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Authors: Isabelle Merlin

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction/Fairy Tales & Folklore Adaptations

Bright Angel (24 page)

BOOK: Bright Angel
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A rush of wings

As I came closer, I could hear the sound of voices. Or rather, a voice, for only one person was talking, a low, fast mumble. It was a voice I recognised at once.

I must not go barging straight in. And I had to stop Marc from doing it, too. Somehow, I knew that. I forced myself to wait an instant, two instants, till I saw Marc heading towards me through the graveyard. He was about to speak when I held up a finger to my lips. Thank God, he understood. We crept around the end of the church wall, and stopped. Carefully, we looked around the corner.

It was the strangest sight. Something in me was sort of awed by it. Washed over by the thin silver of moonlight, the lovely little yard at the back of the church looked unearthly. The flowers had no colour, they were only faint glimmers at the bottom of the stone sarcophagi, which looked in this light like the last resting places of giants. On the air was carried a faraway tinkle of bells – the cows from the meadow beyond, wandering somewhere out of sight. The stone mask embedded in the wall, the mask with its eyes of dark emptiness – it looked weirdly alive, its eye sockets filled with grey light, its mouth open on a silent scream.

Radic was sitting with him on a sarcophagus, perhaps even the very one where Daniel and I had sat, that wonderful day that seemed so long ago. Not Daniel, and not Gabriel sat by him – but a stranger. It wasn't the figure I'd seen earlier – that one, puzzlingly, was nowhere to be seen – but I could guess his identity easily.

Benedict Udo looked older and smaller than he had in the newspaper photos, and even from here I could see he was sweating, and his eyes were wide, but curiously blank. He wasn't talking, though. Radic was doing all of that, on and on. I couldn't make out what he was saying, because he was leaning in close to Udo, talking fast, low, not allowing him to get a word in.

But it didn't matter to me what he was saying. I could guess. I hardly had ears or eyes for those two, for some distance away, sitting in the grass in the shadow of the wall, not far from the mask, were Daniel and Gabriel, hands tied, and half-hidden by Mick who was standing watch over them. I could see Mick plainly, and I could also see quite plainly the thing he had in his hand. It gleamed in the moonlight with a lovely, sinister shine. I knew why Udo was sweating, and why the boys were not moving, for the gun pointed right at them and the hand which held it also held all the cards in this deadly game and there was no way out. Of course, I thought. They had never intended to come unarmed. Never intended to keep that promise. Of course not. But it surprised me that they'd managed to change the venue and come armed and still manage to trap Udo, alone. More than surprising, though, was the expression on Mick's face.

For, in the moonlight, Mick's face was nothing like I'd ever seen it. It showed neither the friendly mask nor the half-glimpsed savagery of the past but a kind of exalted, almost holy look. I know that sounds totally weird, but that's the only way I can describe it. He looked like one of those saints you see in stained-glass windows or holy pictures, with their glance up to heaven and their faces already full of otherworldly light, looking forward to their just reward. Or like the angel Michael, I thought, suddenly – the warrior angel, the angel of righteous retribution – thrusting his deadly spear without expression right in the innards of the Devil, intent on finishing his task, no matter what or who might get in the way.

It made me shudder. But even given the element of surprise, there was no way Marc and I could do anything, right now. If we came rushing out, Mick would shoot us. Or Daniel, or Gabriel. Or all of us. He wouldn't hesitate. I knew that as surely as if I could read Mick's mind. In my stupidity I'd thought Radic to be worse, more dangerous than his nephew. But I'd been wrong. Completely wrong. Radic had the instincts of a thug, but Mick had those of a killer. He would shoot any one of us dead as coolly and unemotionally as though shooting a clay pigeon. And he'd not stop. He didn't care about the spilling of blood in sacred places. He didn't believe in heavenly protection. He didn't believe in other people's right to live, either. He only believed in one thing, his revenge. His certainty that he was right, about Udo, that Udo was the Devil and had to be destroyed.

Oh, he wasn't a sadist, I thought with a cold clear appalled knowledge. He would not
enjoy
killing me or the others, but he'd do it, if he felt he had to. It would mean no more to him than the squashing of a fly. He'd feel no remorse. He'd sleep well at night. Unlike his uncle who, despite his violence, might perhaps hesitate, might feel remorse. Not that I really knew about that. It was just a feeling I got in this weird state I was in myself.

