Hiding From the Light (52 page)

Bill woke up suddenly and lay quite still, listening to the wind. The rain was lashing at the window of his cottage but that wasn’t what had awakened him. He sat up slowly, every sense attuned. There was trouble out there in the night.

Slowly, groaning with the effort, he climbed out of bed and painfully he began to dress. Dragging on his coat and finally his muffler he made his way to the front door and pulled it open. A blast of cold wind rocked him back on his feet, but he gritted his teeth and forced his way out, closing the door firmly behind him.

Best go to the church. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never set foot in it before – no need. Not his place. Not his religion – even though he loved the churchyard – but tonight he knew he would make an exception.

He only hoped the rector was there.

Alex crept up the stairs and peered round the door of Jamie’s bedroom. He was asleep, thumb in mouth. Paula was sprawled in a chair beside him; her head had fallen back and her mouth was slightly open. He watched her for a moment with a mixture of affection and irritation, then he turned towards Sophie’s room. The little girl was fast asleep as well, a teddy firmly cradled in her arms. He smiled and tiptoed out, closing the door behind him.

Even in the pouring rain it would take only ten minutes to reach Emma’s house. Late though it was, he couldn’t rest until he had checked that she was all right.

Grabbing his car keys off the kitchen counter he let himself out into the rain, and with a last quick glance up at his son’s bedroom where the pale glow of the night-light barely lit up the small red and blue fire engines on his curtains, he climbed into the Volvo and backed out of the drive.

Turning the car in next to Emma’s, the headlights swept across Lyndsey’s bicycle which was still lying against the hedge. Alex frowned. He squinted up at the house. Lights were on upstairs and down; to his surprise the front door was standing ajar, a thin wedge of light pouring out onto the path. Clutching his collar up around his chin he pushed the door open, knocking as he did so. ‘Emma?’

There was no one downstairs.

He stood at the foot of the narrow staircase, looking up. ‘Emma? Are you up there?’ It was strange how one could tell when a house was empty just by the feel of the place without having to check each room. But he ran upstairs in case, glancing into each bedroom, noticing that the bathroom beyond its open door was in darkness.

So, where were they? Running down the stairs again he went back into the kitchen and pulled open the back door. The terrace was deserted, silent but for the slapping of the rain onto the old flags. He shut the door and walked back to the front of the house, puzzled. Emma would never have gone out this late, leaving the front door open. Unless, he frowned thoughtfully, Lyndsey was here somewhere too. Pulling the front door fully open, he stood looking down the path towards the road. The churchyard. Would they be there?

‘Christ, I hope not,’ he murmured fervently as he pulled up his collar again with a shiver. Stepping out onto the path, he made his way towards the gate and headed across the lane.

Squinting into the wind, he wondered if he could make out a movement in the dark. He wasn’t sure. For a moment he hesitated, then he heard a shout – almost a scream – from beneath the trees ahead of him.

‘Shit!’ He began to scramble over the wall, feeling the wet mortar crumble under his shoes. His trouser leg caught on a broken brick and he heard it tear. He slipped, almost tumbled and managed to keep his balance as he regained his feet on the far side.

‘Emma!’ He managed a slow heavy lope over the wet uneven ground. ‘Emma? Lyn? What’s going on?’ He stumbled on a tussock of knotted grasses and hurried on, like Lyndsey before him cursing the fact that he had no torch.

He could see them now. Two faint silhouettes in the dark; they appeared to be struggling.

‘Emma? Are you OK?’ Alex was panting heavily now. ‘Lyn? What are you doing? Leave her alone.’

He had reached them now. He grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her to face him. ‘Emma? What’s going on? Are you all right? Look, this is crazy. It’s pouring! For God’s sake come inside.’

‘Leave her, Alex.’ Lyndsey gave him a push. ‘Go away. This is none of your business. Sarah, can you hear me?’ She had turned back to Emma. ‘Sarah, this man is interfering!’

‘Too right I’m interfering.’ Alex still had hold of Emma’s arm. ‘You really are bats, Lyn. I’m beginning to think that Paula is right. You genuinely could have hurt Jamie! Leave it. Stop doing this. You’ve done enough damage.’

‘Jamie?’ Lyndsey dropped her hold on Emma and turned on him. ‘What are you talking about? How dare you come here and interfere. How dare you?’ Her eyes were like quicksilver in the darkness. ‘You are standing on sacred ground, within the circle. That is sacrilege.’

‘Balls!’ Alex took a step towards her. ‘If you don’t stop this, I’m going to call the police.’

‘The police?’ Suddenly she was laughing. ‘You stupid man! You have no idea, have you. No idea at all.’

‘Leave him, Lyn.’ Emma was suddenly alert. It was as if she had seen Alex for the first time. ‘Leave him alone. Let him go. He means nothing to us.’

‘No.’ Lyndsey shook her head. ‘The goddess must have sent him to us for a reason, Sarah, so we will use him. He is just what we need!’ Her eyes were glittering. Suddenly her expression had grown dangerous.

