‘No!’ She clutched at his arm. ‘No, don’t. We don’t know who or what it is.’ She turned round slowly, staring out into the dark. ‘Whoever it is doesn’t want us to know he or she is here.’
‘How do you know?’ Ken spoke close to her ear.
She shrugged. ‘Women’s intuition. Instinct. It’s not Adam.’
‘Is it Brid?’ Beth huddled closer to them, feeling an icy shiver running across her shoulders. Giles had put his good arm around her.
‘I don’t think so. Don’t ask me why. How far is it to the stone?’
Ken stared round. ‘It’s easier to see where we are with the torches off. Between the clouds there, against the stars see, that’s the high peak of Ben Dearg in the distance. I think we’re fairly close to the cross. We’re lucky there is a path up here now. Not so long ago no one came up here at all.’
‘Except Adam,’ Beth put in quietly.
Liza was frowning. ‘You called it a cross!’ She pulled at Ken’s coat. ‘We’re not going to find a cross! We are looking for a Pictish symbol stone.’
He nodded. ‘That’s right. There is a Celtic cross on the front and Pictish symbols on the back.’ He smiled at her cheerfully. ‘Not long, I promise, and you’ll see for yourself.’ He turned swiftly as a flicker of lightning lit up the horizon. ‘I hope that’s not the heathen Picts in action. When St Columba came to Inverness to convert King Brude his Druid conjured up a storm to frighten him away. Or at least he tried to. I have a feeling it didn’t work, because Christ’s power was so much greater.’
‘That was Broichan,’ Beth said slowly. She was wiping the rainwater out of her eyes.
‘That’s right. Broichan.’ Ken looked at her in surprise. ‘You’ve been studying your grandfather’s books, I see.’ He turned and led the way on upward and after a glance at each other in the dark, Liza and Beth switched on their torches and followed him.
As they climbed higher the storm grew worse. Lightning flashed around the mountain peaks in the distance, then began slowly to travel towards them and now at last they could hear the thunder rumbling round the hills. Beth bit down on her fear, forcing herself to plod onwards. Whatever was watching them was still there, she was certain of it, and as she caught sight of Liza looking quickly over her shoulder beside her she knew her grandmother was feeling the same.
Liza reached out and took her hand. ‘Not far, sweetheart. He’ll be there. I can feel it.’
Ahead of them Ken stopped again. He was flashing his torch around on the track in front of him. ‘The path’s gone. I can’t see it. This wretched sleet is obliterating everything.’ Ahead the heather and grass stretched in all directions, as far as his beam of light reached. Beyond that there was darkness.
Beth shivered and this time Ken noticed. ‘We’ll find it, don’t worry.’
‘What if we don’t?’ She was staring round, flashing her own torch into the distance. ‘What if Grandfather couldn’t find his way either? It’s getting colder. Supposing he’s lost? Supposing we are all lost?’
‘We’re not lost, Beth.’ Liza’s voice was still strong. ‘Don’t worry. We’re close, I am sure we are.’
Ken took a few paces ahead and stopped again. He shone his torch up into the rain and then he gave a cry of triumph. ‘I can see it. There!’
The huge stone slab, black with rain, reared up ahead of them like a great jagged tooth, illuminated by the flickering lightning, and even from where they stood they could see at once that there was someone or something huddled at its foot.
Alone in the darkness Brid stared round. She did not know where she was. She could feel the wind, hear the rain on the leaves of the trees, hear the thunder, but she was lost. Lightning flickered and she felt a charge of energy but in a second it had gone and she was left in the long dark night once more. A-dam was there somewhere. She had heard him calling her. Desperately she fought to reach him but she couldn’t.
She could feel Broichan close. He was hunting her, his skills far greater than hers, his strength unabated. When he caught her he would kill her and he would kill A-dam.
There was someone else there too; the Welsh stranger who followed Broichan through the layers of time. He was drawing closer.
She turned round slowly, feeling the wind lift her hair, sensing the darkness. If the storm came closer she would feel stronger. Her body, the body which lay in the bed as Broichan’s prisoner, was growing weaker by the day.