Behind me, I heard Marc move. It was a very slight sound, but it scared me, for I was afraid it would be heard. But no-one noticed. Marc tapped me on the shoulder. I turned. He mimed making a phone call. I nodded. He shrugged and whispered, right close to my ear, ‘I do not have my mobile with me. Do you?' I shook my head. ‘I will go for the nearest house to call for help. I'll be quick. Don't do anything.' I nodded, only half-listening, and hardly noticed when he left swiftly and silently over the grass.

Radic was still earbashing Udo, whose shoulders seemed slumped under the onslaught of words. He hardly looked like the sinister underworld lord of Radic's and Mick's reporting, but a tired, put-upon and nervous man in a situation he did not want to be in or could hope to control. His smart suit looked rumpled and stained – was that blood? – his frame shrunken inside it.

Why had he come alone? Someone of his sort always brought a bodyguard. Surely that couldn't have been that person I'd seen earlier? Because then what kind of bodyguard is it that leaves his boss to face the music. But there was certainly no-one else to be seen here. Udo had been caught like a rat in a trap, without backup. How on earth had they managed that?

I must have made some small movement without realising it, because all at once Gabriel's eyes turned towards me. I saw his face change, just for an instant, fill with joy. I put a finger to my lips. He nodded. Alas, Mick had seen.

‘Who's there? Come out, hands in the air, or I'll shoot!' he shouted. Not giving me time to reply, he shot anyway, in the general direction where I'd been. The bullet hit the wall, whizzing past my ear. I screamed, ‘Stop, stop, I'm coming out!' And I stepped out, my hands above my head, my heart pounding like mad, not knowing whether this was my last minute of life on earth, not knowing if he was just going to shoot me down where I stood, my eyes not on him but on Daniel and Gabriel, staring at me with terror and love in their eyes.

But he didn't get a chance. Radic said harshly, ‘Stop that fooling around with the gun, Steve, for God's sake, you'll wake the whole bloody neighbourhood. The girl's alone, you can see that.'

‘How'd she get here then?'

Radic raised a hand in exasperation and I saw then why Udo hadn't tried to get away. They were handcuffed together. ‘Your bloody caravan's not that bloody far from here, is it? You blew it, mate. Shouldn't have left her on her own, told you that. She's a bloody Houdini, that one.' Mick opened his mouth to speak, but his uncle broke him off. ‘Oh, for Christ's sake stick her over there with the others and shut up.' He turned back to Udo. ‘Now, my friend, where were we?'

A more sensitive man than Radic would have quailed at the black look in Mick's eyes then. But all he said was, ‘Okay. Get over here, and don't try any funny business.'

He shoved me down. Oh, to be close to them again! To be able to touch them, feel their warmth, to be together again! We were in a desperate situation but it didn't seem as bad as before because we were together, breathing the same air.

Daniel whispered, ‘They just want money. They're just haggling, pushing my uncle as hard as he'll go. I think they'll let us go once they get what they want.'

I thought, no way, but didn't say so. Instead, I said, ‘Why is it here? Why did your uncle agree? Why did he come alone?'

‘He didn't. They ambushed his car on the road. That one – jerking a thumb at Mick – killed my uncle's bodyguard, shot him in cold blood. They brought us here – he had no choice. They never intended to go to the cathedral.'

‘Oh.' I felt stupid. How could I have thought I had any measure of control over events, how could I have imagined I could know what these ruthless people might do? And if the bodyguard was dead, then who was that other person I'd seen? Or thought I'd seen, for my mind was in confusion now and I did not know if I could trust my own senses.

‘Here they can get away easily. They can leave us tied up and no-one will find us till maybe late in the day.'

I glanced at the sarcophagi and shuddered inwardly. They could also kill us all and stick us in there and no-one would know. Not for ages. Not maybe for years. Centuries even, when our dry bones would be found.

Stop being morbid, girl. Stop. Think. I whispered, ‘Where's the other guy?'

He stared. ‘What?'

I explained about the figure I'd seen. Daniel said, puzzled, ‘I didn't see anyone else. Just them.'

We'd been whispering together over Gabriel's head, ignored by Mick who showed every sign of nervous tension now as he paced back and forth, back and forth between us and the two men. Now he turned on us, his eyes snapping with a black anger. ‘Shut up, the pair of you. I'm sick of your whispering, okay?'

‘Sure, sure, you're the boss,' I said.

