hauntings
All posts tagged hauntings
Marie was at her desk earlier than usual next day. To take the afternoon off, she would have to get her work completed. The fact it was so early meant there was no phones to delay her sorting of the post. Rachael breezed in just after nine and was soon followed by Liam. Marie saw by his bleary eyes and hangdog expression; this was not to be one of his better days. She had arranged the post on his desk in neat piles and she heard him shuffling through it.
The next few hours passed in a flurry of phone calls and appointments. The usual sad panorama of his clients filed past her desk and disappeared into his office. They reappeared, either looking smug or dejected. None of them paid her any heed, other than giving their name. It was almost noon when a lull came. Cora would be waiting for her at 1 o clock as arranged, and she could not let her down. But just as she was about to rise, Liam came storming from his office.
“I’m going out.”
“I need the afternoon off,” Marie managed to get in.
He stopped and looked at her.
“I have a dental appointment.”
“Since when?”
“This morning. I’ve been up with toothache all night.”
“I’m surprised you have any teeth left at your age,” he smirked at Rachael, but she looked away.
“My appointment is for one thirty and it may take a couple of hours.”
“You’ll go when I come back, understand?”
“I’ll go at one.”
“Do that and you can stay away.”
They stood face to face, prize fighters squaring up.
“If that’s what you want, I quite understand.”
He looked across at Rachael who was gaping open mouthed at them. Though he hated to admit it, he needed the old witch.
“Very well,” he gritted his teeth. “Go at one, but don’t make a habit of it. And you,” he turned to Rachael. “Don’t screw anything up.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
He glared at her and slammed the door behind him so hard, they thought the glass would break.
Cora spent much of the morning sitting by the window watching the driveway. The night was uneventful with no unwelcome footsteps or strange sounds. Laura seemed more subdued at breakfast, or was she imagining that? Her mind was in so much turmoil she did not know what to think.
Annie sat opposite her, but Cora was unaware of her presence. The only sounds came from the grandfather clock in the hallway, as it ticked away the minutes. All around them the house sighed and settled. As the morning wore on, Cora became more anguished. She would not rest until she found out the house’s secret.
It was well after noon when she saw his car appear. She ran to the kitchen and stood with her back to the knife block, waiting. He did not come straight in or even call her name. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and it was a few moments before he came looking for her.
“Ah, there you are.”
Cora gripped the edge of the worktop.
“I want you to change my bed linen.”
“Your bed linen?”
“Yes, wash and dry the same linen that’s on it.”
She stood looking at him for a moment before answering.
“I have other linen.”
“For fuck sake will you do as I ask? Strip off the old linen, wash it and replace it. It’s hardly rocket science.”
“All right,” Cora dodged by him, and Annie followed.
Cora pulled the quilt from its cover and gathered up the sheets and pillowcases. Neither of them realised Liam had crept up behind them. Cora was struggling along the gallery towards the stairs; the linen bundled up in her arms when she heard the noise. She stopped and listened. It sounded like breaking glass, then…
“Cora, help. For God’s sake help me, I’m hurt.”
She dropped the linen and ran towards the stairs. Annie realised too late, what was about to happen. In the seconds it took for her to register the cord pulled taunt across the stairs, Cora’s ankle met it and she fell. Her back, her side, her stomach bounced hard off each step, until she landed on the marble floor. Annie looked down in disbelief at the battered figure. She smelt the blood that was yet to show seeping from between Cora’s legs. Annie heard him speaking but couldn’t see to whom he spoke. She was clutching the banisters so hard her fingerprints scorched and blackened the wood. Once again, she had failed; another child died. The rage within her roared, and she felt herself change as she charged down the stairs.
Liam was looking down at his wife’s still form as Annie came towards him, her blackened hands reaching for his throat. A scream from the doorway stopped her, and she turned to find Laura and Shelly standing there. Shelly ran to her mother sobbing and calling to her, but Laura stood with her hand clasped over her mouth. She saw what the others could not, the burnt skeleton with its tendrils of hair sticking to its bones. The gaping mouth and hollow, cobwebby eyes though sightless, could still see her.
“What did you do?” She whispered.
“I did nothing,” her father answered. “Your mother had a fall. An ambulance is on its way. Take Shelly and wait in there.”
He ushered them towards the sitting room. As soon as they were inside, he ran to the top of the stairs. Taking the claw hammer from its hiding place, he pulled the nail from the skirting board and tucked it and the wire into his pocket. The scattered bed linen was thrown to the bottom of the stairs.
“Such a silly thing to happen,” he muttered.
From close by he heard the wail of sirens and ran back down to play his role of concerned husband.
They were loading Cora into the ambulance when Marie drove up. Liam rung and asked her to call, saying there had been an accident.
“What happened?”
Liam ran his hand through his hair.
“She was coming down the stairs with some sheets. She must have snagged her foot on them. I warned her not to do heavy work in her condition.”
Had she not known of his treatment of his wife and his desire to be rid of the child, she might have believed him. Instead, she looked towards the window and the two tear stained faces framed there.
“I’ll have to follow the ambulance,” Liam said. “Will you take care of the children for me?”
“I have an appointment, but I’ll take them with me. I’ll keep them overnight if need be.”
“Good, yes, do that.”
“We have to hurry,” the paramedic called.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Liam ran to his car.
Marie shivered as the paramedic climbed inside and sat beside the white, still form of Cora.
The house smelt sickly sweet when she entered the hall, like flowers that had lost their bloom. The children were squashed together in one small chair, their fingers entwined.
“Will my Mam be all right,” Laura asked.
“I hope so, dear,” Marie held out her arms and Shelly slipped from her seat and ran to her. Laura remained seated, though her lower lip trembled. They both knew who Marie was, having met her on their rare trips to their father’s office. Laura liked her on sight. She smelled sweet like a baby, and she talked in a funny way.
“Your Dad wants you to stay with me overnight, so we’ll need some things from your rooms.”
“No,” Laura jumped up. “Don’t go upstairs.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” Marie promised. “Just while I get your pyjamas.”
“I’ll show you,” Shelly offered.
“No,” Laura screamed, throwing her arms around her sister.
“Very well; I’ll go up alone. Just tell me where your room is.”
“We can sleep in our undies.”
“I can’t sleep without teddy,” Shelly whimpered, and before Laura could offer any more resistance, Marie walked from the room.
That child is really frightened she thought, but when she saw the pool of blood at the end of the stairs she could understand why.
Annie was sat huddled in a corner of the children’s room; her features normal again, now the hatred had subsided. She watched as the old lady rummaged around, pulling open drawers, and taking clothes from them. Annie sensed the woman’s goodness, and she cried out. Marie froze, as the shuddering, sobbing, pain-filled cry echoed around her. She turned and looked around the room. Her first instinct was to run, but when it came again, its pain touched her.
“I’m lost and I’m frightened,” it cried.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Marie heard the words clearly. Picking up the teddy bear, she ran from the room and bundled the children into her car.
“I have to visit with someone,” Marie explained. “And I need you to come with me. “It’s a nice old lady I promised to call on. It’s not far away.”
“I’d rather go to the hospital,” Laura said.
“This is important. It’s something I’m doing for your mother.”
“Oh, OK.” Laura sat back and watched the bushes on the roadside flash by.
“Why were you home from school so early?” Marie asked.
“The heating broke down and everyone was complaining about the cold, so we were sent home.”
“Disgraceful,” Marie snorted. “And they didn’t have the decency to let your mother know.”
“It’s only down the road,” Laura sighed. “We often walk home.”
“Still in this day and age.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Marie had no idea if this was a smart answer, but it sounded decidedly so.
Hillcrest Rest Home was not on a hill, neither did it have any hills around it. It stood, quietly decaying behind rusted gates, that creaked and groaned as they drove past. Even the few trees surrounding it appeared jaded. They hunched and stooped; their branches stripped clean by the late autumn wind. Ivy trailed down the walls and dark roots sprung from the earth and grasped at the building, as though the land wanted to reclaim it; to suck it down so it was no longer an eyesore. The Home itself had seen better centuries. The paint was picked clean from the windows, and the door was so damp, the rotten wood showed through. All the front windows were misted over. There was no answer to Marie’s hesitant knock and the door swung open when Laura pushed against it.
“Phew,” the children cried in unison.
Marie had to agree. It smelt of mould, boiled cabbage, and something much more overpowering.
“It smells of pee,” Laura concluded.
“Is that any way for a young lady to speak,” Marie hushed her, but she had to agree it did smell of urine. It emanated from the faded carpet.
“Hello, is there anyone there?” Marie was bristling now. There was not even a reception desk.
“Paging nurse pissy pants.”
“Will you behave?”
But it was no use Laura and Shelly were too caught up in the joke.
“Hello,” they moved towards a door at the bottom of the stairs. The latch no longer worked, and it swung noiselessly open. They stepped into what was once a sitting room. Although it was early afternoon the light was already starting to fade, and only the embers of a fire lit the room. Chairs were arranged to form a circle and a hunched figure sat on each one.
“I’m frightened,” Shelly whispered.
Marie had to admit the scene before them was surreal. No one moved or spoke. She felt along the wall for a light switch. Even the wallpaper felt damp on her fingers, and relief surged through her, when she felt the cold switch and flicked it down. The light in the centre of the ceiling came on, but the bulb was much too low for such a large area and threw the room into shadow. Still no one moved. It was if they were unaware of the change. Marie looked around at the men and women sitting there and her heart ached, because she saw the despair etched in each face. These were the unwanted people, the ones considered no longer useful to society or their family. They had been sent to this place, this elephant’s graveyard to await their death. She saw the neglect they suffered. Dried food clung to the clothes of the feeblest and stained their faces. Hastily spooned by impatient hands into mouths unable for the load, it was allowed to spill over and lie wherever it landed. Her eyes travelled downwards, and she touched the papery dry skin on the hand nearest to her. It felt dry and cold, but her touch sparked something in its owner, and the old woman looked up and smiled. Then, noticing the two girls hiding behind Marie, she whispered, “children.”
Instantly the others came to life. Those who could heaved themselves up from their chairs and came towards them. Others held out their arms in longing for the softness of a child once more. Marie wanted to ask them where their children were, or what they had done to warrant such a sentence in this awful place. Instead, she urged the girls to speak to the old people, whispering they were lonely and needed someone to talk to. Soon Laura and Shelly overcame their reserve and were telling everyone about their school and their friends, and were no longer afraid of the fingers touching their hair or holding them close.
Marie bent down to the old woman, who was still holding on to her hand as though it was a lifeline and asked. “Do you know which of these women is Miss James?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know anybody’s name, my dear.”
“Are you new here?”
“I’ve lost count of the years I’ve been here. I think it’s about ten or more.”
Marie shook her head in disbelief. Ten years and she did not know anyone’s name. This place was surely the nearest thing to Hell.
None of them heard the footsteps on the corridor outside. The door was thrown open and an angry voice asked. “Who turned on the light?”
“I did,” Marie turned to find a grim-faced nurse framed in the doorway.
“Oh, yes, I see,” she became flustered and ran her hands down her stained uniform, trying to brush the filth away. “I don’t like any of the guests to move in case they fall. I’m never far away and they only have to call.”
“I’ve been here for over…” Marie looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes and I’ve tried to attract someone’s attention a number of times.”
“Well, I was probably down in the kitchen preparing supper,” she was growing angry now. No one ever answered her back.
“Are there no other members of staff?”
“I really don’t see why it concerns you, or what business you have here.”
“I am here to see an old friend of my family’s, a Miss James, Emily James.”
“Well, you won’t find her in here.”
“That,” Marie said. “Is blatantly obvious. Where is she?”
For a moment she was afraid Miss James was dead until the nurse, deciding she was obviously trouble and it was best to let her have her way, gestured towards the ceiling.
“She’s upstairs. She has become very weak over the past few weeks, so she spends most of her time in bed. If you follow me, I will take you to her room, but I have to say I’m not one bit happy about this intrusion. I do not even know you and have only your word as to who you are. After all, you could be anyone.”
“Yes, your right. I could be anyone; even the health inspector.”
“Are you threatening me? I run this place in accordance with nursing home regulations.”
“Then believe me those so-called regulations need to be revised. But, since I have business elsewhere and have neither the time nor the inclination to bandy words with you, I would appreciate seeing Miss James.”
“Follow me,” she turned, then stopped and glared at the girls. “And another thing. I don’t like children running all over the place.”
“We’re not running,” Laura stood with hands on hips. “We’re just standing here, talking.”
“See that you stay that way. I don’t want you tripping up one of the guests.”
Laura threw her eyes to heaven and answered with the customary, “Whatever.”
Marie put her finger to her lips and Laura shrugged, resigned to having to do as she was told.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Marie said. “Stay here.”
