently to pull himself free. It did not take long for him to get snagged again, and he realised it was no accident. The trees moved to slow him down. Celeste was willing it to happen, for the forest to come alive. ‘Stay out of my way,’ he demanded. The more he struggled, the more the woodland pressed close, forcing him backwards, passing him from one to the next. ‘Let me go,’ Jerrico screamed. He smashed his fist down onto the branch that curled around his waist, but it was far too thick and his resistance made little impact. He dug his heels into the ground, only to watch the soft earth give way underneath him. A branch whipped across his face, slicing a clean line about his cheek. The woodland tossed him clear of the tree line with one last show of force, and he landed on his feet, staggering back with the momentum. He ran back into the wood as the others watched on, aware that his persistence was futile.
‘Oh dear,’ Evelyn said. She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself saying any more.
Stuart turned to Ashley. ‘You have to do something.’
‘I know it may seem cruel after all he has been through, but he cannot take her with him this time.’ Ashley said. ‘He must let her go. It’s the only way.’
Jerrico screamed as a heavy branch piled into him. He landed on his backside and felt the trees dragging him once more to his starting point. Dazed and bruised, he lurched to his feet, glaring at the tree line. He could still smell Kat
e on his clothes, on his skin. She had left because she was afraid of him, and thought she would be better protected somewhere else. Still, she did not realise he represented her only chance of survival. The tangle of veins in the corner of his eye flamed like never before. He stood firm, screaming out in fury at the fire in the sky. Starting from the left, whole sections of the forest exploded into flames one after the other, like napalm from a fighter-bomber’s attack run. The tops of the trees were on fire.
The others, watching from the edge of the manor’s grounds, stopped in their tracks. They gasped, ducking their heads as the fireballs rampaged across their field of vision. The blaze bleached their eyes. Now, the ground matched the intensity of the sky, one burning in recognition of the other.
As the forest burned, Jerrico fell to the ground in exhaustion. Stuart set off at speed, and Ashley nodded at Heven to follow. By the time they reached Jerrico, they could feel the heat from the inferno on their faces, but just as the flames threatened to consume the forest and spread their devastation, they calmed as if they had been deprived of air. Within seconds, the only traces that remained of the phenomenon were the scorched treetops and their rising smoke.
Jerrico rested on all fours, broken and empty like a spent firework.
‘Jerrico? Please come inside with us.’ Stuart rolled up alongside him, placing a hand on the back of Jerrico’s neck. Jerrico responded with a noise somewhere between laughter and acute distress. Heven caught hold of Jerrico’s right arm to help him up, gaping at the frazzled mess Jerrico’s show of defiance had left behind. He pulled him to his feet.
‘You really are a weapon,’ Heven said.
‘I’m a horror,’ Jerrico replied. He brushed off their help and limped off towards the south side of the manor.
‘No point in going after him. However much he might need our support, he has to reach the first stage on his own,’ Heven said.
Stuart knew Heven was right. All he could do was watch his friend stumble around to the edge of the building until he disappeared from view.
Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep
1
The previous day
Barnes emerged through the tear he’d found within the matterless and landed on all four paws just short of White Friars, where he used to live with Eric Page and his mother, Carol.
When the call came from Celeste, Barnes was sitting on Eric’s bed in the middle of the night, watching him sleep. He’d wanted to brush up against Eric’s face to savour one final sniff of the boy’s scent, but resisted for fear of waking him. He had stayed as long as he could, then sneaked out through the bedroom window.
With all that had happened since Eric had never strayed far from his thoughts. Barnes just wished he could recall his face to memory. The image was like a blur to him now – a half remembered dream. The first smell to hit the dog’s keen senses was the smoke from the numerous house fires. White Friars had been set ablaze. What people remained, were out in the streets. Some were running, carrying TV sets or DVD players. The sounds of breaking glass invaded his ears on both sides of the road. He wondered if most of it was from the fires at all. Other people knelt and wailed at the sky, as if attending some kind of mass religious funeral. Their anguish seemed as ferocious as the flames eating away their homes. Barnes quickened his steps, weaving through the oblivious mourners and looters. The Pages lived at number eighteen, only ten houses away. Before he got there, he came across someone whom he recognised. Mrs Deaken was a neighbour from two doors down. In the past, she’d always petted him whenever he and Eric had passed her on one of their walks. She sat in the middle of the road, playing with a plastic children’s tea set. She pretended to pour the tea from the pot whilst conversing with the pigtailed doll of a little girl positioned in front of her.
Barnes took the risk and barked once to try snapping her out of whatever spell held her. It proved useless. Looking into her eyes, he couldn’t see anything that resembled the person she once was. He saw little point in attempting to console her, and he knew he had to keep moving.
