Eric Ericson - The Woman Who Slept with Demons.rtf

THE WOMAN WHO SLEPT WITH DEMONS

Eric Ericson

NEW ENGLISH LIBRARY/TIMES MIRROR

A New English Library Original Publication, 1980 © 1980 by Eric Ericson

First NEL Paperback Edition January 1980

Conditions of sale: This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

NEL Books are published by

New English Library from Barnard s Inn, Holbom,

London EC1N2JR.

Made and printed in Great Britain by

William Collins Sons & Co Ltd, Glasgow

45004541 2

PROLOGUE

The Apart

In times gone by, men and women did not accept the boundaries of the visible world as readily as we do today. They looked at the edge of darkness and saw that the unknown places beyond it were peopled with creatures very unlike themselves.

For much of human history these creatures beyond were thought of as gods and were worshipped, placated and their intervention and aid sought in earthly matters. But after the rise of Christianity, the priests of the new god taught that the beings beyond the rim of the dark were devils, to be feared and shunned. By threat of death in this world and everlasting dam­nation in the life hereafter, they weaned their congregations slowly away from their former ways.

But for all that, the Otherworld was still there. And it is still there today, whether we deny its existence, regard it as evil or as the natural order of things, ordained from the beginning. It is not a world of ghosts but a world as physically real as our own, though existing in another dimension of space and time. And in the places where the Otherworld overlaps our own world, men and women can still communicate with its creatures, as they have always been able to do. Those humans who consort with the hosts of the Otherworld learn strange things and gain the power to control minds and to direct events.

For all the teaching of the Church in the past or the scepti­cism of the utilitarian world of today, there are still men and women hardy enough to make contact with the Otherworld. They call themselves The Apart.

They use this name for themselves because they are set apart from ordinary men and women by what they have experienced and learned. They are not bound by ordinary human con­siderations and restrictions. They have different emotions and different needs. They think different thoughts and have dif­ferent abilities. Neither the laws of society nor the restraints of common humanity bind them in any way.

There are never more than a few of the Apart living at any one time. For the vast majority of people, the way to the Other-world never opens and they remain unaware of its existence. And of those before whom the path opens, not many dare follow it

Of those who do follow it, by no means all have the strength of mind or the cold courage to continue all the way, once they realize what is required of them. And so, as they can see no way back to the safety of the herd once their feet are on that path, they either go mad or kill themselves.

But those who follow the path all the way and become truly Apart, also become more man human and at the same time less man human.

The very existence of the Apart is suspected by almost no-one, for what can the sheep know of the wolf? And yet some­times a victim of the Apart becomes aware In time of their power and their viciousness and then, like a fly trapped on a sticky cobweb, he struggles to free himself before the spider sinks its fangs into him and sucks out his life and soul.

What follows is the story of Andrew Jarvis, an ordinary man who became ensnared by the Apart through no fault of his own and of his attempts to break loose from them.

Chapter 1

There was something very satisfying about having a big woman like Dolly, Jarvis thought as he drove home afterwards. With, her husband twenty miles away across the county, she had really let herself go on the sofa in her front parlour. She sighed and shook as he fondled her heavy breasts and eased her out of her clothes. She gasped and shivered when he parted her legs. When he mounted her, sturdy thighs clenched him tight to her broad belly. Their long and breathless ride made the old sofa creak and strain under their weight until her climactic cries of pleasure rattled the farmhouse windows.

She grinned up at him, her hair tousled and sweat gleaming in the valley between her breasts.

'I reckon you've had more practice at it than me, though you're younger,' she said, her face still flushed.

That's because I started earlier than you did.'

'Never think it! You don't know what we used to get up to behind the church hall over at Chudleigh Bridge at the Satur­day night hons when I was just out of school. That’s getting on for twenty years now. Me and my friend Madge were devils for the lads. We used to dare each other.'

'Which of you had it first, do you remember?'

‘Course I remember. We both lost our maidenheads the same night under a hayrick with the Sawyer brothers - the ones that opened the garage on the main road a year or two back.'

