The Wraith is a haunting narrative podcast that drifts through shadows, secrets, and the supernatural. Each episode unfolds a chilling tale of loss, vengeance, and the unknown — where reality bends and darkness has a voice.
Horror
All posts tagged Horror
The nights are quieter now. The only noise to disturb the dark air is the hoot of the owl or the blood-chilling cry of the vixen. Annie and Dora still sleep, and their grave is tended and watched over. The house reverted to Emily after Liam’s freak accident, and with the help of Cora, Marie, and an assortment of nursing staff; it is now a retirement home. Its occupants the inmates of Hillcrest enjoy a freedom denied to them for so long. Between them they have restored the gardens. Marble statues appeared, haphazardly dotting the ground, when the trailing vines were stripped back. Everything was cleaned and polished, giving a sense of renewal. The old take pleasure in Laura and Shelly’s childish chatter and they in turn, love their newly acquired grandparents. They sit together at night and swap news, the two young girls just beginning their life, the others contemplating the end, but safe and content at last.
Still, there are times, when the dark closes in and the house lays quiet, when Cora stands at her window and watches. She looks across the gardens at the statues glowing white in the moonlight and standing like silent sentinels over the grave and wonders how long the peace will last. The red band on her wrist, burnt there by Annie’s hand, shows stark against the whiteness of her skin, and is a constant reminder of the eternal battle she witnessed. She traces her finger along the mark and her mind strays back to the day of Liam’s funeral. Many dismissed her lack of emotion for shock and her sob one of anguish, on seeing Liam’s latest pillow friend. They tut-tutted and whispered about bad taste, but Cora cared nothing about social niceties. What caused her to cry out was the unmistakable bulge in the front of the woman’s coat?
Annie sensed his fear. Its musky, acidic smell surrounded him like an aura. They were alone in the dark and the next move was down to her.
“Do you know who I am,” she asked. “Or why I am here?”
“I know you’re trespassing,” his voice was hoarse, as he brought the back of his hand up to wipe the moisture from his face.
“Then we are alike. You have no claim to this house either.”
“Oh, I get it,” his laugh sounded hollow in the stillness. “You’re one of those bleeding hearts. On some sort of quest, are you?” He jabbed the statue at Annie, pushing her back towards the curtain-less window. “Did the old woman put you up to this?”
“Stop,” Annie pleaded, as for a moment, her fear of the O Brien’s returned.
Liam dropped the statue and grabbed her by the throat. Her back was pressed against the window frame as he moved ever closer. The hand encircling her pressed harder, and she moved up on her toes to try and escape the pressure.
“Let me go,” she croaked. “You are hurting me.”
“This is nothing to what I’m going to do to you. I’ll show you pain that up to now you could only imagine,” Liam’s spittle flew against her face. “You won’t look quite as pretty when I’m done with you.”
His words took her back to that room. She saw once more the gleam of the nails in the chair. Smelt the leather on the restraints and looked on the blood-soaked body of her sister, lit by the light of the brazier. The heat threatened to overwhelm her, but this time the fire was inside her. Liam felt the flesh beneath his hand ripple and ebb, the movement unnatural. He tried to draw back, but terror held him prisoner.
“Fiend,” the voice was no longer that of a young girl. “Betrayer of women; destroyer of the innocent.”
“No,” Liam sobbed, as the flesh he held crackled like dead leaves.
“You bring destruction and death to all and care nothing for the suffering,” Annie continued. “Very well, let us see if you welcome death as freely as you embrace its power.”
The clouds parted and allowed the moon to light the room. Liam screamed into the face pressed against his. The hollow, cobwebby eyes, the jutting bones covered in places by blackened skin, and the putrid breath was toxic.
“So,” Annie smiled at his bulging eyes. “You see me now as I really am. So, tell me, do you still think I am pretty?”
His only answer came from the small trickle of urine that flowed down his legs and dripped onto the floor. He gagged on the stench, and the muscles in his stomach clenched until he thought he would embarrass himself even further. Still, his legs remained like lead.
“And what about my hair?” Annie asked. “Is it not beautiful? Do you not want to touch it?” Reaching up, she ripped some of the matted tendrils from her skull and waved them under his nose. “Go on, run your fingers through it.”
Though the sound of Liam’s screams were as soothing as music, The Dark One grew impatient. He flew towards the attic window and placed his hands on either side of it. All pretence of normality gone; he showed his true features as he roared.
“Kill him. Do it now.”
The demonic face at the window startled the figures silhouetted inside, but it was enough to break the spell and before Annie could regain control, Liam ran screaming down the stairs. Dora, despite her promise, came running to see what the noise was all about. So, the first thing Liam encountered, as he ran along the landing, was the little girl. In his terror and heightened state of awareness, he saw her as she really was. To her he was the monster who’d beaten her to death, and she started to scream. Behind him he heard the slow, shuffling steps on the wooden attic stairs. The thing holding the doll was blocking the stairway, but that didn’t deter him in his flight, and he launched himself over the rail landing awkwardly on the stairs below.
“Go back in there, now,” Annie ordered, and the child scuttled back into the bedroom.
Liam limped down the stairs aware of the footsteps following. The front door loomed in the distance and he gritted his teeth against the pain, as he moved towards it. Twice his sweat-soaked fingers slipped on the latch until finally, with the aid of the storm, it flew open. He had forgotten in his terror, the demon outside. The steps were carpeted with leaves, and he struggled to keep his balance as he climbed down. His injured foot gave way when he reached the rough gravel, and he was forced to grab on to one of the stone sculptures. There were footsteps on the driveway, and he cried with relief. This was short lived when he saw who it was, he screamed again and brought a hand up to protect his face.
“Bastard,” Cora raised the fallen branch. “You killed my child.”
“No,” the voice from the doorway cried.
Cora looked towards the sound and her eyes grew wide with fear. Something was making its way down the steps. Something so horrible, that for a moment time ceased and she remained frozen, the arm holding the branch raised above her head.
“This is mine to deal with,” the thing said. “I am beyond hope. All is lost to me, but you have a chance. As yet, you remain unblemished by this monster, this thief of time.”
Cora realised, despite the creature’s fearsome appearance, the voice was that of a young woman. Liam reached out and caught hold of Cora’s skirt.
“Help me,” he sobbed.
Cora looked into her husband’s eyes and saw reflected in them the cold, white body of her child. She reached down and gently pried away his fingers. All the while the thing stood silent, waiting.
“Poor Liam,” Cora stroked her husband’s cheek, and he grabbed at her hand and kissed it. “You know,” she smiled at him. “I never realised until now what a truly, pathetic little man you are.”
“What are you saying?” He asked, as she raised the branch again.
“I’m saying, I hope you rot in hell,” she swung as hard as she could.
Annie leaped forward and caught her hand in mid air. Cora struggled with her screaming above the noise of the storm, she had to do this. But the fingers encircling her wrist burned like boiling water on her skin and she dropped to her knees moaning in pain. The branch slipped from her grasp.
“Listen to me,” the thing knelt beside her.
Cora’s tried to turn away. Tried to sink into the blackness she saw in the eyeless hollows of the face before her, but instead she clutched at her empty stomach and sobbed.
“I need you to heed my words,” it continued. “You have young ones to care for. They will need you in the days ahead. Do not desert them as I did to all I held most dear.”
Liam watched the scene before him and took advantage of his wife’s distress. His car keys were inside the house, and with his injured ankle, he would never make it inside and back to the car without them noticing. His only option was to make for the trees and out onto the road beyond them. The gravel crunched like glass beneath his feet, but the crying of the wind masked its sound. He inched his way towards the back of the house and moved as fast as he possibly could through the jungle-like garden and into the shelter of the trees.
Annie’s heart ached for the woman and for her terrible loss.
“I know something of your suffering,” she whispered.
“How can you?” Cora sobbed. “No one knows what I feel.”
She looked up at the long-dead thing and gasped. Between the intermittent lightning flashes, she caught a glimpse of the young girl. A stunningly, beautiful girl with flowing auburn hair that floated around her in the wind.
“What are you?” Cora asked.
“I am a wraith. I bring death to the evil in this place. For centuries I have wandered the earth in search of peace. Now it is within my grasp. Your man is the last in his line, and his time has come.”
The roar of thunder overhead was so loud Cora covered her ears. But Annie heard reflected in the sound the voice of The Dark One.
“He is getting away,” he roared, and in an instant, she was on her feet and running.
Liam stopped to rest against a tree. Despite the cold night air, he was sweating. Not far to go, he thought, as the white of the road showed clear between the trees. Pain shot along his leg and he reached down and rubbed at his swollen ankle. There was no time to waste. That thing could come after him at any time. He swore aloud, as he snagged his foot on a root and fell hard onto the forest’s branch-strewn floor.
“Christ,” he gritted his teeth and tried to stand.
This is that bitch Cora’s fault. His anger so intense, he forgot for a moment he was being hunted and it was not until he felt the fingers in his hair hauling him up, his terror returned. He was propelled face first into the nearest tree trunk. The force, with which he made contact, shattered his nose and the crunch of bone echoed in his pain-filled howls.
Annie spun him around. Blood matted his face, dripped down his chin and coated her fingers.
“You cannot escape me,” she snarled.
Her putrid breath mingled with the taste of his blood and made him retch. The grip of the skeleton fingers was so tight he knew if he vomited, he would choke. All around him the night filled with sound. There were urgent whisperings, hundreds of voices chanted prayers he remembered from long ago, when he still believed in a power greater than himself.
“You will not stop me,” Annie drew back a little, but still retained her death grip on the quivering man. She looked towards the shadows in the trees and roared “This is how it must be, if I am to rest.”
“No, Annie, no,” the cries encircled them.
“They will not stop me,” the thing moved closer, until it was pressing against him.
Annie brought her free hand up to his face and then slowly almost dreamlike, she allowed her fingers to slide down his shirt and rip away each button.
Liam sobbed, as the bony fingers pulled aside the fabric and exposed his flesh. The cool night air made his skin tingle, but it was not this that made the goose pimples rise. It was the feel of the claw as it moved towards his chest.
“Please,” he sobbed. “Let me go.”
“You expect mercy; but you have never shown any?”
“Just tell me what you want. I’ll do whatever you say, pay any price.”
