Hunters: A Trilogy (86 page)

The only thing needed was for someone, or something, to do a little clear-out of that dusty attic, dig out the weakness and maybe do a little gardening with it. Using a sprinkle of some black ‘water’ here, a soft caress of thorny fingers there, those hidden seeds had the chance to bloom, to become a black garden, a well-tended allotment of evil. Yes, once it had turned the key to that particular door, then there was to be no stopping the games that the Ogre liked to play.

George explained it all to them in detail, and as the show started coming to an end, he looked at Michael, and said, ‘You will be the one who helps us – you will be the one who makes the difference!’

Michael was shown it all, as he sat in his dead mother’s kitchen, and slowly the boy began to understand. The shadowy figure, which had been hiding behind that shower curtain in his mind, was revealed. The realities of his own self, and of who he was, leapt upon the boy. ‘It was me behind the curtain all along, I’m the shadowy one, I’m the figure that I couldn’t quite see, it’s me and I see it now – I see myself!’ His mind flashed within the brilliance of George’s illumination.

‘I’m the one!’

He was right, in many respects he was the one, but he was one of several. They were all in this together, and of that George made sure there was to be no misunderstanding whatsoever. Together they would go and give it their best shot.

At the end, when it was done, no more pictures and only some parting words from his teacher, George. The old man who was his…the boy thought about that one for a moment…‘Yeah, who exactly is he? My great, great, great…no way! I’ll have to pass on that one!’ Michael smiled to himself, looked up and saw that Jane was staring at him.

She had an expression of understanding sympathy in her eyes. Michael watched as the woman’s dark hair swished across her forehead. Her husband reached over and brushed it away from her eyes. She turned to Ken and gave him a philosophical shrug.

It was a gesture that said: ‘Well…this is just crazy, but what can you do?’

In the end, George had said his goodbyes. He wished them well and then spoke his final words. ‘Michael, I know this is strange, but trust me when I say that it will become more understandable to you. After a good night’s sleep you will find that things make more sense, and in the morning it will all be clearer to you. It is the same for everyone on their first time,’ he said, looking pointedly at Jane and Ken. George finished with: ‘I have only skimmed over the basics with you, Michael, merely to set the scene. Tori will elaborate later, when you have rested.’ The boy nodded in agreement, he felt shattered.

George pointed at Ken and Jane, saying: ‘Stick with these two – the ones who have come to help you. They are good teachers and also masterful human beings, amongst the rarest and bravest I have ever had the privilege of meeting!’ He smiled at the embarrassment his words had fetched to their faces. ‘They, along with the others, will take care of you,’ he said. ‘Stick with them and you will be fine, you will never be alone again, of that I promise you.’

He looked down at his papers, or whatever it was that lay below him. Glancing up one last time he said, ‘So, there we are, all done for the time being, but only just the beginning. I will see you all in a while. Do take care, and travel safely. Oh, and don’t forget the suits…’ With a wave of his hand, the old man departed into the milky swirl of the disappearing screen.

Ken pushed some buttons on the machine and the lights upon the silver case dimmed and slowly extinguished. He slid the computer back into its bag and asked if Michael had any questions.

The boy had only the one. ‘What happens next?’ he whispered. The thought of going and fighting the terrible entity, whose actions he’d spent the best part of a morning watching, scared him a little, but the sensation of fear was a lot less than the one of excitement he also felt well up inside his chest.

Jane replied: ‘Well, let’s see…we have some stuff to do here in the present, Ken will sort all that out, and then we have to pack before we go on a little trip. It’s not a long journey, but it’s probably a long way!’

Michael looked at her, not understanding.

Jane smiled. ‘Remember what George said, Mikey. Time is a relative thing,’ she said. ‘We
are
going a long way, to a place that is far, far away from here, but in real terms it may only be as close as next door. Think of it as standing and looking into a piece of two-way glass, to you it looks like a mirror, just your own reflection staring back at you, but to someone peering through from the other side, well…things may appear to be completely different!’ She shrugged and said, ‘I don’t really know the science behind all of it, and to be honest that little speech is just the one I use on myself when all of this gets to be a bit too much, you know, when I feel like I’m going stark raving mad!’

