When Tom wakes, all he sees is an unnerving blackness.
They've re-bandaged his eyes.
Cuffed him as well. But left his feet untied.
He has an awful headache. But he's thinking clearly. More clearly than he's done for weeks.
He's been moved again.
Things are different.
The air is fresher. He can smell things. Grass. Wild garlic. Catmint.
And he can hear different things, too. Birdsong. Leaves rustling.
He knows he's still lying down.
Flat on his back. On something hard. Outside somewhere.
But where?
And why?
Why have they moved him from that room?
Possibilities – and fears – tumble into his head like a game of Tetris.
Mera Teale – Lars Bale – the Gates of Destiny – Monica Vidic – the sixth of June – Venezuela – Little Venice.
Suddenly he's being lifted into the air.
He's on a hard stretcher. Several people carrying him. By the sound of their feet, four rather than two.
Moving him forward, then lowering him to the ground.
Mutterings in Italian.
No!
Not Italian. Latin. They're mumbling something in Latin.
A mass?
His stretcher is lifted again. It wobbles. Someone's shoulder braces it.
'Satanus…'
Tom hears it clearly. Satanists – rehearsing a ceremony of some sort.
Preparing themselves – and him – for a ritual that's going to happen soon.
A sacrificial ritual.
And Tom is pretty sure he knows who the sacrifice will be.
But when?
The stretcher moves again. The air changes. They're going back inside.
Not now.
Not yet.
Thank God for that.
They lower him into a place that he's never seen, but knows intimately.
He's back in his room.
They mumble softly then walk away.
Clat-clat, clat-clat, clat-clat, clat-clat, clat-clat.
Ten steps.
Clii-ck-kkk.
One lock. Old and slow to close. Not heavy-duty. Not bolted.
He hears his jailer's footsteps disappear down the corridor. Heading away from his feet. To his right.
He has some sense of direction. A mental map of where they come from and go to.
They're growing careless.
It would only take three seconds to reach the corridor outside. The lock is light, single-levered and breakable.
He tries to sit up, and realises something else.
He can't.
He's still too weak to swat a fly, let alone try to escape.