Vengeance Child (7 page)

Victor glanced at Lou for a lead. She gave a look that said don't worry. She held up her arm to signal to the children to stop. ‘Victor's guiding us around the island today. Just now he wants to tell us something interesting about this beach.'

Hearing the tiny boy's cheerful admission of watching his drug-dealing father being gunned down derailed Victor. He raised his eyebrows, hoping Lou interpreted it as quick, give me a clue.

‘It's really interesting,' she said. ‘It involves sharks. Victor? Over to you.'

Instantly, he was back on track. ‘Sharks. Right.' He pointed to a stone slab at the low-tide mark on the beach. ‘See that square of stone. Seventy years ago the island's doctor had it put there. We won't go down there because it's too dangerous.'

‘Why's that?' asked Archer.

‘Quicksand.' He made a sucking noise. ‘Anyway, Dr Evans believed that sharks swam up the river to breed in shallow water. So he bought himself an old diving suit. One of those with the iron boots and a big brass helmet that fitted over his entire head. He'd a bad leg, which meant he couldn't walk in it, so he'd put on the diving suit, connect a hose to an air pump higher up the beach. Then he'd sit in a chair fixed to that stone slab. He'd wait until the tide came in and covered him. That's when he could look out underwater.'

Archer nodded wisely. ‘And the shark ate him.'

‘Uhm, no, it never did. No sharks come up this far, as he was to find out, but he did make developments in underwater photography and the doctor became famous for his pictures of fish as they swam underwater.' The kids weren't hugely impressed. ‘We can see the diving suit in the visitors' centre at the castle.' They still weren't impressed. A couple threw stones at the stone slab. Archer pretended he had a machine gun. He blasted everyone at point-blank range.

They continued walking. By this time a heat-haze made the outline of the castle ripple. Often the River Severn was a muddy brown; today, however, bright sunlight turned it golden yellow. Archer fell behind to talk to another boy. From the way he made a pistol out of his hand with the barrel/finger pointing at his own head Victor guessed the topic of conversation.

‘I like to picture your old Dr Evans.' Lou grinned. ‘Going out there to sit on the chair in his diving suit, then waiting for the water to get higher and higher up his body until it reached his helmet. Back then, to sit underwater must have been like travelling to another world.'

‘It's this island. It inspires people to think in unusual ways. Sometimes crazy ways. But it can make us inventive.'

‘What an amazing little heap of rock this place is. It gets inside your head. You think thoughts here that you don't think back home. I remember that story about the shepherd who arrived here a hundred years ago. He suddenly got this wild idea he wanted to write a play even though he could hardly write his own name.
The Value of Man.
That's the title, isn't it? Didn't it persuade the government to introduce old age pensions for the first time? Now what's the guy's name? Victor, you're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?'

‘Sorry. I was thinking.'

‘I'll say. You look like you're sleepwalking. Too much cider last night?'

‘No,' he said with a laugh. ‘It's just what you said about the island getting inside your head. Jay told me the same thing this morning.'

Lou tensed. ‘Did he say anything else?' She glanced back at Jay. He seemed lost in his own world.

‘Oh, this and that. He enjoyed feeding the goat.'

‘But there's something bothering you, Victor.'

‘If anything, I'm concerned about the kids. They seem different this year. They just come across as . . . edgy? Scared?'

‘Maureen's accident was a shock.' Lou called back to the children. ‘Keep up, people. We've got to reach the castle by one.' She walked faster. ‘I want to see that diving suit if you lot don't.'

Victor liked Lou. An open, honest, warm-hearted woman. But she'd changed. There was something she wanted to stay hidden. He hung back to point out to the group a lizard sunning itself on a wall. Even so, he found himself thinking about what Laura might tell him later. Oddly, despite the heat, his blood all of a sudden ran cold. When he started walking again he found himself in the company of the little boy with the blond curls.

‘Cool lizard,' Archer told him. ‘Can you get them as pets?'

‘It's not a good idea. They're better off in the wild.'

‘They bite?'

‘No, there's nothing to be scared of. But they're happier living a natural life.'

