by David Pinner
‘So then it’s true, Vince; you came here to Open Grange Manor because you sectioned yourself, right?’ Paul called after him.
‘I didn’t section myself. But I did the next best thing.’
‘What do you mean?’ Paul asked as he joined Vince under the chestnut’s shadow.
‘Well, that night, Paul - after you beat me up at Lulu’s place - I went and stood on the edge of the cliff,’ Vince said, staring sightlessly up into the leafless branches above him. ‘And because my mind was in such a hellish state, I wrapped myself in a cloak, made of sacking, that I had stolen from Lulu’s garage. And in my stupid cloak, I tottered right to the edge of the cliff. See, I really thought that if I flapped my cloak like bat’s wings, I could jump over the cliff and fly. And then if I kept on flapping my cloak, I’d be able to fly off into the void like a fucking great vampire,’ the postman cried, clutching his bald head with both hands. ‘Oh I know, I know, Paul. It was a totally nutcase idea. But, recently, that’s what keeps happening to me all the time.’
Dejectedly, Vince lurched out from under the chestnut tree back into horizontal solar rays. Paul followed him, scratching his beard.
‘Yes, and earlier that night, you were right, Vince,’ Paul said, after giving his beard a final scratch.
‘I was right about what?’
‘You were right, when you said that it was that godless witch, Gwynne Spark, who was – and is – constantly screwing with your mind and your emotions.’
‘Well, it’s true, Paul. The witch won’t leave me alone. That’s why I thank my lucky stars that just as I was about to leap off the cliff, like a total nutter – well, at the very last moment – I suddenly saw what I can only describe as a…well, as a flaming light. And it was this incredible light that stopped me jumping to my certain death. ‘Fact it was then that I decided I needed some serious medical help, so I ran all the way to Doctor Harris’ house. See, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. And Doctor Harris…well, he was just so wonderful to me. He not only sorted out all my wounds and bruises, but when he saw that I was in such a terrible state, he very kindly put me up for the night,’ Vincent said, nodding approvingly at the memory. ‘Then the next day Doctor Harris got me an appointment to see a shrink in Truro, and it was the shrink, who arranged for me to come here to Open Grange Manor.’
‘So where are all the other inmates, then?’ Paul said gesturing at the empty grounds around them. ‘You seem to be totally alone here.’
‘I am alone. And that’s the way I like it,’ Vince agreed, pointing to the Manor’s twilit edifice. ‘Fortunately for me, most of them like to stay inside the Manor, where they just sit around, gabbing to each other all day long. But none of us are forced to stay here, y’understand. ‘Fact the moment we feel that we don’t need the shrink’s help anymore, then we can up sticks, and we can get the hell outta here.’
‘But you still don’t feel strong enough to leave the Manor yet, do you, Vince?’
‘No. Even though…’ Vincent whispered. Then he trailed off, covering his eyes.
‘Even though what, Vince?’
‘Well, I’m kind of safe in here, but unfortunately I still can’t escape that evil witch’s influence. She’s always getting through to me, and then she fucks up my mind! ‘Specially from dusk onwards, and far into the night,’ Vincent shouted, punching his fists at the sun’s vermilion orb as it edged further down into the trees.
‘Your witch did much the same to me a few weeks ago, Vincent,’ clarioned a woman’s voice, echoing across the lawn.
‘Lulu!’ both men chimed together.
‘You can go now, Paul! I’m only here to see Vincent,’ Lulu ordered, striding across the lawn towards them.
‘It’s alright, Paul. You can leave me alone with Lulu,’ Vince said under his breath to the writer as Lulu approached them. ‘But if you’ve got any sense, Paul, don’t you ever trust her – ‘cause Lulu is destroying you, too. I can see it in your eyes.’
‘I was going to say exactly the same to you,’ Paul whispered back to the postman. ‘And, Vince, whatever Lulu says to you when I’m gone, you must always remember that she is a predatory succubus, so she is never what she seems to be.’
‘That’s true of everyone,’ Lulu said, appearing beside the postman, but addressing the writer; ‘Although it’s especially true of you, Paul.’
Then she stared at the writer with deep concern.
‘What’s more, Paul,’ she murmured, ‘I sense that things are going to come to a head with you – and in three night’s time, on Millennium Eve.’
‘I don’t believe any of your predestined bullshit, Lulu,’ snapped the writer.
‘As you will. But at this moment, Paul; how unbearably hot is the blast furnace inside your skull?’ she demanded. ‘Is it still a prolonged preview of Hell?’
