The Lamp of the Wicked

off.

Designer death, Jane thought cynically, for just a moment before she began to cry quietly, going down onto her knees and touching one of the hands, which was like porcelain. And cold.

‘Don’t, Jane,’ Moira said softly. ‘Don’t touch a thing.’

‘She’s not a thing,’ Jane said.

‘No. I’m sorry.’

Jane looked up at Moira. ‘I don’t understand. She’s so cold.’

‘She’s been dead quite some time, Jane. Since long before we got here.’

‘No. She couldn’t be. We… saw her. On the square. On the cobbles. She…’

There was silence. The leaded window was grey-green and mysterious in the subtle lamplight, with just a faint reflection of the room, of Jane herself kneeling by the bed. But Jenny Box was invisible in the reflection and even in reality remained amorphous and indistinct.

‘No,’ Moira said gently. ‘We didn’t see her. You did.’

Jane’s voice rose, querulous. ‘You must’ve seen her.’

‘No.’

Jane’s voice almost vanished. ‘Oh God,’ she breathed. ‘Oh my God.’

But what if he was wrong? This had been kicking at Lol’s insides ever since he’d watched Lodge up there, edging towards inevitable death, since the night he’d lain in bed with Merrily and said, How can anybody feel sorry for a man who killed women?

That sense of Lodge as just another loser.

What’s it like? he’d asked Mephisto Jones. How long does it last?

Oh, man, complete disorientation, Mephisto said. You don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve done. It’s not like drink, not even quite like dope. You’re well out of it, well out of it.

The final piece had dropped into place just now in the church, when the computer guy had been spilling it all to Bliss. The thing was, Lol hadn’t been able to see either of those two in the role. But this one… this one he could see.

Cola, trying to conceal the fear, had said, Just make sure it isn’t for nothing.

He looked up at the visceral hanging bulbs, so reminiscent of the dull lights in the hospital corridors of his twenties, and at the drabness of the place. Above all, he hated drabness. His own song was raging in his head now: Someone’s got to pay, now Dr Gascoigne’s on his way. He looked at Fergus and saw Dr Gascoigne whom all the nurses loved.

He took a breath. The air here smelled foul to him now.

He said to Fergus, ‘You said Roddy Lodge had blackouts more and more often. He must have had them in front of you a few times, maybe during… magical practices. Especially in this chapel – right under the pylon, right here in the middle of the hot spot. How long was he out of it, usually… five minutes, ten… longer?’

‘I never studied it,’ Fergus said distantly. ‘We tried to help him.’

Lol said, ‘Why don’t you take us through Lynsey’s last night? You were there.’

‘What are you talking about? You’re absolutely crazy,’ Fergus said. ‘Cola couldn’t—’

‘I know, Cola wasn’t there. I didn’t get this from Cola. She probably doesn’t even have an inkling…’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Fergus turned to the others. ‘What’s he talking about?’

Lol exploded. ‘Oh, you fucking do know. I get so pissed off with people like you… teachers, shrinks…’

He squeezed his eyes closed and heard Fergus saying, ‘What’s the matter with him? Is he on medication?’

Lol felt a merciful warmth, and when he opened his eyes Merrily was next to him, and she was holding his hand, pressing something hot and metallic into it, holding his hand closed over it, holding him together. He put his arm around her. He needed help. He instinctively knew the truth of it, but he couldn’t make that final leap.

‘Blackouts, huh?’ Sam Hall was rubbing his white beard. Lol remembered Sam on the night of the execution: … Shit coming off of the power lines. He’s gonna be disoriented by now. His balance’ll go completely, can’t they see that? Warning the police about what might happen. Empathizing with the man on the pylon.

‘Sam, help me,’ Lol said. ‘Roddy Lodge wasn’t a killer. He probably wasn’t a very nice man, especially in the end, but he didn’t kill this Melanie, and I really don’t think he killed Lynsey Davies, either. But when…’ He shook his head, trying to clear the fog.

Sam said, ‘You’re saying that when he came round from a blackout, resulting from heavy electrical bombardment, he might’ve thought he had. Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Lol breathed, and he felt the breath coming out of Merrily, too. ‘If you… I mean, if there were certain people who knew he’d often have blackouts in a certain situation…’

‘Say, like in here?’

‘They were coming more and more often, I think Mr Young just said. But if they were all ready for it – ready for the next one to happen – and there was another person among them whom they very much needed to kill…’

‘They’d wait till Roddy was out of it, and then do it.’ Sam Hall started to smile. ‘And when he came round, with the body at his feet, they’d say, “Jeez, look what you did, you crazy bastard.” ’

‘Or maybe they’d just go out and leave him to come round on his own and find it. He might not remember they’d even been here too.’

‘Are you both mad?’ Fergus Young cried, and Lol could hear the strain, the striving for effect.

‘I tell you, though,’ Sam said, ‘killing like this, by strangulation, not everyone’s capable of that. That is ultimate contact- killing. Intimate killing. I never did think Roddy Lodge could do that.’

‘But this isn’t getting us anywhere, is it?’ Huw Owen said, almost brightly. ‘This is all daft speculation.’ He looked at Fergus. ‘You meant what you said about being cleaned out, lad?’

Fergus glanced suspiciously from side to side. ‘What kind of set-up—?’ It’s entirely up to you,’ Huw said. ‘Nobody ever gets forced.’

Lol looked at Fergus – the head teacher, the golden-haired golden boy of Underhowle, the local hero, the man who wore the admiration of the community like a halo – and Fergus looked down at Huw and smiled ruefully.

‘Rather set myself up for this one, didn’t I?’ He shrugged. ‘All right. Do what you want.’

Huw shook his head regretfully. ‘Not me, lad. I’m too close to it.’ He turned, putting out an open hand in invitation. ‘Merrily?’

51 Sacrificial

HUW MOVED RAPIDLY, setting up candles on the packing case and lighting them. Sam and Ingrid stood quietly with Lol against the wall, while Fergus prowled restlessly like an actor waiting to be auditioned, going over his lines. When Merrily caught his gaze once he smiled and shook his head. It’s a farce; we both know that.

‘Minor exorcism?’ Merrily murmured to Huw. ‘You reckon?’

‘Aye, but you can’t mess about. He’s not going to sit still for the whole bit. Have to compress it a little.’

‘Is he a Christian?’

‘Ask him. No, don’t bother. You’ll find out.’

‘Huw… You tricked him.’