As he pushed the gate leading to the driveway open with his snout, an unwelcome but inevitable feeling took hold. At least the house wasn’t burning like most of the others. The kitchen window was propped open slightly, enabling Barnes to paw at the latch until it came free and he could wriggle through. The house felt cold and damp. The curtains were closed in every window. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes. Everything suggested they had made a fast getaway. Barnes bounded upstairs, heading for Eric’s room. He reached a closed door, then he remembered the faulty catch and pushed hard. The room seemed empty and unlike the rest of the house, it didn’t look lived in. The bed was made and Eric’s scent wasn’t as strong as it should be. Only one place left to check. As he entered Carol’s room, the smell confirmed his worst fears. The curtains were drawn in this room, but he could still see the outline of two fragile bodies lying together on the double bed. Eric’s head and hands peeped out over the top of the duvet. Carol rested on top of the covers, face down with her head turned towards the door and her eyes open, one arm placed across Eric’s waist. Their skin had turned a sickly brown colour. They must have died weeks ago. An empty bottle of pills rested in the open palm of Carol’s other hand.
Whimpering, Barnes jumped up onto the mattress. He licked the cold face of his human mother as he stepped over her to get to his boy. He nudged the top of Eric’s head then backed away instantly, almost sliding from the edge of the bed. The face staring blankly back at him was not one he recognised. It resembled Eric, but it couldn’t really be him. His features were wrinkled and crestfallen, those of a sad old man, who had clung onto life for a few too many years.
How could a young boy age so much in a matter of weeks? Barnes thought. He was certain Cradleworth would have the answers ready and waiting for him. His low growl cut through the silence. He wanted nothing more than a chance to ask him those questions.
He shackled his rage, aware that these were the last moments he would ever have with Eric. An explosion erupted outside, illuminating the gloom and for a moment, Barnes saw Eric as he once was. The long walks through the local park, the hours spent exploring the woodland brook at the back of the house. Barnes could even smell the birch tree bark and the elderberry shampoo again. The light from the fires faded, and the darkness took the boy away. Eric had died before his years, with a lifetime of woe etched upon his face. Barnes heard footsteps outside, then a group of voices full of purpose and aggression. The bedroom window shattered, and a petrol bomb landed on the floor in front of Carol’s extravagant dresser, spilling flames across the carpet. He looked to Eric once more and whimpered. It was the only goodbye he had time for.
The fire took to the curtains straight away and spread to the bedroom door. He needed to find a safe passage back to the manor. The only way to do anything about this devastation was to stop Cradleworth. He leapt back over Carol’s corpse, jumping a pocket of flames between the bed and the door. When he entered the chaos outside, he barely acknowledged what surrounded him. Barnes had no room in his heart for self-pity. He would channel all of his guilt and grief into the destruction of his nemesis. He would tear through Cradleworth’s stolen flesh until he suffered the pain of a hundred dying children.
Dissolving Bonds
1
14 years ago
Vladimir sat in his room reading his favourite story, Hansel and Gretel, by lamp light as he waited for Kirill to come and tuck him in. Usually, Kirill would read it to him. His father could tell the story so much better than he could imagine it, but he had been busy that night. It was one of those nights. Vladimir could always tell when it was going to be one of those nights. There would be a lot of commotion in the house, people coming and going. His mother would be even more cold than usual.
The house lay silent, as if everyone was taking extra care to be quiet. Only one rule Vladimir needed to understand on nights like these – a rule, Kirill had gone to great lengths to impress upon him. Whatever happe
ned, whatever he might hear, he must remain upstairs. If Vladimir desperately needed something, he was to go to Nanny Fraer’s room, a couple of doors along the corridor.
Light from the landing crept through his half-opened door, all the way up to his bed. Kirill stood in the doorway, his back turned, in the midst of a whispered discussion with his wife. Sasakia glanced over Kirill’s shoulder to the boy’s bed, no trace of a smile to greet his. ‘Don’t be long,’ she said to Kirill before she disappeared down the hallway.
Kirill turned to face him, his middle-aged bulk blocking out most of the light that had seeped in. ‘Vladi, Vladi, you should be counting those sheep by now – always got your head in fairy tales. They will give you nightmares, you know?’ Kirill never failed to have a smile for him. He moved over to the bed and tickled Vladimir’s feet as he sat down on the mattress.
‘I like to play the stories out in my head again when I close my eyes,’ Vladimir replied through his giggles, shifting his feet from Kirill’s reach.
‘You certainly are a strange one,’ Kirill said. He was a perceptive man. That is what had kept him alive for so long in his chosen profession. Even when Vladimir was small, he recognised his difference. He could not put his finger on what it was, but he embraced it as a strength, something that would set his son apart from ordinary people. ‘I can’t read to you tonight, strange one,’ Kirill said, disappointed himself.
‘I know, papa. It’s one of those nights when you’re busy.’ Kirill turned his head to the door, making Vladimir wonder what his father was trying to hide.
‘You’re a good boy, Vladi – a good boy. Never forget that.’ Kirill placed one of his large hands on to Vladimir’s left calf and squeezed it affectionately. ‘I know your mother gets on to you sometimes, but don’t pay too much attention. She’s very uptight. She worries a lot about things – that’s all.’
Infanticide (Fallen Gods Saga Book 2) Page 14