Josanne stepped out on to the roof to find Fabian lying there bleeding. The man she recognized as Cantley had driven a steel spike into his chest. Fabian had dropped the hammer. He used both hands to grip the steel spike that was as tall as its wielder from being plunged any deeper.
Through a grimace of pain Fabian cried, ‘Josanne! Get the others!’
Josanne had expected to find Jak cornering the madman, or even tearing hunks out of him. But even though they’d heard the dog as they climbed the narrow staircase to the roof, she couldn’t see him now.
‘Josanne—’ Fabian’s shout ended in a grunt as Cantley stomped his boot down on her lover’s head. Then using both hands – one of which was bloodily bandaged –he twisted the spike so the steel that was as thick as a man’s thumb turned in Fabian’s ribs. He screamed.
‘Stick around.’ Cantley grinned. ‘You’re next.’
Josanne backed across the roof. Her heel caught one of the raised seams that welded the lead waterproofing sheets together. She stumbled back to land on her rump.
‘Clumsy!’ Cantley snapped. ‘Gotta be careful up here. It’s a long drop.’
She scrambled on all fours to the door. If only she could warn Marko and Fisher. In the distance she could hear their manic playing. Have they gone mad? Or did they really believe that music could weaken the house?
If she’d expected Cantley would be content to stand there with one foot on Fabian’s head while he bore down on the pole to drive it deeper, she was going to be disappointed. Cantley saw the direction she scrambled. Just taking a moment to draw the steel spike from Fabian’s chest, he ran across the roof to block her way. The creep stood there with her boyfriend’s blood running a glistening crimson down the pole to trickle in sticky rivulets across his fingers.
‘You’re not going.’ He spoke matter-of-factly. Like a parent telling a child it couldn’t step away from the dining-room table just yet. Not until it had finished its greens.
‘You really think they’re going to hear when they’re making that racket?’ He glanced at Fabian who clutched both hands over the upper part of his chest as he lay on the lead flashing. Blood streamed from him into the guttering. ‘And do you really think he can save you?’
Josanne lifted the carving knife to eyelevel. It didn’t even slow the man down. He slashed the long pole sideways against the knife blade. She winced with pain as he knocked it effortlessly from her grasp.
‘You’ve got the choice between jumping … or dancing your funny little dance on the end of this.’ He jerked the bloody point of the spike. ‘S’only about a drop of seventy feet.’ He chuckled. ‘Either way we’ve got you. Me and the house. You’re for keeps, sweetheart.’
Josanne had to back away as he advanced. As he did so he made little jabbing motions with the spike. She glanced round as she moved. There was no barrier at the edge of the roof. It simply ended. Beyond that there was a misty gulf of seventy deadly feet between her and the ground. The roof of the tower was little bigger than a tennis court. It was featureless too with the exception of a couple of stunted chimney stacks and the cuboid’s protrusion that formed the exit on to the roof.
What can I do? There’s nowhere I can run without him catching me. He’s keeping between me and the entrance to the stairs.
When she shouted she knew she was wasting her breath, but what else could she do? ‘MARKO! FISHER! HELP!’
As he played the bass guitar Fisher sensed the change. It was as if the fabric of the building had twitched. He felt the single pulse of vibration run up from the floor, through the soles of his feet, into his legs. He glanced across at Marko who slowed the drumbeat. He was looking round in surprise. The guy felt it, too. Fisher didn’t know what it was exactly but maybe sheer intuition – or was it the spirit of his dead father? – whispered the suggestion into the folds of his brain? With the bass still plugged in he ran at the ballroom window until the lead was in danger of being yanked from the amp. But there was just enough cable for him to grip the guitar by the body and swing the instrument so the machine head stabbed at the glass. The moment it struck, the window pane shattered into a thousand crystals.
‘Marko!’ he yelled. ‘It’s weakening. It can’t stop us from damaging it. Look!’ He plunged the neck of the guitar through another pane. It broke like any regular glass in any regular house.
Marko shouted above the loop of keyboard notes that fired back the reformed chimes at the house, ‘Find Fabian! Tell him! And if he wants to burn the fucker down let him!’ He gave a huge triumphant drum roll as Fisher ran to the corridor.
Fisher wasn’t sure where Fabian and Josanne had gone. He prayed it wasn’t far. Although when he reached the bottom of the stairs a muffled barking gave him a clue where they were. It didn’t take more than a moment to realize the furious barks came from above. Fisher raced up the stairs two at a time. The barking grew louder as Marko’s drumming became more muffled.
‘Jak? Jak!’ Fisher paused as the dog’s barks returned with renewed power. ‘Jak, here, boy!’
But why didn’t the dog appear? And where were Josanne and Fabian? He ran hard now as he homed in on the sound. When he reached the top of the staircase he saw a smaller staircase behind the door. He’d already taken three paces through the door to the narrow flight of stairs when he realized the barking didn’t come from up there. Fisher returned to the landing. Listened. The barks were a relentless volley of fury. There were only a few doors off this landing; most were open. Logic dictated he try the closed one at the end. He loped across the landing to push open the door. The second he did so Jak exploded from it in a blur of black.
