Raven Revivals Page 17

  “What if I told you that I was a zombie once,” she continues. “I died in a horrible accident, and for various reasons I ended up being brought back to life, but I was rotting and eventually I was going to fall apart. I could feel maggots crawling through my body, and I could poke holes in my skin, and I smelled really bad and I was just generally turning to mush?”

  “You don't seem like you're falling apart,” he points out.

  “I got better.”

  “So you were a zombie, and then you got cured?”

  “What if that's what happened to me?”she asks. “What if, even though it sounds kind of incredible, it was actually possible?”

  “You've got some pretty crazy ideas there,” he continues. “I like that. Damn it, I really wish you'd met my sister, you and her would have got on so well. She was pretty out there as well, into all that crazy stuff. She believed in ghosts and zombies and all that stuff.”

  “But you couldn't be with someone who used to be a zombie?” she asks.

  He laughs.

  “I'm not explaining this very well,” she mutters. “You probably think I'm nuts.”

  “What's to explain? I love zombie games and zombie movies, but I know they're not real. I mean, there might be some truth to the Haitian legend, but there's no way that actual zombies are gonna start storming through the streets. Plus, I've seen enough of you to know that you're no zombie.” Leaning over to her, he puts an arm around her shoulder. “If there ever is a zombie outbreak, though, we'll fight them together. You and me, back to back with a pair of chainsaws. I think we'd do okay.”

  Smiling sadly, Anna watches the screen as Scott continues to play his game, but she can't shake the feeling that she just missed her one and only chance to tell him the truth about her past. Glancing over at the door, she also finds herself wondering whether Ruth Havershot might really be lingering in the other bedroom. After all, she figures that after everything she's seen in the cemetery over the past year, she can't exactly write off the possibility that ghosts exist, in which case she figures she needs to keep well clear of that room, just in case Ruth wants her body parts back.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Weird,” Andy says as he and Sam stand in one of the rooms at the rear of the tent, “I could've sworn he'd be here. He's not exactly the kinda guy who goes for long walks.”

  “Where does he sleep?” Sam asks, turning and looking back over at the door. This part of the tent seems deliberately sparse, as if it has been cleared of all but the most essential items. There's a fold-out bed in one corner and a desk nearby, but apart from that the entire place seems strangely austere.

  “Right here. Charles Raven is kinda intense. He lives, sleeps, works, eats, drinks... Everything, right here in this room. He barely ever goes out, especially at night, and he avoids all worldly items. Something about trying not to be too materialistic.”

  “Doesn't he have a phone?”

  “He really isn't that kind of guy,” Andy continues. “Charles is a cool boss, but part of me thinks he wishes he'd been born a few hundred years ago. He's not very in tune with modern technology, if you get what I mean. As far as he's concerned, the modern world is something that gets in the way of his lifestyle. He prefers to focus on traditional things, like the way he's got the show set up and -”

  “That's enough of my trade secrets,” says a voice suddenly.

  Turning, Sam sees that Raven has entered the tent through the door at the rear. He's wearing the same suit that he wore during his show a few nights ago, although this time he's leaning quite noticeably on a cane.

  “If you keep on,” he continues, using a handkerchief to dab at the corner of his mouth, “you're going to give away all my trade secrets, and then what will I do? The last thing I need is competition. I came to Rippon to show my abilities to the locals, not to explain how everything is done.”

  “Sorry to disturb you,” Andy replies, “but I met Sam while I was out. She's the gardener at the -”

  “I know who she is,” Raven says, interrupting him. “We've already had a little chat of our own. In fact, I must admit that I was expecting Ms. Marker to come and visit me at some point. Our talk the other day was interesting, but a lot was left unsaid. I rather think that we were dancing around one another, each of us waiting to see what secrets the other might let slip.”

  “You need to hear her out,” Andy continues. “She -”

  “Leave us,” Raven says, turning to him. “I would prefer to speak to her without interruption.”

  “It's fine,” Sam tells Andy. “I'll see you in a bit.”

  As Andy leaves the room, Sam starts to wonder whether Charles Raven knows more than he's let on so far. She watches as he sets his cane against the wall and removes his gloves, and it's clear that he's in no hurry to explain himself. Sam can't help but think that he seems very much in control, as if he feels supremely confident that nothing can shock him.

  “I think something is loose in Rippon,” she says finally.

  “Indeed.”

  “Something dangerous. Something that escaped from the cemetery.”

  “And does this something have a name?” he asks. “Or, perhaps, a title?”

  “Some people refer to him as the Devil,” she explains. “Beyond that, I'm not really clear on his actual name. Satan, Beelzebub, whatever...”

  “The Devil,” Raven mutters, pouring himself a glass of brandy. “Can I interest you in a glass?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Very wise,” he adds. “I'm going to start, Ms. Marker, by telling you that I have no trouble believing the basic elements of your story. I am quite certain, for example, that the Devil exists. I have felt his influence too often to doubt that he seeks to meddle in my affairs, and in the affairs of all who seek to perform good work.” He takes a sip of brandy. “He's here, isn't he? The Devil himself is in Rippon.”