‘I'm not scared of lizards, but I
don't
like him.' He scowled at Jay. Luckily, the child was out of earshot. ‘Nobody does.'

‘Oh?'

‘Not even grown-ups.' Archer became angry. ‘If he starts saying your name again and again it means something bad's going to happen to you.'

‘How can someone saying your name hurt you?'

‘Jay said Tod's name and Maureen's, and look what happened to them.' Archer shuddered. ‘One day he's going to say my name. I know he will. Then I'll be like my dad. I'll be in a big black coffin and shoved into the ground.'

Before Victor could say anything the little boy retreated down the line so he could hold the hand of a carer.

Jay approached with a smile on his face. ‘Victor . . . Victor.'

Victor couldn't help himself. He felt cold shivers race through his body. The boy had spoken his name. For a moment he stared at those big brown eyes that seemed so other-worldly.

‘Victor.' Jay pointed to a clump of trees. ‘Are those Saban Deer?'

With a gush of relief that embarrassed him with its intensity he went to join the boy.
He repeated my name . . . I don't believe what Archer told me, do I?
As he pointed out the deer to other children he tried to push away the sense of superstitious dread. Even so, he remembered Laura's words when Jay had referred to Ghorlan: ‘
When he said her name did it feel like you were losing your grip and you could feel yourself slipping into some big, dark hole in the ground? Because that's how it feels to me.
' He shuddered. That's exactly what it felt like to him. A huge, dark pit of nothingness opening beneath his feet.

Nine

‘Adventure.' Archer stood on a tree stump. ‘Red alert! I want adventure now!' In his mind's eye he was no longer eight but a man. A tall man with muscles bulging in his arms, a pistol strapped to his belt. Something about the island excited this boy with a face that was more like that of a world-worn adult. An urge gripped him to be reckless. He eyed the trees beyond the fence. Climb one of those, then yell in a voice as loud as thunder, ‘
I am Archer!
' This wasn't like Archer at all. Back at Badsworth Lodge he was one of the timid boys. He avoided climbing frames. Swings made him nauseous. But now he was on this island . . . damn . . . damn! Excitement buzzed through him. He wanted to climb trees, then yell swear words.

He surveyed the island, pretending it was all his. The other kids had gone into the barn for fruit juice. But he was too wired to waste time sucking at stupid cartons. There was the river. What had Victor said? A goddess lived in it. Waves ran across its surface. In his mind's eye, he saw a beautiful woman swimming underwater with long hair wafting back, her kicking legs would make those waves. Maybe the goddess fought monsters in that wide stretch of water?

Archer studied the field. Nothing here to do. Nothing exciting anyway. Over the fence were massive trees. Wasn't it time he climbed one? He felt his biceps. There was a bulge of muscle, he was sure of it. He remembered his father's big, hard muscles. His father used to have a gym at home. There he'd work out with weights until it felt hot as a furnace. Sweat would drip down his dad's face as he hoisted those big metal dumb-bells up and down. ‘
Archer . . . get your skinny body down here with some water. Make sure it's cold. Archer. I'll give you to the count of ten
 . . .' His father had an argument with his friends. They had killed him. The grave in the cemetery had been like a big oblong mouth that had swallowed the black coffin . . .

‘Adventure! Damn to danger, damn to danger!' Whooping, Archer jumped down from the stump and raced across the field to the fence. He glanced back. No one about. No one to stop him! Archer climbed through the fence rails. Rotten trees. They'd be tricky to climb. No branches lower down to use like ladder rungs. But surely there'd be one that he could climb. Almost straightaway he saw it. One of those funny creatures with the blue eyes. Saban Deer. He grinned. Knowing the name of the animal pleased him. Getting smart as well as strong. The moment the deer caught sight of him it slipped away into some bushes.

