Acolyte (The Wildermoor Apocalypse Book 1) (22 page)

‘We have to go!’  Evelyn cried once more, above the thrumming that still pulsated through Truman.  He thought it was the energy in the light that made the sound, like a million fireflies beating their wings in unison, but now it sounded like something more.

Something much worse.

Voices.

Hundreds of voices, speaking in another tongue, not of this world; chanting without lips.  He listened for a few more seconds, trying to tune in to them and hear what they were saying.  With the voices he began to react to energies running through his body again.  The energy was telling him to move, to take Evelyn’s hand and get as far away from the beings as possible. To stay would result in certain death.  Not just the kind he had already witnessed but extinction; a failure to exist on any level in this world.  He had never believed in a life after death but something had awoken in him.

He looked towards Evelyn whose eyes were pleading for him to take her hand and move with her once more.  He took one more step and they headed towards the light.  Stamford had just enough strength to push himself away from the cold stone wall. He fell towards Truman just as he was walking away. Then the light consumed Truman and the woman who had come for him.

Stamford lay alone on the floor of the cell now.  As he pushed up on his arms to put himself in a sitting position, he looked around.  Hundreds of red eyes looked back at him as the room became nothing more than a blanket of dark.

Stamford rested against the wall - the stone structure the only thing keeping his body upright as he gulped in fresh air, wanting to feel alive again.  He had welcomed the light as soon as the cell door had burst open saving him from the darkness.

And those eyes.  They had appeared to burn, trying to penetrate his mind, to tear away his skin.  But he had been saved. That was all that mattered right now.  He knew he could rely on Grayson.  All of these years, the man had served him, protected him, and never judged. Now he had saved him from those
things
that wanted to devour his soul.  The front courtyard of St. Dymphna’s Research Facility situated in the most barren corner of Wildermoor at River’s Peake, which had been his home for over twenty years, never looked so beautiful.  Spring was on its way and soon it would be awash with bright colours and new promise.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind struggling to shut out the images and sounds of those moments he was alone in that room.

Those voices. 

His breathing laboured again as he recalled the sound that grated his every nerve.  They hissed, they growled, they moaned.  They spat at him and he could feel their mouth-less faces breathing hot against his skin.  The sound reverberated through him for what seemed like many painful hours – a cacophony of suffering.  Eventually he felt he had become attuned to them and started making out words they were saying.  His eyes remained tightly shut until one voice rose above the others in the darkness.

‘Come…with…ussssss.’

Stamford’s eyes popped open as the door creaked loudly, startling him, making his heart feel as though it had stopped dead. The sound had chased away the shadows and their voices.  At the sight of Grayson’s hulking form, shining like a beacon in the doorway, Stamford found the strength to jump to his feet despite his damaged ribs and run towards him.  Whimpering, he was carried outside.

‘How are you feeling now, sir?’ The deep voice settled him instantly.  ‘Here, take this,’ he handed Stamford a steaming polystyrene cup of coffee, fresh from the vending machine in the lobby.  No-one besides Stamford had occupied the facility for years but he had insisted on keeping the coffee machine there.

‘Thank you.’

Grayson noticed the doctor was badly hurt and shaken up.  He had no idea what had happened in the room and was afraid to ask.  He was also concerned by Stamford’s reaction when he enquired what had happened to his patient, the man they had taken from his temporary surgery room in Shepherd’s Beach, the one that Stamford had obsessed over since he brought him back to the facility, and had devoted his life to since then.

It was as if he had just vanished. And whatever had happened must have been bad. It was the first time Stamford had refused to answer any of Grayson’s questions or allay his concerns.

They stood in silence.  Grayson watched Stamford take a few tentative sips of coffee, struggling to control the cup to his mouth for his shaking hands. 

‘So what happens now, boss?’  Stamford stared across the horizon.  Besides the imposing building behind them this side of Wildermoor was a vast nothingness. There were no prying residents, or lawmen had to watch out for or answer to.

Stamford knew his time was running out.  He had failed, and whenever the images returned of Truman Darke/Ewan Childs walking away, disappearing into the burning light, clinically dead moments earlier, his insides dropped feeling as though they were detaching themselves from their warm casing and accepting the fate that awaited him.  He had lost the one that held the key to the Council’s sacred plan.

