The Silent Touch of Shadows (43 page)

‘Do you want to take Russ? Perhaps he can help?’

Jake hesitated. ‘No, it’s not really fair to drag him out in weather like this, he’ll get soaked. I’ll try on my own first; I can always fetch him later. And I’ll take my mobile with me and call if I need help.’

‘Very well, thank you, Jake. I’ll wait to hear from you. I daren’t go myself.’

‘No, no, don’t even think of trying!’

The footpath was a sea of mud and Jake found himself struggling to keep his footing. His rubber boots were caked in the squelchy stuff, making every step a huge effort, and he was drenched within minutes. Impatiently he wiped the rain off his face for the hundredth time. Where the hell was Melissa? Was she even out here, or had she just gone to visit a friend and forgotten to leave a note? He swore silently as a wet branch slapped him on the cheek.

He walked all the way round the fields belonging to Ashleigh, where Melissa usually took her walks, but saw neither hide nor hair of anyone. Anxiously he scanned the ditches along the way, shining his torch under bushes and peering into thickets of bramble and rose-hip. Nothing.

‘Melissa!’ His shout was swallowed up by the wind. It was useless. He was only wasting his time. ‘Come on, Jake, think,’ he told himself. Leaning tiredly against a stile he closed his eyes and tried to imagine where he would go if for some insane reason he decided to go for a walk on a rainy afternoon.

The sound of running water jogged his memory.
The river?
She might have gone there, although it wasn’t near any of the paths she usually took. Or had she taken it into her head to visit the ruins of Idenhurst again? She’d told him about going there with Colin. Well, it was worth a try, anyway.

Wearily he trudged off once again, his boots making a slopping noise for each step he took. Fear for Melissa’s safety grew inside him and he stopped noticing the discomfort of wet clothes on cold skin. He had to find her. He just had to.

‘I can’t lose her now,’ he muttered.

‘I failed her
 
…’
Roger’s agonised cry suddenly echoed inside his head, but he fought it down with calm determination.

‘Well, I won’t, damn you!’ he yelled into the darkness.

The old bridge loomed ahead of her and Melissa could feel the sensations of panic beginning to swirl through her brain. She gritted her teeth.
It’s only a stone structure, for heaven’s sake.
There was nothing there that could hurt her. She strode on towards her goal.

She still had no idea why she had this urge to go to the bridge. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t go some other day. In daylight. She frowned. The whisper continued to run through her mind, egging her on, telling her the time was right.
Now. It has to be now.
The voice was insistent and utterly bewitching. She had no choice but to obey. She would have done anything for that voice.

The river was noisy, its water level higher than normal, and it rushed by at alarming speed. Melissa concentrated on keeping her footing so as not to slip into its murky depths. She shuddered as she looked down. The riverbank was steep and treacherous and in some places large chunks had caved in and fallen into the water.

As she came closer to the bridge she thought she glimpsed shadowy figures looking over the side, but when she reached the foot of it and looked up there was no one there.

‘Hello?’ Her tentative call received no reply. Perhaps they had been children playing in the rain. ‘Never mind,’ she muttered and concentrated on keeping the tentacles of fear at bay. She felt threatened, and as she took another step towards the bridge a huge gust of wind took her by surprise and knocked her off her feet.

Melissa landed on all fours in the mud and dropped her torch. It wasn’t completely dark yet, but she had switched it on anyway as she walked along the quiet footpaths. The light comforted her, made her feel safer. Now the beam was shining into a tangle of bushes, the light slightly dimmed by a glob of mud. Standing up with an exclamation of disgust, Melissa wiped her sticky hands on her jeans and bent to retrieve it.

Her hand closed around the handle and the beam swung in a wide arc as she picked it up. Melissa stiffened and gasped, remaining motionless for several seconds before she found the courage to direct the torch back towards the base of the bridge. Close to the water’s edge, the top of a human skull stuck out of the mud. Its hollow eye sockets seemed to be staring at the sky, as if in supplication. A scream rose in her throat and she flung away, retching into the nearest clump of grass.