“Your riches mean nothing to me, but you will pay, and the price is what lies beneath.”
Liam screamed, as the dirty razor-sharp nails stabbed at his chest, then traced downwards opening the incision wider.
Cora heard him and staggered to her feet. She made no move towards the sound and it wasn’t until she felt the small hand slip into hers, she looked down. A little girl, no older than six or seven and clutching a doll was looking up at her.
“We have to help Annie,” the child nodded towards the forest. “Or else The Dark One will have her forever.”
Cora dropped the child’s hand and started to run around the house.
Liam felt the warm blood as it dripped down his chilled skin. The wound in his chest burned and his eyes widened as the fingers of the thing arched ready for attack.
“Don’t,” he begged.
“It is too late to beg for mercy. I asked for it once and my cries went unheard, and the cries of your son will never sound because of you. I believed men such as you were heartless; I now know I was wrong. I can feel it beating as any other, but it is not like any other. It is rotten to the core.”
Liam’s screams echoed through the trees, as Annie thrust her fingers deep into the wound. She felt the flesh part and the softness of muscles, as she moved towards her target. Her skeleton fingers scraped bone against bone on his ribs.
Despite her revulsion Cora managed to grab hold of her. Annie caught off guard, was thrown back. The suction sound as her fingers were torn from Liam’s flesh was nauseating.
“Annie, no,” Cora gasped, winded from the run and her recent ordeal.
Liam slumped to the ground and was clutching at his torn chest trying to stem the flow of blood. Annie, stunned by the surprise attack, sat against a tree trunk.
“He’s not worth it,” Cora said. “It’s bad enough I’ve had to suffer up to now at his hands, but think of it Annie, yours will be eternal.”
“That is a price I am willing to pay.”
Liam tried to back away as she crawled towards him, ready to renew her assault.
“Please, no,” Cora begged, caring only for the memory of the young girl she had glimpsed moments before and nothing for the man she had once called husband.
“No,” the cries of the spirits joined with hers, and Cora hugged herself as the ground beneath her shook.
The roots of long dead trees sprang from the earth and wrapped themselves around Annie’s ankles, pulling her back. She roared in frustration and beat at the earth-brown sinews holding her against the trunk. Some were so brittle with age they crumbled to dust beneath her rapacious tearing. But as soon as she managed to pull one away another replaced it. Cora sobbed, as she watched the battle before her. Nature itself loved this young woman enough to fight for her. The wind died completely, and the night grew still, except for the snapping of the roots and the howls of their prisoner. The moonlight returned and small shafts of its light made their way through the trees. From far above her head, Cora heard an urgent rustling as every bird awoke from slumbering and took to the air. Crows, sparrows, starlings, and magpies flew as one towards the sky, their wings beating a tattoo and their voices calling out to him who created them for help. Still, the heavens remained silent.
Dora sat on the steps of the house crying and hugging her doll. The noises from the forest frightened her, and even though she wanted to help her sister, fear held her in its grip. She was so frightened she did not even move when the big lights came towards her.
The taxi deposited its passengers and drove away. The darkness returned and Laura, Shelly and Emily were left standing staring at the little girl who sat with her eyes covered, sobbing.
“What’s that noise? Laura looked at Emily.
“I don’t know, but it’s coming from behind the house.”
“Shelly, stay there,” Laura ordered, as she followed the old woman.
Shelly walked to the steps and sat down. Dora peeped between her fingers and realising it was another child took her hands down.
“You have to help Annie,” she whispered.
“I can’t,” Shelly said. “My head is broken.” And she rubbed at the offending lump.
“What happened?”
“My stupid sister did it.”
“Why?”
“Cause I called her names.”
“Hugh beat me with a stick.”
Who’s he?”
“A horrid man and very big like this,” she stretched her arms above her head.
“What did he beat you for?”
“I would not tell a lie about Annie.”
“Did it hurt a lot?”
“Yes, I was all cut and my new dress got blood on it, look.”
Shelly bent to look at the dark stain on the faded garment and wrinkled her nose.
“That’s gross. What did you do then?”
“I fell asleep.”
“Hey,” Shelly noticed the doll, reached across, and grabbed it. “That’s mine.”
“I did not break it or anything. I just played with it.”
Shelly looked at the strange little girl with the big sad eyes and gave the doll back.
“Here, you can keep it. I have loads more.”
“Oh, thank you,” Dora clasped the wonderful gift and, while the earth and all of its forces fought against the threatening darkness two little girls sat and talked about dolls and sisters and things that remained the same throughout the centuries.
Laura caught up with Emily and they walked hand in hand into the turmoil. Annie still fought against her bonds; Liam managed to get to his feet but was unable to walk. A tree took his weight, as he leant against it. He needed both hands to keep his flesh together.
“Mam,” Cora did not hear Laura call her name as above her the birds circled faster, their cries growing more urgent. It was not until her daughter touched her, she realised she was there. She knew the old woman with her had to be Emily.
“Laura, don’t look,” She pulled the child against her, trying to shield her eyes.
“It’s all right, Mam. I know Annie and I know why she is angry. He hurt you, didn’t he?” She cast a disdainful look at her blood-soaked father.
Cora did not have time to reply.
“Annie,” Emily walked towards the struggling figure. “Annie, dearest, don’t you know me?”
Annie stopped and looked at the old woman.
“I’m family, Annie. I am descendent of Rose. Look deep child and remember.”
The skies grew quiet as the birds flew down and lined the branches of the trees. Nothing stirred; even the moon stood still and waited.
“You are Rose’s child?”
“Yes,” Emily walked closer. “And I know all about you and what you’ve suffered.”
“Then she lived?”
“Yes, child. They all lived. Meg, Pat, Lily and Paul. They’ve kept watch over you throughout time.”
With this Annie started to cry. She bowed her head and sobbed, and when she finally looked up, she was a young girl again.
“Then I was not alone?”
“You were never alone. Their love was hidden from you by The Dark One’s curse.”
Who’s The Dark One?” Laura asked.
A shadow slipped from between the trees.
“I am,” he bowed mockingly and walked over to the child.
Cora pushed her daughter behind her, but she was no match for his superhuman strength, and he threw her aside. Bending down, he took Laura’s chin in his hand.
“Don’t touch me,” she tried to pull away. “You’re a bad man.”
“Oh, you have no idea how bad I am, little girl.”
The smack she gave him resounded in the stillness.
“I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual I assure you.”
“Take your hands off her” the roots released Annie; she pushed him aside and became a barrier between him and the child. “I will not allow you to hurt her.”
“You cannot stop me,” he sneered.
“Oh, I can stop you, Lucifer. Like you I have learned much, and I will cast you down as Michael did before me.”
His eyes blazed and his mouth drew back in a feral grin, as he lunged at her. The force with which she hit him sent him flying and he landed so hard, the earth beneath him cracked. He sat for a moment watching her, undecided. Then got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes. The three women and the child moved closer together. Finally, he spoke.
“Very well; you have made your choice,” he waved at Liam. “He is still alive and my curse cannot be lifted and believe me Annie, he will sire more sons. Your search for peace will be endless.”
“But I know I am no longer alone. Dora is with me, I have seen her, and Rose survived. I will take this knowledge with me always, and I have learned so much I can no longer be of use to you. I will always hold true to the Most High. Go now.”
He moved back into the shadows until they could no longer see him.
“Where did he go?” Laura asked.
“Back to where he belongs,” Annie said. “And I pray he stays there for a long time.”
The lights in the house came on as the power supply was restored and lit the garden.
“Dora is waiting for you, child,” Emily took Annie’s hand and led her out from the trees. Cora and Laura walked behind them.
Liam’s laughter followed them, its sound hollow in the night air. All fear left him, and he considered himself immortal after hearing The Dark One’s words. Already his wound was starting to heal.
“You’re fucked,” he called after them. “All of you are fucked, understand? You,” he jabbed his finger at Cora. “You’re out, and you old woman,” He glared at Emily. “you’ll rot in that home.”
Annie started to walk back to him, but Emily stopped her.
“Leave him be, child. There’s a greater power will deal with him.”
“That’s right,” he sneered. “Listen to the old woman. Because one way or another you are really fucked. Kill me and you know what will happen. I heard him back there. I’m not stupid.”
“Come, child,” Emily pulled the reluctant Annie away.
“I’ll knock the house and dig every inch of the land until I find you. I will grind your bones to dust and there is nothing you can do. You’re useless,” he was shaking with temper. “Just like every woman ever born, you’re worthless.”
The watching birds screeched into flight, as Annie ran back towards him.
“I will kill you,” she screamed, but before she could touch him…
The clouds parted and a ray of light brighter than the sun cut through the night sky forcing them to cover their eyes. The lightening bolt, thrown by one who had remained silent for too long, found its target and cut Liam’s heart in two. The shocked women looked in wonder at his fallen body and the small plume of smoke rising from it.
“Don’t cry, Mam,” Laura said. “Dad was a bad man and he’d have hurt us and Annie.”
“I know,” Cora could not tell her young daughter her tears were ones of relief.
“The power of God is still strong,” Emily said. “And as he says there’s a time for everything under heaven,” she pointed to the opposite side of the garden and the figure of the blond child skipping along beside the young woman.
After the rain, the warm air started to rise, and a mist floated above the grass. Annie and Dora stopped when they reached their resting place and waved.
“God grant you peace,” Emily called to them, before the mist rose and they were lost to her forever.
And deep below the earth, wrapped in its velvet folds, a small child cuddled closer to her sister, stuck her thumb in her mouth and with her free hand holding tightly to her doll drifted away.
The Dark One stood amid storm tossed trees and watched as Annie sobbed over her own grave.
“I am so frightened, Dora,” she whispered. “Meg’s gone and I’m all alone. There is no one to guide me and I am weary. I want to lie down with you and sleep for the rest of eternity.”
The Dark One felt the spirits being moved by her plight. They came from out of the earth, from the sky and their voices echoed in the wind. His enemy was frightened, and he had a right to be so. As soon as he harnessed that girl’s power, he, once called Prince of Angels, would be as strong as the one calling himself God. Then the continuation of the world would be in his hands and he would wreak havoc on all who opposed him. Even now he felt those that lurked in the dark shadows drawing nearer, sensing his strength.