Emma smiled enigmatically. ‘What is this nonsense about a goddess, Lyndsey? We do not worship a goddess,’ she said firmly. ‘We worship Satan himself.’ She laughed. It was a strange shrill laugh that held no humour.

Lyndsey shook her head. She set her jaw. ‘No. The goddess is here with us. She is here. Now! Look! Listen! Obey!’

Turning her back on Alex, she raised her athame into the air, clutching the handle with both hands. ‘Blessed goddess, I do this in your name.’ She was shouting towards the sky, exultant.

‘My God, she’s gone mad! Grow up, Lyndsey!’ Alex’s angry shout was blown away on the wind. He caught at Emma’s arm.

She struggled, trying to push him away as Lyndsey turned to face them again. Her face a mask of rage, Lyndsey stared at Alex for a moment, then calmly and without a trace of emotion on her face she brought the knife down with every ounce of strength she possessed into his chest.

For a moment nothing happened. He stood staring at her in astonishment, then releasing Emma’s arm, he clutched wildly at the ebony handle sticking out of the front of his jacket. Slowly he fell to his knees as a dark patch of blood appeared on the green waxed cotton.

‘Yes!’ Lyndsey’s hiss of triumph was almost drowned by the roar of the rain on the leaves around them. ‘Can you feel it, Sarah? Fresh blood. The energy is incredible! Incredible!’ She raised her hands above her head, fingers outstretched, and lifted her face to the storm. ‘Now we can do it. We can reach Hopkins. Now the world is ours!’

Emma stood quite still, paralysed with shock.

As Alex slumped forward onto the ground, the last vestiges of control slipped away and Sarah elbowed her way into Emma’s mind.

‘Hopkins has taken refuge with the parson!’

Sarah turned to Lyndsey and beckoned. ‘We have to go there. Now.’ She did not even glance at Alex, lying on the ground. Heading towards the wall she walked purposefully forward over the wet grass.

Lyndsey followed, scrambling over the wall after her. In the lane she caught her arm. ‘Wait. Where are you going?’

‘To the parsonage.’ Sarah was already striding down the lane. In her mind’s eye it was muddy, rutted with cart tracks, already dragging wet at the hem of her gown.

‘No. No, we can drive.’ Lyndsey, even in her madness was still a child of the twenty-first century. ‘Wait, I know where your car keys are. It will take us hours to walk to Manningtree in this rain. Wait here.’

Running up the path to the cottage, she pushed open the door and hunted desperately on the hall table for Emma’s keys. They were there, next to her purse. Grabbing them, Lyndsey turned and ran out again, leaving the door wide open, a broad track of light shining down the brick path and across the wet lawn.

She pushed Emma into the passenger’s seat and let herself into the driver’s side. With shaking hands she managed to insert the keys into the ignition. She was high on adrenaline, barely able to engage the gears, shooting first forward into the hedge, then, cursing, backwards into the road.

Swinging the car round she somehow found the lights and headed down the lane.

The rectory was deserted. Although there were lights on everywhere there was no car and the door was locked. Lyndsey did not even bother to knock. ‘Where is he?’ She turned to Emma, who had climbed out of the MG and was standing behind her in the rain.

‘He has fled to the church.’ Emma was not aware that she had spoken. The alien presence in her head had taken her over completely. ‘We’ll find him there with his lackeys.’ She turned and walked towards the gate.

Lyndsey followed, leaving the car engine still running, lights on, illuminating the pouring rain.

They pushed open the gate into the churchyard and paused, looking at the church. Faint light glowed behind the stained-glass windows and Emma nodded. She was smiling. ‘They will have locked themselves in,’ she commented matter-of-factly.

Lyndsey nodded in agreement. She grinned. ‘And I know where Bill Standing hid the key to the north door. I saw him do it.’ She chuckled. ‘The witches’ door! Follow me.’

The old key was under a flower pot next to the spot where an old lead down-pipe disappeared into a gully beside the church wall. The pot was wreathed with weeds and covered in lichen. It had not been moved for a very long time. Grasping the key triumphantly, Lyndsey led the way, groping along the wall of the church in the black shadow of the yews. ‘Most churches sealed their north doors,’ she murmured over her shoulder. ‘But not this place. This church expects witches!’

They came to the door, which was very small, gothic, the pale ancient oak soaked black by the rain, the base overgrown with weeds. If Bill Standing had ever used this as a way into the church, it hadn’t been for a very long time.

Cautiously Lyndsey fitted the key into the lock. It didn’t move. Gripping the handle with both hands she gritted her teeth, forcing it round, and smiled with satisfaction as she heard the lock grate open.

‘Ready, Sarah?’ She glanced over her shoulder.

Emma’s eyes were blank. She was staring into space. ‘Open the door and let me in. I shall deal with him.’ Her voice was quite unlike her own.

