‘
What do you mean she went into the woods?’
Denny’s fury was something to see when Hecaté reported Cindy’s absence. He did not unleash it very often, and it was all the more effective because of it. Even Tamar was impressed, and Hecaté was downright intimidated. She shrank visibly and Stiles put a comforting arm around her.
‘It wasn’t her fault,’ he told Denny belligerently.
‘I didn’t say it was,’ said Denny, nonplussed, ‘but we have to find her – it’s … dangerous … really dangerous out there. I mean you have no idea …’ he trailed off, thinking.
‘What is he talking about?’ Stiles asked of Tamar, knowing that he would get no answers from Denny now that he was in meditation mode.
But Tamar just shrugged. ‘He didn’t get a chance to tell me,’ she said. ‘But I think it has something to do with those gypsies.’
‘Not gypsies,’ said Denny abruptly.
‘No?’ said Stiles (the interrogator) ‘What then?’
Denny looked sharply at him suddenly and shook his head. ‘I’m going after her,’ he announced. ‘Alone!’ he added firmly.
Stiles began to protest, but Tamar thought she understood and came down unexpectedly on Denny’s side.
‘Oh let him go,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s probably just a wild goose chase anyway. Denny’s just got a bee in his bonnet again I expect.’
Denny threw her a grateful look, which did not go unobserved by Stiles. But he held his peace. If Tamar did not care about going, then perhaps it really
was
nothing. It was not like Tamar to shun danger. Not on purpose anyway.
The truth was, of course, that Tamar had remembered Denny’s final remark to her about the connection of the gypsies to the child snatchers and had realised that Stiles would not be constrained by any method known to man or demon if he had known this. Better that Denny go alone to retrieve Cindy, since he alone, at this point, seemed to know what he would be getting into. Tamar, meanwhile, would try to find out what on earth had prompted Cindy to do such an uncharacteristic and foolish thing.
Another truth, as yet unknown to Tamar, was that Denny, in fact, had no idea what he was getting himself into. Not that it would have stopped him if he had.
‘When did she go?’ asked Tamar, realising, even as she said it, that it was now a moot point.
‘Not long, I think,’ said Hecaté.
‘You think?’ said Tamar. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘Well,’ Hecaté explained laboriously, ‘two-year olds have little sense of time you see and so the little one could not tell me how long ago she left exactly. Only that it was before lunchtime …’
‘Little one?’ snapped Tamar. ‘You mean that demon spawn of hers is the only one who saw her go?’
‘Do not call him that,’ begged Hecaté.
‘Did it … did
he
tell you that she went into the woods?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then,’ said Tamar grimly, ‘we only have his word for it. And frankly I don’t think …’
‘Shhh,’ said Stiles as little Jacky came toddling into the room with such a look of malevolence on his face as is rarely seen on a child of that age – teenagers, now that’s a different thing.
‘Where’s Mummy?’ he demanded, looking at Tamar with no very friendly gaze, as if he suspected her of spiriting her away.
‘
You
tell
me –
rug rat,’ said Tamar unconcernedly. It was not for her to be intimidated by a rebellious toddler even one with such a look of concentrated evil on his face. It was like “The Return of Chucky” she thought inconsequentially and almost laughed out loud.
‘Mummy’s gone to the woods,’ said the child and smirked in a disconcerting fashion. He looked very pleased about it for some unfathomable reason.
Tamar was immediately suspicious. ‘What do you know about it?’ she said menacingly. But she did not approach the child, Stiles noticed.
Jacky ignored her, but began to sing softly to himself. ‘If you g’ down t’ the woods t’day, you’re in for a big s’pise. If you g’ down t’ the wood t’day you better g’ in di’guise.’
Tamar could have killed him.
Denny caught up with Cindy with surprising ease. She was wandering aimlessly in a small copse that was not more than a mile from the house and yet it felt as if he had left civilisation a long, long way behind him. ‘I don’t remember the place being like this,’ he thought.
The forest (it simply was not possible to think of it as merely a wood when you were in it) was making him uneasy. Although it was only around two thirty in the afternoon, it was as dark as midnight in here, there was a primeval atmosphere and Denny could not shake the feeling that scary, primitive things were lurking in the shadows. The sooner they got out of here the better.
