Sentinel (23 page)

Where were Richard and Lucy?

Another noise.

Sam stiffened and looked at the wardrobe in the corner of the room, the one thing still standing where it was supposed to.

Liberty appeared next to him.

“Somebody’s in there,” she said quietly.

Sam nodded and inwardly kicked himself. Why hadn’t he brought his rifle? He reminded himself that he hadn’t been expecting this. But then, the world was going to hell right now, wasn’t it? He should have been more prepared. The words the red-headed vixen had spat at him on the bus echoed in his ears.

“You’re losing your touch.”

And she had winked.

Sam puffed out his chest and strode up to the wardrobe. He reached for one of the doors, but before he had the chance to touch it, the door crashed open in his face and a screaming creature burst out at him.

Something sharp glinted in its hand.

It fell on the old man with haunted eyes and raised the shining object–

“Lucy!”

The creature stopped at the sound of its name, straining to look at who had shouted.

“S–Sam,” she trembled.

Lucy Walden fell away from him, dropping the knife to the floor. She backed up against the wardrobe, shaking uncontrollably.

“Lucy,” Sam said, his voice filled with concern. He eased himself up from the floor. The woman was a mess; still in her pyjamas, her honey-coloured hair wild. There were grazes on her arms.

Sam moved toward her.

Lucy cringed away. “I–I almost… I almost–” she stammered, her eyes fixed on the knife on the carpet.

“No harm done,” Sam assured her. “Look at me, right as rain.”

She wouldn’t look at him, though. Her troubled gaze lingered on the knife and she was still shaking. She seemed to be deeply traumatised.
What has she been through?
A horrible thought struck him. What if she had done something to Richard and Patrick? What if she had killed her father-in-law? Sam pushed the disturbing notion away, not wanting to believe it.

He cupped her chin.

“Lucy.”

Finally she looked at him.

The tears came.

“Sam,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

“Where’s Richard?” Sam asked. “What happened here?”

“Richard,” Lucy whimpered.

Sam wrapped his arms around her and she sagged against him, not bothered by his scratchy grey suit. Only a few days had passed since Sam left the Waldens to accompany Nicholas, and although he’d hardly left Richard and Lucy in the happiest of circumstances, what he had returned to was almost beyond comprehension. He swept Lucy’s hair out of her face.

She was terrified, that much he could tell. She clung to him like a child who was afraid of the dark.

“Lucy,” he appealed softly. “If you can tell me anything…”

Lucy gave no response; she simply leant into Sam’s shoulder despairingly.

He bent to look at Liberty. She was occupied with other things. He wondered if she could sense anything. He wasn’t Sensitive, but even he could feel the anxious energies throbbing through the house.

Liberty pressed a hand to her head, as if it was pounding, and Sam dreaded to think what she was picking up. She closed her eyes, a pained expression twisting her pretty face. Then her eyes snapped open.

“It gestated here,” she murmured.

“Gestated?”

“The thing that did this,” Liberty answered. “While the man slept. It seized hold, sank in deep, spread roots.”

“Richard–” Sam began.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to talk about somebody behind their back?”

A voice punctured the air.

Lucy let out a cry, thrusting away from Sam and wedging herself into the space between the wardrobe and the wall.

There was a figure in the doorway.

“Didn’t take you for a gossip, old boy,” it said.

It took Sam a few moments to realise just who this scruffy figure was. In the end it was the familiar brown eyes that gave the newcomer’s identity away. If the change that Sam had witnessed in Richard days ago had been difficult to stomach, what he was confronted with now made that pale in comparison.

Richard had never been a man possessed of particular presence or poise. He was a gentle, unassuming soul. It was therefore all the more chilling to see him now. Richard lounged against the doorframe, face gaunt and fixed with a sly smile. Days without shaving had encouraged the growth of a bristly mesh of a beard, which matched his greasy brown hair. His shirt was blood-spattered and his eyes glinted like steel. He wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore.

“Quite a reunion,” he snorted. “Alone in my bedroom with two women, Samuel! What would dear Judith say?”

“Richard–” Sam began, confused.

“No,” Liberty broke in.

Richard gave the dark-skinned woman a withering glance.

“Is this who you brought to save me, friend? A witch? I feel I should be offended.”

Sam’s face was a picture of bewilderment as he stared at the other man. There wasn’t a shred left of the Richard he had known.

“You,” he finally croaked. “You did all of this.”

Richard eased away from the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Oh, come, come,” he chided. “Senility really is setting in, isn’t it? Do I need to spell it out for you? Treat you like an invalid?” He snorted in contempt. “I had quite enough of that with Dad.”

Sam’s initial surprise faded as new, hotter emotions stirred.

“You killed your father,” he said. “You destroyed your home. Look what you’ve done to your wife.”

“A shame that you find this all so disagreeable,” Richard sighed. “I had hoped we could work together. Side by side, like the good old days. Starsky and Hutch. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

“It was the doctor,” Liberty interrupted. “He did something to him.”

“Speak again, witch, and I’ll cleave the tongue from your mouth,” Richard snapped.

He took a step toward Sam and the older man saw that he was trembling. Not from the cold. He was excited. Richard was enjoying this.

“Tell me, Samuel,” the scraggly man began, scratching the coarse pattern of hair at his throat. “Are your wits sharp enough to take me, do you think? I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t engage with him,” Liberty said. “He–”

Before she could finish the sentence, Richard had leapt across the room with such speed that it caught them all off guard. He dealt a blow to the side of Sam’s head, sending the old man crashing into the wardrobe.

