Guardians Of The Haunted Moor (20 page)

Gideon
took a deep breath. That was what Lee had taught him to do when the
world dissolved into hopeless chaos around him, and sometimes it
worked. Maybe it would help his brother too. “Ezekiel? Take one
nice deep breath and let it go. Then tell me what the bloody hell
you’re talking about.”

“
I
am
telling
you. Mother’s gone. Mrs Harle thinks she must’ve got confused and
wandered off.”

No. The
old lady had become more eccentric of late, but it wasn’t
senility—just the spontaneous creature she’d been before her
marriage enjoying a rebirth. “I don’t think so. First off, Lee’s
not too well. He was going to try and get some sleep, so he might
not have heard you knock. Don’t you have your key?”

“
Not with me, no.”

“
Shit. Have you called the police?”

“
What the devil do you think I’m doing now?”

“
Oh.” Gideon tugged at the brim of his cap in frustration.
“Right, but you also need to dial 999 and get emergency services
involved. There’s a twenty-four hour wait for missing persons but
they won’t put you through that—she’s elderly and vulnerable. Wait,
don’t hang up. Is Dev still there?”

“
Yes. He’s trying to get into my car.”

“
He’s meant to be in hospital. Can you keep him with
you?”

“
He’s very insistent about taking me up to some field or other.
Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to find
Mother.”

“
Ezekiel, do as I say. Call 999 and report Ma as missing and in
danger. I’ll alert the hospital about Dev. Start off with him if
that’s the only way he’ll let you hang on to him, and I’ll be there
in twenty minutes. Okay?”

“
No! No, it isn’t okay. Where
is
she?”

He was
on the verge of tears. Gideon was ashamed of having ever taken his
harsh front for the whole man. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly. “I
promise. I’ll phone the Falmouth lads and ask them to make her a
priority. I’m on my way, Zeke—just hang on.”

Pendower
had emerged from the office in time to hear the last part. He was
herding Keast ahead of him, like Isolde with a recalcitrant sheep.
“What’s the matter? More problems at home?”

“
Yes.” Pendower must think he lived in a perpetual vortex of
drama. “Never mind. Let’s get this guy over to Tollgate Road, and
then—”

“
You go and sort things out. I’ll escort Mr Keast to the
station, and I’ll make sure he tells the truth when he gets there.”
He riffled through his copious notes, smiling grimly. “All of
it.”

***

The main
street of Dark was empty when Gideon arrived. The day was
oppressively hot, dried leaves barely stirring on the pavements. He
pulled up in the grassy layby at the foot of the Carnysen track.
He’d wanted to go home first and check on Lee, but he could see
Zeke’s huge funereal Volvo halfway up the lane, more or less
blocking it. Probably Zeke had got it that far before realising it
would be impossible to turn it round further up.

Gideon
got out of the police truck and stood for a moment, reading
currents of unease in the hot air. Heavy heads of grass swayed
around his knees, and the spill of dog roses over the fence—so deep
a purple they were almost blue—almost overwhelmed him with their
scent. He tried Lee’s mobile again, then decided that whatever new
crisis awaited him this afternoon, he would let the poor sod sleep
and handle it himself. If Ma Frayne had found her way to their
flat, Lee would have been phoning him. The Falmouth duty sergeant
had taken the news as if the old lady had been his own mother, and
raised the alarm accordingly. Nothing more could be done on that
front, and meanwhile Gideon’s brother was alone in a cornfield with
an escaped lunatic. He set off up the track at a run.

Not
alone, no. For a second in the heat-haze, Gideon thought his ma had
come to officiate at some bizarre family picnic. Right in the very
centre of the field where John Bowe had died, in a patch of
flattened corn, Dev Bowe was sitting cross-legged, Zeke on one side
of him, an elderly woman comfortably settled on the other. He was
no longer dressed in his mother’s nightgown—the scene was weird
enough without that—but his shirt and trousers were too big for
him, as if he’d stolen them from somebody’s locker. And he was
nursing a baby in his arms.