As she followed the nurse outside and closed the door as well as the faulty catch allowed, she became aware of the buzz of conversation inside. In dawned on her, as she climbed the stairs, her feet making squelching noises on the dirty, sticky carpet, there was total silence once the nurse appeared. The old people were afraid of her. Well, she would see about that later. She had made many useful contacts in her years as a legal secretary and the health board would hear about this place.
The upstairs was colder than below, and the low lighting did nothing to dispel the gloom of the long, door lined corridor.
“In here,” the nurse threw open a door and stood aside to allow Marie to pass. “There’s a lamp beside the bed,” was her parting shot, as she slammed the door and the room was plunged into darkness.
For a moment, the only sound was the beating of her heart, then a small voice asked.
“Is someone there?”
“It’s all right, Miss. James,” she started to edge her way across the room. “I’m a friend. I’ve come to visit you.”
The outline of a bed appeared, and she felt her way along it.
“But I haven’t any friends,” the voice had an edge of fear.
“It’s all right. I promise. I have come from your old home. Can you turn on the light for me?”
“I can’t reach that far.”
Marie knew if she did not locate the lamp soon the old woman would start to cry. Her hand knocked against a glass and a couple of things fell from the overcrowded bedside cabinet. Like the rest of the lights in the Home the wattage in the bulb was extremely low, but it was enough for her to see the old woman who lay propped up on a nest of stained pillows. Tiny care worn hands clutched the faded bedclothes and her eyes, like all the other prisoners in this place, had the same hopeless look.
“It’s all right,” Marie whispered. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“I’ll help if I can, my dear.”
To her horror Marie realised the woman’s breath made small white clouds as she spoke. The adrenaline rush from the fright of being left in the darkness made her oblivious to the cold, but now she shivered in the damp air.
“It gets very cold here in the evenings,” the old woman noticed her discomfort.
“I expect it’s cold here most of the time?”
Marie looked around the room at the faded carpet, the peeling wallpaper, and the patches of damp on the ceiling.
“Of course, you’re right. This really is the most dreadful place.”
Realising she hadn’t introduced herself; Marie told the woman her name and was rewarded with an outstretched hand so small and delicate that she was afraid it would break at her touch. But the grasp as she folded her fingers over it, was surprisingly strong and the smile the old woman gave her as she insisted, she call her Emily, took the anguish from her face making her appear younger. Marie explained the reason she was there.
“Do you have any idea what’s happening? I thought you might know something of the house’s history. Can you remember anything?”
Emily’s eyes seemed to glaze over, and Marie was worried she’d upset her; so reaching out she patted the old woman’s hand.
“So, she is back, is she? Poor child.”
The fine hairs on Marie’s neck prickled.
“Who, who’s back?”
As though she had not heard, Emily asked. “Is it that cur, O Brien that’s living there?”
“Yes, the family name is O Brien. Liam was your solicitor.”
“Yes, I remember him well enough. He cheated me you know. But he will get his comeuppance now, by God he will.”
“Who is she? She asked again. “Why is she here; can you remember?”
Emily answered in a tired, sad voice.
“Many things blur over a lifetime and get forgotten. But there are some tales belong to you. They stand out in your mind and are so powerful they chill the blood and wake you screaming in the darkness.”
With this she started her story. Told Marie the history of the house. How it started out as a humble cottage and was added on to as the family fortunes improved. Marie listened enthralled as Emily told her of Annie’s fate and the curse, she had placed on the O Brien’s.
“We have all heard the legend of the Banshee. There’s not one true Irish man who hasn’t.”
Marie nodded and waited for her to continue.
“Well that’s what O Brien has, his own private Banshee who’s wandered throughout the centuries trying to find peace. The O Brien’s were rogues back then and they are still the same today. I take it he’s without heir?”
“There are two children, girls. They’re downstairs now,” she explained about Cora’s accident and how the children came to be in her care.
“That’s what’s causing her to rise. A son would’ve saved him.”
“My God,” Marie was horrified. “Then she’ll kill him?”
“It’s the only way she’ll ever rest, but in doing so she’ll destroy any hope of salvation. If she takes his life, then she loses her soul. But she’s wise, and I pray that during her long years she’s learned to forgive and will let him live out his allotted time.”
“Was she an ancestor?”
“I’m descended from Rose, her sister.”
“What am I to do?”
“There’s nothing you can do. To warn him would be a waste of time. She is not tied to the house. She can rise in the air and be carried on the breeze. So, you see it is useless, she’ll seek him out.”
A noise at the door made them turn. Laura, who had grown tired of waiting crept up in search of Marie.
“Laura, come here.”
“Were you talking about Annie,” Laura asked.
“Have you seen her, child?” Emily sat up straight in the bed.
“Yes, I’ve seen her when she’s pretty, and I’ve seen her when she’s ugly.”
“She changes? Marie asked.
“Yes, when she gets angry, she looks like a monster. She was like that when Mam fell down the stairs. I saw her and she saw me.”
“Then nothing’s changed,” Emily sighed. “The hatred she felt is still there.”
The clattering of a trolley on the corridor outside announced the arrival of Emily’s supper. A blowsy, hard-faced woman came through the door with a tray. This she dumped on Emily’s lap and without a word to her or her visitors walked away. All three of them stared in disgust at the food on the plate. A cremated sausage, two pale, fat slices of bacon and a half-buttered slice of brown bread, to be washed down with milky tea from a chipped mug.
“Are you very ill?” Laura asked.
“I’m not ill at all, just heartbroken. I took care of the big house you are living in on my own up to a few months ago. You’ve seen the others downstairs?”
“Yes, they’re a bit creepy,” Laura pretended to shiver.
“The walking dead I call them. I pretend I am ill, so I don’t have to sit there and stare into space. I’ve no time for the old.”
“But you are old. You must be a hundred.”
“Laura, please,” Marie scolded.
“Out of the mouths of babes, eh,” Emily laughed.
“I’m sorry,” Laura said. “My teacher says I have the most annoying habit of saying exactly what I think. It gets me in terrible trouble.”
“I should think it does,” Emily smiled. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Laura hugged her. She liked this small, old woman with the white hair and crinkly smile.
Oh, you’re still here,” they hadn’t heard the nurse come in.
She looked down at the tray of uneaten food.
“Not hungry Miss. James?” Without waiting for an answer, she scooped up the tray and started to walk away. “Please don’t be much longer,” she said to Marie. “I don’t want you tiring Miss James.”
“What she means is she doesn’t want you poking your nose in here,” Emily whispered. “And supper will be kept for my breakfast.”
“Oh, gross,” Laura pulled a face. “I’d die if I lived here.”
“That is what will happen, I afraid. I’ll fade away and die.”
“No, I won’t allow it,” Marie walked to the wardrobe and started to rifle through it. “Can you walk?”
“Yes, dear, but…”
“Get dressed,” Marie tossed some clothes on the bed,” I’ll pack your things.”
The agility at which Emily sprang from the bed was amazing.
“You’ll come home with me,” Marie told her, as she folded and stacked the woman’s few personal belongings into a suitcase she found on top of the wardrobe. “We’ll figure something out. Come along Laura. Let us leave Miss. James to dress in peace.”
“I’ll go and get Shelly,” Laura ran ahead, and Marie followed carrying the suitcase.
“What have you got in that suitcase?” The nurse stood at the end of the stairs.
“Miss. James’s clothes. She’s coming home with me.”
“Over my dead body.”
“If need be.”
“She was placed in my care because she was unable to look after herself.”
“I’ll be looking after her from now on. Move aside,” Marie nudged her with the suitcase, but she stood firm.
“I mean it. She is not leaving here. I’ll call the police.”
“Marie, dear, “Emily was standing at the top of the stairs. “Perhaps it’s best to leave me here.”
“You’re not staying in this awful place. Do not worry. I have seen the papers that committed you. They won’t stand up in court,” turning back to the nurse she ordered. “Get out of my way.”
“You’re not taking her.”
Marie handed the suitcase to Laura. Though she had never in her life been involved in any physical confrontations, she was ready to do battle with the woman. She walked down the last two steps and stood facing her, so close their noses almost touched.
“Kick her ass,” Laura cheered.
“Not only will I do as the child asked,” Marie warned her adversary. “But when I’m finished, I’ll drag you through every court in the land.”
Shelly, who was drawn out by the argument added. “My Dad’s a solicitor. He’ll put you in jail.”
This weakened the nurse’s resolve.
“Very well,” she stepped away. “But you’ll sign for her. I’ll not be responsible once she steps foot outside.”
“Help Miss James to the car,” Marie told the girls. “I’ll be right out.”
The nurse’s office consisted of a desk and a filing cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. The stench was worse here, a dirty butcher shop smell.
“Sign this and she’s yours,” this was said as though Emily was a piece of lost luggage
Marie filled in the appropriate details and walked away. Out in the hallway an old woman leaning on a Zimmer frame came hobbling towards her.
“Are you taking her home?”
“Yes,” Marie answered. “I’m taking her home.”
“I’m glad,” the woman’s eyes filled with tears. “No one should have to die in a place like this.”
Marie leaned down, stroked her cheek, and watched her eyes light up as she said.
“I’m coming back. I promise you that much. Things are going to change.”
It was pitch black when she stepped outside. The wind whipped up and leaves whirled around her as she ran to the car. It looked as though it was going to be a bad night. She turned the key and the engine sprang to life. Switching the car heater to its highest setting, she leaned across and patted Emily’s hands. “You’ll soon be warm.”
“Thank you, my dear. I was feeling a little cold.”
“And we’re starving to death,” Laura’s voice came from behind.
“My apartment’s nearby. We’ll soon be there, and I’ll fix dinner. A proper dinner,” Marie winked at Emily.
The car headlights cut the dark as Marie guided it over the rumbling cattle grid and out through the gates of Hillcrest. The first splatters of rain hit the windscreen as she turned onto the main road and headed for home.
Cora shivered, despite the warmth of the small electric fire in Marie’s flat. She heard the clatter of cups being set out, and wanted to scream, and ask Marie to hurry up, but it would have been impolite. The woman seemed to come from another time and was quite prissy. She was forced to leave the children with an old friend. Promising to be just an hour, after garbling off some weak story about a sick relative, she looked at her watch and then towards the kitchen.
“Well, here we are.”
Marie appeared with a tray baring cups, saucers and matching milk and sugar bowl. She took her time spreading out coasters and napkins, until Cora felt she would scream. The warm stream of amber from the pot’s sprout made her stomach somersault. This pregnancy made her turn against things she had once enjoyed, tea being one of them, but she took the proffered cup and sipped.
“Do you take milk or sugar?”
“No, thank you. This is fine,” she was afraid, if she reached for either the woman would notice her trembling hand.
No one could fail to notice the dark ringed eyes or the pallor of her skin.
Are you looking after yourself?” Marie asked, and was sorry for asking, as she watched Cora’s eyes fill up.
“I’ll get the papers you wanted.”
Cora heard the opening of a drawer but did not look up. Instead, she hung her head, mortified at her loss of control. An envelope was placed in her lap and a soft hand covered hers and held tight.
“I want you to know you’re no longer alone.”
With this, Cora started to sob. Tears ran unchecked, and she tasted their saltiness on her lips.
“There, there, child,” Marie stroked her hair. “Tell me all about it, and let’s see if I can help.”
Between sobs Cora managed to tell her about the ghost, about the things happening all around her and how Liam wanted her to get rid of the baby. She told her about the workman, and his story of how Ms. James was sent away.
“My parents are old, and their health is failing,” she explained. “Anyway, they’d only say I’d made my bed and must lie in it. They never liked Liam; you see.”
“And with good reason,” Marie sighed. “I’m looking for a new job. I’ve taken all I can from that man.”
“You’re lucky. My marriage has become a life sentence for me, and I cannot bear to think of what it is doing to the girls. If I do not find a way out soon, I will go mad. He’s already accusing me of that, being mad, I mean.”
“Come now,” Marie took the envelope from her. “Let us try and track down this Ms. James. The sooner we speak to her, the sooner we know what we’re dealing with.”
“We?” Cora looked up.
“As I said, my dear, you’re no longer alone.”
Marie spread the documents along the coffee table and sorted them into order. There were several medical forms, signed by prominent doctors on the health of Miss. Emily James. All attested, that while she was physically sound, psychologically she was unable to care for herself. From the date on the forms, they saw Ms. James was just over seventy and was committed to Hillcrest Rest Home, a facility just minutes away from Marie’s flat. Cora saw, to her horror, it was Liam’s signature on the committal form.
“I hope she’s still alive,” Cora said. “It’s over,” she counted on her fingers, “Six months since she went in there.”
