Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) (22 page)

“You just said you could never leave your family. You changed your tune pretty quickly,” he said suspiciously.

“I do love them, that will never change, but I think this is the right decision for them as well as me. I can never be truly fulfilled with them, you’ve made me realise that. They’d be better off without me and then we can start our big adventure.” She swallowed down her revulsion and forced herself to grasp his clammy, pale hand. “Together.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. Freya tried not to flinch at the feel of his wet, blubbery flesh on her skin.

“I knew you’d see sense, you are following what destiny wants,” he smiled.

“I know,” she smiled back with as much tenderness as she could muster, keeping the rifle in the corner of her eye. She wasn’t quite close enough to reach out and grab it, not yet anyway.

“But you have to prove yourself Freya.”

“I thought I already had.”

“You have to show me you’re loyal to the cause. You have to shoot Craig.”

She snatched her hand out of his. “No.”

“I knew it, you still love him.”             

“Of course I do, I just told you I do.”

“If I’m ever going to believe you’re serious about coming away with me you have to kill him. We can lure him up here with you as bait and as soon as he comes through the door you put a bullet in his head.”

“I…I don’t know how to fire a gun.”

“It’s easy, I’ll show you and from close range you won’t miss, it’s the last thing he’ll be expecting from you.”

Tears filled her eyes. “No.”

“Then you don’t mean what you say,” he frowned.

“I do but I can’t leave my son without either parent. We both know what that feels like. Don’t do that to my baby.”

“He’ll be okay, we were.”

“But we weren’t, were we Graeme? I ended up an alcoholic living on the streets and you started murdering people.”

“I thought you understood about that, you told me you did.”

“I do and…”

“No,” he yelled, the word accompanied by a loud snap of thunder. “You’re only telling me what I want to hear. You’ve no intention of coming away with me.”

“I do I just…”

“Stop with your lies.”

Thunder and lightning crackled overhead. The storm was returning. Freya swallowed hard, she’d just made a major fuck-up. “I’m not going to hurt Craig,” she said firmly.

“You’re just like the rest of them - weak, decadent. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am Freya, I thought you were different, like me.”

“I am if you’ll listen.”

“I won’t listen to more lies. I’ve heard enough. On your feet.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

He leapt up with the agility of a cat, snatched up the rifle and pointed it at her. “On your feet.”

CHAPTER 23

Slowly Freya stood, her knees going weak as she gazed down the barrel of the gun. She forced herself to look past the weapon to Graeme’s furious eyes scowling at her from the other end. “Are you going to shoot me?” she said, her voice quavering.

“Not yet. Move.”

“Which way?”

“Back into the nave.”

The mere thought of having to deal with Logan’s presence as well as Graeme turned her blood to ice. Panic rose to claim her again, making her shaky and light-headed. “I can’t go in there, I won’t.”

“If you don’t walk in willingly I’ll put a bullet in each of your knees and drag you.”

Tears prickled her eyes. She knew he would shoot her, he thought she’d betrayed him.

“Please Graeme…”

“Move.”

“Graeme, if I’ve offended you I’m truly sorry.”

“You will be. Get moving.”

He shoved her roughly in the back with the butt of the rifle, causing her to trip and she just managed to retain her balance by gripping onto the desk, her fingers leaving smudges in the thick layer of dust.

They returned to the nave, Freya careful to maintain a steady walking pace, afraid of agitating him further and giving him a jumpy trigger finger. She hadn’t felt this helpless since she was a child being torn from her home. If Graeme had been armed with a knife the odds would have been evened up a bit but how could she fight someone with a gun? He could blow her head off before she got anywhere near him.

A whisper to her left stopped her in her tracks. When she looked there was no one there.

The butt of the rifle was brought down between her shoulder blades, knocking her onto all fours. Any hope she’d harboured of establishing a rapport with Graeme vanished entirely.

“Why have you stopped?” he yelled savagely.

“We’re not alone.”

Graeme’s head snapped round, scanning the large, empty room with the night vision goggles. “Yes we are. You’re just trying to trick me again,” he said before the back of his hand connected sharply with her face. “Now get up.”

