He groaned aloud.
Delphine pulled away so she could see his face.
‘Are you hurt badly, David?’ she asked.
‘No, no,’ he assured her. ‘Just scratches, mainly. I groaned because of that.’ He pointed.
‘The main entrance? I hadn’t forgotten. That’s why I said we’d need to hide in the summerhouse.’ She pointed with a shaky finger.
Ash realized that, although his eyes had swept the whole place, he hadn’t properly taken in the large yet elegant pavilion that almost dominated the garden. It looked Victorian. A solid sandstone base supported an intricate, white-painted metal frame and glass panels, all rising to a grand sloping roof and geodesic dome. It resembled a huge, elaborate conservatory or greenhouse as much as a summerhouse.
‘We’re not safe here,’ he said to Delphine. ‘The cats will soon find that opening.’
She nodded in agreement.
Their faces shot upwards when they heard a hissing sound from above. A wildcat had used a nearby tree to reach the top of the wall and was now glaring down at them, spittle drooling from its jaws. It was quickly joined by several of its companions, though all seemed reluctant to make the leap down from the wall. Ash picked up his makeshift cudgel and brandished it in their direction to let the beasts know what they were in for should they do so.
‘Okay,’ Ash said, speaking to Delphine without taking his eyes off the menacing cats, ‘we’re going to walk slowly towards the summerhouse, nice and steady, just like before.’
Ash walked backwards, his club at the ready as Delphine grasped the back of his ripped coat and led him along the path.
The cats remained on top of the wall, watching them.
‘We’re nearly there, David,’ Delphine whispered. Ash noted the tightness in her voice. ‘There’s a side entrance almost in front of me. We don’t have to go all the way round to the front.’
‘Great,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Now, just open the door slowly and—’
From behind him came a gasp. ‘Oh God, David, it’s locked.’
His attention momentarily distracted, Ash failed to see the first wildcat positioned to launch itself from the wall, but he was in time to see it run down the path and leap towards them. In an almost reflexive movement, Ash swung the club using both hands and caught the creature’s flank so hard it careered away from them, hit a stanchion of the summerhouse, then dropped to the stone pathway where it squirmed in pain. Ash hoped he had smashed its ribs or spine, but now the others were loping forward – there had to be at least six of them. Several dropped off the wall as they progressed, landing gracefully on the inner path where, without pause, they resumed their fluid chase.
‘The main door!’ Delphine cried. ‘We can get in that way!’
Unless that’s locked too, Ash thought.
They fled round the corner of the building, the wildcats close on their heels. Ash and Delphine reached the main double door and the psychologist desperately pushed down one of its handles, practically crying out with relief as she found it unlocked.
Ash followed her inside, slamming the door shut just as two cats jumped at them. Mercifully, the glass in the door held fast, though a small crack had appeared in the pane. The pack scratched at the glass, hissing and making a strange, guttural growling sound more like dogs.
Ash gripped Delphine’s wrist and moved away, eyes on the doors, silently praying they would hold. He led her into the sum-merhouse’s interior. It should have been spectacular inside, for there were many species of flowers, plants and shrubs, all displayed in carefully arranged rows, with minor trees and long-leaved ferns in terracotta tubs. The whole place should have been filled with vibrant living colour.
But every single plant was dead and drooping.
Flowers, trees, ornamental shrubbery all hung limply, devoid of colour except for a rotting, uniform grey.
And the smell, which Ash and Delphine hadn’t noticed at first in their fear-fuelled escape, was almost suffocating in its pungency. (It proved to Ash how other senses could be muted when adrenaline was racing round the human body, for the smell now that they felt safer was truly overwhelming.)
Delphine’s cupped hand went to her mouth and she leaned forward as though she was about to vomit. Ash put the palm of his hand on her back to comfort her, although he was feeling nauseous himself. He’d smelt the stink of the dead before, although it was usually rotting flesh that created the odour. This was equally disgusting, though. The perspiration he’d exuded during the chase was turning into icy droplets. He shivered and Delphine stood straight, now apparently recovered, although her lightly tanned skin hadn’t altogether lost its pallor.
