The Moon Stealers and The Children of the Light (6 page)

They turned to their left, towards the large central
part of the fortress that seemed to be covered, and ran beneath a wide gateway
that went underneath the outer wall. From there, the first thing they saw was
an open doorway beside some stone steps. They rushed towards it, rain still
blowing against their faces, and dashed into a small room that was bare except
for the darkness. The walls were cold and damp and rain occasionally flew
through the doorway, but at least they had made it to
Hurst
and found shelter.

Tracker quickly moved to the side of the room that was
furthest from the doorway and began to remove his wet clothes.

‘Should we try and make a fire?’ asked
Georgia
, as she peeled herself out of her coat with just one
hand.

‘What with?’ replied Tracker. ‘We don’t have any
kindling, and even if we could find some driftwood that’s been washed up by the
sea, it would be too damp to light.’

‘It might also attract unwanted attention,’ added
Steven. ‘Take off your wet clothes, we will have to dry ourselves naturally.’

They began rubbing each others arms and legs, using
the friction to generate heat in their limbs.

‘We will have to wait for better weather before we can
think of crossing,’ said Tracker. ‘There were some boats moored off a jetty
opposite the gate we broke through to get in. I’m sure we could get one of
those started.’

‘We need something small and inconspicuous. Something
that might look like it’s drifting across without any crew. That way, if it is
spotted, Coldred’s guards would just think it was a boat that had broken loose.’

The rain continued to fall in sheets that raced along
the exposed streets of Hurst Fortress, whilst three human survivors waited
amongst the salt saturated stone walls for their opportunity to cross the
Solent
. Above
them creatures continued to dart amongst the grey clouds, searching for prey
and taking any animal that had been washed from its hiding place.

‘We need to be prepared to find shelter for tonight
before the creatures reappear,’ said Edgar, as he sat on the grass in front of
the church munching on an apple.

The Grey Man nodded. ‘We can’t hide behind tree roots
every night.’

‘What about in there,’ added Scarlet, pointing towards
a red painted shop next to the convenience store they had just raided.

Edgar squinted to read the sign in the window.

‘Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant,’ he read.

‘There might be a cellar where they keep the wines.
That would be a safe place to sleep.’

‘Good idea. It’s worth checking,’ said the Grey Man.

As soon as they had finished eating their food, they
crossed back over the road to the small red fronted restaurant. On the pavement
directly in front of the door were some dark red stains together with a half
smashed glass bottle. Edgar pushed on the door to the Italian restaurant
allowing it to swing gently inside. The lock was already broken; someone else
had already been there. At the side of the door the metal lock was only held in
place by the weakest fragments of splintered wood that hung limply, relying on
many layers of successive years of paint to stay together.

Inside, the restaurant smelt of stale red wine.

Directly in front of the door was the bar, wine stacked
neatly on shelves behind it. A cash register hung open to one side, whilst a
pile of menus had spilt from the bar onto the floor. On the top of the bar,
half empty bottles of wine were lined up, as if someone had been sampling
different vintages. They stepped across the wooden floor careful to avoid the
sticky pools of alcohol that had tipped from overturned bottles. The broken
door was not the only sign that someone had been in the restaurant. On the top
of a wooden table nearest to the bar was a small bowl of abandoned green olives
sitting in a pool of oil. Next to it was a wine glass with the concentrated remains
of evaporated red wine at the bottom, together with a kitchen knife that had
been thrust into the wooden table and now quivered on its point.

Silently they moved through the front of the
restaurant and entered the kitchen via a set of swing doors. The room was
square with stainless steel work surfaces along each wall, and a separate
island in the middle. To one side of the kitchen was a walk-in fridge with a
thick metal handle to keep the door bolted shut. They walked round the island,
listening for any sound. Some of the store cupboard doors had been left open,
revealing boxes and vacuum packed bags of food.

‘Edgar,’ whispered Max who was nearest to the walk-in
fridge. There was a nervous tension in his voice that made them automatically
look towards him, fearful for what he had found.

Max pointed towards the tiled floor at his feet.

As Edgar stepped around the central island, he saw
what Max was looking at. Smeared across the white tiled floor was a trail of
blood that disappeared beneath the door to the refrigerator, as if someone or
something had been dragged into cold storage.

‘There could be a survivor trapped inside,’ said
Flora. ‘We need to check.’

‘Take my sword,’ instructed the Grey Man to Edgar, who
was surprised by the weight of the Donestre sword in comparison to Ethera.

The Grey Man grasped the metal handle that locked the
fridge door ready to open it. Everyone else moved round the island, grabbing
whatever metal implement they could get hold of.

The Grey Man paused.

As soon as the door was open, they would find out what
had been dragged inside and whether any survivors were using it as a hideaway.
He pulled on the metal handle which slid the bolt out of the frame and into the
locking mechanism. As soon as the bolt was released from the frame, the Grey
Man could feel the door spring towards him slightly.

He looked at Edgar who nodded back.

They were ready.

The Grey Man pulled the heavy door into the kitchen.
There was a small hiss of air as it rushed into the refrigerator. Edgar could
feel the wave of cold as it flooded into the kitchen and washed over his feet.

Instinctively, Scarlet screamed.

Edgar drew a quick breath in surprise.

Standing in the doorway was a Moon Stealer, its arms
raised and ready to strike.

But, it didn’t move.

Edgar, noticed that something wasn’t quite right. He prodded
the creature in the body with the point of his sword.

Nothing happened.

‘It’s frozen,’ Edgar said to the rest of them.

‘But there’s no power supply going to the fridge,’
said Joe.

‘The thick walls and vacuum inside would have held the
temperature at a constant rate. Long enough to freeze it. The temperature will
only slowly come back to normal over time.’

