The Devil at Archangel (25 page)

guard rail which bordered the edge of the cliff appeared in front of

them. Then he wrenched at the wheel again, and the car was swerving

drunkenly back across the road in the opposite direction.

He laughed triumphantly with more than a touch of malice. 'What's

the matter, Tina? Not nervous, are you? There's no need. I know to a

centimetre the width of this road, and the car is like part of myself. If

we do go through die rail and over the edge it will be because I mean

us to. Wouldn't it be tragic—and beautiful. Tina? Can't you just see

the headlines in the Ste Victoire
Chronicle
—"Archangel Heir and

Bride in Cliff Tragedy"?'

'For the last time, Theo, I am not your bride,' -she snapped, her fingers

working feverishly at the door catch. 'Now, for God's sate grow up

and stop this car before someone gets hurt!'

His laugh was arrogant. 'In my own good time,
cherie,'
he said, and

sent the car heading for the cliff-edge again. Christina didn't believe

Theo intended to send the car over, but he was flying high and in his

condition a fatal mistake would be easy to make.

But this time they were safe. When it seemed the last minute was

already past the wheel was spun viciously and the car rocked across

the road again. It was a miracle he didn't turn them .over, she thought,

fighting her panic. It was almost dark now, the sky above flying great

streamers of black cloud. Ahead of them a solitary tree loomed stark

against the leaden distance, one great single branch jutting towards

the sky like a menacing spear—like the statue of the Archangel.

Christina's lips moved in a silent prayer: 'Help me.' And the door

catch suddenly moved under her hand. The door was open, she

realised, and she was struggling to hold it shut against the wind that

tore at it. She was very calm, and she knew exactly what she was

going to do. Theo was laughing softly to himself, driving straight at

the tree. Just another target in this incredible game of 'chicken' he was

playing, and at the last minute he would pull away again.

With her free hand, she lunged for the steering wheel, dragging at it

so that the tree still lay directly in their careering path. Theo swore, a

high startled sound, and she felt him brake violently. She pushed at

the door which swung open and jumped for the undergrowth at the

side of the road. Her body hit the ground with a sickening impact, and

she rolled over in. the grass and ferns and lay very still for a moment.

She moved at last very gingerly in case she had damaged herself, but

she seemed to be all in one piece, although very bruised and shaken.

She got slowly on to her knees and stared apprehensively at Theo's

car. It had come to rest against the tree trunk, and part of the bonnet

had smashed. There was no movement inside the car and after a

moment she lifted herself stiffly on to her feet and went over to it.

Theo was sprawled over the driving wheel. For one terrible moment

she thought he was dead, then her questing fingers found the strong

pulse in his limply dangling hand and she realised with a flood of

relief that he was still alive. He gave a slight groan and she stepped

back, her reason telling her urgently that when he eventually came

round, she would do well to be as far away as possible.

Half running, half stumbling, she forced her aching legs to carry her

away from the car, her feet making no sound on the undergrowth. The

wind tore at her viciously, whipping her tangled hair across her face.

She didn't even know where she was running to, wasn't even sure

which direction she had taken. Was she going towards Archangel, or

back to La Villette? She stopped to take a painful breath, her hand

pressed to her side. She didn't even know how far they had come. At

first, she had been too preoccupied to notice, and when Theo had

started his 'game' all other considerations had been driven from her

mind.

She began to trot again, regulating her breathing, forcing her leaden

limbs to obey her, all her senses keyed up to hear above the crackle of

thunder and the rising shriek of the wind, the distant sound of pursuit.

He would come after her, she was sure, and he would be angry, and in

his present mood, that anger might be unsafe. She shivered, realising

a little for the first time what she had escaped by her refusal to marry

him.

She glanced around her as she ran, looking for possible hiding places.

She had no idea how badly the car was damaged, but it was possible

that he might still be able to drive it. Had the headlights been smashed

in the collision, or would they come flaring out of the gloom presently

to pin her down like a moth caught in a flame?

It was some ten minutes later that she heard it. At first, she thought it

was the growl of thunder, then she recognised the throb of an engine,

not going fast, but coming her way. She looked round With swift

desperation. He would be expecting her to run inland, across the

fields, so she would go the other way.

She felt for the guard rail and lifted herself cautiously over it. Below

her she could see the sea, sullenly tossing its white-capped waves.

The surf didn't whisper today. It ground and tore at the beach with a

hollow, booming sound, and she could feel the spray on her face. It

was one of the most uninviting prospects she had ever seen, and for a

moment she hesitated, then the wind died away suddenly and she

heard the car engine again closer now and going steadily. She didn't

wait any longer, but lowered herself over the edge. She had expected

a sudden drop, but it was a steep slope covered in scrub, and she

clutched gratefully at handfuls of it, praying that it would not give

way under her weight. The wind grabbed and buffeted at her as if it

was trying to pluck her from her precarious perch and send her sailing

to the beach below, and she pressed herself closer to the cliff-face,

trying to become part of the unyielding rock. Some of the fronds she

was clutching at became dislodged and she slithered further down for

one heart-stopping moment before she was able to grab a firmer hold.

The car was just above her on the road now, its engine whining and

sounding rough. It was going quite slowly. He was watching for her,

and even though she knew that she was in the last place he would ever

look, she became perfectly motionless and even held her breath until

the noise of the labouring engine had passed and was gone, lost on the

howling wind.