  “For now,” Sam replies. “He was being guarded.”

  “Evidently by someone who didn't do a very good job.”

  “It's complicated,” Sam mutters, bristling at the implication. “He's still trapped here, though, at least for now. The whole of Rippon is in a state of grace that means certain conditions can only exist within its boundary. At least while he's still injured, I think the Devil is probably forced to stay here.”

  “You can't rely on that forever,” Raven points out. “I would imagine that he can heal his wounds very quickly, which in turn means that he will soon be strong enough to walk out of this town and go anywhere he wants. The only question is how long this will take. A day? A week? A month? Whatever the period of time, we are rather up against the clock.”

  “So how do I find him?”

  “You must think like him. You must try to work out what he wants. Can you do that, Ms. Marker? Can you put yourself in the Devil's shoes and try to understand his thought processes.”

  “I thought he was being freed by someone else,” Sam explains. “If that's the case, he's probably being hidden and helped. Then again, it seems there's a chance he's on his own, in which case he'll probably try to hide while he recovers.”

  “You don't think he'll be hungry?”

  “I guess. Either way, he's dangerous.”

  “And what, Ms. Marker, do you think the Devil eats?”

  “I hate to imagine.”

  “I would imagine that meat is his preferred meal. There's not a lot of meat in Rippon, is there? Just a few hundred people.”

  “I have to stop him before he gets that far,” Sam continues. “If he feeds on the people here, he might become strong enough to leave.”

  “The Devil,” Raven mutters, making his way over to the desk at the far side of the room, “loose in a small English town. I must say, that sounds like a recipe for disaster. Do the locals know that he was being held in their midst?”

  “I don't think so,” Sam replies. “As far as I can tell, some of them had begun to suspect that something was happening at the cemetery, but I doubt an
y of them had managed to understand the truth.”

  “And you would probably like to keep things that way,” Raven continues. “So your ideal scenario would be that he can be recaptured and put back in his tomb without anyone learning the truth?”

  “That's the only option I can see right now,” she admits. “The problem is, I don't even know how he was captured the last time. Even if he's not at full strength, I doubt I can just grab him and drag him back to the crypt.”

  “Then you would seem to be in a very difficult situation,” Raven mutters, examining some papers on his desk for a moment before turning to her. “You have a very heavy weight on your shoulders, and I hope you won't be offended if I suggest that you're woefully under-prepared. Perhaps I am partially to blame as well.”

  “You?”

  “It can't be a coincidence that this happened just as I arrived with my show,” he continues. “The energy that was brought together the other night... It was designed to resurrect a dead body, but something diverted it to another purpose. I think we can see now that it was diverted to your cemetery. I had no way of knowing that this would happen, of course, but now that the consequences are clear...”

  Opening one of the drawers, he takes out a small crystal ring and slips it onto his right index finger.

  “I use this device to amplify the strength of any energy that is generated during my shows,” he explains. “I've never been entirely sure whether it works very well, but I use it nonetheless. Perhaps it's just a superstition, but it has served me well over the years. Now, however, I fear that it might have worked a little too well.”

  “I don't care what caused all of this,” Sam tells him, “all I care about is how I can get the Devil back into his tomb.”

  “Do you really think that it's possible? Perhaps, once he's out, there is no way to make him return?”

  “That can't be true,” she replies. “If I can't get him back in there... The whole world would be in danger.”

  “I suppose so,” Raven mutters, examining the ring on his finger. “This is a very delicate situation, Ms. Marker, and it will require some delicacy in order to ensure that it is resolved. First and foremost, we must locate the Devil. Rippon is not a large town, so there are only so many places he could be hiding. If we're right about his need to recover from his injuries, he will most likely seek to avoid attention, although the need to feed might draw him out from time to time. I would suggest that we keep watch. At some point, something is going to happen that will make his presence very obvious.”

  “By then it might be too late,” Sam points out.

  “It's not too late if he's still in Rippon,” he replies. “As long as he's here, the danger can be contained.” He runs a finger across the top of the ring. “Perhaps there are other ways to draw him out. If I were to organize another performance of my show, he might be unable to keep away, especially if I change the tone of the evening in order to make things seem more enticing for him. It is often said that great evil is attracted to great good, so I believe it will be possible to force him to come. If I can make him think that I'd be amendable to a visit, he might even come to seek me out personally. I don't wish to seem big-headed, but I imagine that I'm one of the more interesting people in town right now, at least from the Devil's perspective.”

  “So you want to use yourself as bait?”

  “I'm willing to use myself as bait,” he replies, correcting her. “I would very much like to have a plan in place, though. Drawing him out is one thing, but we must know what to do with him once we have him in our sights. I hardly think that he'll come quietly.”

  “I have no idea how to stop him,” Sam replies.

  “Then you must come up with something. I can certainly have a show up and running tomorrow evening, but you must do your part as well. If I get him out into the open, you need to be able to take the next step. Do you think you can come up with something by tomorrow evening?”

