Vengeance Child (11 page)

Even so, Archer marvelled at the strange place Jay had taken him. The stone vault was several times bigger than a domestic garage. From the ceiling tree roots had grown through to hang down like monster tentacles. The place was full of spider webs. Spiders had even spun white shrouds over the car.

So why park a car here? He couldn't even see an entrance to bring the vehicle in.
Like me, the car's a prisoner here.
The eight-year-old approached it. Pulpy white bags adorned the tyres. Mushrooms? Archer sniffed. Indeed, an aroma of mushroom tainted the air. Paintwork had turned as dull as old rhino skin. Archer didn't recognize the model. And why leave it sitting here in the underground vault?

Now curiosity got the better of Archer. He tried the door handle. For a moment it stuck. However, after a good tug the door opened with a squeal. And, pooh! The car smelt bad inside. Red fungus had grown out of the dashboard like fingertips pushing through the plastic from the other side. Archer slid on to the driving seat behind the wheel. Green gunge covered the windscreen. Spider webs covered the speedometer in a rippling white membrane. Weird. Why had Jay shown him this? An old car buried underground? Who'd be crazy enough to entomb their car? The cold air made him shiver.

The vehicle shifted on its springs. A suspension that hadn't moved in years gave a deep groan. To Archer the sound embodied both pain and loneliness.

‘Jay,' he whispered, ‘get me out of here. I don't like it.' But there was no Jay. Only him, frail young Archer with the face of a haggard adult. Creeping shivers advanced up his back. Alarm bells rang deep inside of him. Get out, Archer, they could have been saying. Get out fast. Something's in here with you.

Rats, maybe. He looked down at his feet. They were pale blobs in the gloom. If rodents had made their home here they'd attack. He imagined the pain of rat teeth crunching into his bare toes. Although he couldn't make out any animals he could see that the carpet had been messed with black stuff. He touched it with his toes. It was crusty. A bit like spilt soup that'd dried into carpet pile. Deeper shivers ran through him. Something was badly wrong with this place. Terror folded round him. He panted hard. White mist billowed from his mouth. Despite his growing sense of panic he noticed little details. Like a pen that lay in the black gunge on the carpet. In the compartment that normally held things like cups and sunglasses there were a handful of coins. Dead spiders lay on top of them.

Wait!
The car rocked again on its suspension. Archer froze. He'd not been moving. So why did it move? Holding his breath, he didn't twitch so much as a finger. Yet the car wobbled again.
There's someone in the back seat . . .

Jay? No, it wouldn't be Jay. Jay's gone.
Without moving any other part of his body, as he sat there at the steering wheel, Archer's eyes turned to the rear-view mirror. Despite a ghosting of spider web over the glass he could still see. Heart pounding, mouth dry, the boy watched as a dark, rounded shape rose upward from the seat. Watched as he saw the brown blanket that covered it begin to slip down. It seemed to take place in slow motion. Archer stared as the dull fabric slipped from the figure. He knew when that figure was finally revealed it would be too much for him. He couldn't foresee a time ‘after' its exposure. When he saw what had lain in the back seat for years there could be no future for him. Time would end.

The blanket slipped away in a cloud of dust. Swathes of black hair. The gaunt face. A mummy face. It had echoes of female beauty. But the flesh had shrivelled. Skin had cracked across high cheekbones. The mouth was a slit framed with black lips. White teeth glinted. As if it grinned with pleasure at finding this diminutive companion.

No longer alone . . . Someone to keep here for ever and ever.
These thoughts slid through Archer's head. At that moment the overload of terror produced a dreamy effect, as if he'd fallen into a doze. His eyelids grew heavy. All that existed now was the face framed with long black hair.
She has no eyes . . .
He gazed sleepily into a face that had a beautiful sculptural quality, only it had been sculpted from withered skin and bone. Instinct drove him to push open the door. In a moment he could walk away from the car. Where would he go? He didn't know. But to simply get out of the car would be a start. Without taking his gaze from the mummified face in the rear-view mirror he slid sideways on the seat.

The moment he began to exit the car the creature in the back moved. A pair of scab-like eyelids snapped open to reveal a pair of bright eyes. They were a beautiful blue. Ocean blue on a summer's day.

