Ash (39 page)

When the thing in the corner finally began to move voluntarily, to turn towards him, Ash felt an overwhelming desire to be back outside, even if it meant facing the lunatic horde again. He could hear their muffled shouts, a high-pitched scream overriding all other noises, though they didn’t appear to be trying to reach him.

The figure in the corner had now turned fully. While the red glow from the lens should have softened the effect, it was a terrifying sight.

And it began to come towards him.

‘Oh, Jesus Lord,’ he whispered to himself.

The creature’s figure was slight and its legs stunted. He couldn’t discern the sex until, through the tattered and torn, thin cotton smock he made out a limp hanging breast. The woman shuffled towards him rather than walked, a peculiar mewling noise coming from between her cracked dry lips.

But the true horror, which constricted his heart as if by a clawed hand, was the sight of her head.

It was huge, too huge for her to keep upright unless she held it between her long skeletal hands, the fingernails of which were worn to the quick. Ash had to force himself not to look away. Saliva drooled from her mouth down to her short neck, as there was no jaw to obstruct the flow. The top of her bulbous head was threaded with blue veins – some thick, some thin, some standing proud as though ready to burst through the stretched skin – which wove through sparse clumps of whitish hair.

Unconsciously he allowed the night sight to fall away, perhaps because its magnifying lens made her appear closer than she was. She was still close enough, though, and in the darkness Ash imagined her long, big-knuckled fingers reaching towards him. Then, suddenly, the room brightened. The massive head had sunk against her chest and the eyes, milky white pupils half-rolled into their lids, looked up at him bale-fully.

She shambled closer, a tiny mutant whose size bore no relation to the fear she was generating in his gut. Ash pushed his back hard against the door, unconsciously turning his head so he could see her only from the corners of his eyes, his heels off the ground as the balls of his feet dug into the bare floor. Logically, one swipe of his arm would have sent the creature flying back into her corner by the cot-bed, but reason was little help against such repugnant horror. Intuition became useless in the face of undefined dread.

With her body bent even more, the abomination reached up and touched his exposed cheek. And as her quivering, ragged-nailed hand felt him, sending uncontrollable shivers through his body, there was a tremendous crash against the door on which he leaned. It rattled the metal on its hinges and the door shifted, burst inwards, all but throwing him on top of the small, scraggy crone and the sparse-haired, horrid dome of her head, but he managed to throw himself aside just in time.

The lunatics in the corridor hadn’t forgotten about him after all.

More light and bodies exploded into the room. The woman who had been menacing Ash stepped back, but not, Ash felt, because she was afraid.

The first man in, the big one with beard and hair that practically encircled his face, stumbled forward, but swiftly recovered, even when other gowned figures bumped into him.

Ash, who was half-crouched behind the now wide-open door, saw the hag stand erect, holding her weighty head up to face the intruders. The horde immediately fell silent and began to back away, out of the cell. Ash fell in with them, one step at a time, as if any sudden movement might arouse a fury in this tiny woman-beast who showed no fear of them.

Even in his steadily controlled panic, Ash realized his reaction was ridiculous. But maybe it was the orbs still floating – this time around her, either to protect her or to impart unknown powers – which the mad crowd now sensed. Either way, he would rather take his chances with them than stay in this room with her.

Ash saw the mutant was looking directly at him, and any courage he had left shrivelled inside him.

Dimly, he became aware of gunfire coming from the other end of the corridor and then the screams, not of pain but of fright. Babbage’s men? Surely they wouldn’t just open fire indiscriminately.

Now there were shrieks, more high-pitched screams, and much moaning. He guessed what was happening out there: Tasers were being used on the more hysterical cases, the guards herding them back into their cells.

He took his chance. The big man filled the doorframe, still backing away. Ash shoved him out so hard that the man bounced off the opposite wall. He pushed past and, perversely, was glad once more to be part of the mayhem outside.

‘My God, Ash,’ Haelstrom said with genuine concern. ‘Were you in the lift when it crashed through to the basement?’

‘I wasn’t the only passenger,’ Ash replied unsteadily. ‘You’ll find the dead body of one of your guests at the bottom of the lift shaft. A Serbian, I think.’

‘Good God! General Lukovic?’