Sam’s vision exploded in stars. They fizzed and his ears rang.

When the stars finally popped and cleared, he saw that Richard and Liberty had tumbled onto the upturned bed. Richard was on top of her, squeezing her throat in his hands.

For a moment their eyes locked; Liberty’s wide with surprise, Richard’s bloodshot. Then with surprising strength, Liberty bucked beneath him and Richard was thrown across the room, hitting the far wall and tumbling to the floor.

Sam attempted to get up, but wooziness overcame him and he sucked air in, biting back the bile. When he glanced up again, he saw that Richard was already rising from where he’d landed.

“Interesting,” he grinned. “You found a feisty one, Sam.”

Liberty didn’t take her eyes off him.

“Sam,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Sam couldn’t speak.

“What to do now, witch? What’s running through that pretty head?” he heard Richard goad. The man considered her for a moment. Then he whispered, “Am I fast enough? Can I get the knife? Is Sam okay?”

“Stop!” Liberty yelled. She had put a hand to her head.

In that instant the figure pounced at her again, striking her jaw. Liberty fell to the floor.

Sam’s vision swam and he watched in a daze as the pair tussled. They seemed evenly matched. He cursed himself. What did he think he was doing? Just two days ago he’d been in a bus crash. Now he was being thrown into wardrobes. Even a young man would have trouble recovering from that. Fear blazed into frustration. His body was too old for this, even if his mind was still sharp. He breathed deeply. He was no good to anybody like this. As he attempted to tap into some inner well of strength, he heard another crash and saw Liberty tumble across the floor. She seized the kitchen knife from where it had fallen earlier.

Leaping to her feet, she struck out with it and sliced Richard’s arm. She seemed to have been aiming for his chest.

As the slathering man swung for her, Liberty seized his bleeding arm and sent him crashing into the wall once more.

Now!
Sam thought.
Get up now!

But his body didn’t respond.

Helplessly he watched Richard go for Liberty again, hurling her across the bed, where she landed in a heap near the window. She looked dazed, and Sam saw Richard swipe the knife from the carpet. He reached down and dragged Liberty to her feet, clutching at her throat with his free hand.

Sam didn’t hear what he hissed at her.

As he prepared to launch himself from the floor, a blurry form suddenly darted past him and Sam started in surprise.

It was Lucy. She had emerged from her hiding place between the wall and the wardrobe.

“You’re not him!” she screamed, bowling into the man who had once been her husband. “YOU’RE NOT HIM!”

Richard let out a strangled cry, caught off guard. He crashed backwards, straight through the smashed window.

Sam heard the sound of shattered glass raining down on the patio, and then a muted
whump
.

Lucy stood staring out the window, grasping the sill for support.

Liberty looked on her last legs as she heaved herself to her feet and put an arm around the trembling woman.

Finally the nausea lessened and Sam struggled up from where he had landed by the wardrobe. Every inch of him ached as he went to the window.

“You okay?” Liberty asked.

Sam didn’t answer, ashamed at his inability to help. Instead, he peered down at the patio.

“Gone,” he muttered. “We must find him.”

“He’s injured,” Liberty said, searching the garden. “He won’t be bothering us again today.”

She hesitated. Sam followed her gaze to the garden shed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Something else was here,” Liberty murmured. “It visited Richard.”

“Can you sense anymore?”

“It…” Liberty started falteringly. “It pretends to be a woman. Red hair…” She touched her forehead, blinking. It looked like she was going to throw up. “It… calls itself…”

Sam didn’t like this. “Liberty,” he said.

Liberty squeezed her eyes shut.

“Malika,” she purred. “She was here with Richard. She and the doctor, I see them together in a dark room…” Liberty pushed her hand against her forehead.

Sam took her arm. “Liberty,” he said softly.

At his warm touch, the pain seemed to ease and Liberty blinked out of whatever the daydream had been.

“You alright?” he asked.

Liberty nodded.

“So we have a name for her,” he mused, tracing the healing scratch on his cheek. “If she’s been here, we must get away. Lucy, we’ll take you to your sister’s.”

Lucy didn’t seem to hear him. She stared out at the sky, lost in the horror of the situation.

“Will she be safe there?” Liberty asked.

“Nowhere is safe now,” Sam said darkly.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Reynolds And Rumours

D
USK CAME.
A
S THE SNOW-ENCRUSTED TERRAIN
hardened about Hallow House, a fire crackled in the parlour. Nicholas slumped dozing on the sofa. The previous restless nights had finally caught up with him and he slept soundly, the firewood softly popping in the background.

Jessica watched the boy from the parlour door. For some reason, she felt guilty, but she wasn’t sure why. Something to do with a garden. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be very important. It was so difficult to remember everything these days.

She sighed.

Everything was changing. Already the atmosphere in the house was different. Simply having another presence here – one so full of youth and inquisitiveness, and as yet unscarred by the wars of her world – had unsettled the fabrics of her home. Revitalised them. Nudged them out of their centuries-long slumber.

As she looked on, the woman’s fragile countenance grew uneasy. Despite the flickering firelight she appeared as pale as a ghost. She hadn’t expected her houseguest to carry with him such change. Not so suddenly. Deep down she felt the compulsion to protect him, to shelter him from the horrors that awaited him. Already he had encountered a servant of the Prophets and been lucky to live. She knew, though, that any energy spent endeavouring to protect the boy would ultimately prove wasted. The darkness was rolling in as sure as the chill fogs, and one day he’d be forced to face it.