“I’ll make an excuse. Say I have a dental appointment and we’ll go there tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you, Marie. I feel much better knowing you’ll be with me, but I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. In a way, I feel I owe it to Ms James. I kept quiet once and an innocent man suffered. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
The headlights of Cora’s car swept up the drive but did little to dispel the darkness. The trees on either side reached across forming a dark tunnel. She put her foot down on the accelerator, wanting to be out of their shadow, and feeling as though she was driving into the mouth of Hell. In this case, she was right. Liam’s car was parked at the front door. The curtains in his study were not drawn, but the light was on. The red lampshade and the terracotta coloured walls made it seem like the room was bathed in blood.
She reached into the back seat and tried to rouse the sleeping children. At any other time, she would have lifted them inside, but not in her condition. They fussed and grumbled, but she finally managed to get them to wake.
The front door groaned open, despite Cora’s efforts to make as little noise as possible. Warning the children to be quiet, she swept them across the hall and up the stairs. They were on the first flight, just beneath the stained-glass window, when they looked up to find Liam standing on the top step; a hammer in his hand.
“Where were you at this hour?”
For a moment none of them spoke. Even Shelly, who would usually run to her father, sensed something was wrong.
“Well, I’m waiting.”
“I had a tummy ache,” Laura said. “And Mam took me to the doctor.”
“You seem well enough now.”
“It was nothing,” Cora ushered the girls past him. “Just trapped wind. I was afraid it might be appendicitis.”
“Wasting money again,” he grabbed her arm. “I want a word with you, when you’re finished putting them to bed.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“See that you are. I’ll be in my study.”
Laura and Shelly got undressed and into their nightgowns in silence. Though they each wondered why their Mam did not tell them to brush their teeth, neither asked why. Cora took her time, switching on lights and closing curtains, until she could no longer delay.
“Sleep well, my angel,” she tucked the covers under Shelly chin.
“Night, Mam,” the child snuggled down and was instantly asleep.
“Now, you, madam,” she smiled down at Laura and tried to ignore her dark, troubled eyes.
“You have to be brave, Mam, like the picture,” she pointed towards the gallery. “Pretend you’re her and Dad is the monster.”
“I’ll try,” Cora promised.
She picked up the discarded clothes and draped them across her arms. The gallery was lit in the blues and reds from the window, and she moved between the shadows, praying for strength. The clothes gave her a few minutes respite, as she walked to the kitchen and dumped them into the laundry basket. The door leading to the cottage was closed with stout beam, but just for a moment as she glanced behind her, she could have sworn a young woman stood framed in the doorway; a young woman like the one in the window.
Liam sat with his back to her, his feet resting on a stool. His shoes and socks were scattered about the room. The warm, sweet smell of the cognac he drank reached her before she saw the glass.
“Have you seen sense yet?”
“You mean about the baby?”
“You know bloody well what I mean.”
“Liam, please,” she pushed the study door closed. “You’ll wake the children.”
“Fuck the children and fuck you,” he threw the glass across the room.
The heavy crystal tumbler glanced across the side of her face and she gasped as it sliced open her skin. For a moment he watched the trickle of blood running from the wound. Though she felt the warmth move down her face, she never moved to wipe it away.
“I’ll tell you one last time,” Liam spoke through gritted teeth. “Get rid of that thing or by God, I’ll do it myself.”
“Touch me and I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, I’m really frightened,” he smiled, but there was no look of merriment.
The blood on her face and neck glowed against the whiteness of her skin. Her eyes were wild in anger.
“For God’s sake, clean yourself up,” he turned away, disgusted.
Cora walked to a table and pulled wades of tissue from a box. Her face stung, when she wiped at the cut and her collar and the front of her sweater felt wet. She smelt the sweet, coppery blood.
Annie stood outside the study door her hand clasped on the handle. The scent of the woman’s blood seemed to penetrate through the wood. This one, this man, was like all those who had gone before him, a destroyer of life. She felt the anger well within her and knew if she allowed it to overwhelm her, then she would return to the shrunken, burnt corpse she really was. All around her the spirits whispered, lulling her, begging her to be still, to wait. But she wanted to kill him, to slowly tear him apart. To feel his blood upon her hands and hear his last gasp. She wanted him to suffer the way she had.
“Outside, hidden by the trees, The Dark One smiled and willed her on. He did not dare enter the house. The woman with her symbols and images of his enemy, made him unwelcome.
“He must die,” he whispered. “Finish him and you will have your family back. Go on, Annie. It will be a mercy and you will save the child.”
Annie heard his words and the rage roared. She brushed aside the entreaties of the spirits. The Dark One was right. She would save the child and be restored to her family. It was her faith and if she should be damned then, at least her family would be saved. She drew back from the door and made ready to merge through the wood, when…
“I told her to be brave like you.”
The child’s voice sounded from behind her. Annie froze, not daring to move until her features returned to normal.
“It is you, isn’t it; in the window?”
Annie turned to find a little girl, the one called Laura, standing on the stairs. Silhouetted as she was by the moonlight and with her hair flowing across her shoulders, she looked like Dora.
“Go back to bed, child,” Annie whispered.
“I knew it was you,” Laura tip toed down the last few steps and came towards her.
The sound of her mother’s anguished sobbing echoed from inside the room, and Laura’s eyes darted from Annie to the door, unsure of what to do.
“This is no place for you,” Annie put her arm around the child’s shoulders and led her back up the stairs.
“Is my Mam going to be all right?”
“She will be fine. Come along now. It is late.”
“I knew it was you, in the window, I mean,” Laura said, as Annie tucked her into bed.
“Perhaps, a long time ago,” her heart ached at the familiar scent of the child.
It was the first real thing she smelt since she had awoken. Until now everything smelt of the earth. The raw, blood-sweet scent of soil seemed to surround her.
“Did the monster kill you?”
She was taken aback by the question, and had it come from her sisters she would have lied and pretended it was not so. But this child had the sight and she knew nothing good would come from lying to her.
“Yes, I tried hard to fight him, but in the end he won.”
“So why are you here? You can’t really be dead, if I can see you?”
“I am dead to the light. I come from a twilight place where I wander by day but am awake and I suppose, in a way, alive by night.”
“It’s all very strange.”
“Yes,” Annie smiled. “Very strange.”
Laura snuggled down under the covers.
“Will you stay with me until I’m asleep? I get frightened when my Mam and Dad argue.”
“Yes, I will watch over you and keep you safe. I promise.”
Annie sat there, in the darkness and listened to the even breathing of the child. The memory of her sisters and their loss became a physical pain within her, and she clutched at her heart. With her sensitive hearing she picked out every word of the conversation from below.
“I’m telling you for the last time,” Liam warned. “Get rid of the baby.”
Cora still held the tissue to her face. He turned his chair towards her and put his feet up on a footstool, his eyes fixed cruelly on his wife. Her eyes travelled down toward the soles of his feet. There against the white of his skin, a black cross was tattooed on each foot.
“My God,” she whispered.
“I think they look quite good. Had them done on a night out with the lads,” he got up to fix another drink.
He filled his glass and stood rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Do you know what I am doing?”
“What, I don’t understand.”
“Every time I move like this, with every step I take, I’m walking on the symbol of your Christ.”
Bile rushed into her throat, and she had to swallow hard. He retraced his steps and her stomach churned at each footfall. Finally, she could bear it no longer and she vomited splattering the carpets and his toes.
“For fuck sake,” he tried to sidestep away. “That’s it. I’m out of here,” he picked up his socks and shoes.
The muscles in Cora’s stomach ached and her throat burned. She wiped away any remaining residue from her mouth and brushed the damp hair from her forehead. Liam meanwhile was standing in the shower, hosing down his feet. She heard water gurgling through the pipes and traced his footsteps, as he raged around overhead. Soon he came thundering down the stairs and strode into the room, car keys in one hand, and an overnight bag in the other.
“I’m going now, but I’ll be back in the morning. If you have not come to your senses by then, I swear, I’ll beat it out of you.”
The door slammed and outside the wheels of the car crunched on the gravel. The sound faded and the silence came flooding back to envelop her. She was sobbing, as she fetched cloths and a basin of water to clean up the mess. He would try to beat the child out of her, but he would not find her an easy victim. She thought of the kitchen and its array of shiny, steel knives. Let him try to hurt her child. She would bury one of his precious knives in his chest; reef it through his black heart. The carpet was now free of vomit, but still she scrubbed on. Unaware of the threads scraping and cutting her knuckles or her tears mingling with the dirty water.
Liam guided the car along the driveway towards the main gate. His fingers griped the wheel so tight the knuckles showed white. He meant every word he said. He would be back in the morning and one way or another; he would get rid of that thing she was carrying.
Annie pushed aside the curtains in the children’s room and watched him leave. Her throat ached from tears and the sound of the woman’s sobs became a lament for the loss of the innocent. When he returned she would be waiting. No matter what hour, she would return from her twilight world and tear him to pieces.
Meg groaned and rubbed at her aching back. The two nights they spent within the forest were cold and her old bones ached from sleeping on the hard grass floor. The weather stayed fine, but the early morning frost froze them to the marrow. Their only shelter was a crude canopy of leaves and fallen branches that did little to protect them from the cold. The children, as in all times, adjusted well, though Rose was quieter than normal. Her mind was filled with worry about her sisters. Meg tried to assure her they would be all right, but the words were stilted. For she heard a death cry carried on the breeze, its sound clear as solemn church bells, tolling through the quiet of the night.
Meg picked the last of the autumn berries from the bushes. These would have to do for the children’s breakfast. The food she packed was soon eaten and they had to resort to what they could forage from the forest. The children slept on and she was loath to wake them, but the sun would soon be up, and the open road called to her. The sooner they found Pat, the sooner they could rescue Annie. She would not think about the cries she heard. There could be many explanations for the sound, but still…
The children woke shivering, and the handful of berries they received did little to lift their mood. Soon they were on their way. As always, they kept within the forest. By now they were clear of the village and the rumoured roadblocks proved to be just that. No one tried to stop them, and the road remained bare with no sign of passing traffic.
Meg felt weary. The last few days were the hardest she had ever known. But it was not just the tiredness of old age that bothered her, but the weariness in both heart and soul. She felt the evil all around her. The air felt cloying, and at times, it seemed as though she was walking through a thick fog. The Dark One was working his evil, trying to delay her.
The forest was dark, despite the many fallen leaves. The bare branches seemed like skeleton arms that might reach down at any moment and pluck her from the earth. Shadows darted among the trees and strange creatures seemed to keep pace with them as they walked. There were indistinct cries and growls from far away, and she blessed herself and mumbled a prayer for protection.
They walked until the sun was well up, and now the children were tired. The bank of a stream proved an ideal resting place, and Meg dipped her handkerchief in the water and rubbed the stains of the blackberries from the children’s faces. She eased her way down onto a rock and watched as they played. They would soon be complaining of hunger. The air was much fresher here and the birdsong relaxed her. Her mind filled with thoughts of Annie and Dora and she swallowed hard, fighting back tears.
Sudden squeals and shouts from the children roused her. Paul was swaggering towards her with the body of a rabbit held aloft. He, like many of his kind, was a skilled hunter. His snare worked within minutes, and he beamed with pride at the look of relief on Meg’s face.
He cleaned and skinned the rabbit, while Meg lit a fire. Soon the smell of roasting meat made their stomachs rumble, as Meg turned the makeshift spit. Each thought the meal of roasted rabbit and water from the stream was the best they had ever had.
It was a much livelier group that set off that morning. The feeling of oppression lifted, and even Meg’s back did not ache as much. Rose and Paul carried the magpie, that cawed in annoyance, when they swung the basket. The sun, though watery, warmed them and their clothes soon lost their dampness. The meal they had just eaten would keep them going for most of the day. Meg would not have to worry until nightfall.
“Meg help me” the sobbing seemed to come from all around her. She spun, trying to find the source. The forest lay in stillness, and she held her breath. Her heart pounded against her breast when she heard the menacing laughter and Annie’s screams. “Oh God help me, Meg. I am in agony.”
Meg stumbled to a tree trunk. The very breath was taken from her body. Annie was in terrible pain. Dear lord, Meg prayed, take me, leave the child be. There was no answer, just the sighing of the leaves.
“Meg,” Paul came crashing through the undergrowth. “Come quickly. There is a cart coming.”
The children were hiding behind the trees, watching as the cart and driver approached. The wheels thundered on the rough track, as the driver whipped his horses onwards. It was almost upon them when…
“Pat, it is Pat,” Rose ran from her hiding place and waved her arms at the approaching vehicle.
