The Eighth Witch (6 page)

“Yes, that’s right,” Annie said.

“Then why are you here? And why did you tell the constable you were witnesses?”

“We didn’t,” Annie said, suddenly flustered by the inspector’s accusatory tone.

Carter watched the exchange with a wry smile playing on his lips. He’d come across policemen like Lacey before, who used brimstone and bluster to disguise the fact that there was a razor-sharp mind working underneath the façade. It was there in his eyes. They were watcher’s eyes, picking up the slightest changes in Annie’s demeanor and body language and analyzing them in a blink.

“Is something amusing you, sir?” Sparks said to Carter. His voice was smooth and devoid of accent. A university voice—classless and anodyne.

Carter shrugged away the question. “No,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

“And who might you be, sir?” Lacey said, taking an interest in Carter for the first time.

“This is Robert Carter, a friend of mine,” Annie said. “He was at the dinner last night as well.”

“Why are you here?” Lacey said.

“I gave Annie a lift.”

“How well do you know Professor Norton?”

“Barely. Met him for the first time last night.”

“And did you hit it off?”

“No. Not really,” Carter said.

“And why was that?” Sparks said.

Carter assumed that Penny and Adam Chapman had given the policemen chapter and verse on the events of the previous evening, including the initial antipathy between Norton and himself, so there was no sense in pretending otherwise. “I thought he was an arrogant bore,” he said.

“And is he?” Lacey said to Annie.

“Henry has his moments,” Annie said. “Usually he’s delightful company, but last night…” Her voice trailed off.

“Perhaps he was put out that there was another man on the scene. Someone to divert your attention away from him.”

“I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating, Inspector,” Annie said. “Henry and I are friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, he’s in a relationship.”

“Ah, yes, with Ms. Holly Ireland. Of whom neither hide nor hair has been seen since last night. A coincidence, Sergeant?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences, sir,” Sparks said.

Lacey rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Neither do I.”

“I’d like to see him,” Annie said.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Lacey said.
 

“Actually, that might be a good idea.” The young doctor had been standing in the background during the entire conversation. Now he stepped forwards.

“And why would that be, Dr. Jhadav?”

“The professor is in a comatose state. Perhaps a familiar voice, a voice of a friend, may help bring him out of it.”

“Do you want him out of it?” Lacey said. “From what I’ve seen of him, he’s pretty banged up and when he regains consciousness he’s going to be in a world of pain. Might it not be in his best interests to leave him as he is for the time being?”

“Inspector, I agree, he’s not going to be comfortable but I’d prefer him to be conscious. We have drugs to combat any pain he’s in and it will be much easier to assess any brain damage he may have suffered. We need to see if there is a case for neurosurgery.”

“Well, you’re the expert,” Lacey said.

Jhadav smiled, white teeth gleaming in his handsome Indian face. “Yes,” he said. “I am.” He opened the door to room 208. “This way,” he said to Carter and Annie Ryder.

Chapter Six

Room 208 reeked of antiseptic and Carter gagged as he stepped through the door. He’d awoken to find himself in a room very much like this one several months ago, and the memories were still lodged in the back of his mind. The antiseptic smell brought them rushing to the forefront and he found himself hanging back in the doorway, ready to flee if they started to overwhelm him.

Norton was lying in the bed. Wires hung from pads stuck to his chest and trailed back to a vital signs machine standing at his bedside. An intravenous drip was suspended from a stand next to it and fed a clear solution through a tube into a vein in his arm via a cannula.

Annie gasped when she saw him and tears sprung to her eyes. “Oh my God!” she said softly. “I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

Carter took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “He’s in the best place, Annie,” he said, but even he was shocked by the severity of Norton’s injuries. There wasn’t a square inch of skin on his face that wasn’t cut, grazed or bruised. Thankfully they couldn’t see the rest of Norton’s body, but Ellis’s description of the state the professor was in when he found him painted its own vivid image in their minds.

Lacey and Sparks followed them into the room and shuffled around the wall so they had a clear vantage point. Dr. Jhadav crossed to the vital signs machine and checked the monitor. When he turned away from it he appeared satisfied. “Perhaps you would like to talk to him, to let him know you’re here,” he said to Annie.

Annie nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Carter pulled a green tubular steel chair across to the bedside and gestured for her to sit. She was hesitant.
 

“Give it your best shot, Annie,” Carter said.

“But I hardly knew him. It should be Holly speaking to him, not me.”

“Try anyway.”

Annie settled at the bedside but seemed uncertain what to do or say.

Jhadav smiled at her. “You can hold his hand if you like. It’s one of the few parts of him that isn’t bruised or broken.”

Annie took Norton’s hand in hers and squeezed it very gently, scared it might crumble to dust if she gripped too hard. “Henry,” she croaked. Her mouth and throat were impossibly dry. There was a water jug on the stand at the side of the bed. She poured herself a glass and sipped it before trying again. “Henry, it’s me, Annie.”

Jhadav made a
carry on
motion with his hand when she fell silent again.

“Henry, can you hear me?”

Norton lay motionless. The only movement was the steady rise and fall of his chest, helped by a ventilator that was pumping air into his lungs by a tube inserted into a hole in his throat.

“Henry?” she tried again. “Oh, this is useless. He can’t hear me.”

“Here, let me try,” Carter said.

He helped Annie from the chair and handed her a tissue to dry her eyes. He took her place and picked up Norton’s limp, clammy hand and nestled it in both of his.

