The Haunting of Winter Hill

by Eddie Blakemore

“Hi,” said Mike noting Ronnie’s grim expression, “Problem?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so Mike,” replied Ronnie. “A Mr and Mrs Koenig called in earlier, they had lost their son Gary at the old castle folly down near the reservoir. They thought he might have fallen in. We got a couple of lads out in wetsuits and they have just confirmed that they have found a body, it looks like their boy.”

  “No,” gasped Becks “Not another death.”

  “Yes another one,” said Ronnie “What’s going on round here Mike?”

  Mike sighed. “God knows, Ronnie, and he’s not letting me in on it.”

  They left Tom and Gregor at the vicarage and followed Ronnie back down to the park. They turned off the road and followed a dirt track down to the castle and parked behind Ronnie. An ambulance, a police van and a couple of police cars were parked nearby. A WPC came up to Ronnie and had a quick word as they approached. They hung back until they were motioned over.

  “These two are with me Sandra, keep anyone else out,” he said to the policewoman. They followed him through to the castle and stopped just short of the outer wall overlooking the reservoir. “They found the boy about fifteen feet out, he had a heavy coat on and was tangled up in a lot of weeds and tree roots. He actually drowned in less than four feet of water. The parents are over there.” He pointed to where Sylvia and Malcolm Koenig stood just inside the castle. “Sandra reckons the father’s in shock, but he won’t go to Hospital,” Ronnie shrugged.

  “We’ll see if we can help,” said Mike and he and Becks went over. Sylvia was holding her husband’s arm firmly. He just stared out across the water. She let go of him as Becks approached and the two embraced.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Becks trying not to cry herself. Mike was left with Malcolm Koenig. He was tall, smartly dressed and well groomed, with an immaculate beard and moustache and pale blue eyes. He continued to stare out across the water.

  “Mr Koenig,” ventured Mike. Finally he blinked and turned his attention to Mike. Mike held out his hand. “I’m Mike Cunningham, the new vicar. If there’s anything at all we can do.” Malcolm Koenig looked down at the proffered hand but didn’t take it. He clenched both his fists and replied,

  “No, there really isn’t anything you can do right now, there’s nothing any of us can do, my boy is gone.” The ambulance slowly pulled away and Malcolm started and called to Sylvia. “We have to go.” He strode off after the ambulance, but was intercepted by Ronnie and Sandra.

  “I really don’t think you should be driving right now sir,” said Ronnie. “Why don’t you let WPC Buckley take you and your wife to the police station, there is nothing you can do at the hospital for now. We can come back and collect your car from the car park later.” Malcolm nodded dumbly and allowed himself to be led to one of the police cars.

  Sylvia headed off after him turning to say to Becks, “I’ll call you later.” Mike and Becks watched them drive off then followed Ronnie into the castle. The Police divers had loaded their gear back into their vehicles and with a wave to Ronnie they also drove off. Ronnie walked over to the parapet, which was still sealed off with police tape, and looked down into the dark waters.

  “Well we’ve photographed everything, but it looks like it was just an accident. There was no one else involved, although Mr Koenig thought he saw somebody out of the corner of his eye. Just a flash of yellow like a waterproof or a duffle coat, but we could find no trace of another kid being here.” Mike and Becks exchanged a glance which was spotted by Ronnie. “What’s going on here Mike?”

  Mike turned to face his old friend. “Do you believe in ghosts Ronnie?”

  Ronnie grimaced and shook his head firmly “No. I do not believe in ghosts.”

  “Well,” said Mike, “This must just be another accident then.”

  *

  When they got back to the vicarage, Gregor was outside having a smoke. He finished his cigarette and followed them through to the kitchen where he and Tom had set up office. Tom was furiously typing away at his laptop, a small printer buzzing away as it spewed out paper. Gregor sat down at his own laptop and took a swig from a glass of whisky. They updated them on what had happened to Gary Koenig. Tom paused and stretched in his seat

  “Was there any history between this lad and Ellie Parsons?”

  “Yes, they didn’t get on at school. Gary Koenig was a bit of a bully,” confirmed Becks.

