Blackbriar (18 page)

There was a sudden, loud banging on the front door.

He almost dropped the flashlight. And truly unable to think, to imagine who it could be, he dashed up the steps, through the dark living room, and swung open the door.

A policeman stood there, and a man in a gray business suit. Danny’s immediate relief at seeing a policeman at this particular moment was followed at once by the fear that he must have some terrible news about Philippa. And the man in the suit, why was he so strangely, distantly familiar?

“Mr. Daniel Chilton?” the policeman said. The man in the suit was staring at Danny.

“What happened?” Danny gasped.

“
You
are the one who knows that, I’m afraid,” said the man, drawing his heavy brows together.

“What? What do you—?” But suddenly Danny realized who the man was, and his heart sank. “Oh,” he said quietly, “hello, Mr. Bexford.”

“May we come in, please?” said the lawyer. “This has been quite a trip, I must say.” He peered inside. “Why are there no lights on? And where is Mrs. Sibley, may I ask?”

“Oh,” Danny said again, now at a total loss for words. He thought of the chair pushed back by the hearth, of the open door in the basement and the fallen bedspring. “I haven’t had time to light the lamps yet. And Philippa isn’t here. She—went to the hairdresser.”

“I see,” Mr. Bexford said. His voice was shaking. “She
walked
all the way down the hill from this primitive, godforsaken hole and into Dunchester. Or has she acquired two Land Rovers since I last heard from you?”

“I—she—we like to walk. It’s healthy. That’s one of the reasons why we came here, so we could walk, and be in the country, and—”

“That madwoman!” He turned to the policeman, who seemed somewhat taken aback. “How inconceivably irresponsible to bring a child out to a place like this. Why, it’s incredible, it’s—”

“Now wait a minute,” Danny said. “She’s
not
irresponsible, she just thought—”

“But where is she, young man? It’s her responsibility to take care of you, you know.”

“She really is at the hairdresser,” Danny insisted. “She should be back soon . . .” How warm it is tonight, Danny thought. He was still standing in the open doorway, and could feel himself beginning to sweat.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t really give a damn where she is,” Mr. Bexford was saying. “This is the end, as far as I’m concerned. The end. I’m going to get you away from her so fast you won’t know what’s happened. And
don’t
you dare contradict me!
It
is irresponsible to take a child away from school and out to a place like this. What do you know about such things anyway?”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, trying to think what would be the best thing to say, and knowing that he had to be polite. “It’s just that . . .” How awkward it feels to be standing in the doorway, he thought. But I can’t let them in. And then he noticed something strange far over to the right, above the trees. “It’s just that I think you’re mistaken about her, sir. I’ve passed my ‘O’ levels, and she thought a holiday in the country would be good for me. And I’ve been studying . . . I feel much better here—”

“I don’t want your flimsy excuses. I just want you to pack your things and come with me, right now.”

“Now? But I can’t!”

“What do you mean, you can’t? Why can’t you?”

“I . . . I just can’t. I . . . there’s something I have to do.”

“What do you
have
to do that could possibly be more important than coming back with me, getting your finances in order, and enrolling in a decent school? The more you balk, you know, the worse it’s going to be for you.”

“Please,
please
,” Danny begged. “Just let me stay a few more days, one more day, just till tomorrow. I’ve
got
to!” Yes, there was definitely a strange light, a bit like sunset, over there above the trees. But the sun has already set, he thought, and that isn’t west anyway.

“I’m sorry, young fellow,” the policeman was saying, “but I have instructions to bring you back with him. I think you’d better get moving now.”

Almost frantic, Danny suddenly remembered a distant television show. “Do you have a warrant?” he said.

“Well, no, I don’t, we didn’t expect—”

“Then, please,” Danny said, “both of you, go away.”

“What?” Mr. Bexford gasped.

“Just go away!” Danny cried, and slammed the door in their faces.

