‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ says Davies, frothing at the mouth, clenching his teeth.
‘No. You don’t know what you’re doing,’ Graham replies as he grasps both his wrists and binds them together. ‘Did you seriously think sacrificing a mild-mannered journalist was going to help you regain control? Face it. You’re done.’
‘Someone needs to die,’ cries Diane. She’s bleeding, having cut the side of her face on the sharp end of a stick as she collided with the ground. ‘It’s a ritual. It has to happen in order for the village committee to continue to prosper.’
‘Are you listening to yourselves? This is the twenty-first century,’ snaps Graham. ‘Even an old fart like me knows that sacrificing a human being isn’t going to help the local community continue to harvest a decent crop. You’re being manipulated and controlled.’
Diane laughs. ‘It doesn’t matter. She wants you, Graham. She’ll come after you next. If we don’t do as she says then …’ Diane spits blood onto the ground, coughing as she looks up. Graham sees her eyes refocus on something behind him.
‘Hello, Graham. Didn’t I warn you not to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?’
Graham’s skin bristles with goosebumps as he turns and comes face to face with Karen Griffiths; the lady who he’s casually flirted with since moving here.
‘Karen,’ he says with a sigh. ‘I was wondering when you’d turn up.’
‘Oh, you’ve already figured out who I am?’
‘Ceri Griffiths. If I’d known that most traditional Welsh people go by their middle names, then I may have put it together sooner or if you’d ever bothered to tell me your surname.’
‘Hmm,’ she says. ‘There’s always a reason for everything. The Griffiths family were the main farming family in this area a hundred years ago. Did you know that? The Hammel family were indebted to us. We were the ones who bailed them out time and time again. My great, great, great grandmother was Carys Griffiths, the girl who John Hammel was planning on marrying. You see, when John died, she was pregnant with a child, but that child isn’t the offspring of John Hammel.’
Graham’s brain tries to work overtime to unravel what she’s saying, but he doesn’t get there quick enough as Karen continues. ‘John’s father and brother killed him that day. It’s John’s brother, Rhys, who is the direct descendant of the Hammel family. He was the father of Carys’ unborn child. It seems she was somewhat of a slut back in the day and was seeing both brothers at the same time, but only Rhys managed to take her innocence. Poor John.’ Karen chuckles. ‘I think the poor lad was actually planning on proposing to her that day; the day she was due to meet him on top of the hill underneaththe tree to watch the sunset, but instead, she found a hanging body.’
Graham shakes his head. ‘So that’s the secret you’ve been trying to hide all this time; that the Hammel family and the Griffiths family are one and the same? What about the so-called curse? All the deaths, the scarecrow, Sophia Hammel … where does she fit into all of this?’
‘The curse was never real, but the Bevan, Hammel and Davies family never knew that. My family are the original founding members of the council and the creators of the curse. If my family disappears, then so does my livelihood. I’ll do anything to keep my family on top and if that means killing and manipulating some of the others, then so be it. I’m the only Griffiths left now, so I’m having to improvise.’
Graham glances at Diane and Davies, who are now struggling to their feet, but with their hands bound, it’s proving difficult.
Karen smiles devilishly at him. ‘You see, Graham, it never bodes well to stick your nose into someone else’s business. I did try to warn you.’
‘And Stephen … why try to kill him?’
‘Simple. He was getting too close to the truth, just like dear Sophia was.’ She laughs out loud. ‘And to think, Frank actually managed to hide her away for all these years, right under my nose.’
‘He hid more than that.’
Karen narrows her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me his wife is down there too?’
‘Her body is, yes.’
‘Even in death, Frank continues to surprise me. We never wanted his wife, not really. She wasn’t a Hammel by blood, but Bevan and Davies both got it into their heads that they needed to kill the whole Hammel family. That’s the thing about curses, Graham. They grow and fester all on their own if you let them. I barely had to do a thing, but I’m afraid your time has now come.’
Karen reaches behind her and draws a hunting rifle, which is on a sling, hidden by her body. She aims it at Graham.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says softly. ‘I’m a good shot. Some say the souls of the dead live within its roots.’ She glances at the canopy of leaves above, then locks her gaze back on him.
Graham reacts fast, but not fast enough.
Bang!
A white hot pain pierces his shoulder as he throws himself to the side. As he turns, he sees Sophia lunging at Karen, rugby-tackling her in the torso. They both crash to the ground, rolling around among the acorns and brown leaves.
Diane screams, ‘Nooo!’
Another bang.
Davies charges at Graham, having managed to wriggle free of his restraints. Ignoring the shooting pain in his shoulder, he kicks Davies in the stomach as he tries to grabhim. Davies goes down, so Graham follows his attack up with a kick to Davies’ face, knocking him out cold.
