Some of them were very narrow, and several times the three of them had to go single file. Doorways opened off the alleys, presumably into the two-and three-story houses, all adjoining, that rose above them. Gray stone walls merged into gray stone walls and led up to steep slate roofs. Eventually, Burrows brought them to a courtyard with a few tables scattered under a large oak tree. “We’ve commandeered the pub as a base of operations — it’s the only place big enough,” he explained. “Except for the church, which is, of course, not available.”
The main room of the pub was aggressively old-timey, with heavy beams across the low ceiling and creaky floorboards. Several tables had been pushed together to form a big one, and a group of armor-clad soldiers were eating at one end. On the other side of the room was an administrative area where people looked at computers, talked on radiotelephones, and perused large pieces of paper. Burrows introduced them to Pawn Mungo Kirkcaldie, a big military-looking man in his forties.
“Pawn Kirkcaldie, this is Pawn Felicity Clements and Miss Odette Lilyfield,” said Burrows. Odette bit her tongue at his mispronunciation of her name.
“Ah, Clements, excellent,” said Kirkcaldie. “Good to have you here, we’ve been waiting on you. And Miss Lilyfield, welcome. We’d better get on with it.” He walked them over to a map pinned to the wall. “We’ve got troops ringing the church; they’re on the roofs of the surrounding buildings and in the street,” he explained, pointing out the positions. “They’re mostly concentrated at the front, where the doors are, and the rear, where they’ve got that one biggish window. We’re lucky there’s not a lot of stained-glass windows in this building — the original builders of the church seemed to think windows were a wicked popish extravagance — so there’s really only two points of access and escape.
“So, Pawn Clements, we want you to sashay over and take a peek in the church. Give us an idea of what’s where before we go inside. I understand you need to be touching the building?”
“It’ll make it easier and faster,” said Clements. Several Pawns came over to strap some armor onto her and give her a headset. A Retainer handed her a nasty-looking submachine gun.
“Easy and fast is what we want,” said Kirkcaldie, and he led them over to the front windows of the pub. “Now, that’s the church over there,” he said, pointing through the glass. “We’ll send you across the street so you can lay hands on the back wall. There’ll be sharpshooters covering you, but I’m also sending Pawn Pickhaver here.” Pawn Pickhaver was a large man with a large chin and a large gun. “He has a trick where he can solidify light, so he can raise some walls around you if necessary, give you a bit of extra protection. Not that we expect any trouble.”
“Fine,” said Clements.
“Miss Lilyfield, you’ll be staying in here with me,” said Kirkcaldie firmly.
“I understand, sir,” said Odette.
“We’ve heard from the historians at the Rookery and Apex House,” said Burrows. “So far, their searches have revealed nothing ever happening at Muirie.”
“No history of supernatural activity at all,” mused Kirkcaldie. “Well, this town’s had a pretty good run up until now.”
“Not just no supernatural activity,” said the aide-de-camp. “I don’t think anything has ever happened here.”
“Well, spontaneous shit happens,” said Kirkcaldie. “That’s what keeps us in work, eh? Let’s get a move on, then. Clements, can you give us a running commentary?”
“I’m afraid not, sir,” said Clements. “I’ve got to leave my body entirely to scan something outside it.”
“Right. Then to begin with, just make quick forays and then zap back into your body to give us sketches of the situation. Once we’ve got an overview, we’ll work out what we want in detail.”
“Understood, sir. You don’t need to know what’s happened in there, do you? No past events?”
“Nah, just give us the present situation,” said Kirkcaldie. It was clear he’d been briefed on Clements’s abilities. “We’ll figure out the past later. You take a look, tell us what you see, then we’ll work out a strategy and go in.”
Clements agreed, nodded to Odette, and then proceeded outside with Pawn Pickhaver. Burrows handed Odette a headset so she could hear Clements’s commentary. She watched through the window as the two Pawns ran across the street, keeping low. When they reached the church, they crouched down against the wall. Clements knelt and placed her hand against the stone while Pickhaver stood ready with his gun.
“We’re established. Going through the wall now,” Clements said.
“Sentries, stand ready,” ordered Kirkcaldie. There were several minutes of tense silence, followed by a couple of minutes of bored silence, followed by a minute or two of increasingly worried silence.
“I’m back,” said Clements suddenly.
“What did you see, Clements?” Kirkcaldie asked.
“The place is empty, sir. The people have vanished.”
“No bodies?”
“Negative.”
“No bones, even?” said Kirkcaldie hopefully.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Well, that’s creepy as anything,” said Burrows in a vexed tone.
“The place seems undisturbed,” said Clements. “The aisles are mostly clear. There are some backpacks and cases between the altar and the pews. I’m guessing they belong to the archaeologists.” She described tools lying about as if dropped, but “I’m not seeing anything,” said Clements finally. “No life at all. Some small puddles of something.”
“Blood?” asked Kirkcaldie intently.
“I couldn’t tell. There’s some spotlights on stands pointed out toward the door,” Clements reported. “It looks as if that’s the light the cops saw last night.”
“When you go back in, try the ceiling,” advised Kirkcaldie. “Bad shit always tends to drop down on you from the ceiling. It’s like getting attacked by clichés.”
“Copy that. I’ll do one more sweep, then?” asked Clements.
“Please. And then we’ll send in the troops.”
“Yes, sir.” Odette watched in fascination as Clements’s body slumped a little against the church wall. After a few moments, however, the Pawn stood bolt upright.
“Sir, a big flagstone in the floor had moved while I was gone!” she reported frantically.
“Oh, the crypt!” exclaimed Kirkcaldie. “Of course!”
“Sir, something came out!” said Clements.
“What? What is it?” demanded Kirkcaldie.
“I’d have to look into the past to see it,” said Clements tightly. “Which means I’ll —” She broke off as something slammed against the rear wall of the church, punching a hole through the stone right by the two Pawns. Then something reached through the hole, grasped the stunned Pickhaver, and pulled him, shouting, into the church.
45
Felicity reeled. The horrendous noise and the impact of the hole being punched in the wall of the church had hit her like a thunderclap, and chips of stone had smacked her in the face. Dust was in her mouth, her ears were ringing, and her senses were smeared between her body and an area inside the church just in front of the altar. The horrible quickness with which Pickhaver had been snatched away had stunned her. Automatically, she peered after him and caught a glimpse of him being dragged so quickly by that thing that his body whipped back and forth against the pews. Then down he went into the crypt.
I should look in the crypt, she thought foggily. Get a better view of the thing. It had been man-size and skittered along on all fours. Then she heard a voice cutting through the ringing in her ears.
“Clements!” Kirkcaldie’s voice was blasting. “Fall back to the pub immediately!”
Right, thought Felicity dazedly. The pub, right. Just let me get my bearings. She felt her muscles twitch as her entire consciousness settled itself into her brain, and then she was up and running toward the pub. She was distantly aware of Kirkcaldie giving other orders over the headset, but all she could concentrate on was getting across the grass to the street, and then across the street to the pub, And then I’ll be safe, and Leliefeld will be safe, and —