No.
Gideon rubbed dust out of his eyes. He was clutching the charred
remains of the neck, the last sheaf of corn Joe Poldue had cut the
night before. He’d wrapped it in a sheet of white plastic from one
of the bales and was rocking it. And the old woman was Granny
Ragwen. “Where’s that other nice young fella?” she cried, as soon
as she clapped eyes on Gideon. “The one who was so allergic to my
cat?”

“
You don’t have a cat,” Gideon reminded her. “Zeke, are you
okay?”

“
Yes, except that this young man was very insistent about
coming here. Has Mother been found?”

“
Not yet. But she’s all right.” Gideon felt this as a powerful
certainty. He didn’t question it, and Zeke’s raised eyebrows
couldn’t shake it. “What are you doing up here, Mrs
Ragwen?”

“
Why, I met the minister in the lane. He was going my way, and
he let me take his arm.”

“
Hardly. She grabbed it and hung on. I have to go, Gideon. If
Mr Bowe feels in need of spiritual aid, he’s more than welcome to
visit me at the chapel, or—”

“
Zeke. Hush for a moment.” Gideon crouched in front of Dev.
Poor Zeke—they must have made quite a procession, the deranged boy
clinging to one arm and the village witch on the other. “Dev Bowe,
are you listening to me? Can you look up?”

Slowly
Dev raised his head. His gaze was unfocussed and blank. “Do you see
my baby?” he asked, his voice as dry as the wind in the corn. “Do
you see her?”

“
Yes, I see her. She’s Breedie baby, isn’t she? The one we take
in after the harvest, and put her by the fire in a cradle so her
mother can come and find her.”

“
Yes. The mother of all the fields. But the Beast came, and she
was left out alone in the cold. I’ve got her now. People should
look after their babies.” His brow creased in pain. “You should
have looked after yours, shouldn’t you? Then maybe you wouldn’t
have lost her. Would you like to have a hold of mine?”

“
Dev Bowe, have you been sectioned under the Mental Health Act?
Do you know what that is?”

The boy
shook his head. Granny Ragwen reached out and gave him a sudden
thump to the shoulder, as if ashamed of him. “Don’t you be rude to
the constable! Did someone tell you at the hospital you had to stay
there? That you weren’t allowed to go?”

“
No. They told me I should be a good boy and get some sleep.” A
terrible smile cracked his face, sharp as a scythe with cold
cunning. “I can go wherever I want. I’ve already been somewhere,
Sergeant Frayne—somewhere
you
wouldn’t want me to go.”

“
If you haven’t been sectioned,” Gideon said quietly, “I’m
arresting you now on suspicion of the murder of both of your
brothers. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your
defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you
later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in
evidence. Are you able to understand what I’ve just said to
you?”

“
Yes, Sergeant.”

“
And do you think I’m wrong? Because it’s ridiculous, isn’t
it—a little scrap of a lad like you, killing those two big fine
men.”

Dev
shuddered. “Not fine. Not fine men.”

“
All right. Suppose I agree with you that they weren’t. That I
knew what they’d done, and I could make you a promise right here—my
deepest, best promise, Dev—that I could put it right?”

“
No-one can put it right. Dev tried. But John said he was mad,
and locked him up in his room, and said a bad thing would happen to
him just like it did to his mam.”

“
John killed your mother and father—what, to get the land?” Dev
nodded, and the alien jolt of his head, the vulpine snarl that
accompanied it, chilled Gideon’s marrow. “Wait. Who am I talking to
here?”

“
Not Dev. Not Dev.”

“
All right. In that case I’m telling whoever’s in there—Dev
Bowe is just a little boy. I’m a policeman, and more than that,
I’m...” Gideon cast around for words, memories, symbols that would
make sense in this field, beneath the open sky. He remembered what
Lee had called him. “I’m the guardian of this place—one of ’em
anyway. I’m the good shepherd. And I
can
make the darkness go
away.”

The boy
turned to Ezekiel. “Is that right? Is it true?”

A big
leap for poor Zeke, who had no idea of what was going on. But he
gave Gideon a glance and said slowly, “If my brother promises,
yes.”

“
Then... can you take it out of me?”

“
Careful, Zeke. He’s mentally ill, not possessed.”

