Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Cooper’s Cove lay a mile to the east of Dorsal Finn’s harbour. As with other areas in the town, the large cave, accessible only at low tide, had bad folklore attached to it. The place was known locally as Coven Cove, and its association with witchcraft was no secret amongst the older generations. They took delight—especially around Halloween—in scaring kids with talk about the coven of witches who used to frequent the area, one of whom allegedly wrote The Book of Shadows, a grimoire of great power.

The author was thought to be one Delores Mellor who, along with her four other coven members, died at the hands of the Witchfinder General in the 18th Century. Summer tourists often came to the cove, fascinated with its macabre history. For, although the true nature of the tales surrounding it was fantastic, it was also a fact that five women had actually died as a result of a witch trial, and such an event would only continue to serve to fascinate.

And, in part, the quest for such facts was exactly why three men were now moving cautiously over the smooth rocks, the surface made even more treacherous by wet, green moss and the dark streaks of seaweed left behind by the tide.

One of the men paused. He was short and wiry, his blue windbreaker appearing slightly too big for him. The strap of canvas satchel on his shoulder was pulled taut, indicating the weight of its contents. His brown eyes were shrewd and scrutinised the tablet in his hand.

“The entrance should be up ahead,” he said.

“When’s high tide, Mercer?”

The man standing next to Mercer was bigger. He had a high forehead and blonde hair that was shaved close to his scalp. The bushy beard appeared to compensate for the lack of hair on his head. His eyes were as blue as Mercer’s windbreaker.

Mercer checked the read-out on his device. “Six hours, Professor Kane.”

The last man’s foot slithered from under him and he cursed as he went down hard onto his backside.

“Goddamn this place.” His jowls were heavy and his neck was a pink inner tube of flesh. He wore shapeless corduroys, and a green, waxed Barbour jacket. The flat cap on his head was askew from his fall and, as he climbed unsteadily to feet, he pushed his black-framed glasses back up his hooked nose.

“It’s you, not the place, Dr Ramsdale,” Kane said. “This is the price you pay when you spend too much time in the museum.”

“Fieldwork is greatly overrated,” Ramsdale muttered as he found more stable footing and eased himself upright. As he moved his Barbour jacket hissed like an angry snake.

Kane chuckled. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Ramsdale? If we find our goal, even you will see the benefits of coming here.”

Ramsdale was quiet for a moment as he composed himself. He allowed a small smile to surface.

“There is no denying that, Professor. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Our time is limited, gentlemen,” Mercer said, his tone impatient. “Let’s keep moving.”

They found the cave via a blow hole at the south face of Cooper’s Cove, a dark, circular inlet, several feet overhead that they accessed by using a sequence of ascending rocks that made an effective, albeit arduous, stairway. Ramsdale swore a lot as he climbed, his face becoming bright scarlet by the time they got to the fissure.

On the threshold, Mercer delved into his satchel and retrieved a heavy duty flashlight which he activated. Satisfied, Mercer led the way, the blow hole taking them steadily downwards until the ground levelled off. They found themselves on an outcrop of rock, and looking down upon a huge cavern. The roar of the sea came up to them from over the ledge.

Mercer aimed his torch down at the floor far below where the sea was a broiling entity in the basin, the dark water barely reflecting the light from his powerful beam.

“This ledge will be under water in five and a half hours,” he called to them over the din.

“Then let’s go and find what we came for,” Kane yelled back.

Mercer handed the torch to Ramsdale. “Take this.”

The doctor held the torch as though it were something he’d never seen before.

Mercer then pulled his tablet free of the satchel and activated it. At the home page, he hit an icon for one of the apps. He lifted the tablet and aimed it ahead of them, and the ledge became a sickly green image on the screen, the dark contours of the cave wall to their left contrasted starkly against shimmering green shades of the rocks.

“Okay,” Mercer said to Ramsdale. “The software is working. If what we’re looking for is here, we’ll see it.”

Ramsdale appeared puzzled. “You say that it’s working but what does it do?”

“It can see things that the naked eye can’t,” Mercer explained. “Think of it as a nuclear microscope, then times that by about a thousand.”

Kane laughed. “And then you’d still be understating its power. If this software is as effective as the bench tests, it will show us not only things from this world, but whatever lies beyond the fabric of our own.”

“Remarkable,” Ramsdale said.

Kane patted Mercer on his shoulder. “Yes he is, isn’t he?”

Mercer moved off and the others followed. They crossed the ledge, Mercer guided by what was in the viewfinder of his tablet. The sound of the ocean accompanied them like a fierce, rowdy companion.