The horses whinnied and snorted, as he pulled tight on the reins. Clouds of dust rose into the air, driven there by the skidding hoofs. Pat’s look of surprise on seeing Rose was soon replaced by fear, as Meg came walking towards him. Without waiting for an explanation, he lifted the children onto the back of the cart and helped Meg to climb up beside him. He flicked at the reins, and they set off. Meg whispered to him, as they rode, not wanting the children to hear. His eyes opened wide in alarm at her news.
“I knew something was wrong,” he whispered, shaking his head, and spurring the horses onwards. “I will kill those O Brien’s. So, help me.”
“They are in the grip of The Dark One.”
“What do you mean?”
“The very Devil himself is among us,” Meg crossed herself. “He has taken the form of a man.”
Pat’s head was reeling. It had to be that Tanas fellow. He was the only stranger in the district.
“We will save them, Meg,” Pat’s strong hand closed over Meg’s own and she held on tight, drawing strength from his touch.
“I pray to God we can. That we are not too late.”
Annie was forced up from the straw. She cried aloud as a dress was pulled over her head and scraped over the scars on her back. Her toes dragged along the stone floor, as they half-carried her. Some of the cuts opened from the rough handling, and she left small drops of blood in her wake. The jailors jeered at her shorn head.
A wave of noise erupted, as she was taken from the mill. Her death was to be a great occasion. The sunlight stung her eyes, as she had become used to the dark, and the many figures before her seemed faceless. Some laughed and pointed. Children ran towards her, wanting to touch the witch. Annie kept her head bowed and allowed her eyes to adjust.
The first thing she saw was the wood. For a moment she thought she was at the steps of the gallows, but when she allowed her eyes to travel upwards, she saw this was not the case. A stout pole stood in the centre of a woodpile. The villagers were still adding to it. The procession stopped, and she looked around at the people who gathered. Many of them were old friends of her family, and she tried to make eye contact.
“Well, Mistress Ryan,” The Dark One walked towards her. “It is time to pay for your sins.”
“I am innocent,” Annie cried, and this drew mumblings from the crowd.
“You are the leader of the witches and you must pay,” he snarled, and leaning closer whispered. “Unless you have changed your mind?”
Annie shook her head.
“Take her up.”
Annie was forced towards a ladder on the side of the pile. She stumbled on the rungs and was carried up by one of the guards. They tied her to the stake and wound strong chains around her body. Her hands were tied behind her back, so she was forced to look at the crowd. A shout of “silence” rang out and an uneasy hush fell. Then, The Dark One spoke.
“A witch with power as strong as Mistress Ryan must be burned; the fire will nullify all her evil.”
“No,” Annie strained against her bonds. “I am not a witch. Help me.” She looked at Mary and Hugh who stood at the end of the woodpile. “Mary, for the love of God, tell them I am innocent.”
Mary shrugged and Hugh smiled and winked at her.
“Bastards,” she screamed. “It is you who should be in my place.”
“Enough witch,” The Dark One motioned to the guards.
There were four men in all, and each held a torch of blazing pitch. At his signal, they threw the torches into the piles of branches and shrubs between the timbers. The dry kindling caught fire instantly. Flames crackled and leapt to other branches.
“There is plenty of green wood beneath,” Annie heard Hugh’s voice above the noise.
She knew the green wood was damp and would take longer to burn. She would suffocate. Amid the haze of acrid smoke, The Dark One appeared. He seemed to be hovering above the ground. The crowd drew back, some crying, others screaming in fear.
“I will ask you once more. Denounce your God. Give me your power.”
“Never,” Annie managed to croak.
“Then I curse you,” his voice sounded like thunder. “You will die, but you will never know rest until the last male in his line is gone,” he pointed towards Hugh.
The flames were licking about her toes and she tried to draw up her feet as he continued.
“You will feel each flame. You’ will not die until the fire reaches your heart.”
“If that be the case,” she gasped, the smoke stung her throat. “My voice will be the last one the O Brien’s ever hear. I swear this by all that is holy.”
Most of the crowd ran away. But the O Brien’s and the guards all heard her words. Mary was carried away in a faint. Not only had Annie’s curse upset her, but also the sight of her intended husband levitating above the ground before disappearing was too much.
She was not there to hear Annie’s screams as the ends of her dress caught fire and the flames scored her skin. Neither did she witness how the flesh on her feet turned black, as the toes curled upwards.
“Help me Meg,” Annie cried. “I am in agony.”
Even the guards took flight at this, and she was left alone to burn in the still morning air. She screamed and writhed against the chains. The flesh on her legs melted exposing the bones and sinews. The flames continued upwards leaping towards her face.
“Oh, Jesus, Miss.”
Annie saw a shadowy figure running below her.
“I will get water,” the young guard shouted, and in seconds the flames hissed, as he threw water on them.
. The fire burned fiercely.
“Let me be,” she screamed. “I am destroyed.”
He continued to throw buckets full of water towards her. The flames died in places, and she was able to see him.
“Look, look at me.”
He stopped and looked up at her. His face was blackened from the smoke, and there were tracks where his tears flowed. He saw the flesh was burnt beyond repair. Blood and fat dripped from her fingers.
“The Dark One cursed me. I am to feel each pain.”
He shook his head before running away. Annie moaned and arched her back, as the flames reached her thighs.
“Close your eyes Miss,” she heard him call. “It is all I can do.”
His aim was true, and the spear pierced Annie’s heart. She gasped, and her eyes opened wide for a moment. Then she smiled at him, before her head fell forward.
Her feet never touched the floor, as she was carried along on a wave of hysteria. Within seconds she was standing before The Dark One. His eyes were serious now they were face to face. They no longer held the mocking gleam of triumph she had so recently witnessed. She stood in front the table; he was behind it with Roma as a human barrier. The room fell silent, save for the odd shuffling or fussing of a child. Annie reached over and pulled down Roma’s dress. The woman never noticed this act of kindness. Her eyes were glazed over in fear, and Annie could smell the strong, acidic stench of her sweat. She allowed her hand to slip along Roma’s body until their fingers met and she squeezed. The pressure from Annie’s hand made the woman moan.
“It’s all right.” Annie whispered. “It’ll be over soon.”
“Even now,” The Dark One’s voice broke the silence. “Even here before you good people they continue to plot.”
Annie looked up at him.
“Yes,” his mocking sneer had returned. “They continue to mouth their evil spells. Though I know nothing of the language of the Devil, the chant she used is clear enough.”
“This is madness,” Annie spun around to face the people. “You all know me. I’ve helped many of you through the sickness.”
There were mutterings from the crowd.
“And how many more have you helped to kill?” The Dark One asked. “Is there anyone who has not lost a loved one through your potions?”
There were shouts, voices raised high in anger.
“My potions were made of herbs and roots. There was nothing in them to cause harm,” Annie hoped her voice belied the terror she felt.
“Enough,” The Dark One roared. “We will hear none of your excuses and lies. All you are doing is prolonging the outcome of this trial.”
“I thought this was a hearing?” Annie’s heart started to thump against her breast. “If this is a trial who is to speak on these people’s behalf?”
“Perhaps you would care to address the court?” He waved his hand towards the seat on which the Squire sat.
Annie had forgotten about the Squire and the O Brien’s. She knew, even as she turned to face them, it would be hopeless to plead for mercy. Mary and Hugh looked at the proceedings stony faced, lips pulled into tight little lines. The Squire gazed down at her from his high seat and smiled. She had refused his advances and he would now keep true to his promise.
“Well,” The Dark one was speaking to her. “Have you nothing to say on their behalf. No fanciful explanation for their sorcery?”
“They are not sorcerers nor witches; just simple travelling folk and you wrong them greatly.”
“And do we wrong you?”
“You know you do. I am a healer; there is nothing sinister or magical about my power.”
“Then you admit you have power?”
“No,” Annie spun around to face the crowd. “I admit nothing of the sort. I have the power to heal not to harm. You all know me; have known my family for years. Jane,” she searched the crowd for her friend. “Jane, come and speak for me.”
“Where is this Jane you speak of? Bring her forward,” The Dark One commanded.
Jane O Regan was dragged from her hiding place among the crowd and pushed to the top of the room.
“Jane,” Annie begged. “Tell them I do no harm. I only do what I can to heal others.”
Jane’s eyes darted from Annie to her accuser.
“Well, speak up,” the Squire roared, making her jump.
“I am not sure what you ask of me, Sir.”
“It’s very simple, my dear,” His voice was sweet. “Is this woman a witch?”
“No, Sir. I do not think so.”
“You do not think so. What does that mean?”
“She never done me or mine anything, but good.”
“And your youngest child did she do her good?”
“She died of the fever, Sir.” Jane was close to tears.
“But you told me you were all sick when she arrived with her potions and spells; yet only hours later your little one was dead. How do you account for that?”
“She was small and weak, sir. Her strength gave out.”
“Do you not realise you stupid woman, that witches always take the youngest children and during their death throes breathe in their life force?”
No,” Jane was crying. “That is not true.”
“Yes, it is,” the honeyed voice again. “I have no wish to cause you any further distress, but what I say is the truth. Your child’s soul lives on in that creature you see before you. She has bound your child to her will, refusing to let her rest in order to help her in the Devil’s work.”
“No,” Jane looked at Annie, her eyes wild in terror. “It is not true, is it?”
“Of course, it is true,” The Dark One put his arms around Jane’s shoulders. “Think, were you there when your child died? Did you witness every drop of the potion she administered?”
“I was resting below stairs while Annie nursed her and asleep when she died,” Jane was shaking her head in disbelief.
“Of course, you were asleep and why, you must ask yourself this question. Would any mother sleep peacefully knowing her child was so gravely sick?”
Jane looked up at him, shaking her head.
“She gave you a sleeping draught. That is why you slept and were unable to hinder her in her dreadful act.”
“Then my child,” Jane sobbed, pointing at Annie. “My little one is in her?”
“No Jane, no.” Annie pleaded with her. “Don’t listen to him. It is he who spreads such lies. Do not listen to him.”
“See how she turns on me now?” He addressed the crowd. “More lies and slander. Anything to save herself and her servants.”
Roma’s soft crying was peculiarly piteous. Stefan regained consciousness and was struggling against his bonds, muscles standing out like wires on his bare arms.
The crowd was in an uproar. Screaming taunts and accusations at Annie. Men shaking their fists, and the women reaching out at her crying hysterically and calling for revenge.
Annie watched it all in disbelief. This was madness; everyone seemed to have lost their minds. The crowd surged forward calling out for blood, and she found herself ushered back behind the table. Looking up at her protector, she was surprised to find it was The Dark One.
“I will not let them harm you, not yet.”
She shivered, trying to pull away, but he held her fast. At his command, the men holding Stefan and Roma formed a barrier between them and the crowd. Annie, Roma, and Stefan were herded away towards the cellar steps and down into the cells. The women were pushed into one cell and Stefan into the other. They still heard the thundering of feet from above and the shouts of the crowd. Annie and Roma huddled together in fear, sure at any moment they would gain access to the cells and they would be torn to pieces. But slowly the noise abated, and they heard a soft mumbling. The footsteps overhead retreated towards the main door. They heard the clattering of feet on the steps outside, and through the small, slatted gaps serving as windows, they watched the skirts of the women and heavy-booted legs of the men pass by. A few fell flat on the ground and tried to see inside the cells, but Annie and Roma retreated into the shadows. There were curses and threats hurled at them through the bars, and they covered their ears. The one thing all three of them heard from each foul-mouthed voice, was the promise of seeing them next day.
“What do you think they mean?” Annie asked Roma when the last voice had died away. “Why will they see us tomorrow?”
“Oh, Annie, Annie,” Roma fell against her sobbing. “My children, what will become of my children?”
“Hush now. They are safe and well. I told Meg that if I was not back by nightfall to take the children and set off for the town. They will find Pat, he is a good man and he will help us.”
“But,” Roma wiped the backs of her hands across her face. “The town is days away from here and that’s by horse and caravan. It could take much longer walking. Meg is old and the children will tire easily.”
Stefan, calling to them from the next cell interrupted their conversation. Roma reached out through the bars and managed to touch the tips of his fingers.
“The children are safe,” she whispered. “Meg is taking them to the town to get help.”
“Thank God,” he moaned. “Let us hope they are not too late.”
“Are you very badly hurt, my love?”
Annie moved to the other side of the cell ashamed at having to hear their whispered words of love and endearment.
Her mind was in turmoil worrying about her sisters and Meg. She prayed for their safety and protection, and the strength to bear what was about to happen. Picturing in her mind Meg’s cottage and the route they would take to the town. She hoped they would keep well into the shadows of the trees until they were clear of the village. Then they could get a ride in one of the many carts heading for the town. She was so deep in thought she did not realise Roma was calling to her.
“Annie, come,” she beckoned her over and stood back in order that Annie might take her place and speak to Stefan.