“Let me help you.”
Annie looked up, then shied back from his touch.
“You help me? All you have ever done is hurt anyone who has crossed your path. Why would you help me now, Lucifer?”
“I told you before. Do not speak that name.”
The skin rippled on his face threatening to expose his true features, and the fire in his eyes glowed, as he tried to control his rage.
“Don’t anger me, woman,” he warned. “You, who are without ally, cannot afford to turn down my offer.”
“An offer of eternal damnation?”
“That is not so. I will give you your life back, as promised. You will live out your allotted time and all you love will be restored.”
Annie looked down at the still, silent grave and the dark earth covering her sister.
“She was so young,” The Dark One picked up some of the soil and crumbled it between his fingers. “What a full life she could have lived, but for your selfishness; I would have destroyed the O Brien’s back then and all of this suffering could have been avoided. Yet even now you allow it to continue and another child has died because of him.”
“Then it is as I suspected, the child is dead?”
“A boy child,” The Dark One laughed.
Annie looked at him, disgusted.
“Well, you have to admit it’s amusing.”
“I find no merriment in the taking of life. Get out of my sight, Lucifer.”
This time the use of his given name had no effect on him.
“But it is your fault, if you would, but once admit it. You allow him to live and he will sire others. That woman, the one he calls wife, is not the only one he lies with.”
She could still hear his laughter as he faded back into the shadows. It was her fault, what he said was the truth. If she had given him her power all the suffering could have been avoided.
The house lay shrouded in night, as she moved towards it. All around her the good spirits beseeched her not to go there, but she was beyond reason. She moved silent as death up the steps towards the main door and stood in the shadows, waiting.
Liam groaned, as he drove up the driveway. The trees arched across his path; bending and swaying until he was sure they would scratch the paintwork of his car. He would have to see about cutting them down. A branch scraped across the roof as though reading his thoughts.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and put his foot down hard on the accelerator.
A shower of gravel, thrown up by the car wheels, heralded his arrival at the front door. Ducking his head against the storm, he ran up the steps. The key creaked, as he turned it, and before he closed the door, Annie glided by him. Inside the house was inky black, and he felt his way along the wall for a light switch. The light from the grand chandelier was harsh and lit up the streaks of blood at the bottom of the stairs. He ignored them and went towards his study. The house felt damp, a fault with the boiler, he thought, but he was too tired to correct it. The wait in the hospital seemed eternal. Four hours playing the devoted husband drained him. Hours when he could have been attending to better things. He smirked, thinking of what his dear wife referred to as his latest pillow friend. God, but women bored him. The wiles and whispered promises made his teeth itch. Whores, every one of them, but he made them pay and laughed when their words of love turned to screams of pain. Being the dumb creatures, they were, they came back for more; like whipped dogs cowering before their master.
Logs were piled beside the fire, so he threw some into the grate and set them alight. Taking his hankie from his pocket, he rubbed at his nose. The room smelled musty and a damp odour seemed to surround him.
Annie heard his every thought as though spoken and noticed how his hand shook as he filled a glass from a decanter.
I stayed as long as was necessary, he told himself. After all, the doctor said she would sleep for hours after the anaesthetic. No point in hanging around. The child was dead, best thing for everyone really. When she returned from the hospital, they could all go away for a few days as a family. Women liked that sort of things and she would soon forget the baby. Yes, a holiday would do him good, somewhere hot put a bit of colour into his skin. He held out his hands to inspect their paleness.
Outside despite the storm, the trees stretched skywards reaching out for the heavens. Fighting the force of the wind, they held their branches aloft and begged God to be merciful on one they loved. Even those who lived by the sea and knew well its ways; wondered why tonight of all nights, its voice was so loud. It roared and tossed, giant waves thundered towards the shore and shattered against rocks. The night creatures of forest and hedgerows covered their eyes and wept. “Will you abandon us?” The elements cried. “Will you let the one who was cast down have power over us, as you did to her who was part of us all?”
The heavens lay silent. Even the light from the few stars glowing through the blackness seemed to dim. They must stand alone and be Annie’s only hope. The trees called to the earth and all who inhabited it. From out of the forest came the first creatures. Fox and deer wild cats, rats and even owls worked side by side as they dug into Dora’s grave. Earth flew left and right as sharp claw and nail pierced the soil.
“Come child, come,” The spirits urged. “Your sister is in need of you.”
A small white hand forced its way through the earth and then another until soon, Dora was heaving herself up from the dank hole and running towards the house.
Annie could feel the changes occurring. The smell of her own body sickened her. It was of mould and decay. She knew her features must be frightening and when she touched her hair she cried, a shuddering, sobbing, pain-filled cry. Small tufts as dry as straw laced her fingers. This was his fault; she looked at Liam who had dropped his brandy at the sound. Up till now, she had not allowed him to see her, but that was about to change…
“Annie, Annie,” Dora ran up the steps of the house and tapped at the door. “Annie, let me in.”
Liam looked around, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Annie’s heart ached at the sound of the long-lost voice, but she did not move. The spirits were clever; they would try to distract her. The knocking continued, and Liam who was still shaking from the cry, got up to see what it was. Dora ran past him when he opened the door. The only thing he felt was the force of the wind. There was nothing there. Not for the first time did he question his choice of house. These old places were filled with creaks and groans. Shivering, he went back to the fire.
Annie held Dora and brushed away the dried earth from her face and picked little clumps from her hair, every trace of anger gone now she had her sister back.
“You have to come with me, Annie. Mamma says so.” The child looked up at her. “It is dark, and I am cold.”
“I will come with you, I promise, but not now. You must go back and wait for me.”
“I do not want to. I want to stay with you.”
Before Annie could answer, Liam banged his refilled glass down on the side table. Dora screamed.
“It is him, Annie, Hugh.”
“No,” Annie held her closer. “It is not Hugh; it is someone belonging to him.”
“He hurt me.”
“I know, my sweet, but he cannot hurt you anymore. He cannot even see you”
“He cannot, really, why?”
Annie shrugged, unsure of what to say, but this seemed great fun to Dora, and she crept closer to Liam. Had he been able to see the long dead child, he would have lost his mind. But then so would Annie. All she saw was a rosy-cheeked, blond-haired little girl with her face pressed against Liam’s. In truth, the nose almost touching his was stripped bare of flesh. The blue eyes sparkling with mischief were dark endless hollows, and the flowing hair, tattered tendrils framing the grinning skull.
“You hurt me,” Dora whispered and reached out towards his drink.
An invisible hand swept it from the table. Liam gaped at the fallen glass and spilled liquid.
Dora delighted with her prank, ran from the room and up the stairs. Sure, Annie would scold her; she hid in the shadows on the gallery.
Liam dropped to his knees and mopped at the stain on his Persian rug. The wind shook the shutters on the window and pried them loose. The sound of the wood hitting against the frame made him scream. From within the storm The Dark One watched the tableau and rubbed his hands with glee. Lightening struck the power lines plunging the house into darkness.
Liam, glad of the firelight, took the two ornate holders from the mantelpiece and lit the candles.
Annie crept up the stairs in search of her sister. When Dora heard her coming, she ran further into the house.
“Dora, come back here.”
“You have to find me,” the child giggled and climbed upwards.
Liam looked towards the ceiling and called out to his daughters to be quiet. It was then he remembered they were not there. He was apprehensive, not about ghosts or spirits, because he believed in nothing. Still, there was someone in the house. There was no mistaking the patter of footsteps on the floor above. He wished there were more lights. Despite piling logs on the flames, the fire seemed to lose its glow, and dark shadows crept from the corners of the room. It was no use; he would have to investigate. Taking one of the candlesticks, he moved towards the door.
The hall lay shrouded in moonbeams and darting shapes moved all around him. Leaves, he comforted himself, shadows of leaves being tossed about in the storm outside and reflecting on the floor. But these were nothing so innocent. From out of the darkness the lost souls urged him up, wanting to please their master and bring about Liam’s end. They knew she was up there. The one who could set them free as the master promised. But they were hindered in their work by the others; the ones who worked beside her. Time after time strong hands reached out and pulled them back into the shadows.
Liam moved up winching at each creaking board on the stairs. Somewhere above him a door banged, and he almost dropped the candle. His heart thudded against his ribs and he held the light higher. Was there something crouched at the gallery rail? Cold fear wandered down his spine, sweat coated his upper lip and he stood uncertain of what to do. For a moment all was quiet within the house, except for the sound of the rain on the roof, persistent and melancholic.
“Fuck this,” his voice shattered the silence. “You’re dead, do you hear me. Whoever you are, you’re dead when I get my hands on you.”
“Annie,” Dora came running from her hiding place. “He is going to kill us.”
“No, he is not,” she watched the flame as it moved closer. “Not this time, come.”
She led Dora into the children’s room. The dark was the same as the light to them and the child squealed with delight her fear forgotten when she saw the array of dolls.
“Now, stay here and play,” Annie said. “I will lead him away.”
Dora nodded and picked up the nearest doll.
“Look at me,” Annie turned her face towards her. “I mean what I say. You must stay here. No matter what you hear, Promise.”
Dora nodded again and Annie wagged her finger at her.
“Say you promise. Cross your heart and hope to…”
Dora’s fingers on her lips stopped her.
“Do not say that, Annie. Remember the last time?”
Annie remembered too well and after Dora assured her, she would stay put, she went in search of Liam. Which was no hard feat, as he stumbled along the corridor, a candle in one hand and a small marble statue in the other by way of a weapon? Annie ran by him and up the next flight of stairs towards the attic.
Liam raised the hand holding the statue and wiped his forehead. His shirt clung to his back and the wool from his pants chaffed his sweat-soaked thighs. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to get out, but something was urging him on. A sinister seductiveness surrounded him pulling him towards it. The door to the attic stairs swung noiselessly open and his feet moved forward, despite his terror. Unbroken veils of cobwebs blocked his path and he pushed them aside with the statue. White silken gossamer clung to his sleeves and about his shoulders, making him glow against the black background. Someone stood silhouetted by the window.
“Come out of the shadows. I’m warning you,” Liam raised the statue higher.
Annie walked towards him, the Annie of old with her waist length hair and winning smile. For a moment Liam was taken aback, until she spoke.