He backed up and leaned against the wall as they pounded on the door. “Come out!” Mr. Bexford cried. “I’m your legal guardian, you impudent little monster! Do you dare tell us to go away? Do you dare?”

“Sir,” the policeman said gently, “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. It is the lady’s house, you know, she’s signed the lease, we’ve seen the document, and we can’t break in without a warrant.”

“We’ll be back!” Mr. Bexford shouted. “As soon as we get that warrant we’ll drive right back up this hill—”

“But perhaps not tonight,” the policeman interrupted in a loud whisper. “They might not want us to take the car up again tonight, it’s not that urgent. It’s not as if he was a criminal, you know.”

“We’ll be back!” Mr. Bexford cried. “You won’t get away from me again!” Muttering, they moved away. Danny heard a motor starting up, wondering why he hadn’t heard it before, and listened to it grow fainter as it bumped off down the hill.

And then he paced the floor in the dark room, the flashlight still glowing in his hand. He paced the floor and tried to organize the thoughts that were spinning through his head. He had to forget about these men and try to figure out what to do about Philippa. The tunnel, should he go through the tunnel, did he have to go through the tunnel?

He stopped. What was that noise? Where was it coming from? His teeth were chattering uncontrollably. It didn’t sound as if it were coming from the tunnel. And then he remembered the strange light he had seen, off above the tumuli.

He raced to front door and peered outside. Far off to the right the jagged black shapes of the trees were outlined against a red glow. Swirling smoke was disappearing into the dark sky. A hollow, rhythmic beat floated through the stillness, faintly filling the deserted yard. The birds were silent, and even the wind seemed to have stopped. The only sounds were the deep, pulsing beats, and occasional, almost inhuman cries.

For a moment he stood motionless in the doorway. The rhythm seemed to fill his head, to push out everything but its beckoning, mesmerizing call. He struggled against it, and finally tore himself back into the house and slammed the door. But it was hardly better inside. The drumbeats penetrated through the thick stone walls, and as he paced about in the dark room the house itself seemed to become part of the rhythm. He tried to think, to see his situation clearly, to decide what to do. But he could only wander helplessly around the room and watch the bizarre, terrifying images that raced through his head to the rhythm of the drums.

How long he remained like this he didn’t know. Perhaps it was only a short while, but to him it seemed a timeless hell. He cursed himself for not telling the truth to the policeman. He cursed himself for not running immediately into the tunnel. But perhaps it was a trap. Perhaps Philippa was dead.

Finally there was the sound of light footsteps outside, of a hesitant knock. It was the most refreshing sound he had ever heard. Not caring who it was, just so long as it would end this awful time, he flung open the door.

He was blinded by a bright flashlight beam. “Danny!” Lark gasped. “You look
awful
! What have you been
doing
?”

“Oh, God,” he said, “thank God you came.”

And while Danny talked, breathlessly, ceaselessly, Lark darted inside, began lighting candles, and by the time he had finished there was a small, bright fire and they were both holding steaming cups of tea. And the drumbeats, though still audible, were distant now, somewhere far away, outside the house.

“I don’t know what was wrong with me,” he groaned, “I couldn’t think or do anything. I just wandered around so stupidly. Those drums got inside of me. I must have wasted so much precious time, with Philippa probably in some terrible situation, and it’s all my fault.”

“I don’t think it was that long,” she said gently. “I
raced
up here as soon as I noticed the first fire, and it couldn’t have taken me more than half an hour. And don’t keep saying it’s all your fault; we both thought it was better not to tell her, and who expected them to take her away?”

“But we’ve got to act fast,” Danny said. Was it the hot tea that made him feel suddenly in control of the situation? “The most important thing is what is happening to Philippa. Obviously, she’s got to be wherever the tunnel goes to—which is probably Harleigh Manor, right?”

“Everything seems to point to that, and I can’t think of anywhere
else
it could possibly go.”