He started to speak. A soft, toneless monologue. After a few moments he closed his eyes. His words continued in a steady flow but he was no longer aware of them, even if they made any sense or not. They were coming from one part of his brain, but another part was communing with the figure on the bed, communicating with him on a much deeper level.

Images started to flow into his mind, sketchy and unclear at first but gradually becoming clearer, more vivid. Overriding the images was something else. An emotion so deeply felt it was almost screaming at him. Terror. Sheer, bloody terror.

Carter tried to calm the emotion, sending wave after wave of reassurance into Norton’s mind, and gradually the scream quieted to a whisper.

The scene changed suddenly. From the deserted towpath Carter found himself transported to a black steel door set into a vast, white brick wall. Gradually the door swung inwards and Carter stepped inside.
 

Inside the doorway hung a heavy brocade curtain, vibrant reds and golds embroidered in images so hideous Carter averted his eyes. He pushed the curtain to one side and stepped through only to be confronted by a short, white-brick corridor and another curtain, this one even more grotesquely embroidered than the last. Impatiently he moved forwards, sweeping the curtain aside.

Another short corridor, another curtain.

He encountered three more before he finally found himself in a large, rectangular chamber, painted a stark white like the wall and the corridors, and lit blindingly by spotlights set into a black ceiling.

In the corner of the room a figure crouched. He was naked, arms thrown over his head. It was Henry Norton. And Norton was crying softly.

Carter approached and crouched down next to him. “Henry,” he said softly, gently. “Remember me? It’s Robert Carter. We met at Annie Ryder’s house last night.”

Norton continued to sob.

Above the sound he was making came another. The soft, swishing sound material makes when it moves in the air. Someone else was making their way through the corridor of curtains.

Carter glanced over his shoulder but the curtain at the doorway to the chamber was unmoving.

He put a hand out and touched Norton’s shoulder. The man winced, shrinking back as if trying to bury himself in the stark, white brickwork.

“Don’t let it get me,” Norton whispered. “Keep it away. Don’t let it get me again!” His voice climbed to a shriek of despair.
 

He took his arms away from his head.

Carter stared at a face that was physically unmarked but wracked with an expression of abject fear.
 

“There,” Norton said, pointing at the curtain. “There!”

Carter glanced back in time to see the curtain swept aside. He caught his breath.

It was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. She was tall and slender, with long, auburn hair that swept over her shoulders. Her eyes glowed, pale blue and intoxicating. She was wearing a long, emerald green silk dress, strapless and low cut. She was barefoot and seemed to glide rather than walk towards them. He watched her, captivated. When she was halfway across the chamber she stopped.

“Why are you here?” she said. The voice seemed to fill his head. “This has nothing to do with you. You will leave now.”

Carter turned back to Norton who was shaking uncontrollably. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “Can’t you see what it is?”

“What is it, Henry? What can you see?”

“Oh, Jesus fucking wept! Look out!”

Carter spun round but it was too late. The woman had closed the space between them and was now no more than a yard away. Her hands had turned into claws and her mouth was opening…and opening. Carter watched in horror as the beauty melted away. Still the mouth opened, until the face was obscured and he found himself staring at nothing more than a gaping maw filled with rows of needle-sharp teeth. The woman threw her head back and with a sound somewhere between a shriek and a growl, lunged at him.

In room 208 Carter tried to wrench his hand away, but the comatose Norton was gripping it tightly. Carter struggled for a second, prizing the man’s fingers away from his own. Finally he was released and he reeled in his thoughts, dragging them away from the chamber and back into the hospital room.

His face was bathed in sweat. As Annie laid a hand on his shoulder he jerked away from her. In his mind’s eye he could still see the creature from the chamber. He got to his feet, sending the chair flying backwards, and headed towards the door, pushing through it, and out into the corridor where he leaned against the wall, doubled over, trying to regain his breath.

Annie was the first to join him, followed closely by Lacey and Sparks.

“Would you mind telling us what that performance was all about?” Lacey said.

“It was as if you were in some kind of trance,” Sparks added. “You kept muttering something about curtains.”

“Leave him alone,” Annie said. “Can’t you see he’s distressed?”

“I’m bloody distressed,” Lacey said hotly. “Why I let you clowns in to see him in the first place God only knows.”

He put his head around the door. “Is the patient all right, Doctor?”

Jhadav was at the monitor again. “There was a massive surge in brain activity, and his blood pressure climbed so high it was nearly off the chart. But he’s okay now. Things are settling back to normal.”

“Is he still in a coma?”

Jhadav leaned over Norton and raised one of his eyelids. And then he nodded. “Yes, he’s still comatose.”

“Well, that was a bloody waste of time,” Lacey said.

Annie had a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Rob?”

Carter took a long, head-clearing breath. “Let’s get out of here, Annie. There’s nothing we can do to help him. And I need some air.” He still had the stench of the woman’s fetid breath in his nostrils. If he didn’t breathe fresh air soon he was going to vomit.

As they made their way back towards the lift Lacey called after them. “Wait a minute. I haven’t finished with you two yet!”

Annie turned. “14 Samuelson Road, Ravensbridge. If you want to speak with us further that’s where we’ll be.” She punched the lift button and the doors opened instantly. She pushed Carter inside and hit the button for the ground floor. The doors slid shut and the car started to descend. “Just like old times,” she said. “Sometimes I miss Kansas.”

Carter smiled at her. “You know, I think you really do.”

“Well it’s going to be an interesting ride home. I’ll drive. You can tell me what you saw in Henry’s mind.”

“Do you really want to know?”

“You betcha,” she said.

Chapter Seven