“Stefan, are you, all right?”
“I am fine, Miss, but it is sorry I am for bringing such trouble on you and yours.”
“This is not your fault,” Annie assured him. “We are all part of some dreadful plan. In truth I think it is me he is after, and I will do whatever I can to help you both.”
“There will be no help for us, Miss, I fear.”
“You must not think such a thing,” her whisper grew more urgent. “There is always hope.”
The sound of approaching footsteps made Annie draw back. Taking Roma by the hand, she pulled her towards the back of the cell.
“Well, well, well,” The Dark One stood outside the bars with Mary on one side of him and Hugh flanking the other. “Your bravery seems to have deserted you,” he spoke to Annie.
She refused to answer him, and his eyes grew hard.
“Bring her to me,” he roared, before walking away.
A man appeared with a bunch of keys hanging from a belt around his waist.
“Come along you,” he dragged Annie outside, throwing her hard against the wall.
She stood there winded, as he locked the cell.
“Come on, I want no trouble from you, witch,” with this he caught her wrist in an agonising grip and pulled her along the dark corridor. She caught Stefan’s look of despair as she passed his cell, and she heard Roma sobbing, as she descended deeper into the mouth of darkness. Her jailer knew the dark passageway well, but Annie stumbled a few times on the uneven stone flags. She was shaken and pulled to her feet and her wrist burned from his grip. Just when the darkness seemed absolute a door opened, and she was propelled into a room. The door slammed behind her and she found herself once again facing The Dark One.
“Sit down,” he pointed towards a chair.
Mary and Hugh sat opposite her, their eyes never leaving her face. A fierce fire burned in a brazier in the centre of the room and chains hung from the walls. A huge wooden chair stood in one corner and the seat was made from long nails! Their sharp points glistened in the light from the fire and the arms were fitted with leather restraints.
“Now,” he continued, “We can make this all quite simple. If you confess your guilt here in the presence of you cousins, you will be dealt with fairly. If, however you persist in denying your guilt, you will suffer a torture you could never imagine. I’ll make an example of you.”
“You know I am not guilty of the crime of which you accuse me. I know this is some dark plan hatched by you, but I find it hard to understand your reason. What have I got that you want?”
“Do you hear that, my dear?” Reaching down, he took Mary’s hand and brushed it with his lips. “What has she got that I want?”
“My dearest Oliver wants nothing from you,” Mary hissed. “You are an evil, wicked child.”
“Then you,” Annie asked. “What do you want, the cottage, the land? Take it; I will give it to you in exchange for our freedom.”
Mary’s eyes lit up at this, and she was about to say something, when…
“She will make no deal with the Devil,” He answered for her. “This woman,” he placed a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Is sainted and above corruption. She wants nothing from you.”
Annie’s mind was racing. The heat from the fire was searing and her mouth felt dry, as she tried to swallow. As if sensing her discomfort Hugh asked.
“Would you like a drink of water?”
“Oh, yes thank you, Hugh.”
She watched as he walked across the room to a barrel and filled a large wooden scoop. He carried it carefully back to her, and Annie watched the small dribbles falling from it and licked her lips anticipating it coolness on her parched throat.
“Here you are.”
Annie reached out to take the scoop, but before she could do so he laughed and threw the full contents into her face.
“I show no mercy to witches,” his mouth curled into a sneer.
His mother was laughing as though it was the funniest thing she had ever seen, but there was no sign of mirth in The Dark One’s eyes.
“I think,” his voice put a stop to the laughter. “I should work alone from now on.”
“Why, Oliver, dearest,” Mary became flustered. “Have we upset you in some way?”
“No,” his tone belied this fact. “You must not witness what is about to happen. Not a woman of your sensibilities.”
“Very well,” Mary stood for a moment brushing the creases from her dress, unsure of his dismissal.
He took no notice of her and turning to Hugh, ordered.
“See your mother safely home.”
“But, I…”
“Just do as I ask,” the flames leaping in The Dark One’s eyes left no room for discussion. “You may return later.”
Hugh started to lead his mother away. As he passed Annie’s chair, he grabbed hold of her hair and pulled. It hurt so much she screamed, and she felt each hair as it was ripped from her scalp.
“I will see you later, cousin,” he hissed in her ear.
She tried not to cry and rubbed instead at her torn hair. It felt wet, and she gasped at the blood on her hand. Once the door slammed behind them there was silence, save for the crackling and spitting of the fire. She was alone with The Dark One. Concentrating on the pain in her head, she prayed for relief, but there was none. The pain raged within her and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.
“He is not listening.”
Oh, please God, she prayed, do not let me cry.
“I told you he is not listening.”
Still, she refused to acknowledge him, digging her nails into the palms of her hands until finally…
“Sit still.”
She tried to leap from her seat when his hands touched her head. Sharp, icy needles pierced her skin until slowly the pain subsided. She brought her hands to her head. The pain had completely disappeared. He sat opposite her.
“I can be good to those who obey me. What I have done is nothing to what I can do for you and for your sisters; if you’ll only bend your will to mine.”
“I don’t understand,” she croaked, her mouth even drier than before.
He stood and walked to the water bucket, returning with a scoop. She shied back at first, but he pushed it towards her.
“I take no pleasure in such pettiness.”
She reached out and took it. The water tasted like honey.
“Thank you,” she held the scoop out to him, and he took it, flinging the last dregs of water into the blazing fire. The flames hissed, protesting the intrusion of the cold water before settling down to their crackling once more.
“Now, let us not waste any more time,” he returned to his seat. “There is much to be done if we are to save your sisters.”
“What do you mean?”
“They will go for them at first light and bring them here.”
“But they are innocent. Oh please, I beg you. Do not let this happen.”
“There is no need to beg. All the power you want is within your grasp. Just say the word, Annie,” his voice was soft. “And all this will pass from you. Things will return to normal and your life will continue until it has run its course.”
“I still do not understand.”
“Let me explain. You have a power I desire. Give me the power and in return I will reward you. Whatever you want, gold, property, the lives of all you love will be saved and you will have the sort of life you could only dream of. Just say the word and it will be yours”
“How can I give you my power?”
“I do not ask for it now; no indeed. My only desire is to have it when you are no more. Think of it Annie. You can leave here now and take your gypsy friends with you. Live out the remainder of your life in luxury. See your sisters grow and prosper. I see many children in their futures and long lives. Do it for them.”
“So,” she asked. “You would take my power once I was dead and not until then?”
“That is right. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
Annie chewed on her lip. The children would be saved. So would Roma, Stefan, and Meg. What right did she have to condemn them?
He was grinning, sensing her weakness. The power so strong in her he could almost reach out and touch it.
Please God, she prayed, one last time. Show me what to do.
“Yours is the power of angels, Annie,” the whisper was close as lips against her ear. “The power of light over the darkness you see before you.”
Closing her eyes, she allowed the sense of peace to flow within her and felt its goodness, its light reaching the very core of her being.
“And what would you do with this power, Lucifer?” The voice asking the question was no longer that of a young girl’s, but a more enlightened soul.
“You dare address me with that name!” He jumped up and, in his anger, threw the heavy, oak chair across the room. “You, who know nothing of my power, of my legions.”
“I know you would use my power against God.”
Even then, as he stood over her, his face resembling the beast, she refused to fear him.
“You will die. All of you will suffer, but you,” his spittle stung her face. “Your suffering will be absolute. The death I give those you love will be nothing to what I’ll do to you.”
The fear welled up in Annie, but then the voice in her ear.
“Be at peace, child.”
He reached out an odious gnarled claw at her and she covered her face trying to avoid the sharp talons. Cringing, she waited for it to make contact on her skin but…. Spreading her fingers wide, she peeped through and saw he was backing away. A strong breeze threw her hair around her in disarray, blocking him from sight. Brushing the hair from her eyes, she looked around the room for the source of the wind. She saw nothing except the shadows thrown on the walls by the firelight. They looked like…wings. Yes, like giant birds’ wings flapping. Faster and faster they moved, their shadows uniting until they moved as one. The Dark One covered his face and was screaming curses. It was a language Annie never heard before or would ever want to hear again. The shadows moved from off the walls, surrounding him. Something brushed against her face, its touch as soft as cobwebs stirred her. She got up and ran towards the door. She would escape into the woods and save her sisters. The door was heavy, but she pulled with all her might. It swung open and hit the wall with a resounding thud, and she ran straight into the arms of Hugh O Brien.
The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled as Jill bent to push the brightly wrapped presents underneath its spiky branches. It gave her a sense of pride to know the tree came from her own wood and would be returned there once the festivities were over. The new bike Toby hinted about sat against the wall. The light from the sitting room fire dancing across its metallic red paint, made it glow and she smiled, imagining his delight when he saw it. Her parents were coming next day for Christmas lunch and planned to stay until the New Year, a prospect that would have once horrified her. A deeper understanding developed between Jill and her mother and she now found it easier to talk to the woman who offered her life in exchange for hers. So much had changed over the months she was forced to brush aside the memory. Tom would also be there for lunch, but not Paul who was spending the holidays with his sons. He had not forgotten them though, and his presents, brought along earlier in the day, sat beneath the tree.
The turkey, an enormous one, presented to her by one of the women at the surgery, would need to go in the oven at 6am, but that would not be a problem. Jill slept very little now after abandoning the sleeping pills on which she had become too reliant. Switching off the downstairs lights, she climbed the stairs, glad of the feel of Bess’s hot breath on her legs. Toby was fast asleep, but the excitement of what lay in store would wake him earlier than normal.
The old dog lay down beside her mistress’s bed. Jill’s eyes were too tired to read so she sat in bed and drew her knees up around her. It was still many hours until dawn and it was doubtful sleep would come. All around her the house stretched and yawned as it settled for the night. She now knew every creak of its floorboards and the small scurrying from the mice in the attic overhead no longer made her heart pound as it used to do. It was Christmas Eve; they were safe and there was nothing to fear. She repeated this over and over in her head. They were safe, and there was nothing to fear. Soon it would be a New Year, a new beginning and the memories would fade with time. Still, she looked towards the window, picturing the inky blackness outside. She couldn’t wait for summer and the long, bright days. Maybe then she would sleep.
It was four days before Jill heard from Paul again. Ninety-six hours of endless torment, as she waited for the axe to fall. Toby settled into his old routine as though nothing had happened, but the happiness at his return was overshadowed by the certain knowledge there was a price to be paid. Her family returned to the farmhouse once news reached them the child was safe, and she was glad of their presence. They proved a godsend at keeping the reporters at bay and shielded her from the horror unfolding on the TV and in the newspapers. The outcry at the discovery of the children’s bodies at the cottage became national news, and there was great speculation once the remains of the men were recovered from the cellar. Luckily, the police made no mention of the events when they questioned Toby, and Tom’s explanation of how he found him wandering on the road was grudgingly accepted. While the investigating officers may have had doubts of the circumstances surrounding the child’s recovery, they did not push the matter further, and Toby’s wide-eyed explanation about the men in the masks was hard to dismiss as his imagination. Anyway, they were more intent on finding those responsible. The fact she had forced her son to lie about his abduction left Jill with a gnawing pain in her gut, but it was for the best, in the long run. At least she fooled herself into believing this was the case. Once the questioning was out of the way, the police insisted Toby be taken to hospital for examination, but Jill refused because he’d had enough upset. So, they settled instead for a visit from her employer Dr Williams, who confirmed the boy was physically unharmed, if a little dehydrated.
Joe returned to his new life and she was glad to see him go. It pained her someone who had once meant so much to her, now failed to draw even the slightest response from her aching heart.
The sound of laughter roused her from her musing, and she smiled as Toby tumbled through the kitchen door, closely followed by Bess and her pups. They refused to leave his side since his return, and despite her mother’s sniffs of disapproval and muttered admonishment about the dogs’ presence in the bedrooms as unhygienic, Jill allowed things to return to normal. The pups now slept on Toby’s bed and were a comfort when he woke crying in the night. She knew it would be many years before her son recovered from his ordeal, if ever, and she would not deny him the company of the pups. Bess resumed her place beside Jill’s bed. On the odd time when she did manage to sleep, it was only for a few minutes during the day, and on the rare occasion when the house was quiet. At night she stayed alert, waiting for what must come next. She knew she was safe during the day, as the Wraith needed the night, and it would be during the hours of darkness, while everyone slept, that she would come for her.
“Why don’t you have a lie down?” Her mother rubbed her arm. “You’re exhausted and we’ll keep a careful eye on Toby.”
“Thanks, Mam, but I’m too wound up to sleep.”
“Well, just lie on the bed and close your eyes,” she could see the worry etched in her mother’s face. “You might manage to drop off.”
“Okay,” she smiled, just to please her. “I’ll try.”