  “So leaving this spirit at large is not an option,” said Gregor. “We have spoken to quite a few people and downloaded a lot of stuff, but this really is a unique case. The main problem is, we have no location to exorcise, the spirit moves around at will.”

  “You mentioned a ‘summoning’ before?” said Becks.

  “Well it’s not actually C of E practice, we’ve never actually performed one,” said Tom carefully. There was silence for a few seconds then Gregor said, “There is one other option.” All eyes turned to him. “The spirit appeared to this lad Robert Owen regularly. We should talk to him and his parents and see if we can sit in and catch it in the act.”

  “I’m not sure they would agree to that,” said Mike. “Robert is autistic, he is quite vulnerable.”

  “We would have to be careful,” said Tom, “But it could be worth a try.” The conversation continued well into the night. Eventually Becks said her goodbyes and went home to feed Cookie. In the early hours Mike too made his excuses and went to bed, leaving Tom and Gregor still working. He wearily turned the light out and lay awake for a while but eventually he fell asleep.

  Back on the impossibly long escalator, close to the bottom now, the red furnace glow tinting everything, the hideous tableaux on the video screens impossible to look away from. The last one showed Gary Koenig naked, bent over a kitchen table hands cable tied, being raped by an enormous fat man. Unable to even scream as the plastic bag tied over his head suffocated him. A few feet away Ellie Parsons laughed uncontrollably.

  Chapter Nine - Friday

  Mike stepped into the kitchen and found Gregor already there drinking coffee.

  “Waiting for a translation of something to come through from a guy we know in Brazil,” he said by way of explanation, “Rough night?”

  “The roughest,“ agreed Mike pouring himself coffee from the percolator. He told Gregor about the dream. Gregor winced but said nothing. Mike’s phone rang. It was Becks, she had arranged for them both to go round to the Koenigs at ten o clock. He said he would pick her up shortly and rang off. He had a shave and a shower and put on his dog collar. He surveyed himself in the mirror and decided he looked better than he felt.

  He drove up to Becks’ house and picked her up. She had put some make up on and a smart jacket but looked sombre. She directed him to the Koenigs’ house. It was through the village and up a lane that meandered up Winter Hill itself. The house had once been a farmhouse but had been extended and modernised beyond recognition. It was bleak up here, hardly any trees, just moorland. As a result the wind was biting. Mike wondered why people actually chose to live up here. Sylvia Koenig answered the door, looking as glamorous as ever, just some lines under her eyes testifying to her lack of sleep. She ushered them through to the lounge where Malcolm sat on an expensive looking white leather sofa, staring at a glass of whisky on the coffee table. He made no attempt to stand up as they came in and only acknowledged their presence with the briefest of nods. They sat down in leather armchairs facing Malcolm. Sylvia sat at the opposite end of the sofa from her husband. The body language was not good, thought Mike.

  “We just came to see if there was anything we can help with,” offered Becks, looking at Malcolm. He made no response at all. Sylvia finally answered for him.

  “I think we have most things in hand. Malcolm has contacted Gary’s mother, she lives in Jersey now. We are going into Bolton to register the death and we will be seeing the undertaker tomorrow.” She looked to Malcolm for confirmation. No response.

  “Would you like to say a prayer for Gary?” suggested Mike. Malcolm suddenly
leaned forward picked up the tumbler of whisky and drained half of it. He stared hard at Mike.

  “Mr Cunningham, my boy was nine years old, he wasn’t an angel but he was not a bad kid. Exactly what plan was your god following when he killed my boy?”

  Mike chose his words carefully “What you have to keep reminding yourself is that Gary has gone to a better place.”

  “A better place,” spat Malcolm, “The bottom of a fucking reservoir.” Sylvia burst into tears. Malcolm stood up. “I’ve never had any interest in religion at all. I don’t mind supporting Sylvia and her church because it makes her happy but at the end of the day it’s just... weakness and superstition. I won’t have any part of it. I will be in my office.” With that he strode from the room. Becks comforted Sylvia as best she could, but there was little point in them remaining. Sylvia saw them out and they drove off down the lane.