For him to kill her body without the soul would mean nothing. So he kept it alive by employing the best healers to wash it and feed it and give it broth and milk and wine until her spirit returned from searching between the ages. When she returned to that bed it would be to die at Broichan’s hands.
Her brain was fuzzy. It would not think properly. Nothing stayed in her mind save the one imperative, to find A-dam and be one with him. And now he had gone again. He was not in his house, not in his car, nowhere that she could find him, and somewhere out there, somewhere close, other people were hunting too. People who would take him from her, just as he had learned to come back to her at the stone.
She waited for the lightning to flash again, breathing in its energy, feeling the strength return. A-dam was close. If she could get to him she would take him into the shadows with her and then they could be together forever without bodies to shackle them.
She smiled to herself. There was another source of energy, of course. One which would revitalise her completely, at once. The shedding of living blood required no skill. It required no initiation, no special Druid learning. She had discovered for herself in the act of killing that the energy released by death would come to her. And close, near the stone, she could sense now the people who wanted to take A-dam from her. It was as her knife appeared in her hand that her wandering mind realised who they were, the two who had come between her and A-dam for a very long time. The woman Liza and the child of A-dam’s child, Beth.
It was right that they should die to give her and A-dam life.
‘Is he still alive?’ The five figures huddling over him shone their torches down at Adam, and saw his white face, his soaked clothes, his closed eyes, felt his freezing skin. Ken pressed beneath the old man’s ear, seeking for a pulse, and he looked up, shaking the rain from his eyes. ‘I’ve got one. He’s alive. But only just.’
He was tearing off his own jacket when Liza put her hand on his arm. ‘There’s no point in you dying of cold too, Ken. You need it.’
He stared at her and then he nodded. He lowered the rucksack to the ground and tore it open. ‘Help me wrap him up. Here, Beth,’ he groped frantically in his pocket, his fingers wet with rain, ‘take the phone, ring the police. We’re going to need help getting him out of here.’
She took it from him as he, Moira and Giles worked on Adam in the light from the two torches which Liza held aloft. From the rucksack came chemical heatpacks which Ken tucked inside Adam’s shirt and jacket at armpit and groin, then they wrapped him in the deceptively frail foil survival blanket, their fingers slipping in the cold rain, fixing the cocoon around him with its sticky tapes, then finally Ken reached for the bright orange survival bag.
As they hurried to make him warm, Beth, with her back to the wind, fumbled with the tiny buttons on the phone, her frozen fingers slipping as she tried to dial.
‘I can’t get a signal.’ Panicking, she tried again, moving further away from them. ‘Ken, I can’t get through!’ She turned round slowly and moved further, wondering if the stone itself was interfering with the reception.
Preoccupied in their small intense circle of torchlight the others did not hear her. The wind was trying to wrestle the bag out of their hands, and Adam was a dead weight between them, his head falling back helplessly, his eyes still closed.
In the trees Brid watched, the knife steady in her hand. Adam was ill. She reached out for him in the darkness.
A-dam, what is wrong? A-dam, come to me.
There was no reply. She was not strong enough.
&n
bsp; Her eyes narrowed. Beth was moving closer to the trees.
‘Hello?’ Beth had dialled and was trying to hear if there was a ringing tone against the roar of the wind. ‘Hello? Help us, please! We’ve found him at the cross. He’s unconscious. He’s desperately ill. Hello, can anyone hear me?’
Behind her Ken and Giles had at last managed to push Adam’s feet into the bag. Slowly and painfully they eased it up his cold body. Liza was chafing his hands, trying to warm them as she tucked them into the silver foil. Carefully they propped him with his back against the stone, letting it shelter him from the worst of the sleet and wind as they knelt round him.
At last Giles looked up. ‘Beth? Have you got through?’ He stared out into the rain. ‘Beth, where are you?’ His voice rose sharply.
Ken looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Where is she? I can’t see her!’