“Good girl, I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
Using the banister, Jill managed to drag herself up the stairs. Once at the top, she looked longingly into her bedroom, but decided trying to sleep was a lost cause. Allowing her eyes to stray to the door that led to the attic, her stomach lurched at the realisation she had not returned there since the night she had summoned the Wraith. Looking around, making sure no one was about, she turned the handle and edged the door open just enough to allow her to slip inside. As she tip-toed up the wooden stairs, the familiar scent of the attic was overwhelming, and she brought her hand to her mouth to hold back her cry. It smelled as it did on the first day she had come there, of dust and mould, of dry paper and trapped heat. But that was before, in a time when her only pain was that of losing Joe. She’d lived a million lifetimes since then, or so it seemed. Now she was returning to the place that was once her salvation and was now the cause of her downfall. Picking up the lighter, she lifted the glass dome of the lamp and lit the wick. All traces of her grandmother’s footprints were obliterated by her own comings and goings and Jill’s heart ached at their loss. As she moved further into the gloom, she took note of things that had become familiar to her over the past weeks. She was no longer startled by the large mirror or the old sheet that shrouded it. There were no secrets, unexplored things to discover within the trunks. All the excitement she once felt belonged to another time, when she was innocent, her mind untarnished by the evil in the world and her soul unstained.
The triangle of Solomon lay across the lid of one of the chests and she picked it up. Its side were still stained with traces of earth from the graveyard. If you’re going to come for me, do it now, her mind screamed, I can’t bear the waiting. But there was no reply to her demand and nothing to break the silence of the attic. Sinking down on the floor, she pulled the black cloak from the chest and wrapped it around her shoulders. While she was prepared to do anything, face any danger to recover her child, the realisation of paying for her deeds seemed far off and she half expected something would happen to save her. Unlike Toby, she had no Superman to fly to her aid. The thing that frightened her the most was leaving her child. The thought of death terrified her but being parted from the one person she loved more than life was more painful still. For the first time in days she allowed the tears to fall.
“Ah, there you are, girl.”
She was so intent on her suffering; she had not heard the footsteps approach.
“Ah, now,” her father eased his way down beside her and brushed her face with his hand. “Why all the tears?”
“I’m okay, Dad, really,” she tried to smile.
“Of course, you’re not okay, how could you be, after all you’ve been through?” He placed an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s not that,” she left the words hang in the air, unsure of his reaction, if she told him the truth.
“Well, what is it then?”
He waited as the silence settled all around them.
“Did you not wonder at Toby’s sudden reappearance?” She asked.
“I suppose I did,” he said. “But I put it down to prayer, though I take it now that God had nothing to do with it?”
“No, it was not His doing, though the prayers can’t have hurt,” she smiled up at him and noticed how old he had become.
She never imagined either of her parents growing old or feeble. They always seemed so strong, immortal, and the realisation they would now be all her son had, added to her terror. Joe would step in and offer to help once she was gone, but any attempt he made at being a father would be half-hearted, and Toby would rely solely on his grandparents.
“Oh, Dad,” she started to cry again. “What am I going to do?”
“Well, if you tell me what the problem is, I might be able to help.”
“No one can help me now,” she said, wiping her eyes with the material from the cloak. “I’m beyond all human aid. I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but God help me it’s true.”
“Ah, come on now,” his grip tightened on her shoulders. “It can’t be that bad.”
“If I tell you, will you promise not to judge me?”
“Have I ever?”
“No,” she had to agree with this. Her father had always been her champion. The one she could rely on to side with her when her mother’s wrath was great.
As she recounted the tale about the Wraith, Jill pointed out the various items she used to summon it, the books, the triangle, and the cloak. She was afraid to look at him as she spoke; sure, she would see the horror at what she had done reflected in his eyes.
“Well, that’s it,” she said, once she had finished. “I know it sounds fantastic, but every word is true, and I will have to pay for what I’ve done.”
When she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she was surprised to find he had turned away. At first, she imagined he was so ashamed of her actions he could not bear to look at her. Then she saw the silver line of a tear as it trailed down his cheek.
“Dad,” she touched his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he fiddled in his trouser pocket for a handkerchief. The sound of his nose blowing echoed like thunder in the quiet of the attic. “I suppose any mother would have done what you did.”
He wiped his eyes before replacing the handkerchief. Jill missed the weight of his arm on her shoulders and thought it strange she was once more reduced to a child in the presence of her father.
“There’s something much worse, I’m afraid,” she bit at her bottom lip as she tried to find the words to explain why he was about to lose his only child.
She knew the horror she felt when she thought she might lose Toby, and it pained her now to break the news of her imminent death to her father.
He never once interrupted as she continued her tale and the only outward sign, he gave of his distress was a constant picking at the pile of his corduroy trousers. When he spoke, his voice choked with fear.
“And is there no reasoning with this thing, this Wraith?”
“I don’t think so,” Jill said. “She committed suicide, so the balance of her mind was disturbed even before she died. I made a terrible mistake in choosing her, but I thought as a mother she would understand why I did what I did. I was wrong, in more ways than one and now I must pay the price.”
“Is she still around,” he turned away from his picking and looked at his daughter.
“I haven’t seen her since the night we found Toby,” Jill said. “But there’s no doubt she’s around somewhere. I have to cast another spell you see, to release her and God help me, Dad, but I’m terrified of going back to that graveyard.”
“Well, girl,” he took her hand in his. “You’ll have to go back. I’m sorry,” he saw her look of dismay. “But the poor, old thing is trapped. Trapped and very tormented, if what you say is true, and in a state of limbo. Sure, you wouldn’t wish that on anyone, would you now?”
“You’re right,” Her father’s words hit home.
He was right. The Wraith, Marie, deserved to be set free and it fell to her to do it.
“You’re right, Dad,” Jill said, again “I’ll go tonight and finish the spell. God help me after that. Will you promise me one thing?” She gazed into her father’s eyes.
“Anything, girl.”
“Don’t let Mam screw up Toby’s life.”
He was puzzled by this.
“You realise you’re all he’ll have once I’m gone, don’t you?”
“I never thought about it, but God is good. Maybe it won’t come to that.”
“You’ll have to face it, Dad; it will come to that. The Wraith isn’t human, it can’t be reasoned with.”
They sat for a few moments surrounded by the silence.
“I wish you’d never come to this place,” her father said.
“I know, Dad, I’ve thought that since the day Toby went missing.”
“If Joe could have kept it in his pants, none of this might have happened.”
“Dad!” She laughed at the coarseness of his words.
Never had she heard her father speak in such a way. She had never even heard him utter a swear word and that alone was some achievement considering what he had to put up with.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” He was off on a tirade. “If you waited until you were married to have a child, things might have been different.”
Christ, Jill thought, here we go. She knew he was only echoing her mother’s words and fear and anger made him say the things he did. There was no doubt in her mind he loved his grandson, but she was also aware any joy he felt on the news of her pregnancy, was dampened by the fact she was unmarried.
“Dad, these are different times,” she explained. “No one frowns when someone has a child out of wedlock.”
“That well may be,” he fumbled in his pocket once again to retrieve the sail-sized handkerchief. “But in my day…”
“I know Dad,” Jill interrupted. “In your day, everyone got married and stayed together, no matter how miserable they were. It’s the mantra of your generation; you made your bed so lie in it. Times have changed,” she lowered her tone, as the last thing she needed was another argument.
“They may very well,” he blustered. “But it’s not for the better.”
She was saved the trouble of answering him, by the sound of her mother’s voice echoing up the stairs.
The Wraith led the cars ever deeper into the winter gloom. After a few miles, they turned off the main road and drove down a disused track. They bounced on the uneven surface as the wheels hit one pothole after another. The bushes and trees on either side of the road were so overgrown branches scratched the paintwork of the cars’ roofs and sides. The sound made Jill’s teeth ache, as it reminded her of nails on a blackboard. There was no sign of the Wraith; it had disappeared into the night the moment they left the main road. But it would not be far away and the track they now travelled was journey’s end. Neither of them spoke, too caught up in private thoughts. A pinprick of light appeared in the distance and the flashing of headlight from behind them meant Paul had seen it too.
Tom stopped the car in the middle of the track as there was no place he could pull in, no indent in the wild bushes.
“We’ll go on foot from here,” Paul ran up to them. “We don’t want them to hear us.”
“Well, they’re not going to be able to drive past us,” Tom said. “That’s for sure.”
They squeezed between the bushes and the car. The branches clutched at their coats, digging thorns into the soft wool, trying to drag them back until they were forced to tear the offending claws away. The icy winter moon shone down on the small party as they made their way along the track.
Ahead of them the Wraith swooped through the trees. Animals of the night stopped and watched the silent shape go past. Owls peeped from hallows of trees in a wood haunted by the echoing screams of children.
The cottage hunched at the end of the rough track. The windows on either side of the door were black. Whatever light they had seen was extinguished, but there was doubt someone was about, as three cars lined the small parking area in front of the cottage. Jill shivered and tried not to cry, when she thought of what her son endured in this hellish place.
“We’ll check round the back,” Paul whispered. “Just to make sure there’s no other exit.”
With the aid of the small torch, they picked their way round the side of the cottage. A terrible stillness filled the air, broken only now and then by the hallow cry of a curlew echoing from the marshy ground beyond the wood. The overgrown garden behind the cottage smelt of death. Another sound broke the silence of the night the lament of someone in the most extreme pain and they came around the side of the cottage and found the Wraith kneeling over three small mounds in the earth.
“Don’t make this any harder,” Mr Jackson said, reaching for Toby.
“Leave me alone,” he hit at the outstretched hand and tried to burrow back against the mouldy timber.
“Hold this,” Mr Jackson handed the strap back to Freddy and crawled onto the bed to get a better grip on the boy.
Toby screamed, as his teacher’s hands closed on him like a vice and the sound mingled with the cries from outside.
“What the fuck was that?” Christy asked.
A hand clamped over Toby’s mouth. The men looked towards the ceiling and hardly dared breathe as they listened. It was constant now, one continuous, mournful wail that caused the fine hairs on their necks to stand.
“Probably a vixen,” Freddy offered, but none of them believed this.
“Should I look?” Christy asked.
“If you like,” Freddy shrugged. “I’m not going out there.”
Toby tried to wriggle free and received a stinging slap to his head for his trouble.
“It’ll stop in a minute,” Freddy offered. “Whatever it is.”
Tom stayed with the spirit of his dead wife while she mourned over the graves. The others made their way to the front of the cottage. He was now alone in the dark with only the dead for company.
“Is she here?” Tom asked.
“Yes, she’s here,” the Wraith turned to him, the sadness in her eyes made his heart ache.
“I wish I could give you a hug,” he was crying.
“You can,” she stretched out a long, white arm. “Come here and close your eyes.”
He knelt beside the grave of his daughter and did as the Wraith asked. With his eyes closed he felt her beside him, solid and real. She moved closer to him and his body shook as he placed his arms around her. She was cold, colder than the night air, but the contours of her body were as familiar as the last time he held her. He expected a smell of death, but if there was one it was lost in the stench of the garden.
Paul put his finger to his lips, warning Jill not to make a sound as he turned the handle on the cottage door. He held a gun in his free hand. She was surprised when he drew it from his coat.
“You didn’t think I was going to come here unarmed, did you?” he asked, and though she never liked the idea of a gun, it was comforting to know it was there to protect them.
The full moon made the cottage interior bright. She followed Paul inside the one room. It smelled of neglect. Cobwebs hung from the rafters; gossamer-white shapes billowed like ghosts above their heads. The walls were decorated with fishing rods and other hunting paraphernalia.
“Look,” Paul whispered, gesturing to the floor, where a thin line of light crept through a trap door.
They tip-toed forward and knelt ears to the floor, listening.
“There’s definitely someone down there,” Paul said, and Jill nodded.
They were leaning on the trap door when it started to move, but their weight made it impossible to open it fully.
“Police,” Paul’s roar made her jump. “The cottage is surrounded. Stand back from the door. Armed officers are about to enter and will shoot on sight.” Turning to Jill, he whispered. “Get Tom.”
She ran out and round the back of the cottage.
“They’re in the cellar,” she was too frightened to be in awe of the sight of Tom with his arms around the Wraith. “Paul needs you.”
He followed her back inside. Paul held up a hand when he saw them outside the door.
“Make as much noise as you can,” he whispered.
They ran across the bare floorboards and their footsteps echoed like thunder hoping to make it seem, to the listeners below they were indeed surrounded by dozens of men.
“What’ll we do?” Christy looked at Freddy, ashen faced.
Mr Jackson dropped Toby on to the bed and cowered in a corner of the room. Freddy used all his powers of restraint, as he answered.
