Interlude #8
(It Threatened to Snap In The Darkness, Alone and Afraid.)
It had taken almost a minute before Penny finally conquered the lock. It took thirty seconds for the panic to set in, and she became convinced she had finally met her match. Then she felt the pins fall in her favour, and she felt her confidence begin to increase.
She opened the door to a cellar. The ceilings were arched and built with large stones of uneven shape and size. She first believed it to be a dungeon, but realised it was a wine cellar when she looked through the archway at the room’s far end. The racks were laid out from floor to ceiling, with little arched pathways through which someone could move to the tiers beyond.
The other end of the room was open with steps leading upward. Penny took them quietly.
She reached their top and found herself midway along a corridor. She took a branch of it at random and walked to its end. Nothing looked familiar.
The flooring was uneven, and the walls arched. She passed a high set window on one wall and realised she was still underground. She saw darkness between the bars that secured it.
She felt the sound in her stomach before she heard it. It was a sound that made her abdomen clench as if her body was about to force the contents of her stomach out over the stone. The muscles quivered there, uncertain of their purpose. She was not settling but not slipping over into clenching tight.
The sound moved up her torso, affecting her breathing and making her skin itchy.
When it finally got loud enough to affect her ears a part of her already knew what it was. People recognise evil. They may not think of it as such. They may use different words. But a part of that brain that has survived since we first crawled from the primordial oceans knew what evil was. It could always sense it, as Penny sensed it now.
Her body had known before she had, the sound had been too quiet for her ears to sense, but her skin felt it in the air.
At first, it was just the sounds of mumbled voices. Incoherent mutterings. A cacophony of nonsense. But as Penny made her way along the corridor, they became clearer. It wasn’t nonsense, it was Latin or something very like it. Penny attended a school that didn’t teach the language, but she had seen movies and heard prayers spoken in church.
The corridor led to another set of stairs, but just to the right of this stairway to escape was another set of stairs, leading down.
Penny paused. The chanting voices came from below and she didn’t need to see the people uttering it to know what they were doing.
In those movies, Latin was almost certainly used for the same purpose.
Penny didn’t need to see it, but the morbid curiosity that was such a strong part of her character drew her to it anyway.
She let the stairs lead her down, away from safety. As she descended the word around her fell away. The darkness had more purchase in these depths, the light struggling to penetrate the gloom. She reached out and touched the wall. It was not brick and it was no longer made from hewn stone. The wall was as uneven as a frozen wave amid a turbulent night at sea and was every bit as cold. The steps under her were just as unpredictable. She could feel them dip in their middle. Perhaps the result of many centuries of use.
The voices broke off, and the sudden silence rang in her ears. The moment stretching out to the point of breaking, it threatened to snap into the darkness, alone and afraid.
What was she thinking?
Penny stopped and waited.
The further her descent, the further from reason she travelled. The silence was overwhelming, leaving the only respite the eerie chanting from somewhere deep within the tunnels below her.
She looked behind her and saw that the stairs leading to the ground floor were only a dozen feet away. She was probably no more than forty feet from an exit, though it felt like another world.
She took another step. The stone was frigid against the heel of her foot. Her shoes had been lost in the scuffle with the Tall Lady, or she had taken them off to remain silent, she wasn’t certain anymore. Now she missed them. Her feet were bitterly cold, but would not be for much longer.
She needed to see what was transpiring below, then she would leave, and if she could gather a few expensive items on the way out all the better,
She padded down the steps, gaining a little speed to keep the cold at bay. There was light below. It flickered and Penny imagined medieval torches decorating walls hewn in grotesque imagery.
She knew what was below. She would have known it if she had been suffering a night terror as a six-year-old. People laughed in the light of day about secret meetings and rituals, but Penny suspected that everyone knew it was true, we laughed because the alternative was too horrible to bear.
The light grew brighter, more defined against the uneven stone of its surroundings. The wedges of steps were more apparent to her now. She could see the ghostly image of her feet pressing against the darkness. Tiny feet that would make a Japanese Geisha proud. Equally small hands searching the rock wall for purchase.
The voices began again, this time they were in perfect unison. The words were alien to Penny, but the menace of their meaning was undeniable.
As she approached the foot of the steps she slowed, pressing herself to the side as she attempted to make herself even smaller.
Details began appearing in the oval of light. To her right was a wall that was carved flat. It held the medieval torches she had so clearly imagined. The floor was polished to a gleam, and the ceiling was an etched masterpiece that was no less than a Sistine Chapel for the damned.
