The Black Shepherd Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  A Selection of Titles from Steven Savile

  Title Page

  Copyright

  What Went Before

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  In the Darkness …

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In the Darkness …

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  In the Darkness …

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  In the Darkness …

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  In the Darkness …

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  A Selection of Titles from Steven Savile

  Novels

  SUNFAIL

  PARALLEL LINES

  GLASS TOWN

  COLDFALL WOOD

  The Eurocrimes thrillers

  THE MEMORY MAN *

  THE BLACK SHEPHERD *

  * available from Severn House

  THE BLACK SHEPHERD

  Steven Savile

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2019 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  Eardley House, 4 Uxbridge Street, London W8 7SY.

  This eBook edition first published in 2019 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2019 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  Copyright © 2019 by Steven Savile.

  The right of Steven Savile to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8887-7 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-608-1 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0225-3 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  WHAT WENT BEFORE

  SIX MONTHS AGO

  In the dark of the night there is no god.

  In the dark of the night there is no hope.

  For six girls – they weren’t women no matter how desperately they pretended they were – the dark of the night hid the promised land.

  They tumbled out of the back of the beat-up VW Camper Van into the anti-climax of heaven.

  She tried to mask her disappointment but saw the same look on the faces of the other girls. The eldest of them couldn’t have been more than eighteen, the youngest maybe thirteen. She looked around at the snow-covered huts dominating the forest clearing, struck by how much they resembled an army barracks. The compound did not look like a place of peace and happiness. Welcome to the Broken Promise Land. The words echoed through her mind as one of the doorways opened and two men emerged – one overweight, bald, and bearded, the other stick-insect thin, with hollowed-out sockets for eyes.

  She didn’t like the way they looked at her: like she was meat.

  ‘Will we get to see him tonight?’ one of the others asked.

  ‘Soon,’ the driver promised.

  The men nodded, walking in a slow circle around the newcomers.

  ‘So, what happens now?’

  What indeed?

  The details had been vague, focused on the temptations they knew six broken souls couldn’t hope to resist.

  She looked at the girls with her, standing in a circle now, so far from the bright lights of the city, lured here with the promise that he had the answers, that they would find that elusive something that was missing in their lives. They were so different, from such different walks of life, and yet, in that one essential way, they were exactly the same. They lacked a reason for being.

  ‘Follow me,’ the driver said. The only baggage any of them had was inside their heads. This was their new start. In the moonlight it didn’t look like much, but how much did it really need to look like, she wondered. What mattered was that it was a chance to leave the past behind, not the place’s Trip Advisor rating.

  She followed him, enjoying the feel of the fresh falling snow against her cheeks.

  It was cold without being unbearable, but the promise of much worse was in the sky.

  ‘In here,’ the man said, pushing open the door to the largest building. It was some kind of meeting hall. There were chairs laid out in rows facing the front, six more looking back at them. ‘Come on, inside. Seats up front.’ He ushered them in, then left, locking the door behind him.

  ‘Are you excited?’ one of the girls asked, her voice too loud in the churchlike quiet of the hall.

  Another nodded.

  There were candles along one wall that threw flickering light across the chairs.

  ‘We should sit,’ another said. ‘He told us to sit.’

  But she didn’t move.

  ‘I can’t wait to see him again,’ the same excited girl said. She knew it was the silence, it made yo
u want to fill it.

  She didn’t feel like feeding it.

  A key rattled in the lock and the door opened.

  The man they knew as The Shepherd stood in the doorway. He had long dark hair that cascaded halfway down his back and a smudge of black beneath his eyes that made him look like a fading rock star. It was his eyes that had attracted her first. They had made her think that, for the first time in a very long time, everything was going to be all right.

  He offered them a brilliant white smile, and just like that five of the six girls were his. Their expressions were nothing short of rapturous.

  It made her skin crawl.