He didn't like my tone. ‘I am that,' he said, and kicked me hard on my sore ankle, where it hurt most. I couldn't help it. I yelped. Daniel roared with anger, and tried to get up to throw himself at Mick. But of course he was helpless with his hands tied and Mick just took a swing at him, and caught him hard on the mouth, which started bleeding at once.

Then he raised his gun and pointed it at Daniel. ‘Get down on your knees,' he said, and his voice had no tone to it, it was terrifying.

Radic shouted, ‘No, Mick! Don't be stupid!' He got up, pulling Udo up with him, but Mick didn't lower his gun. He growled, ‘Get back, uncle. Right back. Enough with the talking. These bastards have to pay. To really suffer, like we did. Like poor Tom did. Get down on your knees, you,' he repeated to Daniel, and there was a glittering blankness – a wild strangeness – in his eyes which I instinctively knew meant the worst. Daniel knew it too. He got down on his knees.

‘Hands behind your head.'

I cried, ‘Mick, please don't – don't!'

He took no notice. He said, harshly, ‘My brother was destroyed by that one–' a jerk of the head to Udo – ‘And now he is going to have to watch as his nephew is also destroyed. It is fitting. It is right.'

‘No,' said Radic, and he was starting up, pulling Udo up with him, when Gabriel suddenly gave a terrified wail, ‘Oh help us. Please dear angels help us–'

Mick laughed, a laugh that was more like a snarl, and raised the gun – and at that moment, unbelievably,
I heard a rush of wings
– and then something hurtled up fast from the ground like a bolt of moonlight shooting up right in the path of Mick's hand, holding the gun. The gun went flying out of his hand, and skidded across the grass. He tripped, stumbled, fell – and then suddenly high above us there was a peal of sound, a song of such miraculous beauty that I thought every bone in my body would melt with the delight of it, and as I looked up in a state that I can hardly describe even now, I saw a small body hanging there in the moonlit sky, a bird – singing and singing and singing as if it would never stop – and it was like a moment of sheer awe and beauty and rightness – something I will never ever ever forget, even if I live to be a hundred and twenty.

But the next instant shattered the beauty of the moment, for the song died away and another sound, harsh and ugly, broke the silence, a crack, a thump – and then I saw the gun in Udo's free hand, and the red hole that had appeared in the middle of Mick's throat as he slumped on the grass, and the way he stared at Udo – at us – blankly, the eyes open on nothing, the life ebbing from them. I heard Radic's animal scream of anguish, his eyes full of hate and rage and grief – I saw Udo lift the gun again – I saw him put it between Radic's eyes – I saw him look into those eyes with a faint, mocking smile, and a gleeful twist of the mouth – Radic looking back at him steadily, though he was grey-faced, sweating – I saw Udo put his finger on the trigger and...

‘No!' I screamed. ‘No! Enough! Enough!' The words were not out of my mouth before I was flinging myself at Daniel's murderous uncle, throwing myself into the jaws of death without an instant's thought or even feeling, knowing only that I must.

If he hadn't still had one handcuffed, I don't know what would have happened. I'd moved fast and I'd taken him by surprise but I know now that I could so very easily have died. Udo was fast, he'd been waiting for his chance, he was utterly ruthless. It was only the tiniest chance that not only saved me, but gave me enough momentum to knock the gun out of his hand and take possession of it. Benedict Udo looked up at me then, still with that faint mocking smile but an ironic twist of the mouth, and he said, quite calmly, in a very English accent, ‘Well, then, looks like Danny picked himself a right Amazon, eh?'

But Stanislas Radic just stared, and in his dark-circled eyes I saw only bitterness, hopelessness and defeat, and no thanks for saving his life at all.

But I had no time to think about it for just then Marc returned, not on his own but with a couple of guys, farmers by the looks of them, with rifles. One of them had a pocketknife too, and we soon had Daniel's and Gabriel's bonds cut and then not long after that Aunt Freddy arrived and Claire – Marc had rung them too – and then a couple of police cars and an ambulance came howling down the road – policemen piled out – and it was all confusion and bright lights and bustling about for a long while and Udo and Radic were carted off, and we tried not to look at Mick's body as the paramedics covered it with a sheet and carried it away. Through it all, we all – Daniel and Gabriel and I and Freddy and Claire and Marc – sat close together, our arms around each other, and none of us said anything very much at all.

BOOK: Bright Angel
2.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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