Ken climbed to his feet and flashed his torch towards the trees. Liza and Moira were still holding Adam, their arms around his shoulders. ‘Stay there. Don’t move,’ he instructed. He stared round, narrowing his eyes against the rain, shivering. He shone the torchlight in a huge circle, cursing the fact that the batteries were failing. He ought to go back to the rucksack and replace them, but he did not want to change them until the last possible minute. ‘Beth, where are you?’
The Scots pines were grouped on the side of the ridge. Frowning, he stared at Giles. Why couldn’t they see her torch? Had hers failed?
‘Beth?’ Giles bellowed with all his strength, but the wind snatched the word from his lips and shredded it long before anyone could have heard it. He glanced back at Liza. She had both her arms round Adam, rocking him gently, willing warmth back into his frozen, wet body. Anxiously he stared round again and took a few steps nearer the trees. ‘Beth!’
Ken followed him. Now that he was standing up again and could feel the full force of the wind he was suddenly very tired. He stopped. He should never have allowed them all to come up here. He should have left it to the professionals. But every time he had been here before the weather had been gentle, the path easy to see, the views stunningly clear on every side. He had not realised how steep the path was, or how rugged the ground. Beth could have tripped and fallen, or lost herself in the trees. She could have slipped into a boggy mire or fallen over one of the cliffs which sliced the countryside into its stunningly rugged profile.
‘Beth!’ He was growing hoarse and he could feel the chill penetrating his body to the bone.
And then he saw her. The smallest flash from the torch, its beam weak, over by the trees. She had her hand to her ear – still trying to make herself heard on the mobile against the raging wind.
‘Beth!’ He pointed at her, his torch picking up at last her pale green jacket and her white face being lashed by her hair. Giles strode towards her. He had nearly reached her when they heard the growl from the trees.
She lowered the phone and stared in the direction of the noise. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Come away. Slowly.’ He held out his hand towards her, directing the beam of the torch into the pines. ‘It can’t be the same one. It can’t!’
‘It is. It’s Brid. She’s come for Adam.’ She was breathing heavily, the phone clutched in her hand. ‘Oh God, where is she? I can’t see!’
Giles stretched forward and caught her elbow. ‘This way. Away from the trees. Don’t run.’
The torch beam was failing. He glanced back. Ken was standing waiting for them, his torch pointed in their direction. Behind him at the stone Liza and Moira were still cradling Adam, oblivious to what was going on. They had nothing to protect themselves with, beyond the heavy torch with its rubber casing.
‘Ken!’ Beth called softly. ‘Help us!’ As she and Giles walked cautiously towards him she heard another snarl and she saw Ken look round. He had heard it. ‘Ken, be careful. It’s not a real cat.’ Her eyes were straining into the trees. ‘If you know any really good prayers I think you should say them now.’ Her voice was shaking violently.
‘What do you mean not a real cat?’ The wind was whipping the words from his mouth.
Slowly and steadily Giles was drawing her away from the trees.
‘I mean it is a woman. Some kind of an evil magician. Please don’t doubt me. Just use whatever power you have as a priest to send her away.’ Beth’s voice rose hysterically. ‘She’s going to attack us. She’s done it before. She wants to kill me!’
Giles’s arm tightened round her. ‘Come on. Let’s get back to the others quickly. I won’t let her touch you.’
The growl came again, closer, although he could see nothing in the fading beam. ‘Come on. Quick!’ He broke into a run, pulling her with him, jumping across the rough ground, running over heather and tussocks of bog cotton, followed closely by Ken.
Behind them the cat leaped from the trees.
Beth let out a scream.
Whirling, Giles pushed her behind him and faced the animal as it flew at them. Freeing his arm from the sling in one quick movement, Giles thrust the torch as hard as he could into the animal’s face with both hands, hearing the crunch of bone, followed by its yowl of pain.
The cat disappeared.
Shaking, his hands slippery with rain and blood, Giles stared round in the dark. The torch had gone out and he waited, breathing hard, listening with every ounce of concentration he possessed. Where was it? Had he killed it?
Suddenly a light reappeared over to his left. ‘Giles?’ Beth’s voice was very shaky. ‘Are you all right?’ She shone the light towards him and then beyond him at the trees. Standing near the pines they both saw, for a fraction of a second, the figure of a woman. She had her hands to her face. As the light hit her she stared up at them and as she moved her fingers they saw the blood pouring from her forehead beneath the long dark hair, the frightened, pain-filled eyes, her mouth open in agony; then Beth’s torch flickered and died.