“Welcome, I have been waiting for you,” leaning over, she blew the candle out.
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.
The waiting was the worst. Annie jumped at each sound, as the old mill creaked and groaned about her. Common sense told her it was the timbers settling and the scratching and tearing, nothing more than the clawing of mice or rats in the beams. The smell from the next cell made her feel sick. Stefan’s body fluids mixed with the damp straw, and to Annie’s heightened sense of smell, it was rancid. She could almost taste the sweet, coppery blood. It seemed to stick to the back of her throat, causing her to gag. Walking over to the gate of her cell, she pushed her face between two of the bars trying to gulp in the air streaming from the slatted windows. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, as she prayed once again for the courage to bear what was about to happen.
There came the sound of footfalls from above, and she moved deeper into the cell, when she heard a door open and the steps upon the stone stair. Turning her face to the wall, she refused to look at her visitor, but sensed someone was standing, watching her.
“Annie, dear.”
She turned to see Mary O Brien.
“I have come to save your life, Annie.”
“Really?” Annie knew The Dark One had sent Mary.
“This is no time to be proud,” Mary’s smile tightened. “But, then, why should it surprise me. Your mother was the same. She could have married well you know?”
Annie did not answer, but this did nothing to stop Mary.
“But, no,” she sneered. “She had to marry for love. Love, I ask you,” the laugh sounded like a snort. “And to a lowly woodcutter. Well, see where it got her. She left three orphans, two of them in prison.”
“Two in prison?” Annie ran towards the bars. “What do you mean two in prison?”
“You have not heard? She raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Oh, they brought your younger sister in this morning. Dora is it?”
“And the others?”
“I have no idea. They could be dead for all I know. Something of the kind was hinted at.”
“No,” Annie started to cry. “No, you are lying. You must be. I would have felt it if they were dead.”
“There you go with that silly talk again. Felt it, indeed. No good will come of it, mark my words.”
“Please listen to me,” she pushed her hand between the bars and held it out to Mary. “Cousin, help me.”
Mary ignored the proffered hand, but Annie saw she was prepared to listen.
“If you find out what happened to my sisters, I will give you my cottage and land.”
Mary looked around her, checking no one could hear, but there was no mistaking the spark of greed glistening in her eyes.
“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Listen,” Annie grew more desperate. “The deed is hidden in the cottage. Do as I ask, and I will tell you where it is. You can keep it. I care for nothing other than news of my sister.”
“Very well,” Mary nodded. “I will see what I can find out, but not a word to anyone. I do not want to be seen helping a witch.”
“You know I am not a witch.”
“Oliver says you are and since your imprisonment and the deaths of the gypsies there have been no more cases of the fever.”
“But that is because the weather has grown colder. Please, Mary you must see reason.”
“I know only what my intended tells me, and I have no reason to doubt him.”
“Your intended?”
“Yes,” Mary smiled. “We are to be married as soon as all this unpleasantness is finished.”
Annie looked at her in wonder. Did she really believe the Devil would marry her?
“Do you not wish me luck, Annie?”
“Oh, yes indeed. I wish you all the luck you deserve.”
Mary was unsure if the words were barbed, so chose to ignore them. After all, the cottage and lands would fetch a good price. The money would come in handy and her new lifestyle might be expensive. Dear Oliver, was generosity itself, but she had to impress him with her independent spirit.
“I must go now,” she pulled her silk shawl tighter.
“You will do as you promised?”
“I will do my best, and I hope you will stick to your side of the bargain?”
“I promise. As soon as you bring me word of my sisters, Meg and the gypsy children I will tell you where the deed is.”
“Very well,” Mary turned, and as an afterthought… “I almost forgot my reason for calling on you.”
She made it sound as though this was a social call.
“I came to beg you to repent and admit to your sins. I have no grudge against you and wish you no harm.”
Annie knew this was untrue. Not only was Mary grievously vexed by Annie’s refusal to marry her son, but also because of her resemblance to her mother, Mary’s cousin. She always envied her looks and kind nature, and the simple happiness she found in her woodcutter husband and daughters.
“I am not a witch. I admit nothing.”
“Well, I did my best. I can only hope your suffering and the suffering of your sister will be swift.”
With these words she was gone, and Annie stayed staring at the spot she’d vacated. Dora, surely, they would not harm her. She was only six years old, almost a baby.
She heard the slam of the mill door overhead, and pictured Mary sweeping along the main street on her way to report to Him. The thought of her cousin in a wedding dress, with The Dark One by her side made Annie laugh, such a fitting bride for the Devil. She laughed louder, tears streaming down her face. But there was no merriment in the sound, and she collapsed on the straw still laughing hysterically.
Somehow, she managed to sleep. When she woke it was still daylight, but the shadows lengthened, and she judged it was well into the afternoon. Brushing the hair from her face and wiping at the dried spittle staining her mouth, she stood. She was covered in straw. It stuck to her skirt, worked its way into the cleft between her breasts and seemed to cling to every strand of her hair. She picked as much of it as she could from her clothes and shook it from her hair. So intent was she at her work she failed to notice Hugh was watching her.
“Good day, cousin,” he bowed. “I have been sent to fetch you.”
Annie backed away, but he threw open the gate and seized her arm.
“Come along now and none of your nonsense.”
He propelled her along the corridor and towards the dark door, and into the room that played such a part in her tortured imagination. There was a row of six chairs on one side of the room. The squire and five of the elders were all to sit in judgement of her. There were three large books spread open on a table and she saw to her dismay these were Meg’s books. Meg would never part with the books. She would guard them with her life. Did this mean…? No, she could not be dead.
“Gentlemen,” The Dark One addressed the assembled jury. “You see here before you the grimoires of this witch. Within the pages of each of these accursed books lie the Devil’s words. It was with these innocent looking books she,” he pointed at Annie. “Cast her spells and killed those you loved and held most dear.”
She turned towards the men and shook her head, her eyes pleading with them for understanding, but their faces seemed set in stone. The Dark One was still speaking. Picking passages from each of the books. Jumbling up the words and making them sound sinister and evil. The tirade continued for so long Annie lost track of time. The Dark One’s eyes blazed, as he hurled accusation after accusation at her. She never answered but shook her head in denial. He became angry at her refusal to speak and turning to the jury, cried. “Will not one of you good men question her?”
There was a shuffling of feet, heads were shaken, whispers passed between the men until finally, one of them stood.
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Do you deny any involvement with these books?”
“No, Sir, I do not.”
“Then you admit to reading them; to have knowledge of their evil!”
“These books are used in healing and in the protection of the dark forces,” she explained. “There is nothing evil within any of the covers.”
“But,” the man spluttered. “We have heard the words for ourselves. They speak of spells and charms. Do you deny this?”
“I deny they are evil. The words were muddled up in the reading. It is he,” she nodded towards The Dark One. “Who tries to fool you.”
“And why should he do that? He has nothing to gain. There is no fee involved in his work.”
“He is the Devil and he works to empower himself.”
There were gasps and mumbled calls of blasphemy.
“I have no more questions,” the man turned away.
Once he resumed his seat, the jury whispered together. The squire looked up from time to time and smirked at her. The Dark One allowed them to confer for a while and then asked.
“What is your verdict, gentlemen?”
The squire answered for all. “Guilty of witchcraft.”
“Very well,” The Dark One smiled. “A wise decision. I will deal with her in the approved way from here on. You may go,” he waved towards the door.
They filed from their seats. One or two cast a furtive glance in her direction, but most avoided looking at her. Annie stared down at her lap, not wanting to meet their gaze. She listened to the shuffling of feet and the heavy thud of the door closing, until the silence came surging back and she was alone with The Dark One and Hugh.
“You have heard the verdict of your elders. They have found you guilty of witchcraft. What do you have to say?”
She looked up at him.
“Nothing I can say will make any difference. You have already decided my fate.”
“You know what you must do to save yourself,” He glared at her. “I have given you plenty of opportunity.”
Turning to Hugh she asked. “Do you really have any idea of what he wants?”
Hugh shrugged. “He wants what we all want, the end of the plague.”
“No, he does not. He wants my power. He wants …”
Before she could say any more The Dark One roared.
“Take no heed of her words. They are meant to enslave you to her will.” And taking Hugh by the arm he walked him towards the door, whispering. Hugh nodded, before turning to look back at Annie. She had never seen such a look before, but then, she’d never seen what lust looked like.
“Did you really think you could bring a mind as weak as that around to your way of thinking?” The Dark One sat opposite her and nodded towards the door.
“I was merely telling him the truth, but you know nothing of the truth.”
“Oh, my dear,” he laughed. “I know all about the truth. I just bend it to my will and make it much spicier.”
“What happens now?”
“That is up to you. You know what must be done. I give you one last chance. Give me your power.”
“No.”
“Not at any price?”
She shook her head.
“Very well. You care nothing for your own life, but I have something that might convince you to change your mind.”
He walked out of sight. Her heart pounded in her ears and looking down, she saw the front of her blouse moved in time to the beats. The door opened. She felt the cool air rush into the room dispelling the stifling heat. There came a shuffling of feet, the clanking of chains and a small cry of pain, as Dora was pushed towards her.
“Dora,” Annie tried to go to her, but he grabbed her from behind. His hands were like claws on her shoulders.
“Dora,” she cried, and the child who stood with her head bent looked up. Her hair hung in damp tendrils about her face, and there was dried blood at the corner of her mouth.
“Annie,” she shuffled forwards. Her legs and wrists were bound with chains, as the shackles were too big for her. “Annie, he hurt me,” she started to cry. “He hit me,”
“You fiend,” Annie struggled to get free, but it seemed impossible to move. Then, she heard Meg’s words. “You have the power of angels. Your power is equal to his. He is a fallen one, you are not.”
Annie tried to concentrate, tried to block out the cries of her sister, and called out with all her might. “Take your hands off me, Lucifer.”
The pressure lifted at once, as he was thrown from her, and she rushed to her sister’s aid.
“There, there, my precious,” she picked the child up and carried her to a chair. Brushing the sweat-soaked hair from off her face, she kissed the flushed cheeks. “I am here now. It is all right,” she tried to ease the chains over Dora’s wrists, but they were bound too tight. She forgot all about The Dark One until the child was yanked from her grasp.