  ‘Welcome home,’ The Shepherd said, knowing that more than anything these lost souls craved somewhere to belong. It was a simple manipulation, but all the more effective for it. He stepped aside to let several more men follow him inside. They came bearing food and drink. ‘Now, dear hearts, I have a special blessing for you. Are you excited?’ There were nods from the girls around him. ‘Good. I am, too. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment, to join your souls.’

  ‘What do you mean? I don’t understand,’ she said before she could stop herself. The interruption drew a sharp look from The Shepherd, which was quickly consumed by that unwavering smile of his.

  ‘It is no accident you found me, or I found you. You are half of a whole. I want to make you whole. That is the key to happiness. And for you to be happy is what I want more than anything.’

  But for the first time she didn’t believe him.

  She felt the chill underlying his words, and it was far more hostile than the gathering snowstorm outside.

  ‘These are good men,’ The Shepherd promised. ‘Their work is vital to the well-being of our flock. Every day they are out there, trying to make a difference. These are my faithful. They are worthy of your adoration. You will give it to them, won’t you?’

  She nodded. Anything else would have made her stand out from the others. In her case, it was self-preservation, but the others were so eager to please him. She couldn’t explain it. It was stronger than gratitude or infatuation. It was as though he had a vice-like grip on their souls.

  ‘Tonight, my only wish is that you take the time to get to know each other, to learn your mate, before the dawn bonding.’

  She bit the inside of her bottom lip so hard that she tasted blood. This was a mistake. Being here was wrong. She didn’t belong with these girls. She looked at the youngest of them, who in turn looked at The Shepherd like he was some messiah, and felt sick to the core. She was a child.

  But what could she do? Things were racing away from her. She couldn’t stand up against the six men who had followed The Shepherd inside. Right now, the only thing she could do was try to survive. Two of the six men looked as lost as she felt, one of them as horrified as she was at the possibility of being paired with a thirteen-year-old bride, but the others had a brutal arrogance about them that was purely animalistic.

  The Shepherd walked the line, appraising the girls. He leaned in, cupping one of them, the red-head, Christiana, by the chin and tilting her head up as though he intended to kiss her lips. Christiana gazed into his eyes and she heard the wistful sigh as he let go, his fingertips lingering on her cheek before breaking contact. The loss of his touch physically hurt the girl. She seemed to shrink, as though she’d failed him somehow. He moved down the line, placing a finger on the lips of the youngest, who parted them at his touch. He smiled lovingly down at her and nodded.

  Had they already been paired up, or would it be like gym where the men got to pick their partner, the most virile and important of The Shepherd’s followers given first choice as a reward? Or would it be some kind of lottery? Drawing lots?

  Did it matter?

  Sometimes dead was better, she thought, remembering the brutality she’d been subjected to during those first few nights on the streets; the things that they had done to her – and believed they had a right to do to her – purely because they were paying for the pleasure.

  It was dehumanizing.

  She got lucky with her mate. One of the more timid souls came to kneel before her, offering her an apple like it was the greatest gift he had to give.

  She shook her head, and started to say, ‘I’m not hungry,’ when The Shepherd said, ‘You need to eat. You need to keep your strength up. It is going to be a long night,’ and she realized that she did need to eat. Hunger weakened you. So, she took the apple from him and bit into it. Her man smiled like she’d just accepted his proposal and came back with more plain food. The more she ate, the hungrier she realized she was.

  The girls were led off one at a time by the men, all of them stepping out into the snow willingly, until it was only her, the man she was promised to, and The Shepherd and there was no putting it off any more. He reached out a hand to her, desperate for her approval.

  The Shepherd nodded his encouragement.

  She took his hand.

  She rose slowly.

  ‘Walk with me,’ he said, kindness in his voice.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

  He led her across the snowy compound to one of the last huts. It was warm inside, a log fire had been slowly burning down while they ate in the main hall. There was little in the way of furniture; a narrow cot with a hardwood base, a table and two chairs that looked like they’d been rescued from a dumpster and repurposed. There was a rug that looked like it had been rescued from the same dumpster, and a threadbare couch that had seen better days.

