Cabal by Clive Barker Page B

in them had vanished. There was only the brightness, its ferocity threatening to wash the whole world away. Knowing total collapse was imminent she crossed to the gates, calling Boone’s name. She had an answer immediately, though not the one she sought.
    ‘He’s here?’ somebody said. ‘Boone is
here!’
    Clinging to the gate she turned her leaden head, and through the surf of light saw Decker, standing a few yards from her. Behind him, his light-less car. Even in her dizzied state she understood how she’d been manipulated. Decker had allowed her to escape, knowing she’d seek out his enemy.
    ‘Stupid!’ she told herself.
    ‘Well yes. But then, what were you to do? No doubt you thought you might save him.’
    She had neither the strength nor the wit left to resist the man. Relinquishing the support of the gates, she staggered into the cemetery.
    ‘Boone
!’ she yelled.
‘Boone
!’
    Decker didn’t come after her quickly; he had no need. She was a wounded animal going in search of another wounded animal. Glancing behind her she saw him checking his gun by the light of his headlamps. Then he pushed the gate wider, and came in pursuit.
    She could barely see the avenues in front of her for the bursts of light in her head. She was like a blind woman, sobbing as she stumbled; no longer even certain if Decker was behind her or in front. Any moment he would despatch her. One bullet, and her charmed life would end.
3
    In the ground below, the Breed heard her arrival, their senses attuned to panic and despair. They knew the hunter’s tread too; they’d heard it behind them all too often. Now they waited, pitying the woman in her last moments but too covetous of their refuge to put it at risk. There were few enough hiding places left where the monstrous might find peace. They’d not endanger their hermitage for a human life.
    Still it pained them, hearing her pleas and her calls. And for one of their number the sound was almost beyond endurance.
    ‘Let me go to her.’
    ‘You can’t. You know you can’t.’
    ‘I can kill him. Who’s to know he was ever here?’
    ‘He won’t be alone. There’ll be others waiting outside the walls. Remember how they came for you.’
    ‘I can’t let her die.’
    ‘Boone! Please God –’
    It was worse than anything he’d suffered, hearing her calling him, and knowing Midian’s law wouldn’t let him answer.
    ‘Listen to her, for god’s sake!’
he said.
‘Listen.’
    ‘You made promises when we took you in,’
Lylesburg reminded him.
    ‘I know. I understand.’
    ‘I wonder if you do. They weren’t demanded lightly, Boone. Break them and you belong nowhere. Not with us. Not with them.’
    ‘You’re asking me to listen to her die.’
    ‘So block your ears. It’ll soon be over.’
4
    She could no longer find the breath to call his name. No matter. He wasn’t here. Or if he was, he was dead in the earth, and corrupted. Beyond help, in the giving or the taking.
    She was alone, and the man with the gun was closing on her.
    Decker took the mask from his pocket; the button mask he felt so safe behind. Oh, the number of times, in those tiresome days with Boone, teaching him the dates and the places of the murders he was inheriting, when Decker’s pride had almost brimmed over and he’d itched to claim the crimes back. But he needed the scapegoat more than the quick thrill of confession, to keep suspicion at bay. Boone’s admitting to the crimes wouldn’t have been an end to it all of course. In time the Mask would start speaking to its owner again, demanding to be bloodied, and the killings would have to begin afresh. But not until Decker had found himself another name, and another city to set up his store in. Boone had spoiled those well-laid plans, but he’d get no chance to tell what he knew. Ol’ Button Face would see to that.
    Decker pulled the mask on. It smelt of his excitement. As soon as he breathed in he got a hard. Not the little sex-hard, but the