Ken burst out laughing behind her, saying: ‘She uses it a lot, Mikey, almost every five minutes, mate!’ He twirled a pointed finger at his temple in a display of the madness with which he was accusing his wife of being afflicted.

Jane raised her eyebrows, and then turned and looked at Michael, who had also started laughing. ‘Oh, that’s just bloody great!’ she said. ‘Another damned, humorous man in my life, ganging up on me – that’s just what I need!’ She hid her smile behind a raised hand and glared at Ken. The action was a very human one, full of caring, laughter and love.

That one, simple gesture scattered all of the boy’s fears, they raced away from him and burst like bubbles on a thistle. They were gone, and with their departure, Michael took another step on the road to his destiny. It was to be a long and somewhat rocky road, but at least he had begun the journey. As George had said only moments before, Michael would not be alone during his journey, and he would never be alone again, not ever.

And so, the final battle had begun. The first tentative steps were taken by George and his warriors, and it would not be too long before those toddling steps became a run. The Demon Hunters were quick learners and they had gathered the final of their number, the boy was a very powerful talisman for them to have received. Without him, it is doubtful whether they would have been able to take any steps forward at all.

***

The Dark One knew this, and as he felt the shift of their growing numbers, the increase in their power, the yellow-eyed one shivered. Don’t be mistaken, though, his shiver was not one of fear nor one of dread. No, his frisson, the shuddering quake pulsing up and down the blackness of his form, was one of gleeful anticipation. ‘What better than to have all of my little enemies in one place, what could possibly be better? Oh, how lovely!’ he chuckled, the rusty sound echoing within the dark walls of his hidden cave.

If anyone should have been there to hear such a sound, then their days would have ended in fire. Instantaneous self-combustion would have been the result of any such careless eavesdropping. No, luckily enough it was only the Demon and his laughter that occupied this hiding place. High up in the mountains, he sat and giggled as he patiently lined up his toys. He was so high that he may well have been halfway to the moon. Everything was coming along just fine – his host was clever, the cleverest of them all. The most powerful host the Dark One had ever occupied, and one who had already caused so much damage to that fuking prick, George! The Demon had no idea that ‘George’ was even the old man’s name, and neither did he care, it was his host who did the talking – he felt that hated name spit from its warm lips. The equally-warm body of the recipient gladly welcomed the slippery blackness of the Demon’s invasive presence, and he writhed in comfort within the welcoming mind of it. They suited each other, like blood and guts, fire and brimstone, murder and mayhem.

They were the perfect partners.

***

Michael Wildeman spent a further two days in the company of his new friends. Actually, he had begun to think of them as more than merely friends, they were partners and teachers, family. Either way, he found them to be good company. The couple seemed so close, not only in body but also in mind. They were good fun, too, always ‘taking the mickey’ out of each other and having a good laugh. Underneath their carefree veneer, the boy also saw a towering strength – their partnership looked to be unassailable. Their love of each other and the candid way in which they discussed things, the insane things that had been dumped into Michael’s lap, reassured the young man. He trusted them and found that his eagerness for the trip, a strange departure for a place as yet to be revealed, was becoming stronger by the day.

As was usual with his kind, Michael’s feet began to itch.

George had been right, the boy’s mind was clearer, he felt a new knowledge growing within, and its light seemed to illuminate his innermost feelings. The clarity of these feelings cleansed the dark thoughts, fear and dreams from his mind. There were dreams, but none of them were of the Darkness, which seemed to have been banished altogether. The only dream he had was one of his mother – he saw her walking through the night, walking alone.

Ahead of her there lay a silver door, in his dreams, Michael saw a faint glow peeping around the edges, it opened and he saw his mother run. She ran toward the light-filled doorway; he saw a figure standing in the glow. As his mother approached the light, Michael saw it fade and someone began to come forward. With a brilliant glow surrounding his figure, Jack Wildeman stepped into view.