‘The creature doesn’t look like it’s been harmed.
Whoever put it in there didn’t escape without injury,’ added Flora looking at
the smear of blood on the floor again.

Edgar passed the Donestre sword back to the Grey Man
and stepped towards the creature. On closer inspection, the black skin was
coated in a frosty yellow liquid that had crystallized in the cold air. What he
didn’t notice was the small pool of yellow liquid that had begun collecting
around the creature’s feet, a sign that the temperature inside the refrigerator
had already begun to rise, slowly allowing the fluid to defrost. What they also
failed to notice was a tiny muscle spasm that flickered around one of the claws
of its feet.

‘Can we close the door again?’ asked Scarlet. ‘Even
though it’s dead, it still makes me feel uncomfortable.’

The Grey Man nodded and pushed the door back into the
frame, locking the bolt back into place.

Leaving the kitchen behind, they moved back into the
restaurant. Apart from the chairs and tables there didn’t appear to be any
other rooms to explore. The Grey Man walked behind the bar and looked at the
variety of wines that were stacked neatly on the shelves. The sound of his
shoes on the wooden floor echoed in the small room, but as he moved further
along the bar, the sound changed. Instead of a solid, deep thud, the sound of
his footsteps changed momentarily to a lighter, slightly higher pitched hollow
sound.

Edgar heard the change in sound and turned immediately
to the Grey Man.

‘The floor beneath you is hollow,’ he said.

The Grey Man looked down to his feet. Cut into the
wooden floor was a square shape that had a recessed brass clasp on one side.
Automatically, the Grey Man began to reach down ready to lift the hatch to see
what was down there.

‘Wait!’ shouted Edgar. ‘What if there are creatures
trapped down there as well? Or even nervous survivors with weapons.’

Edgar moved round the bar to stand beside the Grey
Man. He searched amongst the bits and pieces that were in the drawer beneath
the cash register, pushing pens, paperclips and business cards out of the way
until he found what he was looking for. He then searched around for the
compulsory romantic table candle and lit it with the lighter he had found in
the drawer. Both of the men held onto their weapons, and, while the Grey Man
began lifting the heavy wooden hatch upwards, Edgar nervously peered into the
darkness below.

Everyone held their breath and waited. Waited for a
sound or scream to echo from beneath the floor, or a creature to leap out and
attack them.

There was silence.

Edgar moved closer to the edge of the trap door and
tried to look inside, but he still felt vulnerable. He could see the outline of
a simple wooden staircase that went down sharply towards the floor. The cellar
then seemed to expand beneath the full length of the building, leaving dark
corners and shadows they would not be able to explore until they were
physically inside.

‘Look,’ whispered the Grey Man. He was pointing to an
empty mattress that was lying on the floor of the cellar. A jumble of sheets
and pillows were scattered on the top whilst an empty wine bottle lay upturned by
the side. The Grey Man also noticed something beside his hand. On the underside
of the hatch door was a shiny new bolt.

‘Someone’s been sleeping in here,’ said Edgar.

‘And, whoever it was put this bolt on the inside to
lock themselves in.’

‘As we managed to open the hatch from this side. I
think we can assume the cellar is currently empty.’

Edgar leant further into the opening so that he could
peer inside. Satisfied there was no immediate danger, he took the first step
onto the ladder. It creaked slightly beneath his weight, but he continued down
into the cellar. The Grey Man let the trap door rest on the floorboards,
grabbed more candles from behind the bar and followed Edgar.

At the bottom of the stairs, the floor felt cold and
damp beneath their feet. The uneven stone that made up the walls was black with
age, but had white salty crusts where lime and minerals had leached out of the
stone and crystallized in the air. Along one wall was a crudely made wine rack
that allowed the bottles to be stacked horizontally, as well as some cardboard
boxes that sagged slightly at their sides from the dampness in the air.

The Grey Man lit some more candles and began placing
them around the room. Edgar walked over to the mattress. As well as the empty
bottle of wine beside the bed, there was also a kitchen knife and an open first
aid box. Bandages had been pulled erratically from the box as if someone had
been desperate to use them. Blood soaked gauze was tossed against one of the
walls, confirming that the owner of the mattress was probably injured.

Reassured that the cellar was empty, they blew out the
candles, leaving them positioned where they were, and climbed back up the
staircase to the restaurant.

‘Someone’s been living down there,’ said Edgar as he
emerged from the hatch. ‘But, whoever it is has been injured, maybe when they
trapped the creature inside the fridge.’

‘While you were in the cellar, I found out where we
are,’ said Flora with a smile on her face. In her hand was one of the menu
cards. She turned it over and showed Edgar. Printed on the back was the address
of the restaurant they were in. ‘We are in a small town called Ingleton,’ she
explained.

‘Where about's is that?’ the Grey Man asked.

‘On the western edge of the Yorkshire Dales. My
ancestors come from Pendle Hill, just to the south of here.’

‘I’ve heard of Pendle Hill before,’ said Edgar, trying
to search his memory for the information that was attached to the name.

‘I suggest we gather as many supplies as we can and
find some transport,’ said the Grey Man. ‘We should then leave here as soon as
we can tomorrow.’

‘
Pendle Hill
,’ repeated Edgar.

‘Where will you go?’ Scarlet asked the Grey Man.

‘I will start the hunt for my son where my journey
began, back in the
Forest
of
Dean
.’

‘The Pendle Hill witches,’ said Edgar, as the name
clicked into place.

Everyone stopped talking and turned towards Flora.

‘You mean you’re a witch?’ asked Max.

Flora looked uncomfortable, knowing the reputation
witches had in this world.

‘Well yes,’ she replied, ‘but technically I’m a
Shaman’