He sees her and he lunges forward with his shovel.
I run towards him, the knife raised. He can’t hurt Faye. I won’t let him.
She screams as he swings his weapon above her head and brings it down.
But she’s gone, running, with him in close pursuit.
But it’s me he wants.
It’s me who needs to face him.
“Magnus!”
I shout his name into the haze, beckoning him to me so we can finish this once and for all.
CHAPTER 78
THE GRAVEDIGGER
“Magnus!”
His stepmother summons him.
Her voice coming from over his shoulder.
He stops dead and turns. When he turns back, the face is gone.
Did Claire bring her twin? He stands, scanning the area for his quarry, listening to the sound of the rain. He tastes it on his lips. Where is she? Where arethey? The fog is low and thick, but she must be near. Her call was close, the panic in her tone an invitation.
“Mother?” he calls. “Are you going to come out and play? Or do I need to find you?”
He moves forward, still listening to the rustle of the grass around him, the movement of undergrowth, alert to any sign of where she might be cowering. Rain dampens most sounds, but he thinks if he strains, he can hear her walking, hear the swish of her rain jacket.
He hears a shushing sound. A coat. It has to be.
He strikes forth with the shovel, jabbing it through the mist. But it’s wasted energy.
“Come on!” he yells, willing her to come out and fight. “Come out and pay for what you did to Dad!”
He moves forward and almost trips, the toe of his boot snagging on something on the ground, obscured in the mist. Enraged, he bends down to grab his foot and release it from its snare.
When he stands, she’s there, her pale face grey and determined.
He jumps back in surprise but she is prepared. She raises a rock high in the air and swings it into the side of his head with a crack.
He doubles over in pain. When his hand reaches up to his temple, warm blood trickles down his fingers, mingling with rain and sweat.
“That’s for Penny,” she says.
He recognises her now.
“Faye,” he mumbles.
“Magnus!”
A voice close behind him makes him spin round, moving the shovel in an arc. The scoop of the shovel connects with flesh and heaves his assailant backwards. There’s a gasp, as his stepmother lies helpless on the ground in front of him, a knife falling from her hand. He smiles and raises the shovel like an executioner’s axe. She belongs to him now, the day has finally come.
Suddenly an electric shock strikes the back of his head. A lightning bolt of pain as stone smites his skull. His ears are ringing and black spots pulsate across his vision.