“No,” she screamed, lurching at Dora, but he was too fast.
With a flick of his wrist he sent her propelling back into her chair and invisible hands held her there. “That was clever, witch,” he laughed, and hoisted the crying, struggling Dora under one arm. “But my power has grown over the centuries, your time has been short, and there is much to learn.
She screamed at him to let the child go and to her surprise he agreed. Dora was put back down. He stood her in front of him, one hand on her tiny shoulder.
“Will you let her die?”
Annie looked at the shaking child and shook her head.
“Then you will do as I ask?”
She never took her eyes of her sister. How could she give him her power? In order to save her sister, she would have to go against God. Please help me, she prayed, show me what to do.
“I keep telling you he is not listening. He seemed to lose all power of hearing at these times. If I correctly remember the last time, I witnessed so touching a scene I was in a garden with his son. His son, Annie, what are you to him?”
Dora stopped crying and was staring straight at Annie. Her face started to glow, the features changing until they became the face of a young boy. The voice coming from Dora’s mouth was ethereal. “All this will pass; Annie and you will walk in my divine light.”
The Dark One roared, twisting Dora round to face him, but her normal features returned. He screamed in anger and the same voice that spoke, answered his cry. “This was to be your punishment, Lucifer. You will never again look upon my face.”
In his anger he forgot about Annie and the child. Dora ran to her and Annie knelt on the floor holding her sister close and trying to block her ears from the curses and taunts he screamed at the heavens. Dora was shaking, and Annie rubbed her back trying to sooth her trembling. The child felt delicate as a bird, and she was aware of how easy it would be to hurt her.
“Where are the others,” she managed to whisper, before the child was pulled from her once again.
Dora shook her head in answer. The Dark One calmed down. Spittle dripped from his lips, but it was green in colour and burned his clothes as it splashed on his chest. Wiping the slime from his face with the back of his hand, he hissed at Annie.
“For this you will all die.”
No,” Annie begged. “Not my sister. She is innocent and no more than a baby. Have mercy.”
“Mercy,” he roared. “What mercy was shown to me?”
“I do not know.”
“Well, I know and you,” he spat. “One insignificant girl tries to stop me having my revenge. Guards,” he called. “Take this one away,” he pushed Dora towards the waiting men.
“Annie,” the child screamed and tried to wrestle free, but a resounding slap sent her spinning into the arms of the guards. Annie had to listen as her anguished cries echoed along the corridor.
Meg shivered and hugged her shawl closer to her thin shoulders, hoping to find warmth within its folds. But, in truth, the cold seemed to emanate from within her. She got up, and taking the steel poker from beside the hearth, stirred the dying embers. She watched and waited all through the night. Now, it was almost dawn and still there was no sign of Annie. The children had not slept well, especially Dora, who cried out numerous times during the long, cold night.
Walking to the window, Meg opened the shutters. She would wake the children at the first sign of daylight. The forest lay shrouded in mist, and the trees that once seemed like friends, now towered over the small cottage, menacingly. Their dark shapes a hiding place for any watchers. She shivered again and admonished herself for such foolish thinking.
Throwing open the door, she stepped outside as the first rays of light were filtering through the branches. The forest lay in a deep stillness. Meg held her breath and listened for the usual sounds that heralded the start of each new day. There were none, even the birdsong was missing. She walked to the small gate dividing her home from the forest and laid a trembling hand on the lichen-covered wood. Moving her head from left to right; she strained her ears trying to pick out any sign of life. There were no scurrying shapes in the hedgerows or sounds of animals foraging for food, nothing, just the sound of her own breathing. She was about to turn back towards the cottage when she heard it, an indistinct cry from far off in the forest.
She spun on her heel, almost tripping over her skirts in her haste. Walking as quickly as her aching back would allow, she went to the children’s room and woke them. They fussed and groaned at being woken so early, but she ignored their pleas of “just a few more minutes” and dragged them from beneath the covers. They stood for a moment rubbing sleep from their eyes, and Meg shouted at them to put their shoes on. As usual, she allowed them to sleep in their clothes, and it was only a matter of getting Rose and Dora ready. Lily and Paul, like many gypsy children, went barefoot. Not even the cold of the damp earth bothered them, as the skin on the soles of their feet hardened to form a protective barrier.
“Get your shawls,” she called to Rose and Dora. She had two knitted shawls lining her basket and these would do for Paul and Lily, when they started to feel the cold. Trying to make them wear these now would be a battle and only waste time. The children wandered in from the next room and stood bleary-eyed watching her.
“Take one each,” she pointed to the small, cloth-wrapped bundles of food she prepared during the night.
“Where are we going?” Rose’s eyes followed Meg, as she lifted each sleeping cat from its chair and threw it outside.
“We are going to the town to find Pat and bring him back with us.”
“But where is Annie. Why is not she here?
“She has been delayed, but sent a message saying we are to do as she asked and that is to go to the town.”
“Who brought the message?” I didn’t hear anyone.”
“A man. A man from the village came late last night. Now, will you do as I ask?” She pointed towards the waiting bundles.
“It seems very strange to me,” Rose scooped up her bundle and the others followed suit.
“Well, life can be like that sometimes,” Meg pulled the jackdaw from his hiding place and laid him in her basket. She knew he was helpless without the ability to fly and would fall prey to some animal. The cats and dog were natural hunters and they would easily find food.
“Come along,” she herded the children towards the door. “And not a sound now. I want you all to be quiet as a mouse.”
Rose turned a baleful eye at her.
“It’s a game,” Meg assured her.
“I have to use the pot,” Dora started to jump up and down, hands held tight between her legs.
“You can go in the forest,” Meg turned to close the door, but the child scurried past her and back inside the cottage, her voice echoing.
“I cannot wait. I will wet myself.”
“Christ give me patience,” Meg scanned the trees for signs of life.
Her heart was pounding, and her breath came in small gasps. Rose was watching her again. She had never seen Meg so upset and annoyed.
“Ready now,” Dora ran back out, and then realising she had left her bundles behind, ran back in.
By now Meg was on the point of screaming. But, finally, they were out among the trees and making their way towards the road.
“Stay well behind me,” Meg warned. “And not a sound until I tell you.”
They nodded and followed her in a line, each one more aware of how serious she was. She looked back from time to time to check they were all right. Her hip and back ached as she navigated the uneven forest floor, but it was her mind that was sorely troubled. The cry she heard was the voice of Annie, warning her to take flight. She could not be wrong, for she had felt in her heart the strangeness of the sound, and the stillness that followed, told her the child was in the gravest danger.
They were well clear of the cottage and hidden by the trees. Once they reached the road, they could walk through the giant ferns bordering it and remain out of sight. If quarantine roadblocks were set up, as it was rumoured, then they would return to the depths of the forest and get by them. She was so deep in thought, she failed to check on the children. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rose was right behind her, Lily and Paul were walking with their arms around one another whispering, but Dora. Where was Dora? She stopped so suddenly Rose collided with her. The jackdaw cawed loudly as she dropped her basket.
“What is the matter?” Rose asked.
“Dora, where is Dora?” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed by the children and searched among the trees.
“She was here a minute ago,” Rose’s eyes filled with tears and she tried to run back the way they had come.
“No,” Meg grabbed her arm. “I will go. I need you to look after the others.”
“I am faster,” she tried to wriggle from Meg’s grasp.
“I need you to do as I ask,” and taking her out of Lily and Paul’s hearing, she whispered. “Annie is in terrible trouble. The only one who can save her now is Pat O Mahoney. You know Pat, do you not?”
Rose nodded.
“You must go on without me, take them,” she gestured towards the others. “Find Pat. Tell him what I said about Annie. About her being in trouble, understand?”
“What about Dora?”
“I will find Dora. You must not worry about us. We will catch up with you later. Stay far away from the road; keep to the forest and out of sight. No matter what happens you have to find Pat.”
“I am frightened, Meg.”
“I know you are child, but you have to be brave, for all our sakes. There is enough food to last you and the trees will give you shelter by night.”
“You mean stay alone in the forest, at night!”
“There is nothing in nature that will harm you and anyway, I will probably be back with you by nightfall. Go now and God keep you safe,” turning to Paul and Lily, she ordered. “Do what Rose tells you and be good. I have to look for Dora.”
They nodded and exchanged furtive looks.
“Do you know where Dora is?”
“She went back to get Blackie,” Lily whispered.
“Go on,” she motioned to the children.
When she had walked some way, she turned and saw they were still standing, watching her. “Go on,” she called to Rose, her voice stern, so the child turned and continued her way with her two little charges trailing behind.
When she was sure they would no longer try to come follow her, she set off. Her back ached and she was limping from the pain in her hip. The basket weighed heavily, and she stopped and searched for somewhere she could safely leave it. The long dried-up husk of a tree proved to be the answer. It had been struck by lightening. The force of the blast struck even to the roots, and it now stood bleached white by the elements. Only two stout branches remained, one on either side. These were thrown up towards the heavens like arms spread-wide in bewilderment at what happened. A long-abandoned hollow in the trunk was a safe place to leave the jackdaw, so scooping him out of the basket, she placed him in the hole.
“You will be safe there until I get back,” she assured him and he cawed once fluttering his good wing in answer. The basket was hidden behind the tree before she set off once more. She moved a little faster now it no longer banged against her hip. Still, it took some time before the cottage came into view.
She approached it from the side and at first glance nothing seemed amiss. Fearing someone might hear, she had not dared, in all the time she was walking, to call out to the child. It was not until she reached the pathway and the little wooden gate, she saw the carnage. The bodies of her cats lay butchered in the grass. Their heads lay beside them, the fur matted with blood, mouths wide in a scream of pain.
“Sweet Jesus, protect us from all harm,” she spoke aloud as she crept towards the open door.
The interior was a shamble with every jar and bottle smashed on the floor. Even the rags she used as stuffing for the cushions was pulled out and scattered about. The air reeked of blood and excrement and she picked her way around the table in search of the source. Her old dog lay beside the fire and for a moment she thought he was sleeping. It was hard to make out in the shadowy interior, and she called to him in a whisper.
“Here dog. Good boy, come here.”
