Scaderstone Pit (The Darkeningstone Series Book 3) (20 page)

He tried to turn, to push himself onto his side so he could scramble to his feet, but suddenly, Glowan was on him. She sprang at him, clawing at his face, grabbing at his throat, battering his head with her fists.

A surge of cold fear ran through Cleofan’s body. He was going to die here. The Shade was desperate to stay in the world of men, and in its fury, it would tear Cleofan’s body apart. His only chance of survival was to strike the Shade down.

He yelled and lashed out, swinging the heavy striker at Glowan. For a heartbeat, the strange axe head gleamed in the early morning sunlight as it arced through the air, and then it slammed into the side of Glowan’s head with the dull crunch of broken bone.

Glowan did not cry out, she simply slumped to the ground, landing heavily on her side, her arms and legs splayed out unnaturally.

Cleofan pushed himself up to his feet and stood over Glowan, staring down at her. His mind was a whirl, his head throbbing in pain. He gasped for air, his mouth open. The stench of blood was everywhere, and a thick stream of dark gore flowed from the side of Glowan’s head and spread across the ground. Cleofan’s stomach turned and he let out a low moan.

He had fought often enough, but he’d never killed before. He was not a strong fighter, and although he’d helped to defend the village and played his part in protecting their hunting grounds, he’d left the killing to others.

“What do I do now?” he murmured. He blinked, then raised his head to look around the empty ledge. “What, in the name of the Shades, do I do now?”

But the only answer was the rising hiss that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. And as the sound surged around him, swamping his senses, Cleofan threw back his head and roared at the sky.

Chapter 24

2021

IN A NON-DESCRIPT SEMI-DETACHED HOUSE
in a small market town in the south-east of England, a slim, grey-haired man sat bolt upright in his chair, a remote control in his hand. He stared at the TV screen and pressed the rewind button on the remote then let the program play for a moment before repeating the process, over and over again. “There you are,” he whispered. “I’ve found you at last.”

He fiddled with the remote control, hunting for the pause button, then he pressed it, freezing the frame. He stood up slowly and moved closer to the screen. “And you, you little bitch,” he hissed. “I should have known you’d be involved.”

He reached out to touch the screen, running his hand along the outline of Cally’s hair. “But you won’t get away from me. Not this time.”

He took a deep breath, felt it rattling in his chest, then he put his hand to his mouth, suppressing a cough. The two and a half years he’d spent confined in a safe house had not been kind to his health. A damp, unheated room, a poor diet, and barely enough exercise: all had taken their toll. And even though he’d been free for several months, he still struggled for breath if he overexerted himself.

He moved slowly back to his chair and lowered himself onto the worn leather seat, all the while keeping his eyes on the screen. He fumbled with the remote and advanced the picture slowly, waiting for the moment when the camera would zoom in.

He froze the picture, just in time, then he sat in silence for a full minute, drinking in the sight of the object he’d yearned for; the very thing that had occupied his mind every day for the last three years.

The time has come
, he thought.
I’d almost given up hope
. He shook his head slowly.
Almost, but not quite
. He’d been too strong for MI5’s bully boys to break. He’d fooled them—pretended to play along with their mind games—but he’d kept a cold spark of determination alive in his heart. And now he knew that his faith had been worthwhile; finally, his victory was at hand. He was to have his reward.

He let out a long sigh. The amulet was just as wonderful as the one he’d taken from Seaton. The pattern was identical, and every delicate curling line was perfect. Every part of its surface was smooth, glistening, and unblemished.

After a while, when he’d seen enough, he pressed the play button and allowed the programme to run, making a mental note of any significant details. “Grand-Pressigny,” he murmured, “that sounds familiar.” He picked up his iPad from the small table by his chair and began his research.

His mind was as sharp as ever, and it only took him a moment to establish the location of the museum. Then he scanned the online map, checking the surrounding area, scrutinising every hill. And there it was. “Of course,” he said. “The stone is there—so close to Grand-Pressigny. And the amulet…they’re coming together. It all makes sense.”

He opened a browser and began making his plans: reserving a hotel room, hiring a decent car from the airport, and checking the flights to Paris.

As he prepared to pay for his plane tickets, he flicked through his collection of credit cards, and one of the older cards caught his eye. He wasn’t supposed to have kept it; it should have been shredded along with all the other remnants of his true identity. But he’d clung onto it, and made sure it was still valid. He’d even told the credit card company his new address, which was an unforgivable breach of his resettlement protocols. But it was his way of defying the bastards who’d locked him up for so long. It gave him a certain grim satisfaction that, despite everything they’d done to him, he’d held onto the last slender thread of his identity.

He ran his fingers across his lips then carefully extracted the credit card from his wallet, holding it gently between finger and thumb. “Oh yes,” he muttered. “That one will do very nicely.”

He laid the card flat on the table. The silver embossed text glinted in the light from the window, and the man whispered the name aloud, enjoying the sound of it, relishing the feel of the words on his tongue. He smiled. “Hello again, my friend,” he said. “It’s been too long since we saw you.” He chuckled under his breath, his dry laughter wheezing in the back of his throat then he threw back his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Welcome back, old man,” he murmured. “Welcome back, Mr. Crawford.”