‘Jak … Hey, Jak, come here, boy!’
The dog didn’t listen. He raced across the landing to the narrow staircase then vanished up it.
Sucking in a deep lungful of air, Fisher followed.
Josanne couldn’t retreat any further. Even though they hadn’t touched her, Cantley’s relentless jabs had driven her back into the corner of the roof. Now, there was a misty drop to the ground on one side of her, or down two storeys to the steeply sloping roof of the wing of the house on the other. To fall either way wasn’t survivable.
‘You’re going to jump, aren’t you?’ Cantley cracked a smile that revealed his rotting teeth. ‘Be my guest.’
Josanne glanced across to where Fabian lay on his back. He was so weak he couldn’t even raise his head, although he had rolled it to one side so he could see her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she called out to him. ‘I did my best. I love you, Fabian!’
‘Love.’ Cantley spat in disgust.
Then she saw it. She didn’t recognize its shape. To her it appeared as a bundle of shadows cutting through the wraiths of fog that drifted across the roof. Only at the last second did she see the blazing amber eyes.
Jak didn’t snarl or bark. He simply sank every shred of energy into running full pelt into the man’s back. With the thud of the collision, Cantley’s expression registered pure shock. The guy must have been convinced he’d been shot. He staggered forward as he looked back at what had struck him. Jak didn’t hesitate, he leapt at the man to sink his teeth into the wrist. Cantley squealed. But even as he did so he tried to reposition the spike so he could drive the point into the dog. Josanne leapt forward to try and wrest the weapon from the man’s hands. The shaft was slippery with Fabian’s blood. Josanne couldn’t grip it but she could make it difficult for the madman. Especially now that Jak clamped his jaws together with so much force Cantley’s blood began to stain the animal’s teeth a brilliant red.
I can’t let go, she told herself as she grabbed the spike. I’ve got to hang on until—
Then another concussion struck Cantley. Fisher had appeared through the fog. He was panting with exertion but he summoned enough strength to fire a volley of punches at the man’s head. Instead of fighting, Cantley tried to flee. Jak, however, had no intention of quitting the attack. In the mêlée, Josanne saw that Cantley wrenched back from all three: the dog, Fisher and herself. At first she thought he’d ducked to avoid them but then she saw he’d stepped back from the tower. As he plunged downward, his legs kicking back into cold morning air, he bent his torso forward so it slammed against the roof. Both his hands were outstretched. One hand found one of the lead flashing seams, so he had a good grip. She could see his top half lying forward on the roof. He didn’t appear in imminent peril.
Then Cantley looked at her in surprise. He tilted his head to one side listening. She turned her head, too, and heard nothing but Fisher’s laboured breathing. Even Jak stood there beside them, perfectly still, as he stared at the madman who tilted his head from one side then to the other.
With a surge of emotion Josanne said, ‘You hear them, don’t you?’
‘Hear them?’ he cried in terror. ‘I don’t hear nothing!’
Fisher looked round. ‘Hear what?’
‘Cantley can hear the chimes,’ she panted. ‘Isn’t that true, Cantley? You can hear the clock chiming.’
‘No, I don’t,’ he protested, his face blotching red. ‘I can’t hear them. I can’t!’
‘You hear the chimes,’ Josanne shouted. ‘You know what that means!’
‘Please! Help me back on to the roof! You’ve got to.’
A rumble sounded in the dog’s throat.
‘No, Jak. Stay there!’
The animal lunged forward, his mouth yawning wide. Fisher leapt to grab the collar to pull him back. But the dog locked his jaws on to Cantley’s face. Jak worried at it, like he’d shake a rat. And although the lower half of the man’s face was obscured by the dog’s jaws, with the bared teeth sinking into his skin, his eyes were in plain view. They bulged in horror as Cantley screamed. When he tried to force himself away from the dog he only pushed himself back into space. Instantly, Jak released him. He watched dispassionately as the man fell seventy feet to crash to earth amid the hawthorn.
Cantley’s physical body stopped dead the second it struck the ground. But some part of his mind detached itself from his shattered skull. His heart had stopped. His blood halted in its veins. But he could still hear the chimes. They rang out in hard peals like the sound of a vast subterranean bell. What some might describe as his spirit separated from his cooling flesh to descend into the earth. Cantley watched as two faces that looked down at him from the roof seventy feet above faded as his conscious Self sank down through the soil that formed a brown mist all around him. Beneath the foundations of the building, a purple stain spread through the subterranean clay. Cantley didn’t hear any words, but he sensed another’s overwhelming anger at his failure. The power that had been known by many names through the ages swam through the cold soil toward him. Anger. Fury. Contempt. In a moment its rage at the man’s failure would burst with devastating force.
Cantley’s mind was no longer housed in flesh – yet when he felt the first searing touch of that elemental power he understood that his torment wasn’t over yet.
In the moments before his eternal agony began, he realized this truth: To die in The Tower is no release. It is the beginning of all nightmares.
And when, at last, Cantley began to scream he knew he was far beyond the help of any mortal hand.