Deadlight-Hall(92)

‘He should be here with the keys soon. But,’ observed Nell, stepping back to look up at the Hall’s facade, ‘this house looks as if it needs more than just keys to open its doors. Are you sure we don’t need to chant a dark spell or read runic symbols? Or even dance round the bonfire reciting from Dr Dee’s occult language?’

‘What on earth …?’

‘Elizabethan occultist,’ said Nell, grinning. ‘One of Elizabeth Tudor’s favourites.’

‘I know who he is, I just didn’t know he had an occult language.’

‘According to his journal he talked with angels. Although I believe that the original angelic language was lost when Adam was booted out of Paradise.’

Michael said, ‘You know, you are still a constant source of surprise to me.’

‘Oh good,’ said Nell. She was still staring up at the house. ‘Whatever language you use, it’s still the nightmare mansion or the ogre’s castle, isn’t it? As if it might have been made from the ground-up blood and bones of an Englishman.’

‘If so, we’d better forget Dee’s angelic language, and recite one of those ancient High German things instead. “Bone to bone, marrow to marrow, flesh to flesh …”’

‘Never mind ancient High German, I’m going to stand in the shelter of the main doors, because it’s starting to rain,’ said Nell. ‘So—’

‘What?’ said Michael, as she broke off.

‘I’m not sure, but … Michael, I can see a light right at the top of the house.’

‘That’s impossible,’ said Michael, but he felt suddenly icy cold. They lit candles that night, he thought. The flames flickered on the walls as Esther Breadspear strangled to death – she kicked one over, and it burned part of the attic. But he said firmly, ‘There can’t be any lights. There’s no electricity on – I’ve tried the switches. And there’s no one else in the house.’

‘Did you go up to the top floor?’ said Nell.

‘Yes, because I wanted to find a book I remembered seeing. It’s quite a find as well – Maria Porringer’s journal, and you’ll be—’

‘Did you light anything while you were there?’ Nell interrupted. ‘A lamp or candles?’

‘There was nothing to light,’ said Michael. ‘And if there had been, there wouldn’t have been anything to light it with. Why – what are you seeing?’

‘I can’t be sure,’ she said, narrowing her eyes and looking up. ‘But it looks like candlelight.’ Her voice wavered suddenly. ‘And Michael, it’s getting stronger.’

‘Stronger how?’

Nell said, ‘As if something’s caught fire.’

The next moments were blurred. Both Michael and Nell snatched their phones to tap out 999.

‘The fire engine’s on its way,’ said Michael, who had got the call in first. ‘Only—’

‘Only it’s got to come through the road block that held me up,’ said Nell.

‘Yes. And if there really is a fire—’

‘Michael, don’t go up there to investigate,’ she said at once.

‘That’s the last thing I’m going to do. What I am going to do,’ said Michael, ‘is find something to smash a window and get out.’

He paused, as Nell’s phone rang. She waved to him to wait, spoke for a moment, then said, ‘It’s Jack Hurst. His wife gave him my mobile number, and he’s ringing to say he’s about fifteen minutes away. I’ve told him we think there might be a bit of a fire.’

‘What did he say?’ Michael was watching the stair, praying not to see any wisps of smoke.

‘He said, “Sodding duff electricals,” and something about dismembering Darren on Monday morning. But I’ve given him your number and he’s going to phone you and see if he can guide you through the basement to where you might be able to smash open a kitchen window or something.’

Michael’s phone rang almost at once, and Jack Hurst’s voice, horrified and slightly panic-stricken, fired questions. Was Dr Flint sure he was safe? That there was no smoke reaching the ground floor? No crackle of flames or smell of burning?’

‘No,’ said Michael. ‘It might be nothing at all, but—’

‘But we can’t take the chance,’ said Hurst.