‘Here,’ he said to her, pulling the biker’s muffler over his head. ‘Wear this like a mask. It might take the edge off the smell.’
He helped her put it on. Despite their dire circumstances, he couldn’t help but smile as her large deep chocolate eyes looked up at him over the mask. She looked like a beautiful terrorist.
She shivered and hugged her arms. ‘Why is it so cold?’ she asked, pulling the muffler down again so that she could speak. ‘My God, I was in here only yesterday with Lewis and everywhere was vibrant with colour. David, what’s happened to the flowers?’
He knew that sometimes malign forces could generate such a ruinous metamorphosis as this by their mere presence, their intrusion and influence on nature catastrophic, but if he told her that, she might just begin to treat him as a patient.
Instead he dug into a deep pocket of his coat and brought out the pair of gloves he’d worn on the beach.
‘Here, put these on. They’re a bit big for you, but the leather will protect your hands if the cats find a way in. Now,’ he said, ‘is there anywhere in here we can lock ourselves in, a store room or something like it?’ He quickly surveyed their surroundings, assessing any weaknesses. A building constructed mainly of glass wasn’t exactly a fortress, although the white-painted iron framework would certainly hold. Several rounded pillars rose to the sloping glass ceiling to help support its weight, and there were seating areas where guests might contemplate the beauty around them, a beauty that had degenerated overnight to a decayed, rancid ghastliness.
Delphine was shaking her head, ‘No, there’s no store room.’
‘Okay. In that case, we need to arm ourselves with something more effective than a lump of wood. Where do the groundsmen keep their tools?’
She looked at him blankly, her fright blocking her thoughts. Then: ‘Wait – there is a place where gardening equipment is kept.’
‘Show me.’
Delphine led him to the rear of the summerhouse. As they walked between two rows of decaying succulents a shadow passed over their heads. Above, they saw a feline shape walking casually across the angled glass.
‘They’re jumping from the wall onto the roof,’ Ash murmured, for he could see that this side of the structure reached to within feet of the enclosing wall.
Another shadow appeared as a second wildcat made the leap.
‘I hope that glass is strong,’ commented Ash as he hurried Delphine along.
Other cats on the ground continued to throw themselves at the double front door, and as he glanced back the investigator saw that the original crack had grown a good deal longer. Meanwhile, an ever-increasing number were prowling along the incline of the roof.
They hastened through the lanes of corrupted plants and soon reached a five-foot barrier, beyond which Ash could see a neat array of gardening implements. Even better, they all looked unused, as if arranged purely for display. All were highly polished with sharp, stainless-steel cutting edges and sturdy wooden shafts.
Ash quickly made his way round the barrier. It was his turn to shiver at the coldness of the place: sweat that had trickled down his lower back when trying to escape the vicious pack of predators was now like ice water running down his spine.
He briskly inspected the implements that were to become his weapons and found he had a wide choice.
There was a sharp-edged hoe, a spade with a wide polished stainless-steel blade, a border fork, a pair of long-handled shears, plus smaller items equally useful in closer combat: a weeding fork, a pruning knife, a small axe and an evil-looking brush hook.
There was a sudden shattering of glass from above and a wildcat dropped through the roof to land a matter of feet away. Ash grabbed the long hoe and rushed the wildcat before it had a chance to fully regain its senses after the fall. He dug the hoe’s blade into the animal’s exposed neck and its hisses turned to squeals as the sharp edge cut deep. The cat squirmed on the floor, and when it turned onto its back the investigator struck the exposed belly. Abruptly, its squealing stopped, yet the mangy cat still writhed on the glass-littered tiled floor, the hoe’s blade embedded in its stomach, blood arcing from the fatal wound.