The closer she got the worse the smell became. Using the table as support, she reached out and nudged him with her foot. He never moved and she saw to her horror the toe of her shoe was stained black. Groaning, she eased herself down, holding one hand over her nose to block the stench and almost retched when she realised what she mistook for a shadow on the floor, was in fact a pool of blood. She reached out a hand and stroked the rough coat of the animal. The dog’s head fell to the side and she saw his throat was cut. Blood coated the hearth and sprayed up the wall; she saw also the reason for the smell. His muscles loosened in terror and the floor was covered in the waste that pumped from his body.
“I am sorry old friend,” she whispered, before leaning on the table, she managed to stand.
She was so caught up in the horror of it all, she forgot for a moment her reason for being there, Dora! She hurried towards the only other room in the cottage, the bedroom. This too was in total disarray, even the bedcovers were pulled free and the thin horsehair mattress split down the middle in the searcher’s fervency. But this was not the work of a man. No, this had all the marks of the beast and now, by all accounts, he had Dora.
She rounded the side of the cottage to her tool shed. There she picked up a shovel and carried it back to the front. Crying, she scooped up the bodies of her cats. A couple of times the heads fell off the shovel and she was forced to follow them, as they rolled along the path. Blinded by tears, she placed the cats beside the dog and taking a tinderbox from above the fire she walked outside. Lifting her skirt, she tore a piece from her undergarment. This she lay on the windowsill and struck the flint against the box until it sparked, and the cloth caught fire. She flung the blazing cloth on to the roof and within seconds the thatch was ablaze. Her animals were good and loyal friends and this funeral pyre was the only way she could repay them. She would never have returned to the cottage, not after what she witnessed. It was tainted by his presence, no longer holy ground. Things would be changed forever; she knew this as sure as she knew night followed day. The straw crackled and hissed in the quiet air. Small tufts flew from the roof and set the grass alight. She watched until the roof caved in and the small fires in the grass died down, and she was sure it would not spread to the trees. Something brushed against her skirts and she looked down in amazement at the black cat circling her legs. Bending down, she stroked the soft fur on Blackie’s head. He had somehow survived, and she called to him to follow, as she moved back towards the shelter of the trees.
In just over a day she lost her home, her child, for in truth Annie was as dear to her as any she might have borne, and little Dora. Her world was filled with wickedness and evil and yet there was no sign of the hand of God in all of this. Had she been right in her first assumption? Had the time come once again for a sacrifice and would it be, as always, the most precious and innocent of his children who would suffer the most?
She was crying in shock when she reached the lightening tree. Retrieving the jackdaw from his hiding place and set off in the wake of the children. The basket held firmly by her side and the small black cat running along beside her.
Meg watched the path through which she expected Annie to make her way home, until it became too dark to see. The evening grew colder and the breeze carrying the perfume of the woods, smelt rancid.
“Sweet Jesus, protect us,” she murmured, ushering the children inside.
They were restless all day, barely touching the food she prepared for them. She had not been able to eat a bite either. The worry for Annie’s safety weighed heavy on her. It was an even worse struggle to get them to go to bed and they did so, only after she promised to wake them as soon as Annie came home.
But Annie was not coming home, not tonight. Meg lowered herself into a chair beside the fire. She placed a lighted candle in the two small windows fronting the cottage. Small beacons to light the way for one she loved more than her life. She would rest awhile here in the quiet and surrounded by all the things familiar to her. Looking around the kitchen, she smiled at the jumble she collected over the years. Wooden shelves groaned under the weight of jars filled with hundreds of dried herbs, powders, and oils. Vervain root acted as a mild stimulant, valerian to ease a troubled mind, plantain, for bites and stings and other more powerful plants to relieve the pains of childbirth. She taught Annie all about these things, and the child knew each plant and root by its feel and smell. Had she been wrong to encourage Annie in the ways of the healer? But the child was born to do so, and surely it would have been sinful to discourage such a gift? I will not cry, I must not, for all will be lost if I weaken. She tried to occupy her mind with other thoughts and glanced at the faded tapestries on the cushions adorning each chair. Meg’s cats and Blackie all huddled together on one of the cushions, a maze of heads, paws, and tails. It was hard to see where one cat began and the other ended. From above the fireplace two bright, searching eyes appeared. The jackdaw took shelter in a nook in the wall and was watching her, bobbing its head from side to side as if asking, what is wrong? The old dog at her feet stirred, sensing her mood, and put his face on her lap. Reaching down, she stroked the animal’s coarse hair and her mind was filled with plans for the coming day. They would set off at first light and make their way towards the town. The going was hard, but the weather was dry and with God’s help they would make it in time. She would find Pat and tell him of Annie’s imprisonment. She knew the child was being kept against her will, for nothing other than death would keep her away from her sisters. Crossing herself, she prayed for Annie and the strength to endure the journey they were all about to make.
The torture started as soon as the sun set. They came for Roma first, tearing her from Annie’s grasp and ignoring her pleas for mercy.
“Watch and learn.” The Dark One sneered.
Stefan kicked against the bars of his cell in vain. They were too solid for even his great strength, his shouts of terror and impotence echoed along the empty corridor, even after the door slammed shut and he could no longer hear his wife’s sobs. He had always been strong in both mind and body, but now he went unmanly with grief. Gripping the bars, he laid his head against them and sobbed. Annie sunk to the floor and listened in terror to his crying. Maybe, The Dark One was just trying to frighten her, and wouldn’t really hurt Roma? No sound came from along the corridor. For a while it was quiet save for Stefan’s anguished sobbing and then she heard it, a desolate cry resounding from far away.
Roma listened to the accusations against her and once again denied them. He bound her hands to a chair, and she struggled against her restraints. A fierce fire burned in the brazier, and the coals were red and angry looking.
“Confess and be free.”
She looked up at him in wonder.
“Yes,” his voice was kind. “Tell us the truth and you can go free. Take your husband, return to your children and be on your way.”
Sweat glistened on her upper lip and trickled into her mouth. She licked at the salty liquid and watched as he strode around the room.
“Well?”
“If I say I am a witch,” she asked. “I can go free?”
“Yes, that is all there is to it,”
She failed to notice his smile of triumph, as it was directed to Hugh O Brien.
It would be going against God to utter such blaspheme, but if it saved their lives.
“I am a witch,” the whisper was indistinct.
“Speak up.”
“I am a witch.”
“Good,” he sat opposite her. “Very good.”
“Can I go now?” God forgive me Roma prayed, but I am only doing what mothers have done throughout the centuries, lying to save my children.
“In a little while, but first I have a question for you. Answer carefully,” he warned. “Your very life depends on it.”
“Your friend, Annie Ryan. It was she who instructed you in the Devil’s ways, was it not?”
“Annie, no! Annie is goodness itself. She would never think of such things.”
“Think again, gypsy,” he snarled, causing her to draw back. “If you value your freedom answer true.”
“But what I say is the truth. Annie is good and kind and I will not betray her.”
“Not even to save your husband, your children?”
“No,” Roma’s heart ached with sorrow, for she now saw the road she had to take. The Dark One could not be allowed to have his way.
“Perhaps this will persuade you?” Walking over to the fire, he withdrew an iron resting among the coals. The head was flat and glowed white from the heat.
“Prepare her,” he motioned to Hugh, who came and stood before her.
She looked up at him, shaking her head and crying.
“No, please no,”
There was no mercy in Hugh’s face as he leaned down, grabbed her blouse in both hands and pulled it apart exposing her breasts. He leered, stroking her smooth skin with the back of his hand, before stepping aside and allowing the Dark One to take his place.
“Do you still say she is innocent?”
The iron was so close she smelt its heat.
“I am afraid. Oh, God help me, but I am so afraid,” coal-black curls tumbled across her face as she bowed her head.
“Pull her head back.”
Hugh, standing behind her chair, grabbed her hair and pinioned her head against the hard wood.
“Last chance,” The Dark One’s face drew close to hers. “Just say the words and you will be free.”
His breath smelt blood-sweet and in that few seconds she noticed, for the first time, his eyes had no colour within the pupils, just a flat blackness. Hugh’s grip loosened somewhat on her hair and she managed to draw even closer to The Dark One, their noses were almost touching when she spat into his face. He drew back, disgusted and wiped the spittle away with his sleeve.
“Very well,” he thrust the iron as though it were a sword. It contacted the skin on her left breast, just above her heart and she screamed in agony. It would be pointless to describe the pain; she could not have found the words. He did not withdraw the iron immediately but held it in place allowing it to burn past the skin and into the tissue beyond. Roma writhed and howled, trying to get away from the pain, praying for death. Even when the iron was withdrawn, the agony continued. A large circular piece of her skin had burned away and was stuck to the head of the iron. Her left breast was now an open wound, the skin around the hole blistering and bubbling causing her to moan and scream. It felt as though she had a fever. The heat raged within her and sweat dripped down her face. Even the small trickles that reached the wound caused her to cry out.
“I will just let the iron reheat.”
He was speaking to Hugh who still held her hair, but she managed to move her head enough to see the fire. The head of the iron was buried deep with the coals and already turning white from the heat.
“Please no,” she whispered. “I cannot take any more.”
He had withdrawn the iron and was advancing on her again.
“No please.”
“Then tell me the truth. Say she is a witch and has instructed you in the ways of the Devil,” he moved the iron closer to her right breast as he spoke. She felt its heat on her skin.
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, Annie told me to do it.”
“Do what?”
“What do you want me to say, tell me?”
“You will sign a confession that Annie Ryan instructed you in the ways of the Devil. That through her intercession you mated with him and bore his black offspring’s,”
Roma was sobbing from pain, but also from self-disgust. “Then I can go free?”
“Yes, of course. I will give you freedom.”
Hugh loosened one of her restraints. A thick manuscript was dropped into her lap and a pen, its nib dripping ink, handed to her.
“Sign there,” Hugh indicated a space on the bottom of the document.
“I cannot write.”
“Then make your mark. A cross will do.”
Roma’s hand shook as she traced a cross onto the yellow paper.
“Very well,” The manuscript was grabbed from her lap. “Take her back to the cells.”
“But,” she panicked. “I have done what you asked. You promised to set me free.”
“Oh, I will give you a freedom of sort. Take away all your pain,” he laughed. “Now take her away.