'How old were you - about fifteen?'

'You know what they say round here - when a girl's big enough, she's old enough.'

Twenty years haven't cooled your enthusiasm for it, have they?'

'I'm like you,' she said. 'I can't get enough. That's the trouble, being married a long time. The only time my Ted sees to me now is when he comes home with a pint or two inside him.' But I’ve got a hot nature and I want more than that, else you wouldn't be on top of me now, would you?' „

'He doesn't know what he's missing, your Ted.'

She laughed.

'He couldn't leave it alone when we were first married. Morn­ing and night he'd have me on my back. And he'd more than likely have me across the kitchen table in the middle of the day after he'd had something to eat Ah well, nowadays he'd rather have a doze after his meal’

‘I can’t imagine ever getting like that I'm nearly thirty, not much younger than your Ted, and I want it all the time.'

'Not with the same woman, though.'

That's true. I want all the women in the world.’

'Mind you don't wear it out, then. Ill tell you something, Andy Jarvis. One of these days some clever woman will catch you by that stalk of yours and never let go. That'll put an end to your free and easy life tupping round the county.'

'She’ll have to be very clever,' he said, smiling down at her.

Dolly smiled back knowingly and stretched her big body comfortably below him.

'Well see,' she said. ‘I expect to be invited to the wedding, don't forget, when you get caught'

The lane unwound itself in front of his car. It was a warm summer evening, the light fading fast now that the sun was down. Andrew switched on his lights. Through the open win­dows be heard the bleat of sheep in the field to his left and a faint caw-caw from a rookery somewhere nearby as the birds settled down for the night In half an hour he would be home with something to eat and a bottle of cold beer. It had been a very enjoyable evening.

Round a bend and he saw a car parked ahead without lights, half on the narrow road and half on the grass verge. Courting couple, he thought, out for an hour of cuddling on the back seat He'd done plenty of that himself in his younger days.

A woman got out of the car as he approached it and stood in the roadway, waving at him to stop. Summer it might be, but she was wearing a full-length fur coat open over a thin dress. The coat looked very expensive. So did her car, he noted, as he pulled in behind it

‘Can you help me?' she called to him. 'I've broken down and I'm in a hurry.'

Andrew got out and looked at her. She was a head shorter than himself, with very pale blonde hair, fluffed out He put her in her early thirties,, about the same age as the woman he'd just left, but there were no other points of similarity. This one had the look of money about her and the assurance that went with it She was attractive in a city way, not Dolly's sturdy country way. This was no fanner's wife, hemmed in by keep­ing house and the small interests of the village, but a woman who had seen something of the world and knew how to cope with it Andrew fancied her.

'I'm not very mechanically minded,' he said, 'but I'll have a look.'

She had a torch. Andrew looked at the various parts of the engine while she tried the starter.

'No good,' he said. There's petrol getting to the carburettor and electricity to the starter motor. The plugs look all right At least, there aren't any loose ends of wire. So I'm afraid it's beyond me.'

'Damned thing,' she said angrily, 'it's only six months old. Do you know where I can get a taxi?' Andrew smiled at that

This isn't quite the West End,' he said. There's a garage near where I live that has a hire car for weddings. But I don't suppose Jim will want to turn out at this time of night He’ll be in the Black Bull. Where are you trying to get to? You're miles off any main road.'

‘Ive got a map. I'll show you - jump in.’

The inside of her car was luxurious. Andrew sat on real leather, soft as a glove, while she switched the overhead light on and spread out her map. He inhaled her perfume appre­ciatively as he leaned close to her to follow her pointing finger.

'We're about here, right?' she said, tapping the paper with a bronze-painted fingar-nail 'I want to get here, where I've marked it'

The spot she had marked in pencil was on a country road between two villages. Andrew had driven along that road many a time. He visualized it in his mind, trying to remember what houses or farms there were along there. He could think of none at all;

'It's not all that far from here,' he said, 'but it's an awkward route. It means going round through Market Penton and doubling back to get on to that road. Is that the way you were going?'