As he leaned over her his long coat fell open and she spied the pistol holstered in his belt. She also noticed the dried blood and bandage on his left upper arm. Briefly she considered making a grab for the gun but thought that wouldn’t end well for her.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled and Freya felt her fight returning. Being hit and pushed around never failed to get her angry but she had to control her temper, he was still armed.

The rifle was levelled at her face.

“Get up,” he spat.

Slowly she got to her feet, Graeme’s suspicious eyes riveted on her.

“Turn around.”

Her heart pounded as she slowly turned her back to him, convinced he was going to shoot her. Instead the barrel of the rifle was jammed into the middle of her back and was used to propel her forwards. Freya assumed they were leaving the church, he seemed to be pushing her towards the door.

“Just here,” he said, grabbing her shoulder with one hand, forcing her to stop in the middle of the aisle. He released her and retreated three paces. “Now turn around.”

She slowly turned and found herself looking directly down the barrel of the gun.

Graeme’s hard look fell away and he suddenly appeared close to tears. “Why did you have to come here tonight?”

“I came for Craig and Nora.”

“You should have stayed away, you would have been safe. Jesus,” he yelled, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and starting to pace before her, shaking his head. “You’ve put me in an impossible position Freya. If only you’d agreed to come away with me. It was the only way I could save you.”

“I did agree. What I won’t do is shoot my husband. I don’t understand why you want him dead, he’s a good man, he fights evil, like you. He stopped Martin Lynch, he made everyone realise Logan was a monster and he arrested Docherty and Mad Mandy. You’re on the same side.”

“I respect Craig, really I do. He’s an excellent officer, despite how he’s pissed me off tonight, but I can’t think of another way for you to prove yourself to me.”

“Isn’t abandoning my family enough?” she cried. “You know what they mean to me.”

Freya physically jumped when a bright white light filled the room, illuminating the large stained glass windows, accompanied by a huge crack of thunder.

“We all have to make sacrifices Freya and he is yours.”

“I’m not doing it,” she screamed.

Her voice died away with the roll of thunder, leaving one pure moment of absolute silence as he stared at her in utter shock. He’d just had an epiphany, one that rocked the very foundations of everything he’d believed about her. The next flash of lightning drew him back to his senses and he jumped into action.

She backed away when he advanced on her.

“Now I know why you came here tonight,” he roared over the bellow of thunder. “You came because you’re part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“The Blair Dubh evil,” he snarled, spittle flying from his lips as he changed before her very eyes, degenerating into some terrible monster. “And I thought you were a victim. I was even going to tell you my real name, the name I’ve not used since I left the army. It all makes sense now. You’ve dazzled me, tried to lead me astray from my true path with your wiles, just like your own mother did to Logan. Well I won’t be seduced so easily. It’s all down to you, everything. You’re the cause of it all.”

She watched with mounting horror as his finger squeezed the trigger, the effect pushing all the air out of her body. She was so certain she was going to die that she whispered her goodbyes to her husband and son.

Craig stumbled around in the dark frantically searching for Freya but, even with the help of the night vision goggles, he couldn’t see a sign of life anywhere. He’d run through the perimeter of the woods searching for her but all had been quiet in there. A sharp crack of thunder overhead and the strong breeze announced the storm was getting nearer, which didn’t hearten him. The shotgun was growing increasingly heavy and it was becoming difficult to hold in his hot, sweaty hands.

Acting on instinct he was heading towards the castle instead, peering into the trees as he ascended the hill hoping to see movement, light, anything that might indicate his wife was still alive but there was nothing, not even an animal or a solitary bird. Every living thing with a bit of sense was taking shelter somewhere from the tempest that was about to begin. He was the only one daft enough to be wandering about out here.

He raced into the castle and looked around, but it was cold and empty. He could hear water roaring into the oubliette that Freya had almost died in, filling it up as the gathering storm disturbed the sea. They weren’t here. For all he knew Graeme could have murdered her and the armed officers already.

“No,” he said out loud, his voice bouncing back at him from the ancient stone. He wouldn’t allow himself to think like that.

