Every Last Devil: A Chilling British Crime Thriller, page 1
EVERY LAST DEVIL
A DCI ROBERT KETT NOVEL
ALEX SMITH
EVERY LAST DEVIL
Published Worldwide by Relentless Media.
This edition published in 2024.
Copyright © 2024 by Alex Smith
The right of Alex Smith to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters and events in this book are entirely fictional. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Hanna Elizabeth
16.0.4
www.alexsmithbooks.com
relentless.media
ALSO BY ALEX SMITH
The DCI Robert Kett Thrillers
Paper Girls
Bad Dog
Three Little Pigs
Whip Crack
Run Rabbit Run
Stone Cold Dead
Every Mother’s Son
Sweet Briar Rose
Jaw Breaker
Knock Knock
King Rat
Knuckle Bones
Lucky Number Seven
Unholy Saints
Truly Madly Deadly
Every Last Devil
Red Line
Cry Baby: A Novella
Other Books
Six Days, Six Hours, Six Minutes
The Harder They Fall
For everyone at KDP.
Thanks for changing my life!
CONTENTS
A Note From Alex
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
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
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
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
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A NOTE FROM ALEX
Dear reader,
As always, I sincerely hope this note finds you healthy and happy and hopeful.
It’s the middle of the summer holidays here, and like Kett I have been trying to divide my time between my job, and my three feral wonderful daughters. It’s not always easy, but I do love it when the kids are at home—and of course the sun makes everything bearable. I hope you are all having a wonderful summer too, with plenty of rest and relaxation and riveting reads.
Those of you who have followed me since my days of writing books for younger readers will know that I cut my teeth writing horror. It’s definitely my favourite genre (along with crime, of course), and over the years the Kett books have strayed very close to the place where thrillers and horror books meet. This has never been more obvious than with Every Last Devil. I’d be lying if I said this book didn’t terrify me in places when I was writing it!
The idea came to me when my wife and I took our dog for a walk in the ruins of St Mary’s church, which is very much a real place. I couldn’t stop thinking about the legend, and the idea for the book grew from there—much like the oak tree which sits in the middle of the church. Of course, everything else is fiction, and I hope you will forgive my creative licence when it comes to the geography of the area as well!
Thank you so much for joining me on the newest Kett adventure, I really hope you enjoy it. It was certainly one of my favourites to write, and one scene in particular left me laughing for days (I’ll leave it up to you to guess which one).
I hope it doesn’t give you nightmares!!
Sending the very best of summer wishes to you and your loved ones from here in Norwich.
Alex
PROLOGUE
Monday
They’d left the world behind them fifteen minutes ago, civilisation a distant memory. Charlie Ford half thought they’d driven through a portal into the past, because when she stared through the foggy window in the backseat of the Nissan Micra, she saw nothing but rolling dunes topped with wisps of seagrass, all drenched in early morning mist.
The sea cowered behind them, too frightened to show itself to the newcomers, but the sky was making up for it. It was a true Norfolk sky, too big and too blue to be real, the sun dazzling even though it wasn’t yet eight in the morning. The gulls did their best to fill the space where the clouds should have been, wheeling in lazy circles, their calls lost behind the tinny voice of Taylor Swift as she bemoaned yet another breakup.
It was beautiful, sure. But Charlie felt a little terrified too, because the last house she’d seen along the coastal road had been a mile or so back, and the state of the place made her pretty sure a serial killer lived there.
The Micra, dubbed Donkey by its owner, Aggie Clegg, wasn’t handling the heat very well, the engine clanking like somebody was locked in there with a steel drum. Every time Charlie peeked past Aggie’s shoulder to check the time, she noticed that the little temperature needle was deeper into the red. The air conditioning had stopped blowing cold five minutes after they’d left Norwich, blasting them with warm dust ever since.
If Donkey died all the way out here, in this wasteland that seemed somehow untouched by human exploration, in this little corner of Norfolk where there was absolutely zero phone reception, then they were all screwed.
There was also the small matter of the fact that she was about to pee herself.
“Are we nearly there?” she asked, leaning between the two front seats. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, her pasty complexion made even worse by a sheen of sweat, her lifeless hair plastered to her cheeks.
“I think so,” said Aggie, craning over the wheel to peer through the dusty windscreen.
