Then she sprinted off, without waiting for a response.
Which was just as well, because the Reverend didn't quite know what to say to that.
He sat back on the stool and decided that the best course of action was to do exactly as she had told him. Thus far, Ruby had, sooner or later, been proved correct at each turn, and he did not see any good reason why that should change now. He poured himself another tea and made himself comfortable on the stool, telling himself to sit tight, wait and, God willing, all would be well.
Chen, meanwhile, continued to say nothing; he just sat at the bottom of the crystal ball and observed the chaos gradually unfolding around him.
Chapter 16
A Revelation For Ruby
Ruby made her way to the outhouse. It was a small, solid, rough-hewn stone building, about the size of a medium shed, or perhaps a small garage; maybe somewhere between the two. A large old tree overhung it, plants and creepers had grown over quite a good deal of the structure during the time it had stood there, and it retained that dank, damp, earthy smell that only places like this or old cellars ever have. Exactly what it had originally been built for is uncertain, but sometime, during the course of its history, somebody (nobody was ever really sure quite who) had installed a lavatory. The outhouse in the rear of the churchyard, a little too surrounded by the cemetery for some people’s liking, but it was a place that the Reverend liked; where he could find solitude and read. It was his private place. As Ruby approached, she noticed an old weather-beaten sign, carelessly nailed above the doorway; it read simply 'Privy'.
Ruby slid the small key into the lock, clicked it open and stepped inside. Strange. Even though it was just an old, simple, stone outhouse, there was an air about it; an... 'atmosphere'. And this wasn’t only due to the less-than-hygienic habits of some of the previous users.
Something scratched at the back of her mind. A memory, half-buried, trying to claw its way to the surface. Something about this place. Something had happened here. Something to do with Malcolm Oldthwaite... For a moment, the world and everything in it seemed to go in and out of focus, and the knowledge was on the tip of her tongue, and then... then...
No. Whatever it was, it was gone.
Funny that Malcolm should come to mind, though. Where was he, anyway? He was supposed to be tracking down some books for her, wasn't he?
Speaking of which...
On one of the walls, to the left hand side of the loo, was a rough, no-nonsense shelf, upon which were stacked the various books that the Reverend had been reading in moments of 'ease' and 'contemplation' as he preferred to describe his natural activities in there.
Ruby read the spines of the books. Each more revealing than the last.
“Hmm,” she thought, “This is Simon's private spot for meditation and learning, a place of personal concentration and pondering...”
Then it clicked in her brain. The pieces fell into place.
Here she was; this was the spot. This is why Hariman was here. This was the age old prophecy.
This was...
The Privy of Simon!
How could she not have realised? Hariman would not have chosen somewhere big or impressive to enter this world. He would wish to enter quietly, and take over by stealth; not by force; not if he could avoid it. No. If evil wanted to make its way onto this plane, it would do so by the back door, via a place that nobody would ever give a second thought…
This Privy of Simon was a portal, a gateway if you will, between our world and a totally different plane of existence, where evil ruled and where pain and viciousness were the accepted order of things. Reverend Phullaposi's naïve esoteric readings and dabblings had opened a pathway to this plane, or unlocked a once sealed portal, through which Hariman, Devizes and Nutter could invite and unleash all the forces of darkness and chaos.
“Fool of a meddling Priest!” seethed Ruby. “He should have consulted me before blindly stumbling about in such arcane matters – or at the very least before everything got so out of hand! Bah! No matter. What is done is done. No use crying over spilled ectoplasm. The important thing is to try and sort this mess out. Now... What to do? What to do? What to do?”
Ruby left the privy; carefully shutting the door, but being careful not to fully close it. She thought they may need this as a bolt hole soon enough. From there she went into the church to seek out a certain item that the Reverend had informed her could be found up near the font. She located it quickly, put it in the little velvet bag that hung from her cassock and made her way back to the tent. En route, she stopped off at one of the other fête attractions, the bring-and-buy, bric-a-brac, and white elephant stall. Although trade there was busy, with many people picking up this object or that, haggling over a few pennies here or there, it didn't take Ruby long to find what she needed and to purchase it, for a mere fifty pence; a real bargain, as she was heard to remark to the stall holder.
When she returned to her tent, the Reverend, true to his word, had, quite literally not moved an inch. Ruby sat down and brusquely informed him that when this was all over – if any of them escaped with their faculties intact – she was going to have very, very, VERY stern words with him about what may be considered fit material to read when 'at ease' and what, most definitely, may not!
Ruby placed