Archer gurgled with fear. He swung one leg out of the car. Then the creature struck. A pair of brown arms that were hard as polished wood lashed at him. Hands gripped his shoulders. With a cry of fear he was dragged back into the car by its monstrous occupant. The door slammed shut to seal him inside. Once more he tried to cut his senses off from reality, so he wouldn't experience what happened next to him.

This time, however, he couldn't retreat from the real world. With absolute clarity he saw that pair of bright – blazingly bright – blue eyes as the creature dragged him from the front of the car into the back seat.

Skin tingling, a luscious sense of relaxation pouring along his limbs, Victor Brodman lay on the bed. In the light of the lamp he saw Laura Parris smiling at him. Two hours of love-making had made her so young-looking. The cloud of exhaustion she'd brought with her to the island had been dispelled. A youthful glow transformed her into a woman of such beauty that Victor could only stare.

She murmured, ‘Does this island always make people do crazy things?'

He smiled as he stroked her hair. ‘What we just did was crazy? I rather liked it!'

‘Me, too. It's just . . .' She shrugged. ‘Even five hours ago I couldn't imagine doing what we just did in a million years.' She wriggled round so she could lie alongside him, skin to skin.

‘Feel good?'

‘I feel brand new again.' Then she groaned.

‘What's wrong?'

‘I'm going to have to take Max back to Badsworth Lodge tomorrow.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘He needs to be back in a familiar environment. If he doesn't see his own things and sleep in his own bed he'll never get better.'

Victor experienced a pang of anxiety. ‘You'll come back?'

‘I can't promise. I'm sorry.'

After that they lay there as the weight of real life, and all its pressures, settled back on to them once more.

In the car Archer fought for his life. All he could see were a pair of huge blue eyes. They burned with the ferocity of flames. He tried to scramble away but a hand gripped his wrist. A second hand pulled back his fingers that he'd bunched into a fist. Then a sharp object – a fingernail? A knife-blade? – was forced into the soft skin of his palm. It dug deep. A cruel pressure.

‘Stop it! You're hurting!'

Those blue eyes burned without compassion. Swathes of cold hair from the skull flooded his face. Strands filled his mouth. His lungs burned as if he was drowning. The pain in his hand was incredible. It seemed as if a red-hot spike had been driven into the skin. With a desperate effort he twisted sideways.

A breeze hissed through trees outside the bedroom window. Archer blinked. Glowing in the darkness, the clock radio read 2.17. In the post-midnight air an owl hooted.

The car? The dead woman?
Archer desperately wanted to say it was a dream. Only he knew better. Jay had taken him to a real place. How, he didn't know. Fear still rang through his body as if it was a bell sounding out doom-laden chimes. He sensed an impending disaster. What he'd experienced had been bad. It was only the start though. He was sure of that. When he switched on the bedside lamp he checked his arms for bruises. There was nothing there, yet his skin itched as if it had been touched by something unpleasant. When he put his hands under the sweaty pillow to turn it over in the hope the cool side would help relax him something pricked his finger. He recoiled, thinking an insect had stung him. When he checked he saw a bracelet in yellow metal. The chain had snapped so it presented a sharp piece of broken link. That must have been what pricked him.

With a shudder he remembered the woman driving a sharp object into the palm of his hand. It took a moment for him to pluck up courage. Eventually, however, he picked up the chain bracelet. Adorning it, a flat strip of gold. Black specks were unpleasantly stuck to it. Even so, when he held it to the light he could read what was engraved there.
Ghorlan~Victor.

Thirteen

Victor Brodman carried Max's bags to the jetty. Laura walked beside the boy. Max's eyes glittered as if made of glass. Barbiturates damped down his jangled nerves. Yet his expression oozed nothing less than naked dread.

Victor tried to catch Laura's eye.
How long are you going to be away? Will you leave me your phone number? Can you come back soon? Did last night mean as much to you as it did to me? Will we be together again?
These questions were the ones he longed to have answered. That morning he'd tried to grab a few words with her. But after a hurried departure in the early hours from his apartment at White Cross Farm Laura had been busy making arrangements to get Max back to Badsworth Lodge. If the boy put distance between himself and Jay maybe the panic attacks would abate.
Some hope.
From what Victor had gleaned, once Jay had done that thing of chanting a person's name, like a mantra, then to all intents and purposes they were cursed. Of course it must be psychological, he told himself. Jay couldn't have supernatural powers. However, if an individual believes they really are cursed then bad things generally follow.