Roma was dragged back along the dark corridor. Her blouse open, her breasts hanging loose, but she was beyond shame. They threw her into the cell, and she lay on the floor, trying to burrow into the dirty straw. She heard Stefan’s curses and roars at the men, and she pulled away from Annie, when she tried to lift her.
“Leave me be,” she sobbed. “I betrayed you Annie. I have signed your death warrant.”
“Roma, hush now,” Annie tried to brush back the sweat-soaked hair. “Turn around let me see what they did to you.”
“Do not be kind to me Annie,” Roma’s voice was muffled by the straw. “Please, I cannot bear it.”
“Roma, listen to me,” Annie was crying now. “I know what you did was not out of malice. Let me help you.”
Roma sat and tried to gather the remnants of her blouse around her, but she was not fast enough. Annie gasped, when she saw the wound and the raw, burnt flesh around it. Blood dripped from the tear, caking Roma’s side and there was an aroma of cooked meat. Annie tried not to retch, when she realised the smell was emanating from her friend.
“Do not look,” Roma tried to hide.
“I have already seen. Do not pull away. I can help.”
“No,” Roma brushed at Annie’s outstretched hand. “It hurts too much.”
“I know, but I can ease the pain. Trust me.”
Annie called out to Stefan several times to be quiet. He was out of his mind with worry, and although she could understand his desperation, there was work to be done. Her powers were limited under such a strain, but she would do what she could. Reaching out, she placed the palm of her hand over the wound. Roma screamed and tried to pull away, but Annie whispered to her, the words soothing. Closing her eyes, Roma swayed slightly, and Annie held her upright with one hand, while laying the other on the open wound.
“Lord,” she prayed. “It is a good thing I wish to do with this gift you gave me. I ask you now, you who healed our Saviour, Jesus Christ and staunched his bleeding wounds. Have pity on this woman who suffers in your name.”
The flesh beneath her hand began to cool. Roma gasped as she felt the pain ebb and the fever within her body faded away. Charred and torn tissue started to knit together. The puckered, burnt flesh uncurled and stretched itself across the wound. When Annie removed her hand the only evidence of what Roma had suffered was a round, red mark.
“I cannot believe it,” Roma traced her fingers over the mark. “Annie, how can this be?”
“I do not know,” Annie was amazed by what she had done. “I have always been able to heal, but I cannot explain how or why.”
“Stefan,” Roma wanted him to hear what Annie had done.
Leaning on Annie’s arm, she managed to get on her feet. She was still badly shaken by her ordeal, but now the pain was gone, her thoughts were of her husband. Before she could walk to the bars, before she could reach out a hand and try and touch him…
“Bring the man next.”
The command from the darkness made her draw back in fear.
“Get down,” Annie warned, and Roma crouched in the corner of the cell, pulling her tattered blouse around her. Annie stood in front, shielding her from the group of men who arrived to take Stefan. There were at least ten of them and each held a stout club. They knew he would put up a fight, and Roma and Annie clung together listening to the roars from the next cell. Sobbing, they cringed as blows rained down on him, and they heard the smack of wood against flesh, the dull thud when it hit bone.
“Right, bring him along,” one of the men stood back to allow the others to drag Stefan out.
Annie rose and walked to the bars of her cell. The man who had spoken was sweating, and the club he held was matted with blood. All she saw of Stefan were his heels as he was dragged away, toes scraping along the flagstones.
“Wait,” Annie called to the man.
“What do you want, witch?”
“Tell him,” she indicated along the passageway. “Tell The Dark One I will admit to being a witch. Sign anything, he wants if he lets Stefan go.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The one you call Oliver. Tell him what I said.”
“I take no orders from the likes of you,” with this he struck out at her.
She was too quick, and the blow from the club meant for her fingers, rang against the bars.
“Tell him,” she warned. “Or I will say you are in league with me.”
He drew back as if struck and hurried away into the darkness. The Dark One and Hugh O Brien accompanied him on his return.
“What is it you want?” The Dark One was annoyed.
“I will sign whatever document you want; admit I am a witch if you let Stefan go.”
“That is not what I want from you,” he hissed, moving closer to her.
“I cannot give you what you ask.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“I will not go against God.”
“Why?” Then, noticing Hugh moving closer, he turned. “Go, make sure all is well.”
Hugh and the man moved away.
“Now,” he turned back to Annie. “Tell me why you defend this God of yours, this Saviour. He is willing to let you and yours suffer and die; while I will give you everything you desire.”
“I love him.”
“You love him! Have you taken leave of your senses? How can you love him? He is a monster, an abomination that sees your suffering and does nothing.”
“I feel him all around me,” her face became rapturous. “He whispers to me on the wind. When I am in the woods, I feel his wonder beneath my feet. I can feel the opening of each bud, the birth of every creature no matter how small. It is their life renews the power in me. It flows over me. I can feel it now, even in this dreadful place.”
Roma turned and looked up at Annie. She seemed to be glowing, emitting a warm light. Even The Dark One seemed mesmerised.
“This is why I love him. I can feel his goodness. Can you not try to feel the same?” She reached through the bars and touched his face. The magic within her fingers was like acid on his skin.
“I am sorry. I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”
“It is not you,” he snarled, holding his hand against his severely burned cheek. “It is him,” he shook his fist towards the ceiling. “He has tormented me since the beginning of time and continues to do so through you and your like. You will pay now, all of you will die.”
“No,” Annie backed away as the fire in his eyes grew stronger
Hugh and the others came running on hearing his cries. Their eyes flew from his burnt face to Annie and back again.
“See what the witch has done to me?”
The looks they gave Annie were filled with fear.
As if noticing Roma for the first time, he turned on her. “Show me your wound, gypsy.”
“No,” Roma huddled deeper into the corner.
“Leave her be,” Annie warned. “She has suffered enough.”
“Do I have to come in there?” He roared.
“No, please,” Roma held up a hand to ward him off.
He knew what happened. Annie healed the wound and having had evidence of her power; he knew she was capable of much more.
Turning to Hugh he asked. “Did she not under pain of torture admit to being a witch?”
“She did.”
“And did I not brand her with a hot iron and tear the skin from her bones?”
“You did indeed.”
“Yet,” he indicated to one of the men to open the cell. “I see no sign of her suffering, no marks. Do you?”
“Come to think of it,” Hugh scratched his head, a stupid look on his face. “I cannot see anything.”
Annie backed away towards Roma and was shielding her with her body. Two of the men approached her, grabbed her arms, and dragged her kicking and screaming to the other side of the cell. Roma was pulled to her feet and offered little resistance, as he moved towards her and pushed aside the remnants of her blouse. Hugh gasped at the red patch on her skin and pointing a trembling finger, stuttered.
“But she was horribly burned. There was a hole and blood.”
“Now you see how powerful this witch is?” The Dark One looked round at the men, who were shaking their heads in disbelief. “While she lives, you will never prosper. She will bring sickness and suffering on the village until she and her servants are wiped out.”
“No,” Annie tried to pull away. “What he says isn’t true. I am a healer. I heal man and beast, and I do so in the name of God.”
“Enough,” he walked outside the cell and waited for his men to join him. Annie and Roma were thrown to the floor by their captors.
“I will be back for you later,” was his parting promise.
“No,” she ran to the bars, but he was already lost in the darkness. “Please,” she whispered. “Oh, please God help us.”
The only reply was the laughter of The Dark One and his mocking whisper.
“He is still not listening.”
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.
Annie pushed her way through the crowds making for the mill. She had not realised so many people would turn up for the trial. There were street hawkers all along the road selling sweet biscuits and fruit. Others had effigies of sharp-nosed witches, riding on brooms, or swinging from a rope. The whole event had a feeling of carnival about it. She was one of the first to arrive at the mill.
The building fell into disuse years before, long before Annie could remember, but it was still used as a meeting place and at rare times, as a jail. The worse crime she could recall was an argument over cattle or land, and no one was held for long. The culprit usually gave in after a few hours in the draughty, barred, basement cell and was sent on their way with a heavy fine. Now, as she picked up her skirts to begin the climb up towards the door, she felt as though she was stepping up to the gallows. There were fourteen steps in all; she counted them as she moved. The stairway was wide and there were people on either side of her; the wood resounded to each footfall, the thuds echoing and vibrating. She stopped at the top of the stairs and stared in amazement. Mary O Brien and Hugh stood on either side of the door as though greeting guests to their home.
“Why, Annie,” Mary smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why not, everyone else seems to be here?”
“Yes, of course, dear,” Mary agreed. “And where are your sisters?”
“They are safe and well, thank you,” she started to move past, but Mary grabbed her arm.
“It was a big mistake you made in refusing my Hugh.”
Annie glared at her and looked across at Hugh.
“I don’t think so.”
The inside of the mill was set up with all different sized benches. At the top of the room, there was a high desk, a chair, and a large, sturdy table. She wondered who the judge might be. Luke Richards oversaw such things in the past. He was also the local wise man and the leader among the elders. Sadly, he had succumbed to the sickness and would be a great loss to the village. She had not noticed the gallows on her way there and looked up at the dirty, dusty windows lining the room. It was only by listening to the general hubbub around her she learned it was built round the back of the mill. The room was filling, becoming stuffy despite the cold morning air. Many were unable to get seats and stood around the walls or sat on the stairs leading to the upper rooms. Annie prayed for Stefan and Roma, trying to block out the heightening buzz of conversation and the crying and fussing of children. Suddenly, it stopped, and she felt her heart tighten with dread. A loud rumbling was moving towards the hall. Whatever it was clattered and rolled over the cobbles. Everyone held their breaths. It reached the steps outside and the noise stopped as suddenly as it had started. There came a rattling of chains and the muffled curses and shouts of the men, as they hauled, whatever it was, up the steps. The doors were flung open and the thundering began again, louder this time on the wood floor. Annie glanced to her right as it passed her. It was a giant wheel of sorts. Like two cartwheels, one on either side and joined together by stout rungs. It was rolled to the front of the room and chained to the wall. She saw the hooks that were made to house this contraption. The whispering and chatter started up again until Annie wanted to put her hands over her ears to block out the sound.
“Silence.”