‘Dear God,’ she mumbled, wiping her mouth with a shaking hand. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Melissa heard laughter, an almost hysterical mirth carried by the wind swirling all around her. It was as if she had entered a lunatic asylum where all the inmates shared a joke at her expense. Looking about wildly, she still felt threatened and wasn’t surprised when another gust of wind knocked her to the ground again. This time she sprawled face first in a puddle, struggling for breath. There was something heavy on her back, holding her down, as if someone was sitting on her to keep her there. The water began to invade her nose and mouth. She had to break free.

‘Sweeting
 
…’

Roger’s voice seemed to ease the pressure on her back momentarily and with a superhuman effort she heaved herself onto all fours and screamed, ‘HELP!’ She thought she heard the evil laughter returning, before being pushed back down into the muddy water. Panic squeezed her insides and she fought to lift her face off the ground. It was becoming increasingly difficult, despite the extra strength gained from the sheer terror she was experiencing.

Roger, help me again, please!
she cried inside her mind, and once more he seemed to come to her rescue, long enough for her to come up to breathe.

‘Melissa?
Melissa!
’ She vaguely heard the sound of her name being shouted, but wasn’t sure where it was coming from. In the howling wind and with her face half-buried in a puddle, it was impossible to tell whether the sound had been uttered by a human or by something else. There was a sudden increase in the weight on her back, then unexpectedly the pressure disappeared. Melissa lifted her face and drew in a shuddering breath before stumbling to her feet unsteadily. She ran blindly, as fast as her legs could manage.

‘Melissa!’
She recognised the voice at last and headed in its direction.

‘Jake, here. I’m here. Oh, thank God, thank God
 
…’

‘Melissa
 
… ooof!’ She catapulted into him and flung her arms round his neck, nearly sending him flying into the river. ‘What’s the matter? Have you been attacked?’ He held her so tightly, she thought her ribs would break, but it felt good. Wonderful, in fact.

‘No. I m-mean yes. But not
 
… by anything h-human.’ Violent tremors were making it difficult for her to speak. ‘The bridge, Jake, th-the bridge!’ His gaze followed her pointing finger.

‘What? What about the bridge? It attacked you?’ He stared at her as though he feared for her sanity. ‘You know, this ghost business has really gone too far.’

‘No, you don’t understand. It’s Roger. I-I found him.’ With a moan she clung to him again. ‘Oh, Jake, look under the bridge. He’s there. I saw his head.’

Jake patiently disentangled her arms from around his neck. ‘All right. Shhh, it’s okay. I’ll go take a look. Just stay there, darling, don’t move.’ Reluctantly she let him go, but disobeyed him and followed close behind. She tucked her hand into his and held on for dear life.

‘Be careful,’ she whispered. ‘There’s someone else there too.’ Jake frowned and headed for the bridge.

The wind seemed to pick up and was howling all around them. They leaned into it and made it to the edge of the river. Melissa felt the air crackle with menace, but Jake gave no sign that he noticed. He shone his torch downwards, swinging it back and forth to locate the cause of Melissa’s distress, and found it.

The skull wasn’t the only thing emerging from the mud. The base of the bridge was in the process of collapsing, and a section of it had fallen into the water, forcing the river to change direction slightly. Where the stones had been, a gaping hole was revealed, and inside it was possible to make out a human shape draped inside some type of material. At the top, the skull stuck out with a few tufts of hair still attached to it. Long, pale strands of hair flapping in the wind and glinting in the sheen from his torch. Jake closed his eyes for a moment.

‘Poor man. No wonder he’s been haunting me.’ Melissa stared down into the hole, numb with pain.

‘Yes, poor man indeed. I’ll have to call the police. If it isn’t Roger, then someone has been murdered, although not recently, I think.’