'I couldn't see any better way.'

'As the crow flies it's only a mile or so across those fields to your right. Going round by road it must be five or six at least' 'Will you take me there?' she asked. 'It really is important' There was something in her manner that Andrew found it difficult to put a name to. She was annoyed by the breakdown, but there was more than that - some sort of agitated emotion just under the surface.

'All right,' he agreed. ‘I’m in no great hurry to get home. I’ll drop you off where you want to go. You can get a garage to tow your car in tomorrow. Allertons in Market Penton will do it for you if you phone them.'

To his faint surprise, all that she brought with her into his Land Rover that smelled of disinfectant and dogs was her handbag. No luggage. That seemed strange. He reasoned that she would be staying the night at wherever she was going and that called for hand luggage. Unless, his lubricious fancy sug­gested, she sleeps naked and has all the make-up she needs in her handbag.

'You live locally, do you?' she asked as he drove off. 'I'm the vet in these parts. My name's Andrew Jarvis.' ‘I’m Bianca Hallam and you were quite right earlier on about the West End. I do live in London.' 'I never doubted it' 'Why is that?'

‘I’m not sure. Your hair, maybe, or your clothes. Are you visiting friends?'

‘I imagined vets to be older,' she said!

The only jewellery she wore was a wedding ring. Andrew wondered what she would be like in bed. She hadn't answered his question and that made him wonder what sort of friend she might be visiting without her husband.

'If s a bit different in the country,' he said, "we're not like town vets looking after poodles and pet cats. Most of my patients are cows or pigs. I did treat a dog a few months back, come to think of it. It was a sheep dog that nearly lost a foot in a snare.'

‘Were you successful with it?'

'In a way. But it had a bad limp afterwards and its owner put it down because he thought it couldn't do its job properly. Are you often in this part of the country?'

This is the first time. Have you always lived here, Mr Jarvis?'

'Call me Andy. No, I've been here about four years. What happened was that my father died unexpectedly and left me some money from a life insurance policy and a house, soon after I'd qualified; My mother died years ago. So as I'd always wanted to live in the country, I came to work for the vet here, ­an old boy who wanted to retire. After twelve months with him I knew Td found the right place for me, so I bought the prac­tice and his cottage and he went to live in Bournemouth.'

'Very fortunate for you. Is this Market Penton we're coming into?'

'It is. Market days Wednesdays and Saturdays, as the guide book says. We go down past the garage - the one you can get to fix your car tomorrow - turn right at the church and we're on the road to Steeple Ayton. From there we can pick up the road you want'

It was not yet ten o'clock but the High Street was deserted.

'What do people do here in the evenings?' Bianca Hallam asked.

'Not much. The men go for a pint to the pub, the women stay at home and put the children to bed and dam socks. The teenagers sit in the Wimpey bar and drink imitation coffee until it closes at eleven. Not a bit like London.'

'What is it that you like about living in the country?'

The space, I think. The distance between people and places. The simplification of life.'

'Is your life so very simple then?'

He glanced sideways at her. She was staring at him with her head tilted to one side. Her expression was neutral, but he could see in her eyes that she was weighing him up.

'I try to keep it simple,' he said, shrugging lightly, 'but complications will keep breaking in.'

At the road fork he turned right and followed the winding lane cautiously in the fast garnering dusk.

This is the road you marked on your map. The house you want must be a mile or so along. Will you recognize it?'

For the life of him he couldn't remember any buildings along this lane at all, not even a cottage. Memory said it was open fields all the way to the next village.

'I'll tell you when we get there,' she answered.

She sounded tense.

'Isn't there a local landmark along here?* she asked, It's shown on my map.'

'What sort of landmark?' Andrew asked. 'Oh, you must mean Longman's Hill. It's down here on the left I'll point it out though it's going to be too dark to see it from the road by the time we get there, I should think.'

'Is it famous for anything?'

'Not that I know of. The legend was that there was a giant sleeping under it and one day he'd wake up. It's man-made, probably an old burial mound from whenever in the past they built that sort of thing. It's never been ...