Penny edged out into the cavernous room. She was in a position high above the congregation of people. A curved platform separated wooden stairs leading down to oval exits like the one she entered through.
A cable glinted in the firelight. It hung from an anchor of steel carefully hidden in the carved ceiling. From it was suspended a box about a foot square. She scanned the room and found another. After a few moments, she had counted four hung at equal intervals.
Then she realised.
The room was not as large as she had believed, it appeared larger because the boxes were projectors displaying huge images on curved screens. Penny almost laughed, she had seen nothing like it. It was a meeting by video, a twentieth-century take on an ancient ritual.
Then the smile, half-formed, died.
There must be thousands of them.
A figure raised its hand and the chanting died.
Penny’s gaze moved over the people. None were hooded as they would have been in a movie. She hoped that the light from the projectors would hide her movement along the wall. She carefully positioned herself so she could see the master of ceremonies.
The faces below were all the same to her. Each had unblemished skin and expensively maintained hair. Most had the sheen of surgery glistening on their cheeks, but she instantly recognised the man standing at their head.
Charles Johann Grey, the man she knew as CJ, stood with a cane in hand. He waved it like a conductor’s baton and smiled.
“Welcome Acolytes,” his voice boomed, amplified by hidden speakers, “we stand united in supplication, our collective hand raised clenching our weapon of choice over the lamb that awaits being bloodied in His name.”
A phrase rippled through the congregation. Penny could not understand it, and it was not in a language she could recognise.
The screen behind CJ switched to darkness. There was movement in the image, but Penny could not determine what it was. CJ glanced over his shoulder and stepped to the side.
Again, Penny knew. There was only one thing it could be, her mind filtered through what she had learned, the darkness was broken by a sliver of light and she knew what she would see in it.
It was the building. The gravestone of black brick that stood against the black midnight sky. It was nearby, they had passed it only two nights ago. They had brought their cargo here, and she had known who – not what – that cargo had been. Now she saw that cargo again, as Ryan was pushed into that rectangle of light. He stumbled and fell, but even before he did Penny knew something was wrong. He was unsteady, drunken, or drugged.
He slammed into the concrete path. Something metallic clattered down next to him.
It was a knife, its blade long and slightly curved.
Penny thought she could make out movement in the windows to the apartment block, but she was already moving herself. She could not merely watch. The building was nearby, if she was quick, she might make it in time.
She turned and moved back the way she had come. She moved faster than was safe, but she didn’t care. If she was chased, so be it. She would fight if she had to.
She made it back to the stairwell and ran up the stairs. She no longer felt the cold in her heels, she no longer felt anything. Her mind was busy with its preparations.
She was halfway up the second set of steps before she realised that they were carpeted, and when she got to the top, she knew she was still in the mansion house. Penny ran, searching for windows that would indicate her position in the vast building, and opening any doors to find anything she could use to protect herself.
She turned a corner and stumbled to a stop, ahead looked familiar. She ran to a door on her left and peered inside. It was the games room, on the floor lay a broken pool cue. Across the table was the other cue, the heavy one that CJ must have used to incapacitate Ryan. She grabbed it, the weight feeling good in her hands, and then made her way back out of the room.
Penny paused for the barest moments, an almost imperceptible glitch in her movements as she considered her options. Her mind may have thought them through, but her body had already decided. Within minutes she was back in her room, gathered her jacket and things and slipped her shoes back onto her feet.
Then she was out of the room, making her way towards the loading bay with the heavy cue in her hands. She remembered there had been a door to the outside, one she had not been confident she could open without triggering an alarm.
She no longer cared.
It had taken only minutes to get from the apartment block to the mansion, but that was by truck, on foot, it may take her considerably longer.
She ran the route to the door, making only one false turn, and seeing no one who might stand in her way.
She saw the windows at the end of the corridor framing the darkness outside. To the left should be the door, to the right led to the loading bay and another possible exit. The door would give, it might take her a minute to pick the lock but only seconds to break it open. She could break the glass and jump through. She would then be out in the open and on her way to Ryan’s side.
A moment later, she was tumbling through the air. She heard glass breaking and felt the cold night air push in against her before the carpet slapped her in the face.
Penny stumbled backwards, already back on her feet.
The Tall Lady stood between her and the door.
The amazon reached up and tied her long hair into a knot to keep it from her face. She wore a simple T-shirt and jeans that were artfully torn. She took two quick steps towards Penny, but the younger woman didn’t wait to see what she would do next. She turned and bolted down the corridor, hearing the Tall Lady’s footsteps in pursuit.