She strained in her seat to watch the procession coming from the main door. The Squire led the way and she felt sick when she realised, he was going to be acting as judge. A dark man followed close behind him, she was unable to see his face, then Mary and Hugh O Brien. The Squire took his place on the judge’s bench, the dark man, Mary, and Hugh sat in specially designated chairs to his left.
“Bring in the prisoners,” the disembodied voice again.
There was a wave of movement as everyone in the room leaned forward, wanting to be the first to see the witches. Annie gasped; when she saw them, but the sound mingled with so many others it went unnoticed. Stefan and Roma were dragged in chains to stand before the judge. Stefan’s head was bowed, and he reminded Annie of some great, gentle bear being held in captivity. Only Roma held her head high, scanning the crowds. She caught Annie’s eye and shook her head. Their clothes hung in tatters around them, and she saw the marks of the whip and the blood-streaked patches on their skin. Annie’s throat ached with unshed tears.
The list of charges was being read out; it was as she had expected. Roma was charged with being a witch. Of cavorting with the Devil and siring his children, of selling charms and potions to aid in his work. Stefan was charged with much the same things as his wife.
“Will you say now before this court and these good people that your wife is a witch? That she aids the Devil’s work and has sired his children?” The Squire roared at Stefan.
“My wife’s no witch,” Stefan’s voice was a low growl.
“So be it,” the Squire turned to Roma. “Will you admit before this court and before God that you are a witch?”
“I am not a witch,” she spat. “If I were, I would turn you into a man.”
There was laughter and sniggers from the crowd, but these were soon silenced with a glare from the Squire.
“Proceed,” he turned to the dark man, and for the first time Annie got a good look at him.
He was very handsome and somehow familiar. This must be the famous Mr. Tanas Jane spoke of. He bent down and fumbled in a bag beside him, withdrew a knife or large needle and held it up for everyone to see. The sunlight streaming through the windows lighted on the tip and showed it cruel, sharp point in all its glory. There were more gasps and ooh’s from the crowd, as he walked across the room with the weapon held high.
“This will help us to prove,” he told the crowd. “If these people are really in league with the Devil; a witch will have a mark that’ll does not bleed when it is pricked.”
Nodding to the group of men who held Roma, he waited as they picked her up and placed her on her back on the table. She screamed and struggled against her capturers, but they held her fast. Stefan roared and pulled free, the chains on his arms hitting the men who held him and knocking them to the floor. But, before he could reach the table, the men gathered about the walls set on him, trying to drag him to the ground. They beat at his legs with clubs and though he fought bravely, he was no match for the weapons. Even when he fell to the floor, they continued to beat him. Annie held a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She watched the faces of the men as they went about their merciless work. Men she had known all her life. Men who had once been kind were somehow been transformed into snarling beasts
“Enough”.
The men stopped and looked up at the voice. Sweat dripped down their faces from the effort and spittle ran from the corners of their mouths. They turned to go back to their place by the wall. Their eyes wild, they were more beasts than men.
“I take it I am safe to continue?” The dark man looked at the fallen Stefan.
“He will give you no more trouble.” Hugh laughed.
“Very well. As I was saying…” he stopped, annoyed by Roma’s sobs and unsure he could be heard above the noise, he slapped her face. The sound seemed to resound within the room, and for a moment there was silence.
“Now, I will start again, and I take it I will have no more interruptions?”
Roma was crying quietly.
“Very well. I shall now look for the witches mark,” he took the hem of Roma’s tattered skirt and pulled it up about her waist. She kicked and struggled, mortified at such a violation. The women in the room gasped and hid their eyes; the men leered at her exposed limbs.
“Do you want me to strike you again?” The dark man roared at Roma.
Annie felt all hope fading as Roma lay still and allowed him to examine her legs. He found what he was looking for, a small mole just below her knee.
“I have found the mark.”
He looked around the room and was satisfied by the gasps and looks of fear. Taking the needle, he placed the tip against Roma’s leg, and they all watched in disbelief as he pushed it in, all the way to the hilt. It must have reached the bone, yet Roma seemed to feel no pain. He then withdrew the needle and called to the Squire to inspect the mark.
“There is no blood,” the Squire seemed as astonished as the people, and he called on others present to witness this.
There was a general shuffling as everyone wanted to witness this sign, this abomination. Annie sat frozen in her place as the people beside her tried to push past.
“Get in line.”
The shout brought about some order as the pushing and shoving ceased, and they filed past Roma as though viewing a corpse. Some of the women lifted their children to see the mark, and each child was carried away screaming. It was whispered the children, in their innocence, could tell a witch, but Annie knew differently. She watched each child as its eyes moved from the mark to Roma’s face. It was her look of terror frightened the children. Annie pulled her shawl tighter around her. Icy hands seemed to move up her back and she felt the fine hairs on her neck rise. The dark man was looking at her. She held his gaze for a moment, before looking away. The people were filing back to their seats and the crowd around Roma thinned. She was no longer crying; her shame was now absolute. When everyone was finally back in place, the dark man spoke down at the prostrate figure on the table.
“Will you now admit that I have proven it, declare you are a witch and save your soul, if not your life?”
Roma turned her head towards the crowd, searching. Annie saw blood on her mouth. The man was still speaking, but Annie had no idea what he was saying. She was too busy trying to make eye contact with Roma. There were jeers from the crowd and shouts at Roma to admit her guilt, but Annie could not hear any of it. A silence seemed to envelop her, as her mind reached out to contact Roma. Their eyes met and she watched as Roma mouthed three words. Her view was constantly being blocked as some of the villagers ran forward and poked and prodded at Roma. Some of the women pulled her hair, as they screamed at her to admit her sin. Everyone within the room seemed to be caught up in some religious fervency. Annie tried to block it all out, calling to Roma with her mind, tell me? “The Dark One.” She heard it as clearly as it was whispered in her ear. She looked towards the table and Roma nodded at her. The Dark One was here? Annie looked up at Roma’s tormentor. He was staring at her again. This time she did not look away.
A cool breeze ruffled her clothes. She was no longer in the mill. The crowds disappeared, the jeering was no more, and she was no longer in that time. She was standing on a plateau, the full moon lighting the road before her. The grass about her was brown and dry and crunched beneath her feet as she walked. There was no life in this strange, arid place. Blood dripped from the moon staining the velvet blue sky. She walked quickly onwards as the plain parted before her, dividing into two roads. The one to her right looked dangerous. The ground was covered with sharp stones and deadly looking thorns sprang from the blackened hedgerows lining either side. It would be safer and wiser to take the left path. She turned to walk towards it and heard Roma calling out to her.
“Take the right-hand path, Annie. Do not be afraid. This is the right way.”
“But, it’s dangerous.” Annie shouted. “I will walk the other way and meet you at the end.”
“There will be no end if you choose that way. Your journey on this path will be hard and the going slow, but it’s the way to salvation.”
“Such theatricals, don’t you think?”
Annie spun round. The Dark One was walking towards her along the left path.
“I do love a good performance, don’t you?”
“What is this place?”
“This,” he swept his hand around. “Is the place where most decisions are made? It is part of your mind, the darkest part. Yes,” he smiled at her. “We are inside your head.”
“But I would never imagine a place such as this,” she looked at the red moon and ravaged landscape.
“Nevertheless, we are here and it’s your time to decide.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither did I once and like you, I had many questions.
“What do you mean?”
“Enough,” he was angry. “The time grows short and there’s much to be done. Choose now. Take the right path and your suffering will be great. All you love will be punished for your folly. Your sisters will perish if you choose to listen to the words of the gypsy. She has decided her fate and you will see the outcome of that, but you, you have a chance. Watch what happens to her and then decide, but I warn you. Choose her way and her death will be nothing to the death I will give you. Do you understand now?” He leaned towards her.
Annie closed her eyes, not wanting to look at him, but she could smell him. He smelled of freshly baked bread and spring flowers. It was all so familiar to her and yet she turned from it.
“Open your eyes.”
She looked up at him. He was very handsome, and she could not tear her eyes away.
“Come with me, Annie. I will keep you safe and your sisters too. With me there will be no suffering. We could be incredibly happy.”
His eyes burned into her soul. They seemed to light his face and all around her. She wanted to feel safe again. She was so frightened since her parent’s death, and she did not want to suffer like Roma. She did not want Dora, Rose, or Meg to suffer either. He smiled, sensing her weakness, and held out his hand. She hesitated for a moment before slowly, very slowly, her hand moved up from her side to take his. Their fingers were almost touching, when…
“Annie, child,” it was her mother’s voice. There were no tricks this time. “Come away.”
“Don’t listen to it,” The Dark One urged. “It’s a trick.”
“No,” Annie started to back away. “No, it’s you who plays tricks.”
The white hand he reached towards her began to swim and change. The veins stood out against the skin and the fingers stretched and gnarled. The carefully manicured nails turned black and pointed. The fire was still there in his eyes, but the light in them burned like the flames of Hell. His talons reached for her and she held up a hand to stop them.
“No.”
The words formed an invisible barrier and she watched as he clawed the air before her but was unable to penetrate the shield.
“You will pay dearly for this,” he hissed, and she saw his tongue was long and pointed.
“Maybe so, but you will never have what you desire,” with this she launched herself towards the right path, threw herself into the thorns and landed with a thump back on the bench in the mill.
The dark one was still staring at her, but this time he bowed, before going back to his work. She felt the sweat on her face and could smell her own fear. The noise returned; the jeering of the crowd and Roma’s moans filled the air. Annie saw wet patches in her hair and smelt the blood coating it. They were tearing her apart, she had to stop this, but before she could rise his voice rang out.
“Tell us the name of your leader; whom it was initiated you into the Devil’s work.”
Roma moaned and tried to turn away from him, but he caught her hair making her scream and turned her head back towards him. Leaning down, he seemed to be listening to something she said.
“Annie,” his voice rang. “Annie, who?”
Everyone turned towards Annie. She got up, tried to run. She knew Roma had not betrayed her and this was his work, but she was frightened. She did not want to die; she wanted to live. She wanted to see her sisters grown and watch their children grow. It was so unfair; she was no more then a child herself. The hands stopping her flight were strong and vicelike on her arms. She struggled; begged with them to let her go, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
“Bring her forward. Let us hear what she has to say.”
She knew as they were propelling her forward toward The Dark One, her life was at an end.