‘It is Roger, and he was murdered all right. He answered my plea and led me here, I’m sure of it. Thank you,’ Melissa whispered, staring at the lifeless form.

‘Yes, I believe you, but we can’t deal with this ourselves. We need help.’

He reached for his phone.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Sibell sat on her bed, cross-legged, and stared at her wedding ring. Slowly she slipped it off and ran a finger along the runes etched inside. The gold felt warm to the touch, the little emerald eyes winked at her.

‘Roger said you would grant me a wish,’ she whispered to the little dragon, caressing his head gently. ‘But I doubt you have the power to wake the dead, so I can’t have what I most want. There is something else I would ask of you, though.’ The gold began to pulsate with a stronger heat. The only thing left to her now was revenge. She was strangely calm and she knew what she had to do.

Holding the tiny dragon aloft, she smiled at him and told him her wish. ‘Kill those who wished my husband dead, dragon. Kill them all!’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Take away their lives in retribution for the one they took so callously. Make sure they know why they are dying, and make them fear death. Then dispatch them to where they belong.’

The ring was so hot now, it was agony to hold it, but she laughed and held onto it for a while longer. Then she threw it onto the floor where it rolled out of sight under a chair.

‘I hope you make them suffer for all eternity.’ Her voice broke on a sob and the tears coursed down her cheeks once more. The dragon would see to it. It was her one and only wish and she knew he would grant it.

Six months later the solar at Ashleigh was as hot as a furnace. To Sibell, labouring endlessly in the huge four-poster bed, it felt as if all the fires of hell were already upon her.

She had taken over her father’s room in the sure knowledge that her brothers wouldn’t dare return, since they would be hanged for murder the minute they set foot in the neighbourhood. She had decided it would be fitting for her child to be born there, as he or she would be master or mistress of Ashleigh one day.

Lady Maude came over to wipe her sweating brow with a cool, damp cloth. ‘There, there, dear, it will soon be over,’ she soothed, but she didn’t look Sibell in the eye.

Sibell’s travail had already lasted for nearly two days and her strength was fading fast. Her body was racked with pain, but sheer stubbornness gave her the power to push one last time.

‘That’s it, mistress. Go on, you are nearly there, I can see the head.’ Sibell didn’t hear the midwife’s encouragement, but pushed once more all the same. The white-hot agony slicing through her drowned out every sound.

‘Aaaargh!’ The scream came out as a hoarse whisper, so abused were her poor vocal chords, but at last the incessant pain left her. Sibell was dimly aware of an infant wailing, and then a bundle was placed next to her.

‘It’s a little girl, mistress. A beautiful girl.’

Sibell gazed in wonder at her daughter. ‘Meriel,’ she whispered. ‘Sweeting.’ There was just enough strength left in her weary body for her to bend and kiss her daughter’s downy blonde head.

As she turned her head she saw someone coming towards her, someone she hadn’t seen for many years. The other people in the room faded away into the background and instead she beheld her mother, waiting with open arms.

‘Mother?’ Her lips framed the word, but no sound came. A frown gathered on her forehead then, and her eyes darted around looking for the one she sought. The only one who should have been waiting for her.

‘Roger?’ She managed to whisper his name and saw the other occupants of the room smile. They obviously assumed she had found her love, and were happy for her. If anyone deserved some happiness, it was their mistress, she heard them murmur.

But where was Roger? She couldn’t see him and panic assailed her. Without him, she wasn’t going anywhere. Her mother came inexorably closer, beckoning her daughter, but Sibell resisted with all her might.

‘No! I won’t go without him. Leave me alone!’ Her mother shook her head sadly and Sibell suddenly knew it was useless. It was time for her to leave, and she had to trust that she would meet up with Roger when she arrived at her destination. She began to pray feebly and clung to the hope that God would unite them. She had to believe in Him. He would make it all right.

‘Roger,’ she whispered hoarsely again, before surrendering. ‘Roger, my love
 
…’