He hurried back to where Delphine stood behind the screen, and noticed she’d had the good sense to find herself a weapon: a long-handled patio knife, lethal and effective-looking with its shiny curved blade and wooden handle. Even before Ash could get to her there was another crash from behind. He whirled round to see that two wildcats had fallen through the roof, their combined weight too great for the glass to support.
Both had plummeted through and landed among shards of glass, which didn’t seem to worry them at all. Only slightly stunned by the drop, the wildcats appraised Ash with mean, evil eyes. With the long-handled hoe still lodged firmly in the first cat’s belly, the investigator needed another weapon. He snatched the stainless-steel border fork from its mount, its four sharpened prongs gleaming.
‘I may need your help with these two!’ he shouted to Delphine, who was crouched on her haunches behind the screen.
She was on her feet instantly, the lengthy patio knife with its curved blade clutched with both hands.
‘What shall I do, David?’
He had no time to answer because the two wildcats were streaking towards them, making that curious hissing-barking sound as they came. The first one was dealt with easily, for as it leapt at Ash he merely held the fork before him and allowed the cat to impale itself. But its companion was only a split second behind and it went for the investigator’s lower legs. Ash hollered with pain as the animal’s deadly teeth pierced just below his knee. With the first cat in its death-throes on the end of the fork, Ash had no weapon. The pain of the jagged teeth and the animal’s raking claws was so intense that Ash almost screamed.
Luckily, the wildcat was too concerned with its injured victim to notice the other enemy. Delphine smashed the long, hooked blade down on the beast’s spine, the knife piercing so deep that she had difficulty pulling it free again. The blow should have ended the creature’s attack on Ash instantly, but this was no ordinary cat: so blood-crazed was the animal, it continued to tear into the investigator. Despite her own horror, she plunged the curved knife down hard again, this time aiming towards the cat’s ferociously twitching neck and shoulders, feeling the point of the blade sink in before raking it across the raging creature’s furred back.
Ash tottered backwards, his shoulders hitting the display board of gardenware, the dying animal’s jaws locked around his leg.
‘Oh, Jesus . . .’ he moaned as the pain hit its peak and threatened to bring him down. He grimaced and tried to prise open the wildcat’s immense jaws.
‘Oh David, David . . .’ Delphine uttered as she knelt and tried to help him.
‘I’m okay. Honest, I’m okay.’ Ash winced as he worked his fingers into the creature’s mouth. ‘It feels like a bloody bear trap,’ he murmured, and groaned again. The tough material of his jeans had saved him from the worst it, although blood still seeped through the largest of the tears.
Meanwhile, the cat, its life ebbing away, continued to hang limply from him, its bushy striped tail swishing weakly like a lazy sweeper’s brush.
Above them, dark four-legged prowlers continued to move over the glass roof, casting shadows like illusory ghosts. Instinctively, the wildcats were searching for another way in, reluctant for the moment to repeat their companions’ unintentional descent.
With a great effort, Ash finally managed to pull the wildcat’s jaws apart. Relieved, he kicked the now-dead body. Then, with Delphine half supporting him, he glanced back towards the structure’s main doors. He could see that the original crack in the lower pane was becoming even bigger, with other fissures splaying from it like lightning forks. The pack was still eager for blood, undeterred by the violent deaths of the three already inside.
‘That glass is about to break!’ Ash yelled to Delphine, pointing at the door. ‘We have to block it with something!’
She looked around desperately. ‘The plant tubs! We could push one in front of the glass!’
Delphine was right, thought Ash, but the clay plant holders were filled with earth and he wondered if he and Delphine had the combined strength to slide one across the floor. He limped to the nearest tub and tried to push it. It barely moved an inch.
As quickly as his injured leg would allow, Ash returned to what he now thought of as his weapons store. He selected the small axe and the wicked-looking brush hook. He told Delphine to take a pair of extending shears and a spade that looked as if its pointed blade would be capable of decapitation. Both of her utensils had long handles, so she could keep the cats at bay while he engaged in closer combat.