‘It’s over, Grayson. For me, at least.’

The big man stared silently in disbelief at his employer. This man – the doctor – had displayed a passion so deep for his work that Grayson wondered if he had ever considered there was a life beyond it.  Now virtually overnight, something had happened to make him give up. 

Grayson hadn’t noticed the black shape that appeared far on the horizon across Wildermoor hastily drawing closer.  He watched Stamford as he stared coldly out across the plains - a man in the throes of submission.

Stamford finished his coffee with a loud gulp and without shifting his eyes, offered the empty cup back to Grayson. 

‘Please be a dear and take the rubbish inside and dispose of it.  You know how I hate litter.  Nothing should spoil this place.’ 

Grayson took the cup and begrudgingly walked back through the lobby.  Stamford knew that he had to walk to the very back of the building to find the only waste paper bin in the whole facility.  He would be gone a while.

The doctor stood up straight, despite the pain from his chest causing him to wince, and raised his head high.  Within moments, the black Mercedes turned into the gravel driveway leading to the courtyards. The driver, dressed head-to-toe in black, complete with black sunglasses, stepped out and opened the rear passenger door nearest to Stamford.  Without a word exchanged between the two, just a nod on each part, Stamford stepped into the back seat of the car as the door closed brusquely behind him.  Stamford exchanged a greeting with the man beside him. A stylish gentleman in a black suit, crisp white shirt and slick black hair looked vacantly towards him in a silent welcome.

‘Your failure has caused great concern,’ the man said coldly as Stamford sank into the warm yet soulless, leather seat.  ‘Your time is up, Mason.’

By the time Grayson returned to the courtyard, Stamford and the Mercedes were nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The sunlight sneaking in through the curtains was the only thing to wake Ewan, as he wrestled his eyes open turning onto his left side, he reached an arm out around Evelyn’s body.  Both were naked with only a thin sheet to protect them from the chill.  He pulled her close, nuzzling against the back of her neck and kissed her.  Both lay in silence.

It had been the same practice for three days.  When Evelyn had saved him from the facility that night and led him into her light she had asked him where he wanted to go. 

‘Home,’ was his simple response. She knew that he did not mean his lonely one-bedroom flat in Bethesda Street. Home was Tewkes’ Range. He remembered being appalled at the decrepit state the place had been left in. The later generations of the Childs’ family not caring to maintain the majesty it once had. But those times were distant memories to Ewan; it felt as if he had never left the place.

That night, when he was led through the decaying front door, Ewan had collapsed and remained locked in a coma for two weeks.  This time, the unconsciousness brought no images from the past or any pain.  His body repaired itself steadily as he slept. 

When he finally awoke, the house was alive again. The walls freshly painted, windows replaced and a new timber veranda erected at the rear of the building, adjoining the exit from the kitchen.  The sight it provided was breathtaking – an unspoilt view across Wildermoor taking in the vast plains as they rolled to the bordering forests. The range’s land lay void of crops but Ewan decided he would change that.  He and Evelyn finally had the home that he had longed for. 

That night at the facility was still a blur, as was the life he left behind in that room.  He was home, in body and spirit, and that was all that mattered. Evelyn had done her best to fill Ewan in on the events that had brought them back together, but she had been instructed to spoon-feed him information as he regained his strength. He deserved to know everything, but his mind was still recovering. It would all be too much.

His body healed nicely.  The bathing light that Evelyn had brought forth had evaporated the poison that had shut his body down and allowed Ewan to leave with her that night. The rest was up to him. He had to build his mental strength before she could lead him any further down the rabbit hole.

However, this day everything felt different.  They had woken and lain together in silence. The silence lasting for one hour then two.  Then a third, until the morning had passed with no words.  They had spent the time in each other’s arms. Ewan thankful for each minute that he had with Evelyn, but trying not to admit something was wrong.  Something was hanging over the both of them, something he could not explain.

