The Man Who Built the World (30 page)

The thought of Rachel in danger cajoled him into motion.
He moved past them, dropping his gaze so as not to get too close, the radiance of their glow enough to hurt his eyes in short glances, too bright for him to look at for long.

He reached the chapel’s doorway and slipped through the gap in the boards, out into the clearing where the rain now poured.
He already knew where to go; the image had slipped into his mind and nestled there quietly, a map waiting to lead him. He started into a run, heedless of his own safely across the slippery ground. His
faith
would guide him.

Matthew
.

The sharpness of the voice in his mind made him turn.
From the edge of the clearing he couldn’t make them out, but their glow still radiated from the chapel, and he knew they were inside. They were staying behind. He was on his own now.

‘Yes?’

Be careful. Danger exists in many forms. Take care, Matthew.

‘I will.’

We love you, Matthew. Goodbye.

He raised a brief hand, then started to turn away.

And
he
loves you too.

He stopped, halfway into a run.

Don’t hate him. He doesn’t deserve your hate. He wanted to save you when I could only take you away.

Matthew felt a cold shiver shudder through him and closed his eyes for a second, a tear dribbl
ing out to mingle with the streams of rain that ran down his face like the fingers of a tiny Lilliputian estuary. A tear of anger, a tear of hatred, a tear of guilt. He began to run, into the blackness and the looming boughs of the forest. He didn’t turn back.

5

Elaina leaned out of the hedge and glanced up the road at the taillights of a truck disappea
ring into the fog, heading up to the moor. Although she had not got a clear look, she was quite sure the vehicle belonged to Ian Cassidy. He had been driving like a maniac: it was lucky she had heard the thing coming in time to leap into the hedge otherwise he would have pasted her across the road.

‘You fucking bastard,’ she muttered, lifting her middle finger to salute the truck as its e
ngine faded into the distance. ‘You got my fucking clothes wet.’

She wondered where he was going in this weather, and at such speed.
It wasn’t like he had any family to visit, after all. She smirked wickedly. He only had that dopey friend and a son who hated his guts. All the rest were dead.

What was it tonight? Attack of the psycho drivers? That stupid fucking woman up on the moor had almost run her down as well, but at least she had busted her car in the process.
Served her right. Elaina didn’t feel the least bit guilty about leaving her up there. If the woman had been badly hurt, Elaina’s sour heart would have relented long enough to give the woman a hand, call an ambulance even. But there had not been a scratch on her. She was fine, the only problem she had was a nice long walk. Huh. It would do her good, give her a chance to think about her driving.

Elaina continued down towards the village, hatching plots in her head for something fun to do in order to kill off her Sunday evening.
Her sister was no fun anymore; she didn’t like to play around now the baby was in the house, and rarely even offered decent conversation. She was always ‘cooing’ and ‘ahhing’ over that damn child. Not that they had they ever got on particularly well, of course; in fact they could barely stand each other, but they couldn’t cope with being apart. The only time they really connected was at night, when
two became one
, as Liana called it, though to Elaina it was simply plain fucking. But the child had even put paid to that. Elaina understood now what most married couples felt like.

Ah, a married couple, that would do it.
She could use her charms and her magic to seduce someone, deprave someone who thought themselves free from infidelity, bring someone pure to their knees. A couple would be interesting, but the guilt would be shared, so that was no good. The aftereffects were less destructive. If a couple shared in something it wouldn’t tear them apart the way cheating would. No, she’d find someone on their own, seduce them, leave a few clues, cause a few shockwaves. So what if she used a little magic to do it, no doubt Liana would use hers to amuse the fucking baby as soon as Elaina was safely out of sight.

Hmm.
Choices. The village didn’t offer much, to be fair, but she hadn’t wanted to take the car and go further away. It was too much effort for something so rarely rewarding. No, the village would do. But who?

She fancied a man tonight.
Either would do, but sometimes she just liked a man, someone innocent, loving, faithful to his wife. She would weave a little spell, plant a few fantasies and then let him go, let him screw her like he could never screw his wife, let him live out the sort of things only the darkest of nights and a stolen flick through some internet pornography had ever let him think about behind his self-assumed veneer of morality. It was great that way. She felt a tingle of pleasure race up through her stomach at the thought.

Of course, it wasn’t just the sex that made it so much fun.
It was the consequences. Not for her of course, for a little magic made her vanish from their minds like water through a sieve. Only the deed remained, but sometimes guilt could be a wonderful thing. Elaina had lost count of the marriages she had broken over the years. She had even had a couple of suicide cases. Now
that
impressed her. She knew she was good, but just how good had come as a real surprise.

The deceitfulness of her actions didn’t even concern her.
Fuck it, why not? After all, hadn’t her mindless sister created love out of nothing for plenty of boring morons, kept countless hapless losers from jumping off bridges? It all evened out in the end.

Love and war.
Good and bad.

Liana and
Elaina.

She headed down past the church, holding her clothes tight against her to ward off the rain.
She was soaked. She needed to find a nice warm bed soon.