As they neared the other end of the outcrop, they came to a deep fissure shaped like a shark’s tooth. It was so hidden in shadow, they would have never have picked it out without Mercer’s software.

“Is this the place?” Kane said in awe. “Can this be as our records indicate? Can this be The Tooth of the Beast?”

“Let’s see,” Mercer said, entering the crevice.

They all passed through, the ground sloping once more, the angled roof of the passageway narrowing to the point where both Ramsdale and Kane had to stoop slightly.

“This incline is taking us below sea level,” Kane observed.

“Which is why we need to make sure this is done in the timeframe, Professor,” Mercer said without looking back.

“Noted,” Kane said.

Pressing on, the trio moved through the subterranean landscape. In the viewfinder, the whole place appeared as though it was an image from an alien planet.

After ten minutes the passage opened up into a small circular chamber where a dark lake of seawater had been left behind by the tide. There was a chill in the air, and the rise and fall of the ocean were ever present, albeit muted; made ghostly by walls of thick gnarled rock all around them.

“This is the place,” Mercer said, looking back at Kane and Ramsdale.

“Are you sure?” Kane said.

“You gave me the details from your source materials, Professor,” Mercer said. “I’m the tech guy. And based on what you gave me, the tech brought us here. So I’m saying this is the place where Delores Mellor was executed and given to the ocean.”

“And the grimoire?” Ramsdale said.

“Folklore suggests the book was brought here,” Kane said. “To keep safe the exorcised spirit of the witch.”

Ramsdale frowned. “Why not just destroy it?”

“It was not in the hands of those who put the coven to death,” Ramsdale offered. “My research suggests that sympathisers kept the Book of Shadows safe until long after Mellor’s execution, and then brought it here thereafter.”

Ramsdale looked around him as if expecting the book to simply materialise. “Surely it should’ve perished. The ocean is unforgiving to metal and wood, let alone paper and leather.”

“Yet here you stand, still knowing such risks, Ramsdale.” Kane smiled. “Why is that if you hold such doubts?”

Ramsdale replied quickly. “The mere thought of this book still being in existence excites me beyond measure, Professor. It is an historical record that in its own right is priceless.”

Kane nodded. “Of that, there is no question. Mercer’s device will locate what we’ve come here to find. I believe it is protected from the elements by things not of this Earth.”

Ramsdale pawed at his brow. “Perhaps this is where we differ in our application of evidence, Professor. The Mellor case may well be fact in that a coven of witches were tried and executed. And I accept that those who felt this unjust may have seen fit to engage in a parting ceremony that returned earthly possessions to the woman who led this coven. But I am unsure about the true relevance to the supernatural.”

Kane laughed without any evidence of reproach. “And that is your right, Ramsdale. As a scientist, I understand the need for empirical evidence. I can only hope that Mercer is able to provide it.”

Mercer took this as his cue and walked forwards, to the edge of the lake. Black water slurped against the makeshift shoreline and the technician didn’t stop walking until the thick surf lapped against his boots. He scanned the lake with the tablet, studying the shifting images.

He found the writing on the far wall within a few seconds. They appeared as fire scrawled across the screen:

Beyond The Tooth of the Beast, the maiden lies

The Book of Shadows by her side,

Souls are destined to be set free

Children of the brooding sea!

“Professor!” Mercer called with excitement. Kane and Ramsdale were at his side immediately.

Kane looked down at the screen. “Dr Ramsdale, can I ask you to please aim the torch at the far wall?”

Ramsdale did as he was asked and lifted the flashlight, but all the beam revealed was jagged rocks and deep shadow.

“Where the hell are the words?” Ramsdale gaped.

They looked down at the screen and the strange writing was still clear to all. Kane delved into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled free a folded sheet of paper. He opened this out under the beam of Ramsdale’s torch, revealing a scanned image of a yellowed page. The writing upon it was scrawled and spidery, and ink blotches stained some of the words. But his eyes were drawn to four specific sentences, and these sentences were the same as those written on Mercer’s tablet.

“This piece of manuscript comes from archives long since closed off from anyone but academics,” Ramsdale said. “The rumour is, someone from this town sold it for some meagre gain, but we do not know when such an item came into the possession of the university, nor do we know the identity of the person who handed it over. It may have meant something before but today, here and now, such things are irrelevant. This is the resting place of Delores Mellor and her grimoire.”

Kane still saw reluctance in his colleagues face. “What is it, doctor?”

“Superstition fuels everything here,” Ramsdale said firmly. “To think otherwise is reckless. Especially if we find the book intact.”

Despite Ramsdale’s concerns, Kane laughed, the sound bouncing around the chamber.

