So Erin had taken her to the east of England, but how long had Billi been unconcious? She could be anywhere from Suffolk to Northumbria.
Erin was long gone. A path of broken and flattened reeds led into the marshland, but after a few metres Billi couldn’t make sense of the trail. Aragorn she wasn’t. She was a city girl through and through.
God, she was freezing.
The raised country road wound through the marshland, but there were no lights anywhere that would mark a village or hamlet where she might get shelter, get help.
But what was that? A branch off the road heading towards…
… a cottage, sitting on one of the islands. The slate roof tiles glistened and she could make out a small garden facing toward the sea, surrounded by a dry-stone wall. No lights and no vehicle in the drive.
Bare-footed and shivering, Billi headed towards the building.
She walked along in a daze, hardly aware of how much colder she was getting and how much harder each step was becoming. She moved like a robot, a rusty machine with a single purpose, to get to that cottage. She would lose sight of it as she waded through the taller reeds or tumbled down, and then across one of the streams. At first she’d tried to jump them but before long she’d given up on the extra effort and just splashed across. It’s not as if she could get any wetter.
She reached the low wall and didn’t even bother with the gate but just climbed over. There was a fibre-glass sea kayak and some wrought iron garden furniture.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Billi banged on the back door. “Hello?”
The curtains were open, there was no light. She peered through the window into a rustic-style kitchen. Nothing was out. No plates, cups, pots or pans. Whoever owned it had packed everything away at the end of the summer holidays.
She picked up a loose stone off the wall and bashed it into the door’s glazed panel. It easily shattered and Billi carefully reached through, and unlocked the door from the inside.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Breaking and entering. As if that matters more than dying of hypothermia.
A holiday let. It had to be. Somewhere for the family to get away during the summer. The coast was dotted with them.
A search of the cupboards brought forth a bounty of biscuits, breakfast cereal and tins of soup. She shoved the cornflakes into her mouth as she turned on the hob. Riffling through the drawers she found the can opener. A minute later she’d poured two tins of chicken broth into the saucepan.
She was still cold, she was still soaked through. Leaving the soup bubbling, she explored. The cottage was just a few rooms. The kitchen, a small sitting room facing the front, and then a bathroom and bedroom. She swung open the cupboard and threw the clothes over the bed. Jeans, tops, plenty of sweaters and even a decent sailor’s jacket. The owners fancied themselves as sea-folk. Riffling through the drawers she found some clean underwear and thick hiking socks.
Hope flickered in her heart. Billi stripped off and had the hottest shower of her life.
***
“Faustus?”
“Billi? Where the hell are you?”
Where? Sitting on a sofa, dressed in double layers under a duvet with a scolding hot bowl of soup on my lap.
She’d almost put her head down on the bed, but if she’d done that she’d have slept on till next week. So she’d found the land-line and a bunch of brochures on a coffee table.
Where indeed?
“I was with Erin, I mean Reggie. His soul is in her body. You were right about the ritual. He’s taken control of her and intends to kill her so he can transfer to Ivan. That’s why he took him.” Even talking was tiring, but she needed to fight just a little longer. “Tonight, Faustus. He’s gonna do it tonight.”
“Where, Billi? Where are you?”
The Indian take-away menu had it printed on the front. It was a local landmark and had been in the FitzRoy family since the Norman invasion. It had been their reward from William the Conqueror for standing fast at the battle of Hastings.
Erin had talked about it. Her favourite memory as a small kid with her dad. Playing on the beach, splashing in the waves and climbing over the castle ruins. The place, the village around it, was long abandoned having all but fallen into the sea. But it was ideal for what Reginald was planning.
“Hollburgh. I’m in Hollburgh,” said Billi. “Come quickly.”
“What about the others?”
What about them? She’d give anything to have Mo and the others fighting beside her. But after yesterday’s debacle at the ossuary? “No. Gwaine will find a way to delay you. I need you here immediately.”
“Fine. I get it. Anything else?” Faustus didn’t sound too happy, but time was running out. However, that didn’t mean she was planning to face Reggie with nothing but firm resolve.
“Yeah, one more thing,” said Billi. “Bring the biggest bloody sword you can find.”
CHAPTER 24
Faustus was there in less than two hours, rattling along the winding country lane in his clapped-out VW Beetle. Billi had tried to sleep but it just wasn’t happening. She’d dug up an Ordnance Survey map and worked out where she was, and that Hollburgh was just eight kilometres north along the