‘You’ve still not told me why you came back for me,’ Ewan said cautiously as they both sat on the bank.  He cradled her from behind in a reverse bear hug. He had asked the question many times but she had always changed the subject.  That day something felt different.  Evelyn knew that she could not avoid it forever.  She continued to gaze out across Wildermoor, admiring the beautiful scarred surface that proved the moor had fought against everything nature had thrown at her.  Ewan craned his neck to see her face, to check that she was still with him.

‘An end is coming,’ she said still staring ahead, ‘the likes of which have never been witnessed.’

Her soft voice contrasted the words it released.  An air of finality lingered for a few moments as Ewan tried to make sense of it.

‘An end to what?’

‘This…’ she replied sweeping her head in an arc to signify the land before them.  Ewan followed her action, but failed to follow what she was saying. 

‘This? You mean Wildermoor?’

‘It starts here.’

Ewan tightened his grip around Evelyn’s waist, worried that she was suffering from a fever, which was affecting her thoughts. 

‘I don’t understand,’ It was the truth if not an understatement. She was definitely making him feel uneasy and he had no idea what to do.

Evelyn finally turned her head to the side and their eyes locked.  Tears were starting to well, giving her piercing blue eyes a depth that concerned him. If he stared into them for too long, he himself would be lost.  There was something happening – something big – that she was keeping from him and struggling to tell him.

‘The Council – the same who were in the caves the night that I was there when they took my father’s life - that very evil still hangs over this place. It is nearing the time that it will claim this land for its own.  They still reside here in Wildermoor.  They have remained hidden for over three hundred years lying in wait for Him to return.’ 

Her voice was starting to tremble as she spoke, having the same effect on Ewan’s hands.  He felt such an overwhelming fear, and willed it to stop. But it was no use.  He wanted to believe that her ramblings were just that, but something in her eyes told him otherwise.

‘And now He has, they are readying their troops. As must we.’

‘We?  Evelyn, what are you saying? You’re making no sense.  Who is
we
?  And what is this
end
?  You’re tired, we both are.  Too much has happened in the last couple of weeks for either of us to -‘

‘Don’t you get it?’ She snapped cutting him off, breaking free from his warm grip, finding her feet.  ‘In a matter of months – maybe even weeks – none of this will exist!’

‘I am trying to understand, Evelyn, I really am!  But I barely know who I am anymore, where I am, if any of this is even real.  Now you’re talking as if the world is going to end and there’s no hope for…I don’t know, all of this is just a little hard to take in right now.’

She stepped forward to meet him once more and locked her lips to his.  They both lingered for a few moments lost in each other.  When they fell apart again, Evelyn looked up through her tears.

‘Now tell me I’m not real.’  Ewan was reaching his own breaking point and turned his back not wanting her to see him crack.  He was losing the strength he needed to protect them both.

‘I know this is hard for you, Ewan, and I don’t even know where to start with all of this. But are you telling me that you can make sense of
anything
that has happened to you recently? Why is this any different?’

His mind returned to the vision that he had back in the cell, as he looked across the plains of Wildermoor burning as if lit by the flames of the sun, the shadows advancing, those eyes, the screaming voices and the hooded figure that stood between them all.

Ewan’s mind fired images behind his eyes, bringing back images from a past that he had started to leave behind, one he left behind centuries ago but that swamped him again.  His mind flickered back to the day he had returned from his coma, the day that he woke up and found himself back at Tewke’s Range.  Evelyn had only broken one bit of news to Ewan that day.  She presented him with a copy of the day’s Wildermoor Herald. The headline read:

MORE MISSING. POLICE CHIEF PLAYS DOWN RECENT RISE IN DISAPPEARANCES
.

Ewan did not notice the photo of the well-groomed DI Thomas Laing next to the headline.

The date - 
March 26th, 2012
.

Ten years lost as though they never existed at all.

He dropped the paper onto the kitchen table, overcome by a wave of disorientation and nausea, and returned to bed unable to face the rest of the day.  There had been no mention of it when he re-surfaced and Evelyn had not dared to bring it up again. They had lived for some time happy in their own bubble.

‘This can’t be happening,’ his voice was breaking as he stared back towards Tewke’s Range.

‘Ewan…’ Evelyn tenderly reached for his shoulder.  He flinched and shrugged her off.  He wanted to lash out, push her away and tell her she was wrong.  But he couldn’t. He wanted to keep her close to him in case she was cruelly snatched away from him again and apart from a few scattered memories and haunting visions, he knew nothing of the life he had woken up with.