Down on the jetty Mayor Wilkes performed his busybody routine. He bossed around the man who'd moored the ferry to the jetty when it arrived. Some children from Badsworth Lodge had come to the riverside to wave off their friend. Although most appeared to be there out of morbid curiosity. These children Wilkes chivvied away from the water's edge with comments like, ‘If you fall in nobody will get you out again. This current is a killer.'
Charming.

The children muttered amongst themselves.

‘Did you hear that Jay has been saying Max's name?'

‘God, he's for it.'

‘I wonder what will happen to him?'

‘Whatever it is, I bet he doesn't make it till the end of the week.'

‘Max's a bully anyway. He deserves everything he gets.'

Constantly Laura spoke softly to Max. Mainly reassurances that everything would be fine.

Mayor Wilkes prowled the jetty. From his expression you'd have thought he'd bitten a lemon thinking it a strawberry. ‘What the hell are they doing?' His sour tone intensified as he stared across the water at the mainland. ‘Look at the idiots.'

‘What's wrong, Mr Mayor?' Victor enjoyed a brief but satisfying image of pushing Mayor Wilkes into the river.

Wilkes fumed. ‘The ferry should have been here ten minutes ago. It's still moored to the pier.'

‘Perhaps your committee have cut sailings to save money.' Victor spoke with an innocent tone, but he knew full well it would irritate Wilkes.

‘That's utter nonsense, Victor. The crew'll be sleeping off a hangover.'

Victor glanced at Laura. He'd decided to tell her what she meant to him – as soon as he grabbed an opportunity. Only it wasn't looking good. Another child was running down the lane calling her name. Nurse Laura Parris wasn't just popular with the island ranger. Everyone loved her. For a moment, he stood beside Mayor Wilkes as the man grumbled about the tardiness of the ferry. As a breeze whipped tufts of white cloud across the sky part of him planned the day out. He needed to check the shoreline to make sure no deer had snagged themselves again as they grazed on the kelp. Also, he intended to take the children to the castle tower. They loved the climb up the spiral staircase to the very top. He shot another glance back at Laura. Just a minute alone with her, that's all he needed. His perseverance was rewarded with a smile. From her hand gesture to Max she was telling him to stand there. In a slow sedated way the teenager answered with a nod. At last! Victor'd get his chance to speak to her. He'd already decided to give her the carefully composed note that was in his pocket. Maybe it was a bit schoolboy-ish but it just bore a few words, thanking her for her company, then he'd added his telephone number. Come to think of it, handing her a note on the jetty, would it seem weird? Damn. Regarding the dating game, he was seriously out of practice.

They were within six paces of reaching one another when a boy raced along the jetty shouting, ‘Laura . . . Laura! You've got to come to the hostel.'

‘I can't,' Laura said. ‘I'm catching the ferry back to the mainland.'

‘You've got to. It's important.'

Her expression became serious. ‘Why? Has something happened?'

‘The manager's sick. Big sick. All over the stairs.'

‘Go find Lou. I have to take Max back to Badsworth Lodge as soon as possible.'

‘Well, you're not,' Mayor Wilkes told her as he pocketed his phone. ‘The ferry's going nowhere.' He glared at the vessel as it sat in its dock across the span of water. ‘My guess is the hostel manager has the same as the crew. They're all sick, too.'

‘We're stranded here,' intoned Max, glassy eyed. ‘With Jay.'

I must do something about the bracelet. But what?
The question perplexed Archer. There were other dilemmas too. A man and woman ran White Cross Farm. Every morning they rang a gong to announce breakfast was ready. Archer would hurry downstairs, his stomach rolling hungrily as he sniffed grilled bacon. This morning he'd waited until half eight. No gong. No delicious bacon aromas. Just a strange silence. Even though the hunger pangs had started he decided it was important to show the gold bracelet to Laura. He must tell her the circumstances of the find or his head would burst. Laura would listen sympathetically when he described the underground car, and his fight with the mummy creature. For a moment, the eight-year-old stared at the bracelet on his bedside table. Touching it was creepy. Even to look at the dirty gold links made him remember all too clearly those dead features, the mane of black hair, and, worse, the blue eyes. They were beautiful, but they were terrifying, too. The way they blazed out of that mummified head. Archer gulped. His hands turned clammy while his heart thudded hard.