‘You can go on playing the prophetess as much as you like, Lulu,’ Paul bellowed, with his finger levelled at her forehead like a cocked pistol. ‘But, believe me, you are still going to pay in full, for what you have done to everyone!’
‘So proclaims my voyeuristic, self-proclaimed protector,’ she replied.
‘You can always rely on that, Lulu,’ Paul nodded. ‘And despite all the damage you’ve done to everyone, I will always try to protect you from all your enemies.’
‘But you can’t protect me from you, can you, Paul?’ she said, transfixing the writer with her unblinking, sea-green eyes.
‘See what I mean, Vince? You must never trust her,’ Paul called over his shoulder to the postman as he moved away from them. Then he turned back to face Vince, while he pointed at Lulu; ‘And believe me, Vince, Lulu is even trickier than the Devil. That’s why you must always watch out for yourself.’
‘So asserts the self-righteous, congenitally-religious children’s writer, who can only get his nuts off by kicking the bejesus out of a possessed postman,’ Lulu interjected.
‘You can be as smart-arsed as you like, Lulu, but my hour with you is coming toute suite. You see, whether you like it or not, I love you infinitely more than I hate you,’ Paul shouted over his shoulder, while he lunged on towards the Grange’s iron gates.
‘Yes, and as you can see, Vincent,’ Lulu said as she appraised the postman, who was gazing at her in blatant adoration. ‘Life is the most violent paradox.’
‘Whatever that means,’ Vince said, wrinkling his brow. ‘But I must say, Lulu, I’m…well, I’m still very surprised to see you here.’
‘I should have come before. However, of late, I have a tendency to procrastinate,’ Lulu confessed.
With her troubled face tinged with fire from the setting sun, she turned to watch Paul, who was heading out through the Grange’s gates.
‘What I’m trying to say, Lulu is…’ Vincent murmured. ‘Well, after what I tried to do to you on that dreadful Sunday night in November, why have you bothered to come to the Grange to see me now?’ he asked, aching to touch her wrist, but lacking the temerity.
‘I’ve come here to see you, Vincent, because I believed you - when you told me in my garden six weeks’ ago - that it wasn’t your fault,’ she said, brushing her flaxen hair away from her face. ‘You see, I know it is Gwynne, who was - and is -manipulating you. Yes, and, initially, she used her drugged, home-made wine, combined with your nail-clippings, to induce you into a rapaciously-frenzied state. And that is why her powerfully-vindictive mind still controls you. And then she makes you lust to attack me. You see, Gwynne continues to employ the odd hair or two from your head – which she has kept – to ensure that you remain a slave to her malignant spells,’ Lulu said, gesturing at the sparse wisps on the back of the postman’s skull.
Embarrassed Vince coursed his fingers over his bald head as he asked; ‘Yeah, but how do you know that she used my nail-clippings, and that she still uses my hair to control me?’
‘Human nails, hair and skin are often utilised by witches and warlocks in their spells, so they can manipulate their victims’ minds and imaginat
ions,’ Lulu said, moving across the lawn to catch the last rays of the dying sun. ‘And Gwynne Spark has spent a great deal of her life perfecting her lethal magic. Indeed, when she tried to destroy me that night in October, she even resorted to using your daughter, as well as little Bella, Tom and Alfie.’
‘Yeah, Sue told me how Scarlet and the other kids had stabbed a straw-doll with knitting needles,’ the postman nodded. ‘And my wife said that it was only when the kids discovered that it was you, Lulu, who they were watching in the witch’s mirror, that the kids all realised that you were suffering so much. Then they all stopped stabbing the straw-doll because they knew they had been torturing you,’ Vince said, unable to hide his distress and fear. ‘So, Lulu, what the hell can we do to protect ourselves from the witch?’
‘Don’t worry about me, Vincent. I can look after myself.’
‘You’ve got…well, you have strange powers, haven’t you?’ Vince muttered.
‘Indeed. So I will do my best to protect you, Vincent. Although…’ Lulu added, with a perturbed look in her aquamarine eyes, ‘…My powers are not what they once were.’
‘How will you protect me, then?’
‘I still have my ways. Most of the time. And, remember, six weeks’ ago, it was me, who saved you - when you were on the point of jumping off the cliff top.’
‘No, I saved myself, Lulu!’
‘Au contraire, Vincent,’ Lulu said, shaking her head. ‘I stopped you becoming a wingless vampire. Yes, and I stopped you jumping off the cliff.’
‘How the devil did you do that?’