She headed towards the pub, thinking to look in through the windows, see who was inside, and more importantly, who wasn’t.
The village had a couple of possibilities. Sam Hagar was a fine looking young man. Dull as winter weather but well-muscled from hauling bales each summer. Mmm, she could really bite into a piece of that. And old Mrs. Carter’s son, Billy, he wasn’t too bad. A few years older than Sam, almost thirty, but still in his prime. Had a couple of kids, too. Well, that put him top of the list. What if they saw? What if they saw what their father was doing to the woman who had stopped by to shelter from the rain? What might they possibly see
him
doing to
her
in their own mother’s bed?

Elaina chuckled.
The thought was enough to make her lick her lips. Of course it depended if he were in. His wife played ladies darts, but what night was that? Elaina couldn’t do everything. She could
influence
people, but she couldn’t control a whole village. Christ, that sort of power would half kill her sister.

Not that she cared about that, but if her sister got sick, so did she.
She had to be careful.

As though the thought had triggered some switch inside her, Elaina suddenly lurched fo
rward, stumbling in the road, only avoiding hitting the ground by grabbing hold of the low wall at the front of Mrs. Peckham’s Local Craft Shop. She swallowed back the urge to vomit, rolling her head as her mind swam, turned over and over like a boat in rough waters. Her body felt like a pair of jeans turned inside out and hung out to dry, her skin felt taut and her legs shook, unsteady.

Liana had used her magic.
A lot of it.

Elaina dropped to her knees, waiting a few minutes for the feeling to pass.
Whatever Liana had done, she had done it in one sudden burst, and if she were still using it now it was as a residue, a background power current like a battery slowly wearing down. Elaina cursed her sister. If she were playing with that fucking baby there would be hell to pay.

Her head cleared, the rain actually helping her.
As normal, after her sister had used the magic Elaina felt an added strength inside her, a tenseness, a bow pulled taut to the point of breaking. She would have some fun tonight. She fucking deserved it.

But she was seriously pissed now.
When she got back, her sister would get a right talking to about that damn baby.

The rain had got heavier.
Elaina had to find shelter soon, or no amount of
influencing
would get a man into bed with a woman in her state. She looked half drowned.

She headed on towards the pub, wondering who would be about on a Sunday night.
Most of the local people were stupid, inbred farmers, sharing out a brain cell between them, more often than not losing it into that disgusting ale they drank.

The closer she got, the surer she became that it wasn’t darts night tonight.
Wasn’t that Tuesday? It looked increasingly likely that Billy Carter was off tonight’s menu. Sam, then it would have to be, though she would damn well make sure he took a bath first, muscles and thick shoulders or not.

She felt a little disappointed.
Billy Carter had rather leapt to the top of her hit-list, and with a few extra points to play with, courtesy of her stupid sister, she could have some real fun, but with his wife around too much planning was involved. Perhaps the pub might yield her an attractive outsider.

Lost in her thoughts, at first she didn’t see the figure striding purposefully up the road, about a hundred yards ahead of her.

Well, well. Who do we have here?

As she recognised the tall, lithe figure, Elaina wanted to cry out with joy.
Of all the people to find wandering about on a dark lonely night, well, Matthew Cassidy was the last she would have thought of.

Matt Cassidy.
He would do nicely.

Rather attractive, she had always thought.
And hadn’t she heard somewhere that he had a wife, children? Liana had met him already, though unintentionally. Elaina had only seen him from a distance. Liana had told her what she had sensed in him, the uncertainty, the hopelessness of his life, of his purpose. He had fled from a marriage on the verge of breakdown and come back here after all this time to find a father he had left a bloodied ruin in the snow, and a sister he had barely known dead and burnt. Perhaps he had come back to find himself, rediscover the illuminations of his soul, repair a few bridges.

Well, whatever repair work he had done, it was high time it got burnt right down again.

Elaina moved closer under the shadow of the houses, careful to keep far enough back that if he turned he wouldn’t recognise her, and fell into step behind him, making sure she kept him in sight. She was intrigued to know where he was going, but tingled with anticipation at the thought of what awaited her there.

###

Bethany’s Diary,
January 7th, 1999

I’m carrying his child. I can feel little him or her growing inside me, living within me, a part of me yet, but someday soon to be a part of this world. Pure, innocent, a tiny little angel ready to make its way as so many millions of others have done before. I feel so proud. Of little him or her, of us.

I only wish others felt the same.
Dad seems to be indifferent. He’s not happy, but not angry either. I think our whole relationship is still proving difficult for him to handle. Maybe when the time comes and our child is born, he will accept us. I think he will. He is not an unreasonable man.

Mother is another matter.
I have barely seen her in recent months. She hasn’t spoken to me properly since the night Red and I first . . . lay together, giving only occasional grunts and shrugs in answer to my questions. There is something about our love that she cannot stand, and it drives me wild with anger to suffer her judgment like this. I have asked her to be honest and tell me what she hates about us so much, but she just turns away, shaking her head.

I have thought about it a lot though, and I think I know what it is.
If I’m right, and I intend to ask her, then I don’t know how I can face her and then face Dad again. I think she loves him – not Father, but Red. I think she has secretly harboured this love for some time, perhaps even years, and it is her jealously that makes her shun me. I want to ask him, but can’t, so her word will have to suffice.

If I find it to be true, I’m not sure my own love for her will hold.
It is betrayal, pure and simple. Why can’t she leave it alone? After all, she is dead.

6