Caedmon’s Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

let alone sitting in one. But this place felt safe
enough. The few people who were there seemed to know each other and were already involved in conversation. There were no lone wolves on the lookout for female flesh; it clearly wasn’t a
pick-up joint.
    She glanced quickly through the copy of the Independent she’d bought. Finding nothing of interest, she folded the paper and put it aside. What she really had to do, she thought, was
work out some kind of plan. Nothing too detailed or elaborate, because she had recently learned that serendipity and intuition played a greater part in events than anyone imagined. And she had to
remember that she wasn’t alone in her task; she had spirits to guide her. Nonetheless, she couldn’t just wander the place aimlessly for days. Right now, it was all right; she was
finding her way around, becoming familiar with the environment. There were certain spots she needed to know about: sheltered places, isolated paths, the shadows of the town. But she needed a plan
of action.
    Taking out a small notebook and her guidebook, she set to work. First of all, she scanned the map and made a note of places that looked like they were worth exploring: the beach area, St
Mary’s graveyard, the abbey grounds, a long cliff walk towards Robin Hood’s Bay. Then she turned her mind to a more serious problem: where could she find someone who actually lived and worked in Whitby? Where would he be likely to live, for example? So far she had seen no one but holidaymakers and those residents who ran guesthouses, pubs and shops. Nobody else
actually seemed to live around the harbour area, where the men worked on their boats.
    She flipped back to her map to see how far the town spread. It was small, with a population of about thirteen thousand, and East Cliff didn’t seem to extend much at all beyond St
Mary’s. That left the southern area, further inland along the Esk estuary, and West Cliff itself. Up there, according to her map, housing estates seemed to stretch almost as far as Sandsend.
And then there were smaller places nearby, like Sandsend itself, and Robin Hood’s Bay. They weren’t exactly suburbs, but it was possible that some people lived there and commuted to and
from Whitby.
    At one time, she might have felt as if she was looking for a needle in a haystack. After all, she had so little to go on. But she trusted her instincts now. There could be no doubt about it; she
would know when she had found the one she was looking for. Her spirits would help guide her towards him. And Whitby felt like the right place; she could sense his nearness.
    Martha sipped her beer. Somebody put an old rock and roll song on the jukebox and it reminded her of something a long time ago, another evening listening to old songs on a jukebox. She shut it
out. Memories and sentiment were luxuries she couldn’t afford these days. She stuck her hand in her holdall and felt for the smooth, hard sphere.
     
6
    KIRSTEN
    A long, oily blackness punctuated by quick, vivid dreams. A figure hunched over her, dark and hooded, and a blade flashed. It seemed to slice at her skin. Long cuts flapped
open and blood welled, but there was no pain. She saw, as if from a great distance, the sharp steel pierce the pale flesh of her thigh. It went in deep and when it slid out, blood oozed around the
edges of the gash. But she felt nothing at all. Then the darkness came again.
    This time it was a figure all in white, a human shape with no face. The same things happened. The knife was different, but it cut just like the other, and again there was no sensation.
    They were all just dreams. She couldn’t possibly see these things, could she? Her eyes were closed. And if they had really happened, then she would have screamed out in agony from the
pain, wouldn’t she?
     
7
    MARTHA
    A loud shrieking woke Martha at four o’clock in the morning. She turned over in bed and frowned as she looked at the luminous dial of her watch. The row