Chapter 25

1919

TREVOR CAUGHT UP WITH BRIAN
as they neared the far end of the site. Trevor looked toward the narrow gorge, remembering the foolish fears that had plagued his night-time visit to the site. Obviously, the whole thing had been nothing but his imagination. He’d been tired and overwrought—excited about his prospects and worried that it might all go wrong and ruin his chances with Iris. But it wasn’t like him to let his imagination get the better of him, so there was no reason to dwell on it. It was best forgotten.

Today, in the bright winter sunlight, this part of the site seemed like a sheltered and pleasant spot: the hard lines of the rock face were mellowed by the lush ferns clinging to the slope, and even the curtains of trailing ivy looked quite pretty when they were wafted by the breeze. But even so, Trevor was in no rush to go clambering among the loose rocks and brambles. He’d already ruined one good pair of trousers and he couldn’t afford to damage another.

Trevor stopped walking and called out to Brian, doing his best to sound reserved and authoritative, “All right, Brian, what exactly is the problem?”

Brian turned around sharply and shook his head. He shuffled closer to Trevor, looking nervous, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low: “I can’t tell you, not down here. I’m probably wrong about the whole thing and I don’t want that lot taking the mickey. So I thought you’d know for certain if I’m right or wrong. And if I am wrong, then maybe you wouldn’t mind keeping mum about it, so to speak.” Brian looked around as if fearful of attracting attention from the other workers. “If that’s all right with you, Mr. Marley,” he added, and to Trevor’s ears, the man sounded hopeful, almost pleading.

Trevor frowned. Brian had obviously been upset by something in this this part of the site, and by an uncanny coincidence, this was exactly the place that he’d had his own unsettling experience. But that’s all it was—a coincidence. No one else knew about his humiliating retreat from this place, did they? Unless...unless Brian had been there at the same time, hiding in the dark gorge. But that couldn’t be possible, could it?

Trevor turned on the workman. “Now you listen to me, Brian,” he snapped. “I’ve got more important things to do than go on a wild goose chase. So if you’ve got something to say, you’d better come out with it right now.” Trevor pointed his finger at Brian’s face and the workman flinched. “But I’m warning you,” Trevor went on, “if you’re wasting my time with some stupid prank, you can go home now and you’ll never work for Grigson’s again.”

Brian looked down for a moment, and when he looked back up, his face was a picture of downcast misery.

Oh, for god’s sake
, Trevor thought,
he looks like a kicked dog
.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Marley,” Brian mumbled. “I didn’t mean any offence, I’m sure. I just thought, with you being an educated man, you’d know what to do right away.” He paused and glanced back toward the gorge. “I suppose I’d better tell the foreman. He’ll want to fetch a policeman I suppose.”

Trevor felt the blood drain from his face. “A policeman? Why? What have you found?”

Brian sniffed and looked away, shaking his head.

Trevor stepped close to Brian and grabbed him by both arms. He bent forward to look the workman in the eye. “Out with it! What have you found? You’ve got to tell me.”

Brian’s face creased. “Let me go,” he said. “I’ve got to fetch the foreman.”

Trevor exhaled noisily. This was no good. The foreman was a pig-headed, arrogant man, and a member of the Gas Workers and General Union. Once he was involved, he’d enjoy stirring up trouble. And if he made a scene and work stopped, even for a short while, Grigson would certainly hear of it. And that wouldn’t do at all.

Trevor let go of Brian’s arms and stood up straight. “All right, Brian, there’s no need for a fuss. We’ll deal with this between ourselves—for now at any rate.”

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “I ought to tell the foreman. I see that now. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” He turned and started walking away, dragging his feet over the dusty ground.

Trevor clenched his jaw and stifled a few harsh words. This day was going from bad to worse. He had to think. He had to turn this situation around and get it back under control. He’d been too hard on Brian and hurt his feelings; it was time to get him back on side. “Wait a minute, Brian,” he called out. “I’m sorry. There seems to have been a misunderstanding.”

Brian stopped walking. He hesitated then turned back to face Trevor. “Oh?”

Trevor smiled. “Yes. You see, I thought you were sending me on a fool’s errand—you know how it is with some of the men. They like to send people up the garden path—send them off to ask for a long weight, that sort of thing. I expect they try to play those tricks on you, don’t they?”

Brian nodded sadly. “Once, they sent me off with a paper bag to fetch sparks for the welding torch.” He sniffed. “They told me to make sure the bag was wet, so it wouldn’t catch fire.”

Trevor nodded and smiled sympathetically. “They take advantage of your good nature.”

“Yes,” Brian said. “I suppose so.”

“There’s no doubt about it, Brian. But I can see through all their nonsense. I can tell that you’re a hard worker.”

Brian shrugged. “I try to be helpful, that’s all.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Brian. You know, in a lot of ways, we’re alike.”

Brian frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but Trevor didn’t give him the chance.

“We take our work seriously, Brian. We’re determined to get somewhere in life, and those other chaps couldn’t care less about that sort of thing. But our ambitions make them jealous.”

Brian’s expression softened. “I’ve always thought…” he began, then broke off and looked down at his hands.

“You’ve always thought you could do better for yourself,” Trevor said.

Brian looked up sharply. “Yes. That’s it. How did you know what I was going to say?”

Trevor stepped closer and smiled. “We’re cut from the same cloth. We’re not content to stand still. We want to improve our lot in life.”