My Name Is Lydia (Jack Nightingale short story) Read Online Free Page B

tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
    “Those were her exact
words?”
    “It’s an expression.”
    “Sometimes it’s more
than that, Jenny. Sometimes people follow through.”
    She shook her head.
“She wouldn’t be that stupid.”
    “Sometimes people get
desperate. They tried to have a kid naturally, and that didn’t work. Then they
tried IVF and that wasn’t working either. Finally, just as her biological clock
is about to stop ticking, she gets pregnant. Not long after she said she’d sell
her soul for a baby.”
    Jenny’s hand went up
to her mouth. “What are you going to do, Jack?”
    “I’ll have to talk to
her,” said Nightingale. “And hope that she tells me the truth.”

 
    * * *

 
    Nightingale’s MGB had
recently had an expensive service and a new set of tyres, so there was no drama
as he drove out to Strawberry Hill and parked in the road outside the home of
Dr and Mrs Warren. He knew that Dr Warren was at his hospital and he assumed
that his wife was at home taking care of Christine. He parked his car and
walked up to the front door. He rang the doorbell and less than a minute later
she opened the door. She was wearing a dark skirt and a grey blouse and didn’t
look as if she’d slept well. The make-up was a little more thickly applied than
the last time he’d seen her and it was caking in the wrinkles around her eyes
and mouth.
    “Mr Nightingale? Was I
expecting you?” Her voice trembled a little as she spoke.
    “No, but I have a
couple of questions for you, if you don’t mind. Could I come in?”
    For a brief moment she
looked as if she was about to refuse, but then her shoulders sagged and she
opened the door. She led him through the hall and into the sitting room, waved
him to the same chair as the previous day and sat on the sofa. She didn’t offer
him anything to drink which Nightingale took as a sign
that she wanted him gone as quickly as possible.
    “So,” she said,
flashing him a tight smile. “Ask away.”
    Nightingale stared at
her for several seconds, wondering what the best approach would be. From the
look of her, she wasn’t going to put up with a lengthy interview so he decided
just to go straight in for the kill. Her reaction alone would tell him all he
needed to know. “I need to know which demon you made your pact with, and what
they promised you.”
    Her jaw dropped and
she flinched as if she had been stung. She shook her head and tried to speak
but all she could do was repeat one word. “How… how … how?” Her right hand
moved up as if it had a life of its own and began to massage her scalp just
behind her ear.
    “How I know isn’t the
issue,” said Nightingale. “But if you did a deal to have a baby, you need to
tell me.”
    “I can’t tell anyone,”
she said. “Not even Matthew. No one must ever know.”
    “That ship has
sailed,” said Nightingale. “I’m guessing that you have a pentagram behind your
ear, just under your hair.”
    The look of
astonishment on her face and the way her hand fell back into her lap let
Nightingale know that he was right. “You need to tell me everything,” he said.
    Tears began to run
down her face and she leaned forward and pulled a handful of tissues from a box
on the coffee table in front of her.
      “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. I would have
done anything for children. Given anything.”
    “Did you meet Marcus
Fairchild at the McLean house? During one of their weekend parties.”
    Her eyes narrowed.
“You know Marcus?”
    Nightingale nodded. “I
know he’s a dangerous man. A high-ranking Satanist. Did he tell you that?”
    “He didn’t say
Satanist. He said he practised Wicca. A sort of witchcraft.”
    “He lied,” said
Nightingale.
    “He said he could
help. Or rather, he said he could show me how to ask for help.”
    “Black magic?”
    She shook head and
wiped her eyes. “He didn’t say black magic. He said Wicca. Of course I didn’t
believe he could help at