Charlie had no idea how Aggie looked so fresh, her skin sandpaper dry, every wisp of hair in place. Aggie was four months younger than her, not even eighteen until tomorrow, but she carried herself like a proper grownup. Charlie didn’t know her that well, because they didn’t have too many classes together, but it had always been obvious how put together she was. Charlie felt like her awkward, clumsy child, moaning in the back seat.
“It’s around here somewhere,” said Aggie. Her voice was blunt, a hint of annoyance. Charlie wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with her, but she’d been grumpy since they’d picked her up that morning. “Matthew?”
Matt Kamau was busy drumming his hands on his thighs in the passenger seat, singing the words to Cruel Summer beneath his breath. The morning light caught in the curls of his hair, made his dark skin glow, and Charlie felt the temperature in the car rise by about four hundred degrees.
“Matt?” said Aggie, and when he still didn’t respond she poked him in the side of his head.
“Huh?” he said, spinning in his chair. “We there?”
“That’s what I want you to tell me,” said Aggie, slowing the Micra to twenty as she took another sharp turn in the narrow road. “Since you’re the navigator.”
“Oh, right,” said Matt, pulling his phone from the compartment in the door. He squinted at it for a few seconds before shrugging. “No signal.”
“That’s very useful,” said Aggie.
“You’re the one who insists on using What3Words every time we go anywhere,” said Matt. “It only works if you’ve got a signal.”
“You didn’t bring a map?”
“Map,” he said, frowning. “Map… I know the word, can’t think what it means. Because I’m not, like, a hundred years old.”
He flashed a grin at Charlie, and she offered a reluctant smile back. Her bladder was like an overfilled balloon, and she sat back in her seat to take some of the pressure off. They’d entered a tunnel of trees that seemed to have gathered night beneath their heavy branches.
“I don’t know why you bother coming sometimes,” said Aggie, speeding up a little. “I don’t know why either of you did.”
“Because everyone knows I’m the brains of the outfit,” said Matt, doing his best to keep the tone light. “And the beauty. The beauty and the brains of the Paranormal Norfolk YouTube channel.”
“You think?” said Aggie. “What does that make me, then?”
“You’re the one with the car,” said Matt, and he screamed like Fay Wray as Aggie slapped him with the back of her hand. The car wobbled for a few seconds before she got control again. “I’m joking,” Matt told her. “Calm down.”
“Did you seriously just tell this woman to calm down?” said Aggie, flashing him a look with barely concealed rage.
Matt retreated as far into his seat as it was possible to go.
“Those words left my mouth, but I did not give them permission,” he said. “Naughty words.”
The road curved ahead, shafts of sunlight forming ghostly pillars where they broke through the trees—so bright that Charlie almost didn’t see the sign. It stood on the verge, a wooden post topped by an arrow.
“Is that it?” she asked.
Aggie and Matt were still bickering, and she had to say it again before they heard her. By the time Aggie had applied the brakes, the Micra had zipped past the sign.
“Hang on,” said Aggie. “Charlie, hit the floor, will you?”
She peered into the mirror, and Charlie ducked down to get out of her way. The Micra whined backwards, the steel drum engine playing louder than ever. When Charlie sat up again, she saw that they were close enough to the sign to read what it said.
“St Mary’s ruins,” said Aggie. “We’re here.”
She hesitated for a moment, her hands flexing around the wheel as she stared into the dark trees. Then she turned off the main road, squeezing between overgrown verges. Another sign jutted out at an angle, pointing into the woods.
There was no car park, but a lay-by rested beside the road and Aggie manoeuvred the Micra into it. She switched off the engine and silence roared into the car like seawater, loud enough to drown in. It filled Charlie with a panic she didn’t understand, and she reached for the handle before remembering the car only had two doors. She had to bite her lip to stem the rush of panic, and the pressure in her bladder grew more painful still.
Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, she thought, one hand on the lever that would move Aggie’s chair forward. She was so desperate now she’d happily fold the other girl in two if it meant escaping.
Aggie pushed her hands against the ceiling, groaning dramatically as she stretched. Then, thank God, she cranked open her door and stepped out into the dappled daylight.
“Grab the stuff,” she said.
Charlie fiddled with the lever but the seat wouldn’t budge.
“Little help?” she asked, but Aggie had walked to the boot.
“You have to jiggle it,” said Matt.
“I am jiggling it,” said Charlie, jiggling with all her might.
“No, like jiggle jiggle.”
“I’m jiggling!”
If she jiggled any harder then she was going to leave a puddle in the back of the car.