“And it seems to me that Lord Harleigh, and whoever else he’s involved with, must have some relation to whatever is going on at the tumuli now. I mean, it would be too much of a coincidence for them to take Philippa away on the same night if they had no connection to it.”

“Unless, of course, they were hoping it would take attention away from what they were doing.”

“Oh.” For a moment, Danny’s newly formed, logical plan seemed to disintegrate. “Oh. That changes things. Because I was assuming that whoever is usually at Harleigh Manor would be over at the tumuli now, and that we could slip in through the tunnel and look for Philippa without anyone noticing. But . . .” The image of Philippa being dragged through the tunnel flashed through his mind again, and he knew that there was no time to hesitate. “But it doesn’t matter
who’s
there. We’ve got to go and look for her. I mean, we’ve got to, there’s nothing else we can do.”

Lark stood up. “I know, I know,” she said, setting down her cup and folding her hands together nervously. “I knew when I came up here that we were going to have to do something. But somehow I didn’t expect—I didn’t think that somebody’s
life
would depend on it.” She was staring off into the dark side of the room. “And . . . and I thought we were going to be outside, not all closed up in some horrible dark place. I think I’m going to need a lot of help from you.”

“I know.” He stepped quickly over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. The fire was beginning to die out, and the room was growing very dark again. “We’ve got to get going,” he said softly.

In a moment he was upstairs, holding a candle, fishing about in his drawer. Lark was waiting with a flashlight when he returned with the wooden figure in his hand. “Why are you bringing
that
?” she said.

“I don’t know. I just feel I should. I don’t know why.”

He slipped the wooden figure into his jacket pocket and pulled open the cellar door.

Danny led the way down the cellar steps and crawled in through the little doorway ahead of Lark. When they reached the place where they could stand they walked side by side, each with a flashlight. Down the steps they wound, not speaking a word. The distant drumbeats faded while around them the cold and the dampness grew, and the echoes of their footsteps, and the sound of dripping water. At the landing, neither looked into the room with the bones, and hardly pausing, they started down the long flight.

It was an odd sensation not to be able to see the end, only more steps far, far below in the pale circles of their lights. It was almost as though there were nothing beneath them, that if they should slip they would simply fall through empty space. Lark held tightly to Danny’s arm. As they continued, they began to go more slowly. The steps were slippery and uneven, and became narrower as they descended. The silence was so complete that every footstep seemed to reverberate through the entire passage, above and below, as though there were others on the stairs.

Soon the house above seemed miles and miles away, tiny and unreal. Their legs ached from constantly stepping down. Strange thoughts began to creep into Danny’s head. Perhaps the steps ended at a blank wall, or stopped in midair at the brink of an endless void, or led deep down into the earth to some horrifying other world. It came to him then that today was the first time in many weeks that he had had such thoughts; before, he had had them all the time. He struggled to push the thoughts away but it was hard because there was nothing but darkness all around them. Perhaps it would never end at all and they would just keep going down and down forever, two tiny lights descending eternally in the blackness.

Both lights were pointed at their feet now. It had become too disheartening to watch the distant steps keep appearing below them as they went on and on. And that is why the shock was so great when they stepped forward and suddenly found themselves on a level surface.

They both stumbled and almost fell. “Oh!” Lark said. “My God, I thought that was never going to end!” It was the first thing either of them had said since they had left the house, and the sound of her voice was like a bright light in the darkness.

“So did I! I kept thinking all these crazy things.” He laughed shakily. “I’ll bet those steps seemed much longer than they really are.” He pointed his light back up the steps, and could clearly see the landing at the top, not so very far away. He walked around in a small circle. “But it certainly feels good not to step down.”

“Wait,” she said quickly, “don’t get too far away.” She moved close beside him. Standing together, they flashed their lights about them. They were in a rough passageway, the stone walls and ceiling jagged and unfinished. Boards had been laid along the bottom of the tunnel, and water was seeping up between them. Ahead, the tunnel curved off to the right.