Graeme had a soft spot for Freya, Craig recalled how he’d stared at her, how concerned he’d been about her. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her if he came across her? But she was Blair Dubh born and bred and it seemed he was intent on eradicating every last one of them. Not knowing what his motivation was for the massacre he couldn’t form a definite theory but he had to cling onto the hope that Graeme’s tenderness for her would keep her safe. Freya and the armed officers should have made it out of the woods by now but there was no sign of them, which meant they were either lost or dead. He couldn’t imagine Freya getting lost in those woods, she knew them too well, even in the dark. That meant they’d either had an accident or Graeme had found them. If he was feeling trapped and weakened it would be logical for him to take a hostage because there was no way he could escape from this. Yes, Freya was alive, he was certain.

He jogged out of the castle and stared down the hill, trying to tame his frantic thoughts. Where could they be?

Graeme would want to regroup and he’d need somewhere isolated and contained to control Freya. Plus the storm was about to break, which meant he’d want shelter, somewhere with an elevated view of the village so he could see anyone approach.

Craig’s eyes darted between the old parochial house and the church. Either of those buildings would do.

He raced down the hill and sped into the graveyard, dodging the gravestones that threatened to trip him up at every turn then paused to survey the area. He could actually see the storm moving up the coast towards them, lightning exploding in the heavy clouds. A few seconds later the growl of thunder was carried to him on the increasing wind, which agitated the black waters below. It was stiflingly warm, his t-shirt stuck to his back with sweat, damp hair plastered to his face. The storm was almost on top of them. The village below was in complete and utter darkness. It looked like a ghost town but it was safe for now because the sniper was up here somewhere.

Craig couldn’t think clearly, his mind whirled round and round, unable to settle on one definite course of action. He could spend all night stumbling about up here in the dark and achieve nothing, by which time Freya could be dead.

His fury and desperation spilled over. “You’re not taking her,” he yelled at the village in general. “She is not yours.”

The wind snatched his words away, refusing to give him even the satisfaction of a good shout. He turned and found himself standing by Father Logan’s now unmarked grave. Even in the dark he could still place it.

“Fuck,” he yelled, stumbling backwards when he saw the two dead bodies lying on top of it. In the flashes of lightning the scene was nightmarish, the back of what he took to be the man’s head cracked and bloody, but it was the face of the girl lying beneath him that was worse, peering over her dead friend’s shoulder. Her mouth was still wide open in the scream that had been silenced when the bullet had been fired into her skull, her glassy eyes bulging, the dead orbs reflecting the seething sky.

“Who are you?” he murmured, staring at them in amazement. He didn’t recognise the girl so they weren’t local to the village. Her skirt was pushed up so he surmised they’d come up here for a romp on a serial killer’s grave. Unfortunately Graeme must have come across them. Craig could just imagine how angry he would have been about a lewd act being committed on holy ground, but what the teenagers had been up to wasn’t as bad as double murder.

Craig tried to back away from the bodies, unable to look at the terror in the poor girl’s eyes for a second longer but the wind howled around him, nudging him forward.

“You’re not taking Freya too,” he told the grave solemnly. “She’s going to live a long and happy life with me, I promise you that.”

The wind screamed around him as the storm finally arrived. Another, more vivid flash of lightning made the girl’s eyes light up in a disturbing parody of life.

Craig turned his back as dread ran through him. Shadows raced all around him, darting in and out of the stones, getting closer…

His head snapped up when he spied movement in the corner of his right eye. Turning he saw the tree beside the church tapping on the stained glass window, like a big pointing hand. He squinted, attempting to see inside but the sky was split with lightning, which momentarily doused the area with brilliant white light. There was a crack of thunder then the land was plunged into blackness once more. Just before the light died he managed to spy what he assumed was a figure inside the church.

He had no idea who or what it was but it was all he had to go on so he tore a path towards it, fighting against the buffeting wind that seemed determined to stop him.

He approached the building cautiously. If Freya was in there with the gunman he didn’t want to spook him and panic him into doing something rash. He raced across to the building and stood to one side of the windows, attempting to see in. He was just about tall enough to peer inside. Through the night vision goggles he glimpsed movement but who or what it was he just couldn’t tell.

He checked the shotgun was primed and ready then crept round to the rear door of the church, straining to hear the slightest sound, praying he would hear Freya’s voice but if there was any noise it was drowned out by the thunder. The only way he was going to find out what was in there was by going inside. Knowing his luck it would be a bloody bat.