Lyndsey nodded. Gripping the twisted iron ring which lifted the latch, she turned it and pushed the door as hard as she could. It opened a foot and then stopped, caught by the heavy woven curtain which was drawn across it on the inside. Lyndsey cursed. Reaching in she hooked the curtain aside, and swept it back with a rattle of wooden rings. A cloud of dust descended on them as Emma pushed past her and walked into the church.

Mike was standing on the altar step, flanked by Mark and Colin. They had all heard the door open.

‘Emma?’ Mike turned, screwing up his eyes to see into the dark body of the church, past the spotlights focused down from the high roof beams onto the altar.

‘Emma has gone.’ The voice which floated up the chancel towards them was alien to Mark and Colin. Mike had heard it before. In his nightmares. He reached for his cross.

‘This is the house of God!’ he called. ‘Emma, can you hear me?’

‘Of course she can’t hear you.’ Lyndsey was following Emma up the chancel steps. ‘She’s gone. Sarah was too strong for her. And she’s too strong for you. Wherever Hopkins is hiding she’ll find him, even if she has to cut out your heart!’

She and Emma were standing at the top of the chancel steps now. Emma was smiling. ‘I have waited a long time to catch up with you, Matthew,’ she said quietly. Her voice was low and husky.

Mark stepped in front of Mike. ‘Matthew is not here, Emma.’

‘It’s OK, Mark. I can deal with this.’ Mike gently pushed him aside. ‘Go and fetch help. I need back up from another priest. Ring the bishop’s office. The number is on my blotter. Someone must be there by now. And call Dr Good. Have you got a mobile? Hurry.’ His eyes hadn’t left Emma’s face. ‘I want you to fight this, Emma. I’m sure you can hear me. Matthew isn’t here. Use your psychic eyes. Look. He has gone for good. God has punished him, Emma. Sarah doesn’t need to.’ He took a step towards her.

It was Lyndsey who laughed. ‘Do you really think you can stop her? You’re dead!’

Mike didn’t even look at her. Beside him Mark recalled that he had left his mobile in the car. Shit! Slowly he tried to edge towards the step, but to reach the open north door, he had to pass Lyndsey and Emma in the narrow aisle between the choir stalls. He edged sideways towards them, aware that they both had their eyes fixed on Mike’s face.

Lyndsey gave Emma a small sharp push. ‘Go on,’ she hissed. ‘You’ve been waiting for this opportunity for three hundred and fifty years!’

‘Tell you what, Mike!’ Colin suddenly moved forward. ‘Why don’t I remove this young lady right out of our way!’ Stepping down off the altar step he reached for Lyndsey’s arm and grabbing her, pulled her almost off her feet.

‘Colin, be careful!’ Mike’s shouted warning came too late as Lyndsey rounded on Colin with a scream of rage, raking her nails down his face. He staggered back and she followed him, belabouring his head with her fists.

Sarah laughed. ‘So, it’s just us, Matthew.’

‘No, Emma. This is Mike.’ Mike stepped towards her.

He was completely unprepared for the way she leaped at him, pushing him off balance against the altar. She took the chance to lean across his shoulder, reaching for one of the candlesticks. As she did so, Mike grabbed her wrist. ‘Get help, Mark. Now!’ Twisting the candlestick out of her hand, he threw it out of reach. Her strength was extraordinary. He was taller than her and normally would have been able to subdue someone her size easily, but the sheer force of her anger was driving him backwards again. Her face was convulsed with fury. It was demonic.

He seized her wrists and just for a moment he managed to hold her still. It was long enough to catch his breath. ‘Emma, listen to me! You have to fight this. Jesus is with us. He is here in this church! Listen, Emma. I want you to pray. Can you hear me? Pray!’

Emma stared at him. She didn’t recognise him. She didn’t even see him. Sarah, inside her head, had suddenly become aware of where she was. ‘I despise your church!’ She spat on the floor at his feet. But she could feel it: the strength of the place, the sanctity around the altar. While he stayed there he would be able to fight her as he had fought her in that other church. ‘I’m not going to stay here a moment longer. If you want to save my soul you will have to follow me. Outside! Away from the house of your God! Then let us see who is strongest!’ Turning, she threw herself down the altar step and began to run down the aisle.

‘Emma! Wait!’ Mike was running after her.

‘No!’ she screamed. ‘No!’ Reaching the main door, she wrenched away the chair that Colin had wedged against the handle and fumbling, dragged the door open. Without a thought for his own safety if he left the sanctuary of the altar, just as she intended Mike tore after her.

There were several cars parked outside, and a group of women standing near the porch. He pushed through them, frantically trying to keep Emma in sight. Ducking through the gate, he caught up with her in the road outside and reached out, trying to catch her arm. ‘Emma, please, we have to fight this together!’

‘No!’ She turned on him like a wildcat. ‘Leave me alone! If you follow me, I shall kill you! Don’t you see?’ That was Emma.

‘Hopkins is not going to escape me now. I am going to tear your head off, so that I can find him!’ That was Sarah.

Mike staggered back, off balance from Emma’s push. By the time he had recovered himself, she had gone, running out of sight into the darkness.