Everything had changed. Was he expected to accept that?

‘What do I do?’ He turned away from her. He couldn’t bear to see what was behind her eyes or show her his. ‘What part do I play in all of this?’

‘Follow me,’ she replied, ‘I will show you.’

She led him back into the house, letting him catch up to her and allowing his hand to link into hers. Inside, she fished out a leather satchel she had left in the old store room.  Returning to the kitchen, she laid the bag on the table and withdrew a package from inside.  She handed a plain brown, padded envelope to Ewan and he closed his hand around it.

‘This will tell you everything you need to know but I have one request.’

He returned her gaze with a raised eyebrow urging her to continue.

‘Open it when I’ve gone.’

His face darkened unable to hide the hurt that she sent surging through him.

‘You’re not staying with me?’

His eyes resembled that of a child being left behind by their parent with no explanation as to why.

She shook her head and released a tear that she had valiantly held.  Her voice shook as she tried to speak, taking a couple of attempts to compose herself for what she knew she had to do. 

‘I do not belong here anymore; I have a new home now.’ She saw the defiance in his eyes as he shook his head, not wanting to listen.  She gently grabbed him by the arm to stop him from turning away.  ‘But neither do you.  Just as I had a task to complete, you too have yours.’

Ewan looked at more confused than before.  His head was spinning out of control and he had the urge to run out of the door into the wilderness and never look back.  But he forced himself to hear her out.  If she was going to hurt him, break his heart and take away all of his hope, he was sure she must have a good reason.  He wanted to hear it for himself.

‘That night in the caves, I felt no pain.  As soon as my body was killed, my spirit was saved.  There is an existence beyond here – beyond this realm – referred to as the Trinity.  Three of the highest powers in existence help save those of us who have been wronged in life, lives brought to an end too soon, destined for better things.  You have to be chosen and that night I was.’

She saw by his glazed expression that she was losing Ewan.  He was losing himself to anger and loss. She needed to keep him with her or risk losing him forever.

‘A war is coming, one that will be fought between the shadows and the light. It will soon invade the reality that we both know. They have found a way to breach the boundaries, between their world, my world and yours.  As their Leader gains strength, it is becoming easier for them to invade this land taking whomever they want.’  Her voice was grave as her gaze fell to the floor.

‘This is makes no sense,’ said Ewan fighting his instinct to put his hands over his ears and ignore anything else that was happening.

‘Those who are chosen are given a chance to move towards divinity, to an eternal life beyond death.  It is done in three stages – they are called Elevations. Only when you achieve the Third Elevation are you truly saved; until then we remain prey for the shadows.  The First Elevation is the act of being chosen, being saved after your body has died and being given a chance.  A mission – assignment – must be completed before each Elevation.  Each assignment requires a soul to be saved. This,’ she motioned towards the envelope he had tightly in his hand, ‘is your assignment. Only you can complete it and only you can save this person.’

Ewan stared at the envelope as if he was searching for the answers written in invisible ink on the outside.

‘Where do you fit in all of this?’

‘I have achieved my Second Elevation. You were the soul I needed to save.’

A painful silence hung between them.

‘So what now?’

‘I have a job to do and now,’ she moved closer to him, stroking the sides of his floppy hair back behind his ears, ‘so do you.’

He looked down at the envelope, and then back to her. Both their faces were streaked with tears. 

‘We will have our time,’ she reassured him, ‘but not here, not now.’

‘Why me?’ He asked the burning question that had built over years.

She sighed hoping to avoid telling him more than she had already, knowing his full purpose would be too much pressure.
Spare him that weight
. 

She looked at him aware the child within had become frail and weak once more. She could not send him into this without being fully prepared.

‘You’re the most important link to all of this, which is why I have been given so many years to complete my assignment.  The Reaper is looking for you, as he knows this too.  You’re the last link to his bloodline, something he needs to absorb in order to make his transformation complete and bring all of this to an end.’

Ewan stood silently for a moment before it all came flooding back to him.  That night in the woods, the fire, the screaming and the pain that Katrina endured for years.