Authors: Shaun Jeffrey
Not that he had much to worry about as there was no one around, and when he did finally see someone, they bowed their head against the elements.
When they reached the high street, a large grey dog padded towards them. At least it looked like a dog, but he couldn't be sure. A strange hybrid, it made his skin crawl. Melantha reined the horse in and looked down at the creature.
“What is it?”
Zen thought she was talking to him and he frowned, confused until he saw her looking at the dog.
The dog displayed an unnatural smile, revealing large teeth. It made a guttural sound.
“She’s followed me here?” Melantha said, frowning.
The dog nodded its head and turned to look at the Salvation public house.
Melantha grinned.
Zen looked on, amused.
“Follow me,” Melantha said.
Zen realised that
now
she was talking to him.
He watched her climb down from the caravan and walk towards the public house.
“I can't go in there looking like this,” he shouted after her, lifting the hem of the dress and raising his eyebrows.
Melantha turned and shook her head. “No one will care what you're wearing.” She pushed the door open and disappeared inside.
Zen cursed under his breath and followed.
Inside the pub, heat from the roaring log fire enveloped him.
Then he noticed the ginger haired man behind the bar staring doe-eyed at Melantha. Was he blind? Couldn't he see the disfigurements?
“I'm looking for someone who might be staying here,” Melantha said.
The barman put his tongue back in and said, “And who might that be, my lovely?”
My lovely
. Zen coughed.
“A woman called Verity Crowe.”
“Ah yes, she's staying here.”
“Then take me to her room,” Melantha said.
Instead of being rankled by Melantha’s demand, the man seemed pleased to be able to help. He ran from around the bar and held open the door to the hallway.
Melantha smiled and walked through.
Zen followed, but the man let the door swing shut in his face. Zen ground his teeth and pushed it open. The barman didn't even acknowledge him. He may as well have been invisible.
Red flock wallpaper decorated the dismal hallway. On the wall by a small L-shaped reception desk, a notice board advertised local attractions in the Peak District: Eyam Museum, Heights of Abraham, Speedwell Cavern, Gulliver's Kingdom.
Zen followed Melantha and the barman up the stairs. The dog slunk along behind him.
He reached the landing and a peal of thunder reverberated across the heavens, shaking the whole building.
Why would they want this woman dead? She seemed harmless enough. A bit kooky maybe, and certainly seriously screwed in the head if the scars were anything to go by, but that didn't warrant killing her. Pretending to be Doctor Dolittle was a job for a psychiatrist, not a hit-man.
He thought back to when the weird events started. Had he taken any drugs then? Wouldn't it be funny if he came down off a bad trip to find the barmaid, Gloria, chastising him for cluttering up the bar? Hell, she could ban him for life if it meant getting back to reality and having his old life back.
No one scarred themselves like that voluntarily, did they?
He pinched himself, just to check he wasn't dreaming, but the pain felt real enough.
At the end of a dingy corridor, Melantha ordered the barman to open the door, which he did without complaint before stepping aside to allow Melantha to enter. Next minute she stormed back out.
“She’s not here,” she said, her ugly expression made all the more gruesome by the scars. She turned and looked at the dog that hunkered against the wall. “Go and find her. Now.”
CHAPTER 14
Verity knocked on Leo’s door and then waited patiently.
When he answered, he didn’t look too surprised to see her.
“I really need to find Melantha,” Verity said, jamming her foot between the door and frame so he couldn’t slam it in her face.
Leo sighed. “You’d better come in.” He retreated inside the house, and Verity followed him through into the living room.
A musty smell hung in the room, the furniture old and tatty
.
Seating himself on the couch, Leo gazed up at Verity. He looked sad.
“Can you tell me where she is?”
Leo shrugged and sucked on his teeth. “She could be anywhere.”
She remembered the letter she’d found in the guest bedroom. She fished through her purse and pulled the remains out.
“Does this mean anything to you?” she said, handing the scraps to him.” I found it in my father’s house. I think it might be Melantha’s.”
Leo took the letter from her and studied it. When he looked up, he was shaking, his eyes wide and glassy, as though having seen something that terrified him.
“What is it?” Verity asked.
Leo twiddled his thumbs.
“Leo?”
Tears welled in his eyes. “When I heard you mention her name in the pub, I knew she was on her way. I always knew she’d come here. It’s a thin place, you see.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Believe me, you don't want to know.”
Outside, the wind whistled with the proficiency of the Devil playing panpipes.