She relaxed suddenly, tremblingly, and slid a few more feet. If she did

not take care she would reach a point where she could not climb up

again. She stared up at the darkness above her, waiting for the next

lightning flash to reveal where the cliff edge was. It seemed very far

away, and although she knew it was the wrong thing to do, she turned

herself gingerly and stared down into the seething blackness below.

For a moment, she thought she was imagining the gleam of light. That

it was either wishful thinking, or more likely some weird reflection

from what remained of Theo's headlights as he made his way down

towards Archangel. But it did not vanish or flicker, but shone steadily

on like a small beacon of hope. She stared down at it almost fiercely,

trying to dismiss the sudden wild excitement rising within her. Was it

really possible that she was closer to Archangel than she had ever

suspected, and that the small glimmer of light was coming from

Devlin's shack?

She made herself think calmly, and try to get her bearings. That day

she had sprained her ankle, Devlin had been riding a horse on the

beach. It had. not gone back along the beach, which suggested there

was another way to reach Archangel. A path—a usable track down

this cliff. Usable by a horse, anyway—a horse which-knew its way

back to the stable, and where a horse could go, so could she.

She began to move slowly and carefully sideways towards the gleam

of light. Occasionally she slipped, but now she let her body go with a

strange confidence that the gradient would not betray her. Every

move she made, she thought, was bringing her closer to Devlin—and

safety. All the same, she could hardly believe it when her groping

fingers ho longer encountered the scrub and bushes she had relied on

so far. There were stones, instead, pebbles and larger rocks which

slipped and bounced away as she clutched at them. She heard them

clatter down and knew with a surging relief that she had found the

track at last.

Uncaring now of the pain in her bruised and scratched body, and the

damage to her clothes, she let herself slide and scramble the few

remaining feet to the beach below. The bulk of the shack was

immediately in front of her, and she stumbled round to the door and

hammered on it with her fists.

She suffered during the next few seconds of silence. Perhaps he had

gone away and left the lamp burning. After all, the beach could not be

the healthiest place in the world in a storm. Or maybe he was—not

alone. And at that thought, none of the aches of her battered body

could equal the pain in her heart.

She was about to turn away when the door swung open, and he stood

there. For a moment his eyes travelled disbelievingly over her, then

with a sound between a groan and a curse he pulled her towards him

into the room, and closed the door, shutting them in together.

He held her by her shoulders, and when he spoke, there was

controlled fury in his voice. 'What in hell have you been doing? Don't

you know you should stay indoors in weather like this? This is a

hurricane, you idiot girl, although we're only catching the edge of it,

thank God. It's not some gentle English rainstorm to go walking in.

And what's happened to you? You look as if you've fallen down a s

cliff.'

'I did,' she said unsteadily. 'At least, I didn't fall—I climbed down.

Wasn't that clever of me?' She began to laugh, and recoiled, shocked

into silence by his stinging slap across her cheek.

'Sit down.' He pushed her without gentleness towards the couch. 'I'll

get you a drink and something for those scratches before they turn

septic.'

'I don't want a drink.' Her eyes were wide and hostile as she put a hand

to her face.

'Maybe not, but you need one—and so, incidentally, do I.' He walked

abruptly across the room and disappeared into the sleeping area.

Christina relaxed gratefully into the cushions, her soreness relishing

their comfort. The light she had seen came from a large lamp on the

work bench where Devlin had obviously been occupied before she

interrupted him. But how could anyone work on an evening like this?

she asked herself, as the building shook under the impact of the wind.

She remembered with a shiver the warning of the cheerful man in La

Villette.
'Tie your roof on or the devil's breath will whistle it right into

the sea.'

Devlin returned, carrying a blue denim shirt over his arm. He tossed

it at her. 'Wear this,' he directed briefly. 'It may not cover as much as

you'd like, but at least it will be more decent than those rags you're

wearing.' Glancing down at herself, she saw for the first time what he

meant, and the colour rose in her face. Her own jeans and top were

nearly in shreds. Her hand went to what was left of the zip, then

paused. Shouldn't she go into the bedroom to change, even though he

had not suggested it? She gave him an uncertain glance and saw that

his back was determinedly turned to her while he dealt with the

bottles in a cabinet. And it was only really a matter of seconds to

discard what she was wearing and slip into the shirt. It was buttoned,

and she was rolling up the sleeves by the time he turned round with a

glass in his hand. 'Here.'

She took a sip. It caught at the back of her throat and she choked a

little, but there was a feeling like molten fire running along her veins.

He gave her a sardonic grin. 'A concoction of Ludo Bellairs,' he

explained. 'He's thinking of patenting it.'

'He should.' She sipped again, and then leaned back, closing her eyes.

'No, Christy.' She felt the studio couch give under his weight as he

came to sit beside her. 'You can sleep later. Now, you've got to tell me

what's happened.'

She opened her eyes unwillingly and stared at him. It would be far

easier, she thought, just to shut her eyes and let the world simply drift

away.

'You were right, you see,' she said slowly. 'She—your aunt—did

intend to marry me to Theo. She said I could go —back to England.

But it wasn't true. She was even having the ring—the Brandon

ring—altered for me. Lorna May- nard told me. I—I ran away, to La