  ‘Welcome to your new home,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t even know my name,’ she said, but what she really meant was she didn’t know his name. The words were confused on her tongue.

  ‘The Shepherd has told me all about you. I chose you. I want to fill your life here with joy,’ he said, and for a heartbeat it sounded pure and innocent, until she began feeling woozy. She held up a hand to steady herself, and saw her fingers losing their shape as her vision blurred.

  The light trailed diamonds and sapphires around her hand as she moved it through the air. The colours were hypnotic and hallucinogenic.

  She was losing herself to the trip.

  And that made her vulnerable.

  There was something in the food.

  Ketamine?

  He took her by the hand and led her over to the bed. She didn’t think she would make it. Her knees buckled on the third step, and on the fifth she stumbled and fell forward onto her knees, reaching out to catch herself from falling but missing the bed. She tried to stand, but her legs were having none of it.

  Then she was looking up at the ceiling and he was undressing her.

  There was nothing timid or gentle about his hands.

  She tried to fight him off, but her body wouldn’t obey her. She tried to say no but the word wouldn’t come.

  She was outside of herself, looking down at the girl with the tracks of tears drying on her cheeks, and it broke her heart. She was meant to be safe here. This was supposed to be her happy place. Her sanctuary.

  He whispered sweet things, like he thought she might enjoy her rapist’s touch.

  He planted butterfly kisses on her neck and she wished fervently that he would bite down and tear a chunk out of her throat, ripping the artery in the process.

  But it was never going to be that easy.

  She disconnected.

  She was meat.

  She let her soul go, flee, fly.

  She took refuge in the emptiness.

  She curled up into a foetal ball after he climbed off her.

  She still didn’t know his name.

  It wasn’t meant to be like this.

  How had this become her life?

  The Shepherd had lied to her, that was how.

  She didn’t look at her abuser as he dressed again.

  She barely had the strength to roll over to face the wall. Her world narrowed down to the shapes moving within the grain of the wood and the ragged in and out of her breathing. She felt the er
ratic flutter of the blood pulsing through her veins and wondered if she was going to get the way out she wanted. She couldn’t keep her eyes open.

  She heard the soft sound of the door closing and knew that she was alone but couldn’t move. It was all she could do to fight the darkness off, but eventually she succumbed.

  The candles had burned down to stubs when she came around. A surge of nausea clawed up her throat as she tried to sit up in the bed. She couldn’t see him. She barely remembered the van and the girls. Everything else was lost in fog.

  Her clothes were on the floor.

  There was dried semen on the sheets.

  Two edges of a fragmented nightmare stitched together.

  She forced herself to get out of the bed. She needed the support of the chair to stop her from falling. Through the window she saw the moon through the snow. It was still night. But night in winter lasted for ever here.

  Without a watch she had no way of knowing how close sunrise was. It could just as easily have been two in the morning as four or six. The snow only served to make things worse.

  She struggled to get dressed. Wishing she had warmer clothes as she tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t open.

  She was locked in, but she had a chair and a window. She broke the glass, and scrambled through, cutting herself in the process – a long deep gash on the arm, and a hole in her palm where she put all of her weight on a jagged piece of glass still wedged in the frame. She fell forward, hitting the ground hard, and scrambled to her feet. She left blood in her tracks.

  Presented with too many choices, none immediately more attractive than the others, she had no idea where to run, only that she had to.

  There was a dirt track that had led them here, she remembered, though there was no sign of it beneath the thickening snowfall. Did it matter which way she ran when she had no concept of distance or geography? The nearest town could be a hundred miles away, or more. The windows of the van had been blacked out and offered no clues.

  She ran, head down, into the churning snow as it battered her.

  Lights lit the central compound. The hum of the generator was muffled by the snowstorm. She couldn’t see anyone. She stayed away from the light, moving across the outskirts of the compound.

  Then she saw the light.

  It burned in the windows of a cabin.