‘He didn’t really introduce himself properly,’ Ash reflected sourly as he ran a dry tongue around his mouth and examined his clothes. Chalky powder still covered his lips.
What I need most is a stiff drink
, he told himself.
And then a bath or shower.

Ash had been recognized by the guards and orderlies by his clothes (dirty and torn though they were). He’d been dragged roughly towards a rising staircase at the opposite end of the dark-brick corridor. At the top was another metal door, which was open, allowing even more guards and medics through to pacify – or at least, control – the patients below.

Ash had still been shaky and battle-worn and Haelstrom, who had been directing operations from the luxurious and state-of-the-art medical unit, had quickly gone to the investigator, eyeing his condition warily as he approached.

Ash knew one thing for sure, and that was that he wanted to leave this place. He’d had enough and seen too much. If only he could speak to Kate McCarrick; he was certain she’d find a way to get him home. But maybe not . . .

‘I imagine you could do with a drink after what you have been through,’ said Haelstrom solicitously, as if he’d read the psychic investigator’s thoughts.

Ash would have smiled wryly if his cracked lips hadn’t been so painful. This time the big man wasn’t trying to get him drunk. His genuine concern was evident in his gimlet eyes and the expression on his clenched features.

‘What on earth was Lukovic doing there?’ asked a bewildered Haelstrom as if to himself.

‘Waiting for me.’

‘Why would – ’ Haelstrom began, then stopped. ‘Let’s leave that for now and get you tidied up, a drop of strong brandy first and then we’ll have you fixed up in the infirmary.’

The CEO’s tight suit jacket was unbuttoned, his tie was at half-mast, shirt neck open as if forced so by the flesh of his neck. More must have happened at Comraich that evening, Ash realized, remembering the faint, eerie screams he’d heard coming from the castle’s dining hall before he’d made the dash to find out what was happening.

So what
had
happened?
he wondered to himself, remembering his own nasty episode with the foil-covered sandwich.

‘No. I’m okay. Just a few scratches and bruises, that’s all.’

‘I’d still like to have you examined,’ insisted Haelstrom. ‘I mean, you
must
have been injured in the lift crash alone.’

Yeah
, thought Ash,
not to mention being almost throttled to death
. ‘In fact,’ he said, after swallowing to clear the dryness of his throat, ‘it was Lukovic who saved me in the end. But I’ll explain about that later. What I need right now is a shower, maybe a change of clothes, and a stiff drink to settle my nerves. Not necessarily in that order – I think the drink might come first.’ To hell with pretending he’d given up the booze; no one would blame him after all that happened to him this evening. Hell, no – he’d been in what could have been a fatal air crash before he’d even
reached
Comraich. That alone could drive a man to drink!

Haelstrom was watching him with what passed for his version of concern.

‘If you won’t be looked over by one of our medical team,’ Haelstrom urged Ash attentively, ‘then by all means let’s start with that brandy. Pandemonium has broken out in the castle this evening and I believe I need a strong drink myself. Apart from the inexplicable crash of the lift – perhaps it was age, wear and tear, who knows? – and then the attack on you in the containment area, well, we’ve also had a terrible incident in our dining room. With the help of our staff, some kind of order has been restored, and most of our guests have been sedated and taken to their rooms for the night. Regretfully, some have died. Heart attacks mainly; some crushed in the panic.’

Sir Victor didn’t say what had caused the panic, Ash noticed, though if his own ghastly culinary experience was anything to go by, he could make a fair guess. Neither had he referred to the conditions in which the patients in the basement were kept. Perhaps Haelstrom was already in denial. Whatever the reason, it could wait. Right now, Ash needed that drink.

Later that evening David Ash was alone. Utterly exhausted. Extremely jittery.

Stoical by nature, he was nevertheless beginning to think that enough was enough. But what could he do? He should have tried to get hold of Kate somehow and check his legal position here. Malign forces had built up in this place, century after century. Were their powers unstoppable now?

He’d tried to explain to Sir Victor Haelstrom earlier, as he recounted his experience over a generous measure of Armagnac, his belief that dark spirits were using ley-line energy for their own iniquitous purposes, having been drawn to this place because of its egregious past, heinous events that possibly had acted as psychic beacons for dissolute spirits.