“Here,” said Matt, leaning over the gearstick and reaching for the clasp. His hand touched hers, what felt like an electric shock passing through their fingers, and for a moment Charlie almost lost all control. “Just a sec,” he said, oblivious. “It’s almost…”
He pulled the lever and Charlie’s weight snapped the chair forward, almost taking his hand off. She shouted an apology as she clambered out of the car, her feet catching on something and depositing her on her hands. She crawled onto the hot road like a dog, standing up to see Aggie staring at her. The look on her face was not kind.
“Toilet?” was all Charlie could manage.
Aggie opened her arms and directed them to the trees along the side of the road.
“Take your pick, mate.”
Charlie hopped up the verge, struggling through the tangled undergrowth. The trees weren’t particularly thick, and no matter where she went, she could still see the car and her friends. But neither of them seemed interested in watching her pee, so after half a dozen false starts she squatted beside a straggly bush and let rip.
It was, without doubt, one of the best moments of her life.
What felt like fifteen minutes and four gallons later, she stood up, pulling everything back into place. When she looked towards where she thought the road was, though, she couldn’t see any sign of it. She turned the other way, finding nothing but trees. They spoke to her, creaking like crones in the gentle wind. Deeper in the whispering shade, a woodpecker drummed, and her entire body seemed to crunch into goosebumps.
She spun around again, wondering how she’d managed to get so lost when she’d only walked a handful of yards from the road. Even the light seemed to have changed, as if the trees had placed her under a spell and she’d only just woken after a hundred years.
“Aggie?” she said, too quietly for anyone to hear her. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Matt?”
“You done?” came Aggie’s reply, and when Charlie turned in the direction of the voice she saw both of her friends stomping through the weeds a stone’s throw away. Past them was the Micra, the sunlight catching the roof and flashing like a lighthouse beacon.
How the hell had she missed it?
“Don’t forget the rules of the countryside,” said Matt, clutching a black camera bag to his broad chest. He broke into song. “Pick off a leaf and wipe your underneath, in an English country garden.”
“Matt, leave it!” said Aggie, who had a bag of her own.
“Dig a little hole and do it on a mole, in an English country garden,” Matt went on, even louder. Despite herself, Charlie laughed—more to do with the relief of seeing them than the quality of the joke. “What was the next one? Something about ants?”
“Pull down your pants and widdle on the ants,” Charlie told him, and he grinned at her.
“I knew you’d fit right in,” he said. “Pull down your pants and—”
Aggie used her free hand to smack him into silence.
“I said leave it! We’ve got a job to do.”
She scanned the trees again, pulling out her phone to check the time.
“What’s the problem?” said Matt. “You’re never normally this stressed.”
“Because we don’t normally have a sponsor to impress,” she said. “This is big for us, this episode could change everything.”
Matt shrugged.
“Just supposed to be a bit of fun, Ag.”
“For you, maybe,” said Aggie, shooting him a look before turning her sour face to Charlie. “Since you’re here, you might as well grab this.”
She held out the bag and Charlie took it, holding it with both sweaty hands. She moved to let Aggie pass, almost tumbling onto her backside in the tangled roots. Matt steadied her with a hand and she nodded her thanks.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, just got the feeling I’m not wanted.”
“You are,” said Matt, staring at Aggie’s back. “She’s just foul in the mornings, and she’s stressed about turning eighteen tomorrow. Nobody wants to be an adult these days.”
He gave her a brotherly pat on the shoulder and walked away. Charlie heaved out a sigh before following them both along a poor excuse for a path. The trees closed in, crowding them in twilight even though it wasn’t even midday yet. Nearby, the woodpecker hammered, as if announcing their presence to the spirits of the woods, to the ghosts who dwelled here, to the mighty Green Man.
Goosebumps broke out on Charlie’s arms, a shiver that felt like a breath running down the nape of her neck. She knew she shouldn’t look back, but she did anyway, and once again the car had been erased from the world, swallowed whole by the greenery.
There was nothing here but age, she thought as she struggled on, the branches catching on the bag like the trees were trying to grab hold of it. It even smelled wrong. Not unpleasant, just alien, a scent she’d never encountered before, one she couldn’t even begin to describe. It was the stench of a place that would literally eat her if she strayed too far down its throat. If she fell here, she would sink into the mulch where the bugs and the worms would break her into pieces. Then she’d be gulped up by the trees, digested there for the rest of time.