This was not the first time Penny had found herself running for safety. She had not been called Penny then, she never used the same name twice, but she learned back when she still had her given name that she was quick on her feet, and her instincts were good.
As fast as she knew she was, Penny knew the Tall Lady was faster and had the benefit of knowing her surroundings. Ahead of them would be the loading bay. Penny struggled to remember its layout. There had been a corridor further on, but she had not explored it, there was an office, and there was the open gate through which she’d accessed Ryan’s truck.
She didn’t remember if there was room enough around the trailer for her to get outside. It was that or the unexplored corridor. Failing either, she could break a window but the glass was probably hardened, and trying and failing would be her end.
She spared a glance behind her and immediately regretted it. The Tall Lady was almost at her heels, if she reached out she might be able to catch the collar of Penny’s jacket.
Penny’s instincts were good, so it wasn’t a conscious thought that made her drop onto the floor in a huddle. The abrupt change creates an instant obstacle for the pursuing woman. Penny felt the woman’s foot hit her side in a glancing blow. It didn’t hurt, but it pulled the woman off balance, her momentum sending her twisting through the air.
Penny was on her feet before the woman collided with the wall, the Tall Lady’s head smashing into one of the windows. A crack appeared across both the pane of glass and the woman’s skin, blood running from her forehead and down into her eye.
Moments later Penny ran into the loading bay, it was larger than she remembered, and the gate to Ryan’s truck was still raised. Through a gap beside the trailer and the wall was a sliver of night. Penny made for it, but a sudden realisation made her pause.
If she did make it outside the woman would either follow or call the alarm.
Penny scanned the room for something she could use. She only had a few seconds. She could already hear the Tall Lady climbing to her feet nearby. Penny looked at the gap between the trailer and the edge of the shutter and was thankful that she had never gained any weight on her travels.
She could run, and the Tall Lady would have to find another route to her, but she would find one, and probably quickly.
She had to be slowed down.
Then she remembered, and her hand moved quickly to her pocket.
The Tall Lady had no idea she was called that, she called herself Sonia, and CJ called her Sonny, but she didn’t like that little woman. She had taken a dislike to her the moment she had seen her fawning over the thug who had been chosen for the ritual. She had taken some comfort in the knowledge that the little woman would probably die in that cell. She had suggested that they send in what remained of her one-night stand when he had finished at Gatehouse, but CJ had told her that was impossible.
If asked she would tell people that she was not a cruel woman. She was certainly capable of cruelty but she wasn’t by nature. It was a lie of course, and it pleased her that most people believed her, and it made the sudden acts of cruelty she would later inflict on them so much more fulfilling.
She wiped the blood from her forehead. The skin had split just above her eye, and she would have to be swift in her dispatch of the little woman so she could get it seen too. It would not be right to allow a scar to mar her face. Her beauty was as useful to her as her strong body and quick mind.
She was perfect, and she intended to remain that way.
The loading bay appeared empty until she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Within seconds she was on it. Grasping at the cheap leather jacket the little woman wore as it slipped between the truck and the wall.
She wedged her other hand into the wall and prepared to pull the little woman back with enough force to crack her stupid skull against the concrete, but her plan didn’t go as she had envisioned.
The pain was sudden. An overpowering burning sensation halfway down her reaching forearm. She let go of the woman’s jacket and tried to pull her arm away.
When her arm slipped back through the gap she stared at it, slack-jawed.
The little woman had driven a blade no longer than that of a pocketknife through Sonia’s slim forearm. Its tip pushed a tiny tent in the skin opposite to where it had penetrated. Then the blade twisted and the tip of it broke through the flesh.
Sonia screamed and tried to pull her arm free, but the little woman still held the blade with one hand as her other hooked around the blunt edge of the tip and pulled.
The blade wiggled and rocked down the length of Sonia’s forearm, slicing the meat between her radius and ulna. The little woman cut between the bones until it reached Sonia’s wrist. A fountain of blood spilt over the concrete at Sonia’s feet. She slapped and punched at the little woman’s hands, but the blows were already becoming feeble. Each movement pushed the knife in further until the blade lodged in the small bones of Sonia’s wrist. Then the little woman twisted it one last time.
The blade ripped free, severing the joint with the sound of a turkey leg being torn free from a Thanksgiving feast. Sonia fell backwards into a pool of her blood, her hand flopping uselessly on one half of her bisected forearm.
Her head collided with the concrete, but Sonia didn’t feel it. She had already lost far too much blood to feel anything ever again. She lay staring at the fluorescent lights, dumbfounded by the fact that the little woman had bested her so easily, and when she died she realised that as much as she hated that woman, she hated herself even more.