The Grotesques (7 page)

Remaining just inside the tree line, they positioned themselves opposite the bell tower. Trust the wind to tunnel between the buttons of her shabby coat.

“It won’t be long,” Adam said over the rustle of the needles.

They had barely finished their first cup of coffee when a shadow darker than night wound its way out of the belfry. High in the sky, it separated into scores of individual bats which swooped onto unsuspecting insects.
Just,
Ella thought,
like the sick, twisted bastard preying on those poor girls.
Or not quite, because this ritual was born of necessity. She had disliked the winged mammals ever since one had decided to tangle itself in her hair the first night of a school camp. The teasing she had endured had been far worse than the experience, although she was sure every other girl there would have reacted with greater dread.

“So you watched the bats with Cecily,” she said as the cloud thinned.

“Yeah. She’d never seen bats before, and I’m in the middle of gathering information about this population. Most of the bats seem to have appeared suddenly, just after the belfry was completed, and someone reported they were bent-wings. They’re supposed to be restricted to the Naracoorte area.”

“And are they? Bent-wing bats, I mean.”

“Yes. I can’t figure it out. I mean, the belfry is full of them, but they haven’t been spotted in this area for about thirty years.”

“So they migrated from elsewhere?”

“Must have.”

Ella offered the block of chocolate to Adam. He took a piece but didn’t eat it straight away. Unashamed, she broke off a chunk double the size and took a good bite out of that. She needed comfort food if they were going to spot bats. The critters were kind of creepy. Why anyone would want to study these animals when there were so many cute, fully-furred mammals in need of an advocate was beyond her. An important part of the natural ecosystem, Adam called them. Well, so were bilbies and Tasmanian devils.

“How long were you here?” she said, bringing her mind back on track.

“About the same time we’ve been here now, so,” he looked at his watch, “about half an hour.”

“Then what happened?”

“Something else flew from the church.”

“What?” An edge had crept into Ella’s voice. This was undoubtedly when, despite his earlier assurances that renegade vampire bats lived in legend alone, he sprang a story on her so unbelievable that it prevented him telling the police.

“I don’t know. The thing in the photos. Cecily didn’t see it, but I did.”

“A bird, an eagle?”

“No, I don’t think so. Do you?”

The shapes in the photograph had looked distinctly unbirdlike. Ella shrugged before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “I suppose not,” she admitted. “So what did you do?”

“I told her I wanted to check it out. I thought it had flown to the canal. We were halfway there when I saw it, just a silhouette, mind you, but it wasn’t a bird.” Conviction had hardened his voice. He had to be testing her out, gauging how she would react. “And it wasn’t a person. It made this screech, something like you heard yesterday, and Cecily screamed. I don’t blame her, but I wanted to photograph it. I told her to wait by the church. There was a faint light at one of the windows. I heard her turn, but I was too busy with my camera. I got the couple of shots you saw before it dived into the water. Ella, I know this sounds crazy, but it sounded almost enraged, as though I’d invaded its privacy.”

“Go on,” she said. She was surveying the grotesques on top of the church. Their twisted shapes played greater havoc with her imagination than the bats she had been ambivalent about minutes ago. If Adam had got onto the roof, he could easily have photographed one of them. Trust was not her strong point. Not anymore.

“Well, it was gone, and even I’m not crazy enough to go scouting round the canal at night. I turned back, but I couldn’t find Cecily. The church doors were locked. She wasn’t in the copse where we’d left our gear and she wasn’t at the car.”

Ella turned to face him. The torchlight sculpted his anxious features. He held her gaze, altogether desperate for her to believe him. She was beginning to.

“You didn’t hear anything?”

“Other than the screech, no.” His wavering voice told her he was lying.

“And it couldn’t have been Cecily, screaming?”

“I know what I heard, Ella, and I know where the sound came from. The creature wasn’t even ten feet away.”

It didn’t alter the fact that he was withholding something. “Why are you so sure she wasn’t abducted and driven away?”

He exhaled audibly. “Something is not right with that church.”

Ella thought it interesting he never denied hearing a car. Abduction was a rational explanation. Ella didn’t believe in alien life forms, demonic spirits, or prehistoric survivors. Working at the
Informer
had only strengthened her scepticism. She knew full well how the reporters there got their stories. Adam’s earnestness was the only thing keeping her talking. He had seen something. The questions were: what, and how real it had been, and whether a vehicle had dragged Cecily away. That, at least, warranted following up. She studied the shapes on top of the church.

“Were you on anything? Medication, drugs?” she asked, eyes fixed on a stone wing.

“How dare you, Ella!” His voice trembled with anger. “Do you think I would come to you with this if there was even the slightest chance—”

“I think that’s exactly why you
would
be talking to me,” she cut in.

“And I suppose you think I did it, that I killed her and all those other girls.”

“Trust is not my strong point, Adam. You knew that when you approached me.”

“Decide, Ella. I’m not going into this with someone who’s suspicious of every move I make when there’s a monster out there murdering innocent girls. Either start trusting me or get back to your sports star scandals.”

And then she saw it, a movement on the church roof, a silhouette extending wings to shoulder height and turning a goblin-like head to the canal. Her sharp intake of breath alerted Adam, but he misinterpreted it.

“I’m sorry, but you had that coming.”

“Keep quiet.” She was an investigative reporter, for God’s sake. The majority of her interviews provoked heated reactions. Did he really think he had offended her? She strained her eyes, trying to glimpse whatever had moved. “Do you see that? On the ledge.”

He moved to her side. “No. Where? What on earth?”

