Wings of Sorrow (A horror fantasy novel) (12 page)

By the time they were in the car racing towards town, there were police cars heading in the opposite direction. Her dad glanced back over his shoulder. “Remind me why we’re not talking to the authorities again?”

“Because I’m not sure they could help us,” said Scarlet. “Mr Chester has friends who have been expecting all of this—they knew it was coming. We need to see what they have to say before we decide anything. You said mum was a witch?”

Her dad flinched and almost let go of the wheel. He kept his eyes on the road as he answered her. “I thought she was just a bit hippyish, like one of those Wicca—or whatever they call themselves—but I had my suspicions that she was into things a little scarier than that. I’d often wake up in the night and she would be gone. Come morning, she’d be back in bed with mud caked on her feet. She told me she was a sleepwalker, but I had never caught her doing it. And there were the things she grew in her garden. She would gather them all up and put them in jars and pots, but none of it was ever used for cooking. She was… odd. That’s all I thought it was, and it’s what I loved about her at first, but then it started to scare me. That night, when she tried to take your blood... Well, that was the last straw. I lied to you, Scarlet. I did send your mother away. I told her that she was a danger to you and that I would call the police if she tried to ever hurt you again. I’m sorry, Scarlet. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I understand that. What I don’t understand is that you said I was born after only six weeks.”

He took a left onto the highway and gripped the wheel tightly. “Your mother told me that she’d been pregnant for much longer, but hadn’t been showing. She was a slim woman, Scarlet, but there was no way Nesta could have been seven months pregnant and still thin as a rake. In the six weeks before you were born, she grew more and more each day, until she was absolutely huge. She had a full pregnancy, but it only lasted a month and a half. I’m certain of it.”

Scarlet looked at him in disbelief. “How did you ever look at me, knowing that?”

“Because I love you, Scarlet. You’re my little girl, and I don’t care how you came into this world—or who your mother was. It’s been you and me since the beginning.”

“What if I’m
not
yours?” The question almost brought floods of tears to her, but she needed to say it.

“I’m your father, Scarlet. That will never change.”

She said no more. Although his reply had answered nothing, it was also everything she had needed to hear. He was her dad. She was his daughter.

“I’m scared.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m confused.” Then he looked at her more seriously. “That man is not going to hurt you, Scarlet. The Devil himself won’t get through me, okay?”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

They came off the highway and entered the ring road around town. The Little Treasures Emporium was right next to the Redlake Historical Society, which had a small car park. It was still the middle of the night, so her dad ignored the parking restrictions and pulled up into one of the bays. A flickering street lamp allowed them light to see by, but the overfilled wheelie bins at the back of the high street were all shadowy hiding places for lurking tramps or druggies. Scarlet felt a shiver down her spine when she realised that the world scared her even without supernatural menaces.

Her dad wrapped his arm around her and hustled. “Come on. Sooner I get some answers from your boss, the better—and I best like his answers.”

“You won’t,” she admitted. “I haven’t liked a single answer he’s given me in the last two days, but that doesn’t mean he’s not telling the truth.”

The lights inside Little Treasures were on and shadows shifted inside. Her dad put an arm out in front of her and kept her from going in first. “No, let me go.”

He tried the handle of the front door and found it locked, so he patted on the door with his fist, not too loudly, but loud enough to disturb the shadows inside. One of those shadows moved right up to the door.

Then the door crept open.

Half of Chester’s face peered out at them from behind the frame. His one eye went wide. “Scarlet! You’re okay. Thank heavens. You should have remained home where it was safe.”

“It wasn’t safe,” her dad grunted. “Some maniac almost killed her.”

Chester opened the door widely, revealing that the ghastly lump on his forehead had only grown. A bloody slit ran across its centre and the edges bulged red. He frowned at Scarlet. “The charm I gave you didn’t work?”

“It did, but it’s complicated.”

“Then I suppose you ought to come inside.”

Scarlet and her dad slipped inside Little Treasures and were immediately faced with two strangers, a man and a woman, the woman middle aged approaching old age, and the man a decade or so younger. The woman looked at Scarlet from behind the thick, wire rims of round spectacles. Her short grey-brown hair was seemingly fixed in place as she moved her head and spoke. “You must be The Spark.”

“My name is Scarlet.”

“Indeed. What is your age?”

“Didn’t Chester tell you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah,” Scarlet mumbled. “I’m planning on informing National Geographic.”

“She’s feisty,” said the man, giving a lopsided grin and looking past her as though she wasn’t even in the room. “I like her.”

“What’s going on?” her dad finally asked. “Why is somebody trying to kill my daughter?”

Chester came and patted him on the back. “Let us go in the back and have a cup of tea, Mr Thomas. We’ll discuss everything there.”

With a huff, he allowed himself to be led away, although he made sure that Scarlet went with him. In the backroom they were met by more strangeness. The table and shelving units had all been pushed back against the walls, and in the middle of the room was now a painted red circle. The paint seemed tacky with some kind of powder. A thatch of straw and grass marked the circle’s centre.

“What’s going on, Chester? Are those two strangers from the White Order?”

“Yes, they are here to help. They have been preparing a spell.”

“To do what?”

Chester swallowed and gave her a strange look. “To render the magic within you forever inert, and as such, unable to ever come to fruition.”

She nodded, understanding. “You want to take away The Spark?”

Her dad rubbed at his temples. “I’m still hoping that this is all just a big joke.”

“It’s not, Mr Thomas, I assure you. Your daughter is very important, and she is in danger.”