‘Sweet Jesus!’ Ken was staring at the spot where they had seen her. ‘Oh my God, what have you done?’
‘He’s saved our lives. Maybe.’ Beth caught Giles’s hand and held it tightly for a moment. ‘Come on. Quickly. Don’t wait. Let’s get back to the others.’
‘But the woman …’ Ken was staring over his shoulder.
‘Leave her!’ Beth was once more verging on being hysterical. ‘Come back to Liza, please!’
It was as they were making their way back towards the stone that Ken staggered suddenly backwards.
‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’ Giles waited for him anxiously.
‘Fine, just a stitch.’ Ken could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead. There was an agonising pain in his chest and down his left arm.
‘Ken?’ Beth was there now, her face close to his. ‘Come on, what’s wrong? Can you make it back to the stone?’ A flash of lightning illuminated his white face for a second and she could see the agony in his eyes.
‘I’m okay. Just let me rest a minute.’ The pain in his chest was getting worse. He couldn’t catch his breath.
‘We’re nearly there, old chap.’ Giles’s arm was round him now. ‘Only a few more steps.’ He glanced behind them into the darkness, but there was no sign of any movement.
Step by step he led Ken onwards, half carrying, half pushing him, terrified he was going to collapse, with Beth close behind them glancing in terror every few seconds over her shoulder.
Ken closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ He tried to smile. The irony that Liza was at least twenty-five years his senior had not escaped him. He was gritting his teeth against the pain. Trying to hide it, he closed his eyes for a moment.
‘You’ve been fantastic.’ Beth squeezed his arm. ‘Just breathe slowly and steadily. You’ll catch your breath.’ Her eyes scanned the black shadows between the trees behind them. ‘The worst is over. Once we reach the stone we can decide what to do.’
They staggered back towards the stone, and Giles lowered Ken gently down beside Adam.
<
br /> ‘What’s wrong?’ Moira’s voice was shrill.
‘Nothing.’ Ken forced himself to smile. ‘A silly stitch, that’s all. I’ll be all right in a minute. Giles. In the rucksack. New torch batteries.’
With a worried glance at him, Giles threw himself down on his knees beside Liza and started rummaging in the rucksack with shaking hands. ‘A wildcat attacked us.’ He glanced at her, holding her gaze for a moment, then he looked down at Adam. ‘Is he holding his own?’
‘Only just.’ Liza was staring at him in horror. ‘Are you both all right?’ She shone her own torch at him and saw the blood. ‘Oh my God. She’s hurt you.’
‘Only a scratch. Most of it is hers. I injured her pretty badly.’ Giles found the batteries and started to rip them from their packets. ‘Keep watch.’ He shook the rain out of his eyes. ‘It was a cat that attacked us, but then I saw a woman. Was that Brid?’
‘Of course it was Brid.’ Beth had knelt down beside them. She was staring out into the darkness, holding her dead torch in front of her like a baton. ‘She’s a witch. A magician. Liza was right. And she’s a killer.’
Giles slotted the new batteries into his torch with shaking hands and switched it on. He trained it on Adam and reached into the sleeping bag to check his pulse again. ‘It’s still very weak. Beth, the phone – did you get through all right?’
She stared round, stricken. ‘Where is it? Oh no, I must have dropped it when the cat attacked us! Oh God, I’m sorry! What are we going to do?’ She was staring round frantically.
He bit his lip firmly. ‘It doesn’t matter as long as you got through.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I got through. There didn’t seem to be a signal and it was crackling, and the wind and rain were so noisy I couldn’t hear if anyone spoke. Oh Giles, I’m sorry, I’ll go and look for it.’
‘You can’t.’ Liza was adamant. ‘You can’t possibly go back out there, not while that creature is still lurking around, and the phone will be ruined anyway if it’s been exposed to the rain. There’s no point in looking.’
On the Edge of Darkness Page 52