  “I’ll give them six months at best,” said Mike grimly. Becks nodded.

  *

  They drove back to Becks’ house and Mike went in for a cup of tea. They took the drinks through to the lounge, leaving Cookie demolishing a bowl of dog food in the kitchen. Mike took off his jacket and slung it over the back of the sofa. He took off his collar and looked at it for a second before dropping it on the coffee table and sitting down. Becks sat next to him.

  “Why is he so angry?” she asked.

  “Because he has a lot of questions and no answers,” replied Mike. “And I wasn’t really able to supply any.” Becks took off her jacket and threw it onto one of the chairs. The cream blouse she was wearing was almost transparent and showed off the lacy bra she had underneath. Mike looked away, trying not to stare, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Becks was looking at his face. She put her arm round the back of his neck, pulled his face round to hers and kissed him. He kissed her back, gently at first then harder, their tongues circling each other. He put his right hand on her breast, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over her nipple, he could feel it was already hard through the bra and blouse. She unbuttoned the blouse and pulled it from the waistband of her pants, then undid the cuffs and slipped it off dropping it on the floor. Next she slid both the shoulder straps of the bra over her shoulders and pulled it down, revealing her breasts. Mike rubbed both his hands over her breasts, feeling the bullet like hardness of her nipples rub across the palms. He bent his head and kissed her breasts, sucking her nipples and running his tongue around them, gently taking them between his teeth. She moaned then quickly stood up, unclipping the bra that was still around her waist. She then unbuttoned the pants and let them fall around her ankles. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder and he put his hands on her hips as she stepped out of them. He hooked his fingers in each side of the lacy pants she was wearing and pulled them down. She stepped out of them, and putting both hands on his head, pulled his head into her crotch, grinding her vagina onto his face. He flicked his tongue through her pubic hair, running the tip of his tongue up and down her labia. She gasped and pushed him down onto the couch, swinging his legs up onto the couch, she started to undo his belt. He wrestled himself out his shirt, pulling it over his head and dumped it on the floor. She pulled his pants and underwear down around his ankles. Looking him right in the eye she took his already stiff cock in her hand and started to move her hand up and down his shaft. He moaned in pleasure. Maintaining eye contact she lowered her head to his cock and slowly slid her lips around it taking him deep in her mouth. She moved her lips up and down several times. Then slowly took his cock out of her mouth, running her tongue all over its head whilst cupping his balls in her left hand. She straddled him, holding the base of his cock with her left hand. She put her right hand to her mouth, and wet her fingers, then put it between her legs, finding her clitoris and gently rubbing it, shivering with pleasure. She lowered herself onto him taking him inside her and started to ride him, slowly at first then faster, both breathing heavily now. He started to push upwards, running his hands over her breasts. Neither of them lasted long, with a gasp, Mike came, arching his back and throwing his head back. Becks put her hand back to her clitoris and brought herself off, stifling a yell, she collapsed forward onto his chest. They lay there for a while until Becks pushed herself upright. She stretched her arms luxuriously above her head and crossed them behind her head looking down at Mike through half closed eyes. He watched a bead of sweat run down between her breasts then raised his eyes to her eyes. “Wow” he said putting a hand to her cheek.

  Becks smiled down at him and winked, “More tea vicar.”

  They got dressed and sat on the couch, their arms round each other, enjoying the closeness. Finally they remembered they had to go back and check how Tom and Gregor were getting on. They kissed tenderly and reluctantly got into the car and drove down to the vicarage.

  *

  “Well we have everything we need to perform a summoning,” said Gregor poring over several sheets of printout. “But I would still like to avoid doing that if possible. Maybe we can talk to the Owens, especially Robert.” Tom nodded in agreement, and Becks phoned Claire Owen. After talking to her briefly she said, “Alan’s going to be home in about an hour, we can go round then.” They made cheese on toast and coffee and killed time for an hour, then duly trooped round to the Owens house. The Owens lounge was not large and squeezing six people in it was a challenge. Becks ended up perched on the arm of the chair Mike was sitting in.