  “I guess so,” Sam replies, even though she knows deep down that it's a tall order. “I guess I've got no other choice.”

  “Of course you have a choice,” he points out. “You can not bother, in which case the Devil will remain free and the world will probably burn. It's not a good choice, but it is a choice.”

  “I'll find a way,” she says firmly. “I don't know what I'll do, but there has to be something. If the Devil was captured once, it can be done again.”

  “I wish you all the luck in the world,” Raven replies, gently turning the ring as it sits on his finger. “Whatever happens, I feel the world is going to face its moment of destiny tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Goddamn bladder,” Anna mutters as she leans out of Scott's room and looks along the dark corridor. “Of all the times I have to pee, why now?”

  She waits for a moment, listening to the quiet house, before figuring that she has no choice. Hurrying along toward the bathroom, she pushes the door open and slips inside, and then she slides the bolt across. Pulling the nearby cord in order to switch the light on, she turns to the toilet.

  “Great,” she mutters. “At least there are no ghosts so far.”

  Once she's finished, she washes her hands and pauses for a moment to check her reflection in the mirror. She tilts her head in different directions, watching as the shadows fall across her face in various formations. Although she knows she's probably imagining it all, she can't shake the feeling that her eyes seem a little tired, as if her miraculous return from zombie-hood has left a few traces behind. Still, she tells herself that she shouldn't be too greedy, and that a few shadows and lines are pretty good going for someone who has already died once.

  She turns and unbolts the door. Pulling it open, she -

  “Why did you steal my arms and legs?” Ruth Havershot asks, standing on the other side of the door.

  “Crap!” Anna shouts, slamming the door shut and bolting it again.

  “Why did you steal my arms and legs?” Ruth asks again from out in the corridor. “I mean, what the hell?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” Anna hisses.

  “You've got them right now. I just saw them.”

  “No, you...” Pausing, Anna tells herself that this can't be happening.

  “Listen,” Ruth continues, “I'm not interested in a big argument, okay? I know what you did. I was there in the room when you were sawing them off, and I was there again when you were sewing them onto your own body. Just because I wasn't sure how to make myself visible, don't think I wasn't right there, shouting at you. I mean, what gives you the right to go around stealing other people's body parts?”

  “This isn't happening,” Anna whispers to herself. “This can't be real.”

  “You think I'm not real?” Ruth asks, clearly getting angrier by the second. “That's rich, zombie girl. How do you think my brother would react if he knew he was dating someone who'd harvested parts of his sister's body. No offense, but that's absolutely disgusting!”

  “He's not dating me because of my arms and legs,” Anna points out.

  “He still touches them,” Ruth continues. “I've been watching the pair of you. He runs his hands over your -”

  “Can you keep your voice down?” Anna hisses.

  “Relax, no-one else in the house can hear me. They'll be able to hear you, though, and they'll think you're talking to yourself.”

  “Oh God,” Anna whispers, leaning her forehead against the door and closing her eyes.

  “So what's the plan?” Ruth continues. “Are you going to give me my arms and legs back?”

  “You don't need them.”

  “I still don't want you using them. If you'd asked in advance, I might have considered it -”

  “How could I have asked?” Anna hisses. “You were dead?”

  “Some people might take that as a signal,” Ruth points out. “I didn't think people actually went around stealing bits and pieces from dead bodies these days. It's the twenty-first century, for God's
sake!”

  “I needed them!” Anna replies. “I know it was a dumb idea, but at the time I really thought I needed to take them. And to be fair, they worked! I'm healed!”

  “That's not why you're healed.”

  “It's not?”

  “Seriously? You thought you stuck my arms and legs on your body and then you magically stopped being a zombie?”

  “Well...” Anna pauses for a moment. “I admit it sounds unlikely, but it's still the best theory I've got right now.”

  “Something else brought you back to life,” Ruth tells her. “Don't ask me what, 'cause I don't know, but if you'd just kept hold of your own arms and legs for a few more hours, you'd still have recovered.”

  “Oh.” Anna pauses. “I'm sorry, I had no idea...”

  “You see, this is why people don't generally go around stealing other people's body parts. It creates unnecessary complications.”

  “So it was you who threw those books at me earlier?”

  “Of course it was, Einstein. Now what are you going to do with those stolen body parts, huh?”

  “Well... Can't I keep them?”

  “No!”

  “So you want me to hack them off and then, what, bury them with the rest of you?”

  “That would be a nice start, yes.”

  “But you can't use them,” she continues. “They'd just rot. Aren't you happier knowing that they're being used?”

  “Not when the person using them is dating my brother,” Ruth points out. “I mean, that's the grossest thing in the history of the world. It's, like, at least thirty or forty per cent of your entire body mass is me! Up to forty per cent of me is doing something really disgusting!”

  “They're not really your legs and arms anymore -”

  “I'm going to give you an ultimatum,” Ruth replies. “You've got twenty-four hours to return my arms and legs and get them buried.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I'll make sure that Scott knows everything. Not only about the things you stole from me, but also about what you used to be. How do you think he'll react when he finds out that he's dating an ex-zombie?”