He’d half expected the big man to dismiss or debunk the notion out of hand, but as he’d told Ash in more detail all that had happened in Comraich earlier in the evening, Haelstrom had seemed to lose all his previous scepticism. Ash shouldn’t really have been surprised. There could be no doubt by now to anyone that there were dark forces at work in this castle. And it was Ash’s job to find out what they were.

Back at work while the rest of the castle slept, the investigator was sitting on a giltwood chair in a long, wide hallway, a galleried wall at his back, moonlight flooding through the windows in the opposite wall. Behind him were several portraits in oils and busts on plinths, some cast in stone, others in bronze.

He’d tried to convince Haelstrom to abandon Comraich, leave whatever malevolence dwelt within to itself, so that its strength might fade with time, becoming too weak to sustain its influence any longer. The violent history was probably the key element that had sustained the link between Comraich and these parasitic manifestations, but to put it plainly, someone here had reopened the ‘door’ of the netherworld to them.

‘Someone in Comraich,’ Ash explained, ‘is acting as a conduit for spirits of ill-nature – whether consciously or subconsciously, I have no idea. But their strength is undeniable. My guess is that the woman I encountered in the cell is responsible for channelling the powers of these unknown entities from the spirit world.’

Haelstrom had blanched at this last remark. Ash had wondered then whether experiments were taking place here, especially upon those poor wretches in the cells.

He thought of the mutant woman, living in almost permanent darkness. Was her deformity the result of some gruesome experiment? And what of the mysterious black orbs, floating in her room, gathering around her frail, crooked body, as if to protect her? He recalled his feelings in there, the dreadful fear, the wish to flee the unknown. And her cell itself, he was certain, was directly beneath Douglas Hoyle’s observation room. What manner of spiritual creatures had been sent to him through her?

Haelstrom had fixed him with his brow-shadowed eyes and told him firmly that evacuating all the guests and staff from Comraich was not, and never would be, an option.

The big man’s surliness had returned as he’d laid down the law. Ash had been reminded in no uncertain terms that he was committed to a non-negotiable contract to investigate the haunting of Comraich Castle. Haelstrom had demanded that Ash finish his investigations and present a full – a
full
, he’d repeated forcefully – report on what was happening in the castle and why.

Without another word, Ash had stood and walked to the door, where he’d turned and said, ‘I’m going to give it one more night and one more day. You’ll get your written report, but only when I’m back in London.’

Haelstrom had begun to bluster, but Ash had already turned on his heels and walked out the door.

When he’d left Haelstrom, Ash had gone looking for Delphine, anxious that she hadn’t been caught up in the frenzy of guests, carers and guards, but she was nowhere to be found. He’d knocked on her door but there had been no response. He’d tried to return to the containment area, but found the heavy door to the stairs closed tight, an armed guard barring the way. Ash had then made for the medical unit, where an equally intractable nurse had refused him entry, though she did tell him she hadn’t seen Dr Wyatt for an hour or so.

Ash had given up, gone to his room, quickly showered and examined his cuts and scratches. Incredibly, no real damage had been done, though he knew by morning some very large bruises would make their presence felt. His neck was red and sore where he’d been half-strangled. All in all, though, he’d suffered no lasting harm.

He’d showered and donned clean jeans and a worn-leather jacket over a soft-quilted gilet. He’d remembered to take the biker’s dark muffler again for warmth later, then had taken the rest of any extra equipment he might need for the night. Into the leather bag now lying at his feet in the fifth-floor hallway, he’d tucked a Polaroid camera, his digital camera already inside. There were also reels of synthetic thread to stretch across doorways, stairs and passageways and surgical adhesive tape for making permanent seals. He’d added colour, black and white, and infrared film for his Nikon camera, these going into the gilet’s deeper pockets. The tripod for this camera could be shortened or lengthened to a reasonable height, its minimum length used for the shoulder bag. A small DVD recording camera had also gone in. Batteries, flash bulbs, lenses and filters he carried in his gilet where he could reach them easily; a winding measuring tape in a leather casing would be useful to gauge distances and his last thermometer (his other four had already been set in likely places to register cold spots earlier in the day). Sound scanners, magnetometers and certain electric field measuring devices were, again, already in use elsewhere.