‘It’s barbed wire. I thought it was fitting, given that the police have been a thorn in my side. You should see what I have planned for Miss Knight. She is a special one, isn’t she?’

Will responded with a muffled growl, chewing on the rag in an attempt to loosen it. The taste of engine oil, and the thoughts of being imprisoned by the madman before him made him retch.

‘Shush, calm yourself, otherwise I’ll have to put you asleep again. Your fate has not yet been sealed. Maybe you’ll be lucky and the cards will set you free.’

Will thought that was unlikely, judging by the other victims who had met their grisly ends. He had to get himself out of this situation before he ended up like them. But how? Bert’s yellowed teeth flashed in a manic smile, making Will’s heart sink. He could not even reason with the lunatic before him. He wriggled his injured wrists, trying to work himself free from his bindings. His eyes danced around the room, seeing nothing but darkness. The tiny circular glow from the melted candle lit only inches before him. He could be anywhere. Will wriggled again, kicking out in an attempt to sit upwards. Like a dying fish he flopped around on the wooden floor, until Bert produced something from behind his back. The twelve-inch blade glinted against the flickering candlelight as he made his intentions clear.

‘It would be a shame to kill you before the reading, but I will if I have to.’

The whites of Will’s eyes widened with terror, and his nostrils flared to accommodate the breaths entering his body. Adrenalin flooded his system as his body fought for survival. All he could do was bite down on the gag.

‘Sorry I couldn’t find a clean cloth for you. I’ve had to be very inventive. Now let’s get started. I’m so excited about your reading today I’m even doing it for free.’

It was only then that Will noticed the tarot cards spread out face down on the floor next to him. Three cards. This was not going to take very long. Will thought of Jennifer, his family, and all the things he wished he had said to them.

Bert turned over the first card, his eyes glazing over as he revealed Will’s past. His happy childhood, his marriage, joining the police and meeting Jennifer. Bert shook his head in disgust as he conveyed how Will had made little effort to save his marriage.

‘DC Knight turned your head, didn’t she? If you’d minded your own business you wouldn’t be here now. I had no quarrel with you, but you forced my hand.’ Bert turned over the second card, revealing his present. His position in his job, his affair with Jennifer, everything was brought in front of him. Will wondered just how long the killer had been watching them to know so much. He was clearly insane, and his motive for the murders made him all the more unhinged.

‘The prophecy cannot be stopped once it has commenced. As soon as I read your future, it will happen. Maybe now, maybe tomorrow. Who knows?’ Bert cackled, his face set in a deadening grin.

Will conveyed his anger by shaking his head. But it was pointless. In the mind of a cold-blooded killer, everything is justified.

He blinked away his blurred vision. The shaking had subsided, and the only plan he could think of was to launch his body at the man if he came towards him. Slowly, he tried to wriggle out of the barbed wire, each movement bringing intense pain.

‘I’ve wasted enough time. Now it is time for your future.’ Bert rubbed his hands together before slowly turning the last card over, nodding and mumbling as he responded to the voices in his head. ‘I am to do you a great service,’ he said.

Will’s heart leapt. Was he going to release him after all?

‘You are to become acquainted with the blade of my knife, but it won’t be a quick death. You have a whole day to make your peace with it, before your body expires.’

Will bellowed through the cloth in frustration, making Bert jump and topple the candle to its side, spilling hot wax on the dusty floorboards. Bert swore, patting his pockets for his matches. He shook the half-empty box before striking another, making it kiss the extinguished wick.

Bert’s face darkened like thunder as he grabbed Will by the jawbone, his long nails digging into his skin. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

Unable to raise himself from the ground, Will bellowed for help, but was silenced by the tip of cold steel piercing his stomach. A trickle of warm blood ran down his side, and a fresh wave of nausea passed over him as he realised he had just been stabbed.

‘The prophecy has been set in motion,’ Bert said, transfixed by the bloody blade. ‘Your body will sustain you until tomorrow, then you will die here, drained of blood.’ Bert laid the bloodied knife on the floorboards behind him before stretching his limbs to walk away. ‘So it will be done. You have twenty-four hours to live.’

Will sank into dark oblivion.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Bert

He was getting stronger, he could feel it in his bones. Every cell was repairing, knitting together, expelling the sick, and cleansing his blood. The police officer may not have been part of his plan but he had come too far now, he could not risk getting caught. Now all he needed to complete his mission was to fulfil two more prophecies. The bound and gagged police officer was a good bargaining tool. If the homeless man did not bring Jennifer Knight to him, the death of her colleague would. He needed to arrange a meeting, and he needed her to come alone. This had to be personal, so personal that she would want him solely for herself. She was close. He could feel her energy reaching out to him, probing the darkness. It was all coming together, and he was ready.

Like a vampire, he would feed from the essence of her soul. Only then could he be free. Bert smiled as he watched in his rear view mirror of his mother’s car. The ragged man slowly ambled up the road, his face wracked with discomfort as he clutched a rucksack over one shoulder, and his scruffy dog under his arm. A grey blanket enveloped the terrier’s body, its small black nose peeping out from the layers. Bert pressed the brake, allowing the man to catch him up. The drizzly weather had kept people inside, and Bert felt his confidence in his mission grow. The car came to a slow halt as he unwound the dirt-streaked window, a spray of drizzle providing fresh vigour.

‘Can I give you a lift?’ Bert craned his neck to peer up at the man.

George pulled the scruffy terrier up under his right arm as he shuffled on the pavement towards town. He hunched his shoulders in a determined march, throwing a glance at the driver of the car crawling alongside the kerb. ‘Do I know you?’

‘Don’t you remember? We shared a drink the other night. Can I give you a lift?’ Bert tried to hide the glint of excitement in his eyes. Such enthusiasm tended to unsettle people, and although his prey may have overlooked it for the sake of a drink, in the empty streets with nothing but blackbirds circling overhead, he may not be as keen. He could also have been warned of a suspicious man in the area.

‘I’ve got a little nip of something that should help warm you up,’ Bert said, his patience running thin. His eyes flicked to the mirror to check the streets were clear. A knife lay hidden in the pocket of his door well. The dog could prove difficult, but if the old man didn’t get in voluntarily, he would take him by force.

George came to a sudden halt, his dog shivering under his arm. Bert willed him to climb inside, wondering if the sight of rosary beads hanging from his mirror would give him some much needed reassurance.

George hoisted up the dog under his shoulder, his own discomfort evident by his pained expression. ‘I need a lift to the vet’s. Me dog is sick. I think he’s caught a chill.’