So armed, they made their way back towards the main entrance. On the way, Ash scooped up a conical plant support, a plastic-coated wire spiral like an open-sided funnel. He had an idea of how he could use it, although it would require some luck.
Their appearance at the entrance doors spurred the wildcats outside into a fresh frenzy of bloodlust. They threw themselves at the panes of glass indiscriminately, although one burly creature – Ash wondered if it was the leader of the pack – concentrated on the cracked pane, seeming to recognize the weak point, using its oversized head to assault the fractured area again and again.
Suddenly, the glass shattered entirely. Ash just had time to push the conical plant support, broader end first, over the newly created hole. The cat raced straight into the plastic-covered wire, its claws, which were now very much in evidence, flailing through the openings at Ash, who held the wide end firmly in place so that it both covered the broken window and made an effective snare, albeit one that allowed the frenetic cat’s razor-sharp claws to reach through and scratch him painfully from time to time.
Other wildcats were trying to worm their way through and Ash knew his makeshift solution wouldn’t last for long. Using his knee and one hand to brace the wire cone against the door, he scrabbled around the floor with his free hand, reaching for the chopper. It lay just beyond his grasp, but Delphine saw his intention and picked up the heavy implement, placing the handle in his hand.
Ash raised it high, then brought it down on the beast’s unprotected neck as a butcher might chop a leg of lamb. The animal’s screech filled the summerhouse with the dreadful sound of its death call.
For a moment, the other wildcats backed away, and blood gushed over Ash’s hand and wrist as the mortally wounded animal struck out in its agony. Then it convulsed once more and was still.
Ash staggered to his feet. The other cats, momentarily stunned, watched him with predatory eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at Delphine; her mouth was open in shock, but there was scant time to comfort her, for the creatures threw themselves into action again and several windows crashed inwards. The killing of the larger wildcat had galvanized a newfound strength in the pack. Their furious energy had set them hurtling at the glass building, several ignoring the main doorway, instead shattering their way in further along the structure.
‘Get away, Delphine!’ Ash shouted at her as even more wildcats fell through the glazed ceiling. ‘Get behind the partition!’
She hesitated, reluctant to leave him, but when he yelled ‘Go!’ as loudly as he could, she started to run back towards the tool display. With the steel shovel she swatted away a cat that was in mid-pou
nce and it fell to one side, its jaw shattered.
Ash found himself vulnerable on two fronts, the cats taking their time now they knew their prey was trapped. The chopper was still lodged deep in the big cat’s head, but he swiftly stooped to pick up the vicious-looking brush hook, its shiny curved blade as deadly as a machete. Sensing movement behind him, he swung round, still crouched, and cut through the underbelly of a pouncing wildcat. Gore splashed the surrounding lifeless grey plants and curled flowers, the smell of spilled blood blending with the decay’s own pungent odour.
Ash stamped and hollered roughly, the cat which had outflanked him before cautiously backing away, ready to spring again. The investigator had only one plan as he waved the long hook and made as much noise as possible: to attract the attention of all the wildcats that had found their way inside the pavilion. He didn’t know how Delphine could escape the slaughter, the bloodfest that surely must follow, but he knew he had to give her the chance. And if giving her that chance meant his own death, then so be it, for he was not afraid of dying, although he would have preferred a cleaner end. But however death arrived, he would be ready, for he’d seen its face before and remained undaunted.
Something heavy fell against his back, and he felt claws digging into his neck. He spun round, weaving the brush hook to and fro, trying to dislodge the animal. He had a vague vision of Delphine disappearing somewhere at the back of the summerhouse, and he thanked God for that, for all the attention was now on him, the wildcats’ instinct telling them that he was the one to deal with first, the greater threat.
Two more cats jumped on him, and although the one on his back was crushed when Ash fell, the gnashing teeth of the others were only inches from his face. It was hopeless, he was growing weaker by the second, his adrenaline drained, his will weakening. All he wanted now was to get it over with, the sooner the better.