“Look, this Melantha, I think she killed my father. She married him only days before he died. I’ve got no proof, but—”
“He wouldn’t be the first. And he definitely won’t be the last.”
“So you mean she did kill my father?” Her blood ran cold at the thought.
Leo nodded. “Probably. It’s in her nature. She thinks it’s the only way.”
“The only way to what?”
“To get revenge.”
Verity furrowed her brow. “Revenge? On who?”
“Your family.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”
Leo took a deep breath and looked towards the window. “She belongs to a fringe Roma tribe that believe in retribution. She carries a book
that lists generations of those that have harmed her people. In the past, one of your ancestors must have done something to have their name included.”
Verity started to shake. “Tell me this is a joke.”
“I wish it was.”
Verity didn’t believe it. “So really, what’s she coming here for?”
“To unleash hell.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be funny, but you’ve just told me she probably killed my father, and now she thinks she’s Russell Crowe.”
“I don’t expect you to believe me.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Leo took a deep breath before continuing. “There’s a place. A dark dwelling that houses demons and monsters. To gain access, you need a thin place, which is a part of the land where the worlds combine. One of ‘em’s here, in Trinity. Melantha’s preparing for the coming apocalypse. Hell, she’s going to start it.”
Verity sat opposite Leo in an armchair and laughed. “Very funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Look, protect her all you want, but I’ll find her.”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do,” Leo said. “She’s got herself a power that bewitches folk. No one on earth can stop her.”
“I’ll get the police on to her.”
“If I were you, miss, the only thing I’d do is run. Run like you’ve never run before and don’t look back.”
Verity stood up and put her hands on her hips. “So you’re not going to tell me where she is? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’ve told you what to do. Now if you don’t mind, I’m a busy man.”
Although she wanted to argue, Verity could tell she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Leo, so she stormed out of the house. Sod him. If he wasn’t going to help, she would find Melantha herself.
She marched down the street, intending to knock on every door in the village if she had to, when she saw a horse drawn caravan coming towards her. A dog ran alongside the caravan, although it didn’t look like any dog she’d ever seen before.
A woman sat at the reins and a man wearing a dress sat beside her.
As the carriage drew alongside, the woman reined the horse in, letting it stand there, clomping its feet on the road.
Verity stared open-mouthed at the beautiful, beguiling woman at the reins. Her dark skin appeared flawless, her eyes exquisite treasures that sparkled with life.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Crowe. I remember seeing your photo on your father’s bedside table.”
“Melantha?” Verity could hardly get the word out. She felt her pulse thunder and her face flushed.
“The one and only.” Melantha smiled. She pulled a knife out of the folds of her dress and descended to the road. “Now it’s time for you to join your father.”
CHAPTER 15
Zen looked at the knife in Melantha's hand; then at the woman she intended to use it on.
The hippy woman didn’t look afraid. Actually, she looked enamoured.
Zen jumped down from the caravan and grabbed Melantha's wrist. “No,” he shouted.
Melantha turned to look at him, her face a concentrated mask of hate. She peeled her lips back and put both hands on the handle of the knife. “It's
what
she deserves,” she said, still trying to bring the knife down. “I thought you understood.”
Zen glared at her. “I can't let you kill her. Not like this.”
“Then you’re no better than she is.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zen noticed an old man appear. He withdrew a sword from his cane and used it to ward off the snarling dog. He parried and thrust but the dog moved too fast, evading the sword as though toying with him.
The hippy woman
seemed unconcerned about anything, as though in a trance.
“Melantha, there's got to be another way,” Zen said, his voice strained as he fought to stop her.
Melantha responded by kicking him in the shins. Zen sucked air between his teeth, hopping on his good leg, which made him lose his balance. He could feel himself falling, but he couldn't let go of Melantha, and she fell with him. His back hit the ground, sending a shaft of pain up his spine, reopening his earlier wound. Then Melantha landed on top of him, and he exhaled a loud grunt as she knocked the air from his lungs.
The point of the knife hovered inches above his eye, getting closer as Melantha put all her weight behind it. He’d been here before, only last time his attacker had been a lot better looking. Melantha crouched above him like a grotesque gargoyle, impervious. Zen grunted, wheezing for air. He felt weak. The knife inched closer, the tip of a steel iceberg. He continued to hold her wrists, but it was no good. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn't hold her. He saw his life flash by in a supersonic cerebral showcase, more like a horror film than an actual autobiography.