  “Well first off,” started Mike,” I must introduce my colleagues, Tom Preston and Gregor Fergusson, they are from the church’s parapsychology unit.” Alan and Claire looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

  “But I thought Robert was simply imagining things,” said Claire.

  Gregor leaned forward. “Mrs Owen we approach any case of suspected paranormal activity with a fair amount of scepticism. Most of the time there are perfectly rational explanations for these things, but in this case not so. We have all actually seen the apparition ourselves, so we know Robert is not imagining things. There is an unquiet spirit at large in the village, and I am afraid to say, it is your foster daughter Ellie Parsons.”

  Claire put her hand to her mouth. “My poor Ellie,” she whispered.

  Alan looked shocked and asked, “Has this got anything to do with the deaths in the village this week?”

  “We don’t know for sure,” replied Tom, “But it could be connected.”

  He looked to Mike who thought for a moment before asking, “Did the police contact you over Ellie’s death?”

  “Yes,” said Claire. “They came round yesterday and they said Gareth Worthington was chasing her when she died.”

  “Yes, he admitted that to me and Becks on Wednesday,” said Mike carefully. “His mother knew about it as well. Gareth and his mother were on the way back from the police station when they were both killed and I was the one who made them go to the Police to make statements to set the record straight.” Mike shook his head grimly.” I’m so sorry Claire. We should have come round and explained all this to you both straight away but Gary Koenig getting killed pushed everything else out of our minds.”

  “No matter Mike, “said Claire bitterly, “It just means I’ll never get an explanation from that dreadful woman now.” She reached over to Alan and they clasped hands.

  ”Gary Koenig,” said Alan thoughtfully, “Ellie really hated that boy, she didn’t have anything to do with his death... surely.”

  Mike spread his hands and shook his head. “We don’t know, but given the history between them, I would not be at all surprised.”

  “So our Ellie is actually killing people,” gasped Claire “Oh god, this is awful.” She put a handkerchief to her face to wipe away the tears that had started. The room fell silent.

  “Is Robert still saying that Ellie visits him?” asked Becks trying to gently move the conversation on.

  “No actually he says she has not spoken to him since you came round on Sunday,” said Alan.”He was quite annoyed for a couple of days but
seems alright now.”He shook his head sadly. “We were delighted. It looked like things were getting back to normal.” Alan looked to Claire who nodded in agreement.

  “Well we were going to try and catch Ellie’s ghost as she appeared here,” said Gregor. “But if she is no longer manifesting here, we will have to go with plan B.” He stood up suddenly and held out his hand to the Owens. Surprised, they stood up and shook Gregor’s hand. “Rest assured my colleague and I will bring this to a satisfactory conclusion, and we will be back to you to talk the matter through when it has been done.”

  “Is there anything you need from us?” asked Alan, looking bewildered.

  “No, we have everything in hand, we will be in touch,” smiled Gregor and headed out the door, leaving Tom, Mike and Becks to tender brief goodbyes and follow in his wake. They caught up with him a few yards up the road. He had turned his coat collar up against the rain that had started to fall.

  “What’s the hurry Gregor?” said Mike.

  “If we stayed any longer they would have asked us what we are going to do. And our plan B is strictly unauthorised so we obviously can’t talk about it,” said Gregor. “I’m sorry to appear rude but I would rather that, than have to lie to people.” They all hurried back to the vicarage shielding themselves as well as they could from the wind and rain.

  Robert crouched in the darkness on the landing. He had been listening at the hall door and had nearly been caught out by the visitors’ sudden exit, having just got to the top of the stairs in time. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. His Ellie, his little sister killing people? No, they must be wrong.

  *

  They decided to perform the summoning on the Saturday, at the grave or in the church. The motorway bridge was ruled out immediately as being impractical and way too public, as had the school. They had everything they needed so spent the rest of the evening making and eating dinner, Mike drove Becks home and they kissed and embraced in the car like teenagers, holding each other for a long time before reluctantly breaking off and going their separate ways. Back at the vicarage Mike made a last cup of tea, announced he was going to bed and went upstairs.