“From whom exactly? Who was the blond bodybuilder that turned up in my garden in the middle of the night?”

“The Saint is an agent dedicated to carrying out the Father’s will.”

“The Father? You mean God?”

“Not exactly. The Father is just one powerful force of many, but long ago, he became guardian of our world and protector of mankind. Truth be told, we’re nothing more than a chess piece in an intergalactic pissing contest. The Father protects us more out of pride and duty than love and affection. Right now, Scarlet is the biggest threat to The Father’s assets.”

Her dad folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t really care about that. How do we stop The Saint? I can’t believe I’m buying into all this.”

“You’re buying into it,” said Chester, “because you have witnessed what is happening. Same as I have. Some things don’t add up, though. Scarlet was supposed to be eighteen when she began to exhibit her powers. She should have been invisible until then, yet somehow, the forces of good have located her. I was here, waiting for the rise of The Spark, but I was taken completely by surprise to find out that it was Scarlet all along, working right under my nose. I believe it is fate, Mr Thomas. I believe I am supposed to act differently than was planned. Scarlet is innocent in all this.”

“You were planning to kill me, weren’t you?” Scarlet said.

“Yes, but the reality is far different from the planning. I cannot harm you, Scarlet. I have known you for almost a year now. I know the fine young woman that you should, and will be allowed to grow into. The problem with the White Order is that we spend so much time with our books, that we forget about the human cost involved. We’ll work this out, Scarlet, I promise. If the spell works…”

“What will the spell do to my daughter?”

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Margaret—that’s the woman out front—is one of the White Order’s Grand Shamans. She understands more than I do about a spell of this magnitude. I’ll just go and get her, let her know that we are ready to begin.”

Chester disappeared for a moment, leaving Scarlet with her dad. Knowing her way around the shop, she went over to the kitchenette and began making the tea that Chester had been meaning to brew. The kettle was already boiled, used tea bags on the side.

“I don’t like this, Scarlet. These people believe in magic and spells? So did your mother, and it did her no good. Magic is bad.”

“I know that. That’s why The Saint wants me dead. If I live till I’m eighteen, then I’ll bring magic back to the world, and things will go all Dante’s Inferno.”

“Dante’s Inferno? Impressive. You learn that in school.”

She shrugged. “We looked at it in English class. It was kind of boring.”

“You don’t like English?”

“Yeah, I like it just fine, but… wait, should we maybe focus on the big issues here?”

He took the mug of tea she handed him and took a tiny sip. “Christ, I feel like I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

“How do you think I feel?”

He put the mug down on the counter and approached her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Chester re-entered with his colleagues. Margaret held her nose in the air and looked like she had a rod up her back. In contrast, her male colleague seemed constantly amused. His greying hair was the colour of spent coal, yet his age was too young to suit it.

“Allow me to introduce Margaret Kindersley and James Holtby,” said Chester, pointing to each person in turn.

“A pleasure,” said Holtby, holding out his jittery hand, but nobody shook it. The way the man moved—in flinches and nods—was birdlike.

“Shall we begin?” asked Margaret curtly.

Her dad shook his head. “I want to know what you’re planning first.”

“I do not answer to you, sir.”

“You do if you want to go anywhere near my daughter.”

Margaret showed the first hint of amusement since Scarlet had set eyes on the woman. She tilted her nose even higher. “We are here to ensure the ongoing viability of the world, sir. What you feel about these matters is quite irrelevant. Try to impede our duties and you will be restrained forcefully.”

“By you and whose army?”

“I do not need an army, sir.”

Holtby moved like lightning. He slid towards Scarlet’s dad and shot out his arm. A deadly looking blade shot out of his coat sleeve and leapt into his hand—the sharp tip stopped just centimetres from the target: her dad’s throat.

“Don’t hurt him,” she shouted.

Her dad swallowed, but did not flinch. The look in his eyes showed determination, not fear.

Holtby shook his fist and sent the blade back into his sleeve. “I’m not looking to harm anyone, lass. Just making a few things clear.”

“Holtby is my personal custodian,” said Margaret. “I tell him to pluck out the eyes of an infant, and he will do so. Do not mistake my cheery demeanour for patience, for I have none.”

Chester moved into the centre of the room. “Come now, everybody. We all want the same thing. Scarlet’s father just wants a few assurances. What father wouldn’t?”

Margaret took a deep breath and let it out like an irritable dragon. “Very well. You have done good work here, Miles, in locating The Spark and bringing her so close, so I will humour you.” She turned to Scarlet’s dad. “The spell I wish to perform will draw out the magic inside Scarlet and allow me to contain it in a receptacle. That receptacle will then be placed in the White Order’s vault, where not even The Father, himself, could get at it. The Spark will be safe and no magical apocalypse will occur. Our task will be completed to the satisfaction of the High Council. Understood?”

“No,” said Scarlet’s father. “Will it hurt her?”

“Perhaps, but she will no longer be a target of supernatural assassins. Think of it like an operation. Having an inflamed appendix removed is no picnic, yet it is vital to future health.”

Her dad said nothing, but Scarlet nodded on his behalf. “Okay. So doing this spell will make me normal?”

“As normal as teenage girls can be, yes.”

“Then I want to do it.”

Her dad looked at her, but he didn’t argue. “Are you sure?”

“I just want the nightmare to end. Eventually, The Saint is going to kill me; especially now that Sorrow is gone.”

Chester frowned. “What happened to Sorrow?”

“The Saint attacked my dad, and he was there to help. He didn’t make it.”

“I’m assuming you mean the demon sent to protect this girl?” said Margaret.