“
So much harm is done by godless men of this world who insist
on the distinction. Do you
believe
I can take your demon from you, child?”

Zeke
must have been conducting a service or a funeral. He was in
clerical black, his collar gleaming in the sunlight, enough to
inspire faith in anyone. The boy recoiled from him. “Dev does,” he
said. “Dev believes. But the truth is, preacher, I’m too old for
you. It’s a shame. I’m wearing this little body out.”

“
Then leave it. Please.”

“
It’s not so easy as that. Can’t you see how he’s woven me in?
Learning about all the names and what they mean, creating his own
mythology. Did you know...” Dev snapped his arms tight across his
chest and began to rock. “Did you know the old song is all about
him too? About him and his brothers... Their father sent all of
them away, each in his turn, to the Duchy agricultural school, all
the way over at Camborne in the west.” He began to croon.
“
Three men came from the west, their
fortunes for to try, and these three made a solemn vow, John
Barleycorn must die...
John and Bligh tried
their fortunes on this farm, didn’t they? What a treasure they
found!”

“
Dev!” Gideon seized his wrist. “You have to fight this. How
could your brother be one of those men and John Barleycorn at the
same time?”

“
Because he knew by then. He knew what he’d done. He was sorry,
but it all had gone too far. The best sacrifice is a willing one.
He went out into the midnight field on Guldize Eve on purpose to
meet the Beast, and we were there. And as for Bligh, all we had to
do was... show him our face.” Dev gave a guttural laugh. “God, how
he screamed!”

Ezekiel
had gone pale. “Gid, tell me someone’s coming to look after this...
boy.”

“
Yes. They should be here soon, but—”

“
But what good could they do him while he’s like this?” Granny
Ragwen had finally stirred from her easy crouch in the corn. She
was as neat and prosaic as ever, in her M&S leisure wear, but
she looked as though she’d spent several centuries sitting by
cauldrons, waiting on her natural throne of earth for events to
turn. She put down a hand to Dev. “Too old for the preacher, are
you? You’re not too old for me. Come along.”

Dev
scrambled to his feet. Gideon and Zeke got up too. “Careful, Mrs
Ragwen,” Gideon warned. “He’s not himself.”

“
That’s just the problem, isn’t it?” She smiled back over her
shoulder, leading Dev away through the corn. “What harm can come to
me here, with you two big lads looking on? Come along, now, you
creature of earth and sky. What are you doing in a little flesh
cage?
I exorcise thee
, Dev Bowe,” she went on conversationally, picking up his hand
and lightly shaking it, “
that thou cast
out from thee all the impurities and uncleanlinesses of the spirit
of the world of phantasm.
That’s one of
Gerald Gardner’s old blessings for water—or Doreen’s, or
Aleister’s, depending on who you believe—but it works pretty well
for beasts too. Do you hear?”

Dev came
to a dead stop. He laced his fingers through Granny Ragwen’s and
bowed his head. The air tightened like a violin’s overdrawn string.
Unthinkingly Gideon drew close to his brother, the way he had
before the age gap and their disparate natures had driven them
apart. “What is she doing?”

“
I don’t know, but shouldn’t you be stopping her?”

“
You’re the minister.”

“
You’re the policeman, for God’s sake!”

Their
eyes met. They waited in silence, and after a moment the moorland
around them became silent too. The larks ceased their burble, and
the linnets left off their high-pitched defence of every gorse bush
for miles around. “I don’t think you should look at Dev or the old
lady,” Zeke said tonelessly. “I think for a minute you should just
look at me.”

Gideon
swallowed painfully. “Okay.”

A wind
sprang up. It didn’t come from the tors or the faraway Atlantic.
Its breath was hot as a wolf’s, and rich with pheromone messages of
death and change. Its density altered, coalescing from air to
flesh, and in this manifestation it circled the place where Gideon
stood with his brother. In this manifestation it knew him: passed
behind him once, close enough to swipe at his shoulder. He
staggered and Zeke caught him, and a low growl filled the air.
“You’d better go now,” Zeke said to something behind him. “I don’t
know what you are, but I think you’d better go.”