“You really have spent too much time behind a desk, dear Ramsdale!” he said. “We are on a path to find what was lost. This is merely the first step.”

“Gentlemen?” Mercer said with urgency. “Think you better take a look at this.”

Kane and Ramsdale parked their disagreement and turned their attention to Mercer who was, once again, monitoring the lake via his tablet. He had angled the camera lens towards the water. The software stripped away the fluid to reveal a single image. What they all saw left them speechless.

A skeletal figure wavered beneath the water, the bones turned to shimmering lime by the tablet.

“Good Lord,” Kane breathed. “Is that really her?”

“Statistically speaking, the odds are favourable,” Mercer said. “We’ll not know for sure until we report this to the authorities and exhume her.”

Kane’s response was immediate. “Let’s not be too hasty. If we report this to the authorities too soon then we risk losing control of our objective. We are yet to establish if the book is with her.”

Mercer looked up from the tablet. “We’ve found human remains. It has to be reported, Professor. You know it.”

“And it will be, Mercer,” Kane said gently. “But not until we return with the correct gear, and a diving team to take samples. Run tests. Confirm that this is who we think it is, and try to find the book. We will be sensitive and thorough. Once we’ve done that, then we will alert the authorities. They’ll never know otherwise. You have my word.”

“What if it’s not her?” Mercer said. “What if this is someone’s relative who was lost to the ocean?”

Kane nodded. “I understand your thinking here, but you said yourself that, statistically, this is the body of Delores Mellor. I do not refute that conclusion.”

Ramsdale interjected. “Is this because you have lost objectivity, Professor? Perhaps you do not want this to be anyone other than your precious witch.”

Mercer was suddenly animated. “Professor, look at this,” he said, holding the tablet up again. The other two men looked upon the screen and saw immediately the issue that had Mercer so riled.

“The words have changed!” Kane said in amazement. The previous script was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by new text in the same spidery writing:

Water and blood from the Amazon join,

True justice in search of an unsound crime,

Curses and blessings, one and the same,

Places are taken at the heart of the game

Kane’s brow furrowed with frustration. “What does this mean?”

He was answered only by a noise to his left. The trickling sound originated from the tunnel that led them down to the chamber. The Tooth of the Beast, the script had called it. Ramsdale turned to face the exit and eyes widened as the trickling sound grew and a hiss came to him.

A steady stream of water descended into the chamber, pouring through the tunnel and pooling at its entrance as though meeting an invisible barrier. Then the water was pulled back into the tunnel where it disappeared into the darkness beyond the beam of Ramsdale’s torch.

“Oh my God,” Ramsdale breathed. “The tide! The tide is coming back in!”

“How is it possible?” Kane said at Ramsdale’s shoulder. Fear was carved into his voice.

Mercer looked at the screen on his tablet. The clock was telling him something as bemusing as it was terrifying. “The screen is telling me we’ve been down here five and a half hours!”

“Impossible,” Ramsdale said. “We’ve only been here half an hour!”

“We can’t think about that now,” Kane said. “We have to get out of here.”

The cavern trembled and a distant roar told them all that they were far too late. The churning waters of the Atlantic blasted its way into the chamber as a solid wall, forcing the men backwards, into the lake, where they were submerged and tousled by the powerful current, each of them lost in their own final moments.

Mercer had been knocked unconscious and succumbed in a state of quiet oblivion. Ramsdale’s heart gave out as soon as the chilled water poured into his nose and mouth, and flooded his lungs with its icy touch.

Disorientated and terrified, Kane tumbled through the darkness, his cheeks ballooning as he tried desperately to hold on to precious oxygen. His vision was fogged by the swirling waters; a savage all-embracing blackness grabbing at him like a thousand unseen hands.

Even in this state, he knew he was not alone. An object came out of the gloom—a grasping hand—making him think that one of his companions had somehow found him and was trying to haul him to safety.

Then he saw her.

She came to him, skin pale as ice, lips black and smeared into a parody of a smile. Her dark hair trailed around her almond-shaped face, like the tentacles of some hideous sea creature, the black dress pumping in a jelly-fish pulse as the tide played with the hem. Agog, Kane saw that this was not a woman; it was a girl in her mid-teens. His dimmed eyes saw the black strawberry smudge beneath the girl’s right eye.

You’re not Delores, his dying mind thought. You’re a child.

She reached out to him, fingers splayed, and even though the bitter brine surged into his mouth, Professor Kane tried to release his terror in one huge scream.

Then the girl in the water ended his horror with one single act: she spoke to him.

And her words were the language of the ocean.