The last thing the boy saw was Mary reach out to take the lovingly-extended hand of his father. They embraced, took one look backwards and then walked into the light together. Jack had his arm firmly around Mary’s waist. Yes, Michael definitely felt much better, altogether happier, he knew that he was ready, it was time to go.

Ken had organised the dealings with the house, an agent had been hired and would maintain the property for a small, monthly fee. Ken had also made sure of the paperwork and that all the legalities involving Mary’s Will were signed, sealed and delivered. To anyone who asked, the answer would have been one that told of how Michael was to accompany Ken and Jane on an extended holiday. He would return when he had come to terms with the demise of his mother.

Michael would be back when he was ready.

No-one did ask.

Ken had noticed the date and apparently it was the year 2011 – but 2011 where? Obviously they were in England; somewhere down in Wiltshire by the looks of things, but when he had gone onto the internet, which George had specifically asked him not to do, and searched for the Lodge, Ken was unable to find a single trace of their old residence. The only thing the satellite image showed him was a vast expanse of open heathland, some rolling heather, and the hills – but no Lodge. He looked for his bank accounts and other things, their apartment in London, friends, electoral roles, anything.

Nothing came back in affirmation of his or Jane’s existence.

It was as though they had never been born.

‘It’s no bloody wonder the old man didn’t want me to look – we’ve disappeared! Maybe we never even existed in this dimension anyway!’ The thought bothered him. Thankfully, Ken had no time to dwell on the feeling, because they had to go, and go soon. He closed all the windows on the desktop and clicked ‘Shut down’. Michael’s PC whirred loudly as it began closing down the hard drive. He rose to his feet and didn’t look back at the machine. Ken now knew why George had asked him not to look. With that thought in his mind, he went back to closing the house down instead.

At least he knew how that worked.

Jane helped Michael to pack, it was the last day and she had told him that they were due to depart in the afternoon. ‘Take whatever you need, there’s plenty of room,’ she said. ‘You just wait until you see the farm, its great! You are just going to die when you see it!’

She winked at him and Michael laughed at her deliberately poor choice of words. He picked up the picture of his girlfriend and placed it onto the clothes, which he had started to pile-up in readiness to be packed.

Jane glanced at the photograph, saying: ‘She’s a beautiful young lady, Mike! Is she someone special?’ She winked at him again with her face full of girlish mischievousness.

Michael blushed deeply, Jane had the uncanny knack of making him feel as though she was his best mate as well as acting like a trouble-causing, but very caring, older sister. He looked down at the picture and said, ‘Uhuh, yeah, she’s the best, she’s so cool!’ Then, with typical teenage male bravado, he added: ‘Yeah, I have a few others on the go, too!’ He looked up and saw Jane giving him a disapproving look.

She frowned at him and said, ‘Hmm, it seems like there’s quite a lot of certain Mister Wyppen in you after all, and not all of it good, either!’ When she saw the worried expression upon the young man’s face, Jane laughed and tousled his hair, saying: ‘Only kidding, the other one was a bugger with the women, too. A right little Romeo was our Mikey!’ She laughed and wiped a tear away from the side of her nose.

Michael hugged her, his reflex action causing them both to laugh once more.

Jane sighed. ‘Oh dear, what an awful mess,’ she whispered, ‘never mind, eh, Mike, come on let’s get packed, shall we?’

He agreed and they set to the job in hand, laughing amongst themselves as she held up a pair of his Superman boxer-shorts, or something else equally as embarrassing. In a short while they completed the task and two bulging suitcases now sat neatly by the bedroom door. Jane drew the curtains, pulled the covers up on the bed and then reached into her handbag.

Delving into the bag, she produced a folded, cloth object, shaking it vigorously until it became a strange one-piece suit. It looked to be made of silver paper and seemed to ripple. Michael blinked in surprise; Jane looked him in the eye as she handed over the strange garment. It felt very thin, almost like paper. Michael guessed it was probably a lot stronger as there seemed to be an almost steel-like elasticity to the material. When he pulled on the cloth it seemed to pull back, shrank slightly. The warmth of his hands made the material more malleable and it moulded itself into the shape of his fingers.