Heathen/Nemesis

‘Then why don’t you just call the police?’ the younger woman said, agitated.

Donna didn’t answer; she merely sipped her tea.

‘I think you want it to come to this, don’t you?’ Julie snapped. ‘You don’t care if you kill them.’

‘They tried to kill me.’

‘And if you do kill anyone, you’ll be the one who’ll go to prison.’

‘I’ll take that chance.’

‘Let’s just hope it doesn’t go that far.’

‘It already has.’

They regarded each other for long moments, then Julie reached into her handbag for the envelope. She handed it to Donna, who turned it over in her hands, seeing Ward’s handwriting on the front. She smiled thinly and ran her index finger over the Biro scribble.

I miss you.

‘It can wait until morning,’ she said quietly. ‘We should get some sleep.’

Julie agreed.

Donna took the envelope upstairs with her and laid it on the bedside table. Before she got into bed she touched it once, running her fingertips over the smooth manilla package. Then, naked, she slipped between the sheets.

Her last waking thought was of her dead husband. As she drifted off to sleep, a single tear rolled from her eye.

I miss you.

Sixty-Three

The book is called Domus Vitae, which is translated as ‘The House of Life’. It was written by a man called Edward Chardell in 1753. Only one hundred copies were printed. The copy I discovered is, as far as I know, the only one in existence. It is vital to the members of The Sons of Midnight. Vital to their survival and also to their protection.

Every member of the club, from its formation back in 1721 right up until the present day, is forced to write his name in the book. I have those names. I know those names. That is why I stole the book and that is why they want me dead and why they need the book back. If its contents were released then they would be destroyed; but also the repercussions would be enormous.

The actual content of the book itself consists of a series of spells and invocations designed to be used at meetings of the club, just as similar books were used at meetings of The Hell Fire Club all over Britain and Ireland. Each club had one of these books which they called Grimoires, and the loss or destruction of these Grimoires has accounted for the disappearance of other branches of The Hell Fire Club over the years. The Sons of Midnight are the only remaining group I know of, still linked to the original Hell Fire Club. I have researched everything about them, their customs, their members and their motives. They trusted me enough to allow me into their ranks, but when I saw what they were planning I knew that the only answer was to destroy them, expose them.

They must be stopped. Their aims are sedition. They have infiltrated everywhere. Every branch of the Media, Politics and the Church. They are more powerful than anyone can imagine, more dangerous than anyone could realize. Perhaps I might be able to stop them by exposing them but I don’t think they will allow that to happen. However, I have made contingency plans. Even if they kill me there are still ways to stop them.

Destroy the book. Destroy that and you destroy them. Especially Dashwood and Parsons. They need the book to live. Its very existence guarantees them life. Without it they are dead.

But don’t look to anyone for help. They have members everywhere. No one can be trusted. Fight them alone. I tried and I would have succeeded. I hid the book from them, I covered my tracks as well as I could.

The location of the book I felt was too important to put down in this note. The key you will find enclosed fits a safety deposit box in the Chichester Branch of Lloyds Bank. Take the key and remove the contents of the box then find the book. Directions and instructions and also a description of the Grimoire itself are contained in there. The bank manager, Maurice Langton, is under orders not to allow anyone to open the door except you, Donna. Take this letter with you when you go there.

I pray that it is you reading this, my darling. If not then nothing I have written before matters. If it is you, then do this for me.

I love you. I will always love you, more than I thought it was possible to love anyone.

Christopher Ward.

Sixty-Four

Donna put down the note and ran her hands over the paper, as if trying to smooth out the creases. She was shaking slightly. Julie could see the tears in her eyes as she re-read the sheet of paper, touching her dead husband’s name with her fingers as she read.

‘Oh, Chris,’ she murmured quietly, wiping one eye with the back of her hand.

He loved you. Then why did he have an affair?

Jesus, even now it plagued her. She lowered her head.

‘Donna, are you all right?’ Julie asked, slipping one arm around her sister’s shoulders.

Donna nodded.

‘We have to go,’ she said, sucking in a deep breath, folding the note again. She looked at the small key on the table, then dropped that into the envelope with the note.

‘No one can be trusted,’ Julie said, echoing the words on the paper. ‘You were right not to call the police.’

‘Is my paranoia catching?’ Donna laughed humourlessly. ‘I’ve said it to you before, but I’ll say it again. If you want to leave I’ll understand, but you’re the only one I can trust now.’

Julie touched a hand to her cheek.

‘We’ll do it together,’ she said softly, holding Donna’s gaze. The older woman stood up and the two of them embraced, holding each other tightly, neither wanting to let go, united in their grief and also in their determination.

‘Come on,’ said Donna finally. ‘Let’s get to that bank.’

In the daylight Julie could see the holes in the road which, the previous night, she’d only been able to feel. The surface was badly pockmarked and the car bumped and bounced over the uneven thoroughfare, its journey only becoming smoother as they reached the main road that would lead them into Chichester itself.

Along the way they passed through one or two collections of houses masquerading as villages. The sun managed to escape the shackles of dark cloud every now and then; when it did, glorious golden light fell across the countryside. But for the most part the land remained in shadow.

As they drew close to the outskirts of Chichester itself rain clouds were gathering. As Julie finally found a parking space close to the bank the first droplets of rain were striking the windscreen of the car, like oversized tears.

The two women hurried across to the main doors of the bank. It was quiet inside. At the ‘Enquiries’ desk a young man with a strange, flattened haircut looked up from behind the counter. He smiled, ran swift appraising eyes over both women and coloured immediately.