When he called her name, Cindy turned to him with a blank stare as if she did not recognise him.
He strode up to her and shook her by the shoulders. ‘Cindy?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Are you all right? What are you doing out here?’
‘Not sure,’ she muttered. Then suddenly she focused sharply on him. ‘Denny?’
‘Of course you nit wit,’ snapped Denny, his voice shrewish with relief.
Cindy smiled and suddenly she was beautiful, ethereal. Denny stepped back in shock. Of course, Cindy was attractive – she worked hard at it. But this was something different. As he looked at her, Denny felt his head swim.
‘I love it when you do that,’ she told him dreamily.
‘Do what?’ asked Denny knowing full well what she meant but inexplicably wanting to encourage her.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘when you go all masterful.’ She gave a deep languorous sigh. ‘It’s
so
sexy.’
‘Oh God’,
said a little voice in the back of Denny’s head, but he scarcely heard it. He brushed her face lightly, and she shivered ecstatically.
‘Yeah?’ he said. Something was bringing out the greasy rebel in him.*
*
[
All men have a little “rebel” in them
]
Her hair was astonishingly beautiful, he realised suddenly. It gleamed a pale gold in the … total lack of sunlight actually. He shook himself, momentarily disorientated. He became vaguely aware of the sound of silvery laughter in the trees. Then he looked at Cindy and forgot everything else.
‘Mmm.’ She leaned in toward him.
He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and bent her head back.
She closed her eyes in anticipation ‘I always liked you,’ she told him.
Denny knew it. But his own feelings had always been somewhat ambivalent toward Cindy; he tolerated her – that was all. And Cindy herself would never throw herself at him like this, she was too proud.
In the end, it was his sense of morality that stopped him. Something was wrong with this scenario. If he let himself be tempted, he would never forgive himself.
Oddly enough, it was not Tamar he was thinking of. Cindy’s feelings may be real or not, but his own definitely were not, and he must not hurt her by taking advantage of this situation. He drew back sharply and the world came back into focus. He felt suddenly certain that they were being watched.
‘It wasn’t real,’
he thought.
Cindy’s face mirrored his confusion. ‘What just happened?’ she said.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ said Denny brusquely. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘Where are we anyway?’
Denny opened his mouth confidently and then shut it again abruptly. ‘I have no idea,’ he admitted eventually.
Cindy rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly!’ she sniped and Denny felt a strange sense of relief about this. He wondered why.
‘You don’t remember
anything
?’ asked Tamar.
‘No.’
‘No.’
Both Denny and Cindy were tired, dirty and fed up, and Tamar’s relentless questioning was not helping. Both also felt inexplicably guilty under Tamar’s accusing gaze.
‘But you were gone for
hours
!’
‘I told you, we got lost,’ snapped Denny
Tamar was not really suspicious. That was in their imagination; she was, in fact, only extremely worried, and it was making her push them.
‘But …’
At that moment, rather fortuitously, Cindy fainted. Denny had never been so grateful to her.
Then all warm and fuzzy feelings evaporated as Jacky came running into the room with a look of concentrated malevolence on his face and bit him on the leg.
It was surprisingly painful, and Denny fell as his ruptured leg collapsed beneath him. ‘What the hell …?’
Tamar never hesitated. She swept Jacky up in an iron grip and belted him across the face in fury.
Jacky, not unpredictably, began to wail and struggle. The noise brought Hecaté running into the room. She saw Denny and Cindy on the floor and Tamar gripping the screaming Jacky at arm’s length with a look of horror on her face, and a terrible fear took hold of her. What had the monster child done?*
*[
Now and then, Hecaté admitted to herself that she was afraid of Cindy’s baby
]
‘Let him go,’ Denny’s voice came from the floor. He sounded calm enough, but there was an undertone that Tamar knew well enough to make her suddenly drop Jacky like a hot coal. He scampered away whimpering.
Stiles listened with a grave face as Tamar related what had happened. On the face of it, it would not seem like a serious incident. Infuriated toddlers often bit, but the fact was that Denny had a severe wound that would not heal magically and was now sitting with his heavily bandaged leg elevated while the blood continued to flow. He looked pale.