“It’s time to face the music old chaps,” he sneered at Jackson’s quivering figure. “They’ve caught us bang to rights, as they say. I could have given us an easy and painless exit, but I left my bag in the car. What’s the worst that can happen, few years in jail? An expensive lawyer will have us out in four at the most.”
“What about the boy,” Christy looked at Tony who shivered on the bed.
“Kill him. The last thing we need is a witness. What’s one more?”
Toby screamed as hands reached for his throat. Dry, coarse hair covered the knuckles and he smelled the stench of the tobacco-stained fingers.
“Toby,” Jill cried, as his scream reached them.
Paul threw back the trap down and descended the ladder with an agility that belied his age.
“Move away from the boy,” she heard him shout, as Tom climbed down after him.
At the sight of the gun, Christy released his grip on Toby’s neck. When Jill reached the bottom of the ladder, the three men were herded in one corner.
“Mam, oh Mam,” Toby ran to her. “I knew you’d find me.”
Jill was sobbing too much to speak, as she lifted her son in her arms and felt his familiar soft hair against her cheek.
“I have a sore throat,” he pulled back a little.
“Have you, darling?” she managed to say. “Never mind, you’ll soon be home and tucked up in bed.”
A shadow slid down the ladder behind them and Toby stared in wonder at the Wraith. Mr Jackson whimpered, and his companions drew back in terror as it advanced.
“Let the law deal with them,” Paul said, looking directly at it for the first time.
“They killed my child,” it ignored him. “And now they will pay.”
It reached for them, nails jagged and caked with the earth of the grave.
“Are you Rachael’s Mammy?
The question made it stop and turn around to the child.
“Yes, I am,” it walked back to where Jill stood.
She was amazed her son showed no sign of fear at the dreadful image before him.
“Do you know where my child is?” the Wraith asked.
“Yes, she’s over there,” Toby nodded in to one of the dark corners. “Rachael come out, your Mam’s here.”
Those watching didn’t see the little girl run out of the shadows. All they saw was the Wraith holding her arms out to the empty air. But Toby saw. While Paul handcuffed the bad men, Rachael told her mother all about what had happened. Even Paul and Raymond came forward and joined in the telling.
“We’ve been conned,” Freddy looked at the others. “This is not an official police investigation. I’ll have you badge for this.” He sneered at Paul.
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done,” the Wraith stood, took her daughter by the hand and walked over to them.
“I don’t know what the fuck you are,” Freddy said, putting on a great show of bravado. “But I’m sure you’re nothing a competent exorcist can’t deal with.”
“He hurt us, Mam,” Rachael tugged at her mother’s hand.
The Wraith turned and held her hand out to the boys.
“Come here,” she said, and kneeling, she nodded at Tom and Paul. “These are good men, but they need to see you. Will you do that for me? Show them what the men did to you?”
“Come on, scaredy cats,” Rachael said. “Let’s show them.”
The men watched as the three children swam into view. The light from the lamp fell on their wasted bodies and showed scars and mottled bruises left behind by the men’s lecherous groping.
“Hi Dad,” Rachael waved at her father.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Tom sobbed, on the verge of collapse.
“Will you let these monsters,” the Wraith turned to Paul, “these abominations live and hurt other children?”
“I can’t in good conscience let you alone with them,” he shook his head.
“Forget your conscience,” the Wraith roared. “What do you feel as a man? Will you sleep any sounder knowing they live?”
“You’re wasting your time,” Freddy said. “You’re talking to someone from the old school. He’ll do his duty to the last.”
“Go up,” Paul nodded to Jill and Tom.
With Toby balanced on one hip Jill held onto the ladder with her free hand and climbed up. With only the towel for protection Toby shivered and Tom took off his coat and wrapped it around the child.
“Are you, all right?” Jill asked as they walked to the car.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be right again,” Tom took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Jill said.
Once Toby was strapped into the back seat, Jill took off her coat and tucked it around his lap. The bottle of energy drink Tom bought for her lay untouched and Toby gulped it down so fast she was afraid he’d lose his breath.
“Why is the man sad?” Toby asked as his mother wiped his mouth.
“He’s sad because he lost someone he loves very much.”
“Give him this,” Toby held out the Superman doll.
“I don’t think that will help,” Jill kissed his forehead. “But I’ll tell him you offered it.”
When she came out of the car Paul was making his way back towards them.
“I gave them a fighting chance.” His eyes were filled with anguish as he held up the three pairs of handcuffs.
“I know it goes against everything you believe,” Jill said. “But the Wraith was right. They would kill again.”
“Still,” Paul looked at the cottage. “No one deserves to die like that.”
“Did the children?” Tom asked.
“You’re a hero,” Jill assured Paul.
“I don’t feel like a hero,” he brushed by them. “I’ll bring a team back tomorrow. Say I’m working on a hunch. We’ll have to think up a story about the boy,” he nodded at the car. “We’ll say Tom found him wandering. Can you get him to stick to that story?” He asked Jill.
“He’ll understand,” she said. “He’s a clever boy.”
Sudden screams resounding in the still night air made them start in terror.
“We best be off,” Paul said, and holding up a small notebook. “I found this in the front of his car.”
They knew who he meant.
“I’ll have to break into the house and remove the diary he talks about; otherwise we’ll all be in trouble.”
They still hear the screams when they reached the end of the dirt track.
“What’s that noise?” Toby looked up at his mother.
“It’s some weird night bird,” her smile belied the terror she felt; wondering if the fate of the men reflected what she would suffer.
Before they turned on to the main road, Tom looked around.
“You’ve been a very brave boy,” he smiled at Toby.
“I wasn’t frightened, not really,” Toby assured him. “I had him.”
Yes, Tom thought, it must be easy to be brave, when your best friend is Superman.
Bess rushed around the side of the house barking furiously. Something unearthly waited in the orchard, something that threatened everyone she loved. By the time Jill and the others reached her, she was growling and baring her teeth. Her coat was bristling, the fur standing on end. Her ears were drawn back flat against her head, and her tail was between her legs, but still she stood as a barrier between her pups and this strange, unearthly thing. The pups whimpered and drew closer to their mother, sensing her fear. They had no idea what stood before them, other than the smell. There was a familiarity to the scent, like when they went digging in the orchard. It smelled of the earth, of dry, rotting things.
“Bess come here,” Jill pulled on the dog’s collar, but she spun around, eyes wide in terror and snarled.
Jill saw there would be no reasoning with the animal, not while she was in such a state. Instead she picked up the pups and carried them back towards the outbuildings. Once her pups were out of harms’ way, Bess began to back away, but her eyes never strayed from the thing standing in the orchard.
“Even the animals despise me,” said the Wraith, and though she had no idea of the meaning of the words, Bess felt their sadness.
“She doesn’t understand,” Tom walked closer to the thing that had once been his wife.
“She understands all right,” the Wraith replied. “She knows I don’t belong here, that I am unholy.”
Tom could think of no response and instead went back and stood beside Paul. Once Bess and the pups were locked away, Jill joined the men. Unlike them, she didn’t fear the strange apparition, and lost no time.
“Did you find anything?”
“I found him.” the Wraith threw something towards them, and it landed with a rattle on the ground.
Jill picked up the plastic bag full of pills and checked the name on the containers.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, and held out the bag so the men could see.
“Fucking bastard,” Paul growled, when he saw the name. “I’ll kill him myself.”
“I know him,” Tom gasped. “I was talking to him only yesterday.”
They looked at one another, amazed the man they sought was so close by.
“He intended to take his own life,” the Wraith said, “in much the same way as I did. I couldn’t allow this. I read his diary; he does not work alone. There are three of them. Your boy,” she looked at Jill, “is being kept in a cellar, but I don’t know where it is, but I know this man wants no part in his death.”
Tom watched the Wraith’s every move, watched her lips as the words tumbled from them, but even her voice sounded different than his wife’s and her eyes reflected the endless darkness she had endured. There was nothing of Marie left, this thing, this avenging spirit might look like his wife, but there was emptiness about it, and he wondered if it was soulless. He felt nauseous each time it appeared, and he swallowed hard to stop himself from spewing his meagre supper onto the frozen grass. Paul, on the other hand, avoided looking at it. His thoughts echoed Tom’s, but he was more concerned with the suspect and how to arrest him. So far there was no proof, other than the bag full of pills.
They trooped back inside the house, each lost in their own thoughts. It was a rather subdued party that sat around the kitchen table.
“What now?” Jill looked across at Paul.
“Let me think,” he turned the plastic bag over and over, as though searching for clues within the colourful containers. Finally, “that thing out there said he was going to commit suicide, so he has nothing to lose. If I bring him in there’s no guarantee that he’ll tell us where Toby is.”
“He’ll run and join his own kind.”
Paul jumped out of his chair and Jill’s eyes opened wide when she saw the Wraith inside the house. It gave no outward sign of noticing their surprise at its presence but spoke.
“He has no choice but to run. They,” She waved towards the bag, “were his escape route. There is no way out for him now, but to take refuge with those he trusts.”
“She’s right,” Paul agreed. “I know this man fairly well. He’s not the type to hang himself or cut his wrists, too messy and painful.”
“Then we follow him?” Jill asked.
“We’ve no other choice; I’ll ring the station and arrange it.”
“No.” The shout startled them, and they turned towards the Wraith.
“What do you mean no?” Paul asked, “I have to get my men involved, I can’t do it all on my own.”
“What will you tell your superiors,” it asked. “How will you explain how you came by this information? They may arrest him anyway and then what happens to the boy? The others will go ahead without him. Do you want his blood on your hands?”
“She’s right,” Jill said. “There could be any number of reasons for them choosing to delay. We’ll have to follow him ourselves.”
“Even if we do,” Paul said. “We might lose him.”
“I won’t lose him,” the Wraith smiled. “He will not escape me.”
“Then it’s settled,” Jill stood. “We take turns watching the house and when he leaves, we follow.”
“It’s not that simple,” Paul ran his hands through his hair in exasperation.
“It’s simple enough,” Jill refused to hear any more. “I’m going to have a quick wash and then we’ll head off.”
“We’ll need two cars,” Paul knew there was no use arguing.
“I’ll take Jill in mine,” Tom offered. “We’ll follow you.”
“Fine,” Paul sighed. “I’ll take the first watch. There’s no use arousing suspicion parking a strange car in the street. I can see any movements from my house. I’ll ring you on the mobile if anything happens.”
From somewhere in the distance came the echoing crowing of a cock, signalling the arrival of the sun. When they looked around the kitchen, there was no sign of the Wraith.
The mirror above the wash basin reflected the damage worry had done to Jill’s face. Her skin looked coarse and dry and the dark shadows that swooped beneath her eyes, were deeper still. Shrugging of her jumper, she washed and went next door to her bedroom for clean clothes. She would need something warm, as the weather had grown colder in the last few days. Walking to the window, she pulled back the curtains and looked out in the gloom of an early winter morning. The roofs of the outbuilding were coated white with frost, as were all the trees and bushes. Miles of empty fields reminded her how isolated she was. Stopping outside Toby’s room, she peeped inside at the neatly made bed and the assortment of toys. He would be home soon, she thought. In just a few more hours he would be back with her. She had to believe it; anything else was unthinkable.
Below in the hallway the phone rang, and she hurried down the stairs just in time to see Tom replace the receiver.
“It was Paul,” he informed her. “Our man is still at home. He said not to do anything until he phones.”
She nodded, reached up and took her coat down from the stand.
“I better feed the dogs,” she tried to walk past him, but he caught her arm.
“Do you feel we’re caught up in a sort of nightmare?”
“I’ve felt like that since the day Toby disappeared.”
She was glad to be outside in the milky, white light of early morning. Though the cold stung her cheeks and the wind whipped her hair about her face, she’d rather freeze than go back inside and view the torment on Tom’s face. He had suffered as she was now, but for him there was no more hope. At least she could cling to the fact Toby was still alive. Now, on top of all his grief, Tom had to endure the image of his wife, and be forced to witness the vision of death itself standing before him every time she appeared. I won’t cry, Jill thought as she struggled with the bolt on the door of the outbuilding.
Bess pushed against the door, knocking Jill off her feet.
“Hey,” Jill had to push her away, as she became engulfed in a blanket of fur. “I take it that you’re glad to see me?”
As Jill filled the bowls with food and water, Bess scouted around the orchard, checking if the Thing from the night before had gone. The pups scoffed down their food and ran off to play once they were finished. It was obvious that they had forgotten the events of the night. Bess stayed by Jill side as she pottered around the yard, looking for something to do anything rather than go back inside.