The figure leapt from the roof. Hovering elegantly, it gave a cry not unlike that of an eagle and swooped, only to become lost against the dark face of the stone. Sparing a glance for the gap now interrupting the regular placement of the grotesques, Ella ran for the spot she had seen it go down. Adam was at her shoulder when she pulled up and glanced around.

“There!” Adam cried.

Hunched on the path that bordered the canal, a small, dark figure, elbows poking behind its back, surveyed the canal. At Adam’s cry, it looked round. Its misshapen mouth snarled. Ella would have sworn intelligence brooded behind its black eyes.

Slowly, she lifted the camera from around her neck. Moonlight glinted on metal. The snarl became a shivery cry as the creature sprang. Ella crossed her arms over her face and ducked. Talons ripped at her sleeves. Beside her, Adam huffed as he beat the slick body. One violent struggle tore her free. The creature flapped into the air. They stared at it gliding across the canal on bat-like wings. Beneath it, water pale with reflected moonlight turned iridescent blue.
Algae?
she wondered, until the surface broke in a gentle swoosh. The flying figure circled and dived into the ripples. The lapping died. Quiet was restored, marred only by their ragged breaths.

“Are you all right?” Adam asked.

“Yes.” Ella’s arms stung but, unbelievably, no more than after a kneading from Tilly. The cat had a unique way of expressing her love. This thing, however, had vented pure anger. “You?”

“Fine.”

“Was that what you saw last time?”

“I think so,” Adam said.

“What was it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Not a vampire bat?”

“No. Did you get a photo?”

“The camera!” It was no longer in her hands. Ella dropped to her knees and groped along the path. Adam joined her search. After a few minutes of fruitless fumbling, she stated what she had suspected from the beginning. “I think it took it.”

“A camera shy beast.”

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes . . .”

“I know.”

“Adam, I owe you an apology.”

“Save it.” He helped her to her feet. “But, I think it’s time we call it a night.”

As they walked past the church, the dark, gawping windows became malevolent irises spying on her every move. Not a single light burned.

TWO LATE NIGHTS
were enough for Ella to wake with a headache. Ignoring the pounding, she blinked her alarm clock into focus. Eight-eighteen and turned off. The pounding grew stronger. As her grogginess lifted, she realised it was not at all associated with her headache. Tumbling out of bed with one eye on the daddy-long-legs suspended in its web, she grabbed her robe and shouted in the vague direction of the front door that she was coming. Through the peephole, Rob’s distorted face was glaring at the faded wood. He calmed down when she opened the door.

“Ella. Thank God.”

“Rob. What’s going on?”

A non-descript younger man in a long coat cleared his throat.

“May we come in?” Rob, carrying a black bag, pushed past her into the living room. His colleague followed.

“Why not?”

Rob was looking around. Ella could have died. Her raincoat was draped untidily over the lounge, which hid beneath a pile of rumpled clothes, all bearing fluffy evidence of Tilly’s naps. Worse, numerous catalogues announcing this week’s specials and opened to the confectionary pages littered the coffee table. She stepped into the kitchen and nudged a cat bowl overflowing with stale food into a hidden corner.

“Coffee?” she asked, filling the kettle. She got mugs out of the timber cupboard without waiting for a reply.

“Thank you.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just freshen up.” She didn’t give them the chance to object. Grabbing the first clean top she found and yesterday’s jeans, she clicked the bathroom door closed and splashed water into her red eyes. Her pyjamas were off and her clothes on in no time. Her hair was more problematic. After a few brushes, she tied it back in a ponytail, wincing at the growing tightness in her arm. She pushed her sleeve up and pressed the tender edges of three puffy welts. There was no denying last night’s adventure with those there. Fishing through the cupboard produced a dusty bottle of antiseptic. She grimaced as she applied it, then carefully drew the sleeve to her wrist.

In the living room, Rob and his partner had sat down. Tilly had extricated herself from wherever she had been sleeping and was greeting Rob with a series of head rubs. The kettle was just boiling. She poured the coffee, automatically adding a couple of sugars to Rob’s.

“Now, what’s this about?” she asked when they were sipping coffee, Rob had introduced Detective Constable James Danes, and Tilly had jumped onto her lap for a dose of attention.

“Early this morning, police divers recovered this from the Port River.” Rob opened his black holdall and retrieved a smaller plastic bag containing a camera. He set it on the coffee table. “It has your driver’s licence number engraved on it.”

Ella stared at it. “What are the chances of that?”

“What are the chances of what, Ms Jerome?” Danes asked.

“You finding that. I suppose it’s ruined.”

“Completely.”

She picked up the bag and turned it over, upsetting Tilly in the process. She hadn’t managed to get a shot of whatever had attacked her anyway. Deep dents pitted the entire surface. They reminded her of the wounds on Melanie Denham’s arm. “Where exactly did you find it?”

“Why don’t you start with how and where you lost it?” Danes said.

Ella lifted an eyebrow. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“For Heaven’s sake, Ella,” Rob said. “We thought you’d become victim number seven.”

“Clearly, I’m not.”

“But clearly you were in Port Adelaide. Near the site of the crimes.”

Ella noticed the plural. She tucked that revelation away for later and groped for a plausible explanation of how her camera ended up in the Port River. “I was around the Church of the Resurrection.”

“Alone?”

She recognised his alarm but chose to focus on the implication. “Actually, I was with a source, and no, I will not reveal the person’s name.”

“We’re not asking you for an alibi, Ella.” Rob had stopped drinking and was tapping a finger on his knee, a habit he adopted whenever he became annoyed. “Just a statement on how you lost the camera.”