Cindy was in bed and Hecaté was with her, watching her anxiously. No one knew where Jacky was, and Tamar said she hoped he had fallen down the well*
and good riddance to him if he had. Neither Stiles nor Denny were inclined to disagree, but it seemed too much to hope for.
*[They did not have a well, this being the 21
st
century. But you did not argue with Tamar
]
The fact was they were all tired, bewildered and confused. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Bad things were clearly afoot – and that was nothing new – but they had no idea what they were or who was behind it or why it was happening. There seemed nothing to get hold of – nowhere to start. It was exhausting just thinking about it.
Something clicked in Tamar’s brain. ‘Who are the Sidhe?’ she asked Denny.
‘Not who,’ said Denny. ‘What.’
‘Okay then,
what
are the Sidhe?’
‘Traditionally they were a Celtic folk tale – fairies basically.’
‘
Fairies
,’ spluttered Stiles in disbelief.
‘Oh God,’ groaned Tamar. ‘I think I preferred the vampires.’
‘I thought they were gypsies,’ said Stiles.
‘Perhaps they are,’ suggested Tamar. ‘Maybe they just sort of borrowed the name – er
Celtic
gypsies.’
Denny struggled to his feet. ‘Let’s go and find out,’ he said.
~ Chapter Three ~
C
indy was sitting up in bed watching TV. She was watching Teletubbies because Jacky had returned and was sitting beside her looking unimaginably smug. Hecaté was standing in the doorway watching him cautiously.
He was singing softly under his breath. ‘If y’ g’ down’ t’ th’ woods t’day …’
Hecaté turned away.
‘Hey,’ shouted Jacky suddenly, ‘whe’ you goin’ lady?’
Hecaté summoned her courage, she was a
goddess
, she told herself. ‘I am not afraid of you,’ she said.
‘Oh yes you are,’ asserted Jacky.
‘You just watch out,’ said Hecaté. ‘Tamar will deal with you, you shall see.’
‘Not her,’ said Jacky. ‘That nasty lady she nev’r comin’ back now. She gone. They all gone.’ And he started to sing again. ‘if y’ g’ down t’ th’ woods t’day you in f’ a big s’prise …’
Hecaté fairly ran from the room.
It was not Cindy’s child. It
could not
be! Not that horrible creature. Hecaté thought about his early babyhood. The others seemed to have forgotten, but he had been a sweet loving little thing for a while. That had lasted only a few months really, but Hecaté remembered. So what had happened?
‘Denny would know,’ she mused, ‘if only he were here.’ She shivered, the house seemed so cold and empty without the others, and she felt alone and vulnerable trapped in the house with that thing. ‘Denny would know,’ she reiterated, and then – ‘Denny
did
know.’ She just had to find his notes.
They had been walking through the densest part of the woods for several hours, when they saw the lights. (They kept calling it “the woods” even though the primeval rainforest atmosphere remained, even intensified – it made them feel better) It was lush, verdant and superficially beautiful, but so terribly menacing that even the usually imperturbable Tamar felt the fear growing in her. They walked in a haze of uneasy loveliness, and had no idea where they might be going. Tiny pinpricks of lights danced like a swarm of fireflies away in the distance glowing green.
‘Like the matrix,’ said Denny to general disdain. But when he commented that he felt like an unwanted intruder on a distant world, neither Tamar nor Stiles disagreed with him, they knew what he meant. They all felt very far from home. The familiar woods had become an alien place, filled with ominous lights and shadows. There was no sound apart from their own voices and the soft tread of their feet.
And the feeling of being watched, which had been growing on them for some time, intensified. But as they walked toward them, the lights seemed to recede and fade then spring up somewhere else.
It was five O’ clock on a winter’s evening, so the sun was going down above the trees somewhere no doubt, although they could not see it, and yet in contradiction of all likelihood, the darkness did seem to increase further.
And yet, the air remained oddly warm and muggy and the ground was muddy beneath their feet, there was no sign of the frostiness that they would have anticipated had they thought about it, but all rational thought seemed to slip away from them and collapse into nervous anticipation. The trees overhead dripped as after a rainstorm, and it was hard to breathe.