Tom called out to her once that her mother was on the phone, but she told him to make an excuse and say she would call her back. She knew she’d not yet been forgiven for her outburst and the last thing she needed was a scolding from her mother. When it became obvious there was nothing else to do, Jill went inside the outbuilding and sat down on the straw that formed the bed for the dogs. With Bess beside her, she counted down the hours, praying for Toby’s safety and asking forgiveness for the terrible thing she had done.
I’ve decided. There’s nothing else for it but go to the cottage. I’ll pretend, as I have in the past, to take part in the atrocity and when it is over, I’ll ask Freddy for the drugs. On the scale of things, the death of one more child won’t matter. The phone rang twice this morning, but I let the machine answer. I listened as the familiar voices left messages saying how much they were looking forward to our little fishing expedition and letting me know what time they expected to be at the cottage. We arranged to meet about six so there’s no need for me to set off until 3pm. It will be getting dark and though night driving is not something I relish; it means there will be very few about to see me go. My nerves are on edge since the events of last night, and, as my tranquillisers have disappeared, I can’t take anything to stop the trembling of my hands. My throat hurts and it shows the scars of the attack by my invisible assailant. I’ve been trying to make sense of what happened here, but it seems beyond reason. My mind tells me I’m imagining things, but how do I account for the wounds on my neck? I went as far as to check under my nails for traces of skin, hoping in my drug-induced state I’d scratched myself. But I was clutching at straws and my nails are clean and certainly not capable of causing the injuries.
I saw Paul O’Farrell arrive home early this morning. I was on my way back from buying the newspaper when he drove past me. My cheery good morning was met with nothing more than a nod, and I wondered at his dismissive attitude. I tend to blow everything out of proportion and allow my nerves to get the better of me. Of course, the man is no nearer to finding the boy than he was the other children and this realisation made him standoffish. Poor man, the strain is telling on him and God only knows what his superiors think. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he were for the chop. There are younger, fitter men waiting to step into his shoes, and it’s a pity I won’t be here to witness his downfall.
I’ve put my house in order. There’s no sign of the break in. I’ll take the letters for Christy and Freddy with me and post them on my way home. That is if Freddy gives me the drugs I require, but I’m sure he will. I’ll miss this old house, but there’ll be others who’ll live here long after I am gone. I wonder if they’ll remember me. I’m sure the newspapers will report my part in our little boys’ club. It makes me wonder what type of person would buy this place. After all, I wouldn’t like to live in the former home of a monster, would you? The hours are slowly ticking away, tick tock, tick tock.
Even in the dim light Tom saw the objects laid out on his wife’s grave. The magic circle, drawn with white spray paint, glowed under the rays of the full moon, and seemed to shimmer before his tortured eyes. A noise from somewhere behind made him spin around. Paul and Jill came out from their hiding place when they recognised him.
“I don’t know what I expected,” he nodded at the grave.
Jill understood how he felt; there was something unholy about the whole thing. But to see it now, laid out in front of him, must have been a terrible shock.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said.
“Neither did I,” he agreed. “But I was sitting at home, growing more and more tormented, so I thought…” he shrugged, as there were no words to describe his feelings.
“Maybe you’d be better off at home,” Paul said. “We’ll come and tell you what happens when it’s all over.”
“No, I’ll stay. I wasn’t much use to her in life, but I’ll not abandon her now,” he looked at Jill. “Do what you have to.”
She explained what she was about to do and warned him about making noise.
“The ears of the dead are sensitive,” she explained. “Any sudden movements or sound will act as a damper on the ritual.”
He nodded and stood back to allow her to pass. Once she relit the candles and incense, she stepped back inside the circle and sealed the gap with the spray paint. She needed blood to complete her task, so raising the knife she brought from home she plunged the tip into her wrist. Always one to bleed from even the slightest pinprick, the blood flowed out of the cut, and she allowed it to fall onto the earth. She heard Paul’s sharp intake of breath, but ignored it, and wrapped a handkerchief over the cut. Balancing the book on top of the tombstone, she shone the torch on the pages and started to read the chant. The Wraith, she knew, resides in a place devoid of light and hope. Unaware of its surrounding, it lies in restless sleep, and waits for the voice that will summon it from its limbo. It needs the darkness to become visible to the human eye, and the voice that calls on it must be kept low and chanting.
Jill continued to read, while Paul and Tom watched from the side-line. Calling on God for protection, Paul fingered the rosary beads he kept in his pocket, and the smooth wood of the crucifix made him feel they were not quite unarmed. If there was ever a time for prayer, he thought, this is it. He never looked at the man who stood beside him, but he knew Tom was crying, as he saw the flash of a white handkerchief being brought up to his face.
Beneath the earth something stirred. Marie opened her eyes. At first, she lay listening to the soft calls from above. She didn’t know where she was, or how she had got there. The only awareness she had was of unbearable sorrow. She didn’t try to look around her, which was just as well. Her human body no longer existed all that remained were her bones. She was spared this sight by the urging of the voice that called to her, the notes filled with the same longing that she felt.
“I’m coming,” she whispered, before surging towards the surface.
The air smelled sweet after the rawness of the place she had been, and she stood for a moment looking around her. She was in a graveyard and it was night!
Jill used the tombstone for support, afraid she would faint. She heard the whimpers of fear from the two men and looked over at them. Their faces were ashen, and despite the cold, she saw beads of sweat on their upper lips. What they were witnessing was beyond belief, and she prayed they would not turn and run. Forcing her eyes back to the triangle, she shivered, as she watched the movements of the spirit trapped within it. This was some sort of nightmare, it had to be, as the thing that stood before her could not be real. The woman, Marie, appeared as she had in the photo on Tom’s side table. She wore a dress of flowing burgundy velvet, her favourite, Tom would later tell Jill, and there was nothing creepy or frightening about her, except she appeared at times to fade in and out, and of course, she was dead.
“Marie,” Jill licked her dry lips and managed to stand up straight.
If she did not remain strong, she had no chance of gaining control.
“Marie, do you know where you are?”
The Wraith’s look was one of bewilderment, when she turned towards the sound of the voice, and she wrung her hands.
“I was in a place of shadow,” she seemed on the verge of tears. “I can’t remember anything. The past is dim. Who are you?”
“My name is Jill. I’m the one who called you. I need your help.”
“My help.” She became aware of the presence of the two men, but there was no look of recognition when she saw Tom.
He, on the other hand, had to be helped to stand by Paul. Jill heard his muffled sobbing, and he used a handkerchief to still the sound of his pain.
“My child is missing,” Jill turned back to the Wraith. “I need your help to find him. The same man who took Rachael has taken him. Do you remember?”
The Wraith’s eyes opened wide at the mention of her daughter’s name.
“Rachael,” the whisper floated through the night air. “Rachael, my baby.”
She brought her hands to her face, crying as the memory reawakened.
“I’m sorry to cause you such pain,” Jill cried with her. “But I need to find my son.”
The Wraith shook her head.
“Why couldn’t you let me be?” She tried to move within the triangle but was held in place by its power. “Send me back,” her pleas were pitiful. “I can’t bear the pain. Set me free.”
Tom tried to go to her, but Paul held him back.
“Marie,” he called. “Do you remember me?”
“Tom.” He saw the recognition in her eyes. “Tom, Help me.”
“Send her back,” he turned to Jill. “Reverse the spell. Do something. This is unbearable.”
“I’m sorry.” She tried to block out the sound of his tears and turned back to the Wraith. “My son, Toby, is seven-years-old and the man who took Rachael has him right now. If I don’t find him, he will kill him. I’m begging you as one mother to another, help me.”
“Please,” the Wraith struggled against her invisible barrier. “Set me free.”
“I will set you free, if you promise to help me,” Jill felt stronger, more determined.
“Let her go, you fucking bitch,” Tom screamed, and if it were not for Paul’s grip on his arms, would have attacked Jill.
“I’ll let her go when she hears me out,” Jill glanced at him, and then back at the Wraith. “Will you listen to what I have to say?”
“Am I dead?”
The question stunned them to silence. They looked from her to one another, unsure of what to say. Finally, Tom, after assuring Paul he was calm, stepped forward.
“Marie, love,” he walked closer to the triangle. “You died eight years ago; don’t you remember? A year after Rachael went missing. Her loss was too much for you to bear, and you took an overdose.”
“Oh, God,” her glance flew around the graveyard. “Is that why I’m here, am I being punished for committing suicide?”
“No, love, you’re not. Jill called you to ask for help. Her little boy is missing, and we think the same man who took Rachael has him. If we find Toby, then maybe we will find Rachael.”
“We could bring her home?” Her eyes filled with hope.
“Yes,” he was trying hard not to cry. “We can bring her home, and you can be at rest.”
He reached out and tried to touch her, but there was nothing there. She seemed to be part of the air, nothing solid, no substance. Puzzled, he looked at Jill.
“She is like a shadow; it is Marie’s spirit that you see.”
He nodded, sadly and stepped back. Paul patted his shoulder, urging him to be strong. It took great fortitude to walk away from the woman he had loved and lost. The woman he never expected to see again, not in this life.
“Will you help me?” Jill asked.
“What can I do? I can’t even step out of this thing.” She looked down at the triangle at her feet.
“I can free you from there, if you promise to help me. If not, I can send you back to where you came from.”
“There is nothing for me there,” she looked in horror at the stone that bore her name. “Just endless darkness and cold that chills the soul. I will do whatever I can to help, though I don’t know what use I will be.”
“Very well,” Jill picked up the book. “Once you are free from the triangle, you can move about wherever you please. You have the power to travel on the wind. It is up to you if you want to be visible, but I suggest you stay hidden. Tom thinks someone in the village has taken my son; your job is to find him. It is only by night you can move around. You will be powerless during the day.”
“If it is possible, I’ll find him and when I do…”
Jill interrupted her.
“You won’t do anything, if you do, we won’t find Rachael and Toby.”
“I understand,” she smiled. “Maybe, later, then?”
While this woman that stood before them looked like Marie, Tom knew she had changed. Perhaps her mind had flown before the suicide, or was tainted by the endless years of darkness, but she now had a vicious streak, and he knew she would need careful handling.
Jill’s stomach lurched as she began the chants to free the Wraith, and she hoped she would not regret what she was about to do. While the woman appeared to have no substance, the book declared the Wraith was capable of great deeds, and even hinted at its need for revenge. If this was the case, then God help the man who would shortly become its prey.
“You should be able to move now,” Jill stopped, and nodded at the triangle.
The Wraith lifted her leg and took a tentative step out of her prison. When she saw there was nothing to fear, she stepped out of the triangle.
“You will come with me,” Jill said. “I will show you where I live, and you must return there at the end of every night.”
“I must?” She raised an eyebrow.
Jill knew that she was testing her; the book had warned that this might happen.
“Yes, you must,” she stepped out of the circle and approached the Wraith until their noses were almost touching. Its scent was like the breath of death on her face. “If you do not, I will send you back now.”
“You have that much power?” It was said with a sneer. Now that all the confusion and terror were past, it had become more assured and aware of its power.
“I brought you here, didn’t I?” Jill held its gaze and refused to be beaten.
“Very well.” It saw she was serious, and some instinct warned it must obey. At least until it had done what it set out to do and that was to find her child.
“We need to gather up these things and wipe away the circle,” Jill turned to the men.
She blew out the candles and incense and threw everything into bags. Paul and Tom kicked dirt over the white lines on the ground and pulled up tufts of dried grass to disguise the place where it was drawn. At no time would Paul acknowledge the Wraith and kept well back from it. With the three of them helping, it only required one trip back to the car, and Jill was glad of this, as she felt exhausted. The Wraith had started to feed on her strength, and she knew the next few days would be draining. Paul was much quieter than usual, and once they were outside the graveyard, Jill turned to him.
“I know what I did was terrible, but I had no choice.”
“I know, I know,” his face was still devoid of colour. “But I’m just wondering about that thing in there.”
“Her name’s Marie,” Tom dumped his load into the car boot.
“I have my doubts,” Paul’s eyes stared into the darkness.
“About what?” Tom asked.
“I got to know your wife well during the months before her death,” Paul said. “And when she first appeared, I thought she seemed the same woman, but there’s something not right. You must have felt it.”
“What’s, not right?” Jill felt fear clutch at her heart.
“There’s something about her,” Paul replied. “I know you’ve seen it too.”
Tom tried to avoid his eyes, but he knew Paul was right. There was something, a cruel streak that had never been there before.
“Where is she anyway?” Paul looked back to the graveyard.
“She’s there,” Jill assured him. “She’ll follow me home.”
“Right,” he opened his car door. “I’ll go home and get some clothes and then I’ll be right back.”
“You’re coming to my house,” Jill asked. “Why?”
“I’m not leaving you alone with that thing,” He held up a hand to still Tom’s protests. “I know you think it’s Marie that was brought back, and maybe it was. But she’s changed, and not for the better.”