Great! The hunt is on! He grabbed a stick from the ground. This would serve as a spear. The hunter's spear! He rubbed his thumb along the rough bark. The other kids would be amazed when he caught the animal and brought it back. Laughing with sheer excitement, Archer plunged into the bushes, gripping the stick like a huntsman handling a weapon. When he spied the deer again he'd zoom the stick right at the animal. Then – pow! Knock the animal out. He smiled as he imagined the way the kids would be impressed.
That's great, Archer. Will you show us how to hunt? Can I hold the spear?
Blood thudded in the boy's ears. If he could have seen his face he'd have been startled by the wild expression. He was drunk on the thrill of the chase. The branches smacking into his chest didn't faze him as he sped deeper into the wood.

Soon the afternoon sunlight vanished as the tree canopy grew dense, shutting out the sun's rays. Within minutes he ran in near darkness. With the gloom came silence. All he heard was the thump of his feet and the rush of his breath through his mouth. Every so often he caught a glimpse of gold fur. The animal fluidly weaved around the tree trunks. Oddly, it had the appearance of sliding along the earth rather than running.

‘Here, boy, here, boy.' Archer panted the words as if calling a dog. ‘Then ready with the mighty spear, O warrior.' He laughed as he recited a line from a comic he'd once read. ‘I will smite you . . .' Then in a darker, more savage voice, he added, ‘I'll rip off your face and stuff it down your throat.'

The deer bolted down a tunnel made out of tangled bushes. Archer followed. When he saw what was there he cried out. What was more, when he stopped dead he tumbled forward on to his knees. Instantly, the excitement bled out of him. Archer no longer felt like the powerful warrior – all muscly arms and fierce as a lion. From where he knelt he stared in shock at a face that gazed at him from the shadows. Its eyes possessed hard, glittery flashes that radiated pure menace.

‘Archer.'

Archer forgot all about hunting the Saban.

‘Archer.'

The boy shuffled round as part of his plan to run away, only his legs had gone so watery he couldn't stand. The face got closer. It seemed to drift out of the shadows, disconnected from any body. A fiery face with burning eyes. A terrifying ghost face.

‘Archer.'

‘Jay, don't keep saying my name.' Archer pulled his knees up to his chest. ‘Don't you dare!'

‘I'm going to show you something.' Jay's voice didn't even seem to issue out of those pale lips. Instead it oozed out of the earth. Or so it seemed to Archer. ‘You've got to come with me for a little walk.'

‘No.'

‘Archer . . .'

‘I told you not to say my name . . . you witch. I know when you keep saying someone's name over and over, then something rotten happens to them. Look what you did to Maureen. She's dead. You killed her.'

‘We're going for a little walk.' Jay spoke in a dull, lifeless way. The face had no expression. It hung there in the gloom. Archer wanted to run back to the farm. He needed to be back with his friends so much he ached inside. Because he knew Jay would do something that would be so horrible that he, Archer, would be sick with terror. Jay took a step forward. Now there was enough light to reveal the boy's delicate build. His arms hung loose. The fingers seemed so long that they stretched down toward his knees in a way that couldn't be natural. Archer knew that Jay wasn't normal. Then he had no doubt that Jay wasn't even human. Those ghastly things he did to people. He repeated their name one day then the person would suffer an accident the next, or go so crazy like Tod that the police locked him up.

Jay gazed down at Archer. ‘You never told me about your dad.'

‘Why should I?' Then he added with a desperate attempt at defiance, ‘Witch.'

‘You told the others.'

‘I'm not saying anything to you. Creep.'

‘Archer. You hate me.'

‘That's dead right. Now, I'm going back to the others.'

Jay shook his head. ‘We've got to go for a walk first.'

‘No!'

Jay didn't seem put out by the refusal. ‘Your father died.'

Archer got more angry than scared. ‘He got shot by his friends. They robbed money from a bank to buy drugs. My dad cheated them. They came to the house. When he opened the door they –' Archer pointed his finger at Jay's face – ‘blam-blam. Satisfied?'

For a moment there was silence. Neither of them moved. The gloom grew more intense, the smell of damp soil became stifling. Archer found himself suddenly wondering if it smelt like that when you lay buried in your coffin. Like his dad. Listening to the coffin lid creak under the weight of the soil. Archer wanted to vomit. The taste of soil filled his mouth, then it slid down the back of his tongue. All Jay was doing was staring. A stare as if he was reading words on Archer's face.