‘As you were about to leap to your certain death, I’m sure that you recall a sudden, flaming light, which illuminated the inside of your skull.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘I created that light for you. Then, telepathically, I prompted you to move away from the cliff, and I induced you to go to Dr Harris’ house because I knew that he would help you. And, what’s more, the good doctor did, didn’t he?’ she said, solicitously touching his elbow. ‘That’s the reason you’re still alive, and it’s also why you are safely ensconced in the Grange, Vincent.’
‘No, no, no!’ the postman yelled, shrugging her off, and running towards a phalanx of dusk-tinged trees. ‘Paul Hopkins is right about you, Lulu. You are very dangerous. And you are not to be trusted. See, I don’t believe a single word you’ve said. So now fuck off, and leave me alone!’
Trying to placate him, Lulu followed Vince into the trees. The postman shouted at her again; ‘Look, go back to Thorn, Lulu, and just leave me be!’
‘Yes, leave my husband alone, you evil bitch!’ screeched Sue as she emerged from behind the Manor with her daughter, Scarlet.
Still screaming abuse, Sue ran towards Lulu and the retreating postman.
‘I’m going to kill you, Crescent, for what you’ve done to me and Vince and Scarlet. See, Death’s the very least you deserve, you filthy whore!’
As Vince felt unable to deal with his enraged wife, he ran off further into the trees, with Lulu close behind him.
A moment later, and still flailing her arms like a dervish, Sue launched herself at Lulu, who swiftly stepped to one side, to counter her attacking opponent. With a blurring motion, Lulu wrenched Sue’s arm behind her back. Then Lulu flicked her foot forward, tripping up her assailant, but as she wanted to soften Sue’s fall, Lulu contrived to send her sprawling down onto a patch of mossy grass.
Before Sue could recover, Lulu ran towards the Grange’s gate, where she paused briefly to reassure the frightened figure of Scarlet, who was running towards her prostrate mother.
‘Now don’t worry, Scarlet dear,’ Lulu said to her young friend; ‘I have not hurt your Mummy, I promise you. Yes, annd I’m really so sorry that this has happened.’
With tears of bewilderment in her eyes, Scarlet shook her head at Lulu, who now was at a loss as to what she could do to make things better for the girl.
Contritely shaking her head, Lulu moved through the gate to her parked car, while the girl ran on towards her mother, who was being helped to her feet by Vince.
Irately Sue wrenched her arm away from her husband.
Then she jabbed her finger at him, screeching, ‘And this is what happens, you bastard, when I come here to see you for the first time. Mind, I only came today ‘cause Scarlet keeps crying all the time, and pleading with me. But like I told her, you’ll never change, so it’s all been a total waste of time.’
As Vince reached out his hand to calm his fuming wife, Sue backed away from him yelling; ‘Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy little shit, when you’ve been screwing that tart!’
Weeping uncontrollably, Scarlet brushed past her mother. She threw her arms around her disconsolate father, who was still trying to defend himself to his wife.
‘Sue darling, as God’s my witness, I’ve never been with Lulu like that. Not ever. No, honestly,’ Vince pleaded with his wife, while he hugged his wailing daughter’s head against his chest, in an attempt to console her. ‘Listen, I promise you, Scarlet baby, everything’s going to be fine. You’ve just gotta believe me, sweetheart,’ he insisted as he bent and kissed Scarlet’s wet cheeks.
‘Well, I’ll never believe anything you say, you lying sod,’ Sue screamed, pulling her sobbing daughter away from Vince’s heart-felt embrace. ‘And nor will Scarlet, now that she’s seen you with that whore. So as far as I’m concerned, you arsehole, you can run off after that filthy slut, and you can screw the bitch to death!’
‘No, Sue sweetheart, I only want you and Scarlet. See, I really have changed,’ Vince protested, with tears blurring his vision. ‘So please be reasonable, darling, ‘cause we’ve got to talk this through. We’ve got to…’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Sue raged. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s all over and done with. So I never want to see you again, you lecherous bastard.’
‘Please don’t say that, Mummy,’ Scarlet cried, with hot tears dripping off her nose and her chin. ‘I love Daddy, just as much as I love you. I really do.’
Vehemently shaking her head, Sue ignored Scarlet’s sobbing pleas, while she continued to drag her inconsolable daughter back towards the gate.
For a moment Vince was about to pursue them, but his wife’s ringing voice deterred him, ‘Go to Hell, you fucker, and stay there!’
In the gathering dark, Vince slumped down onto a tree stump. With a world of tears coursing out of his eyes, he hugged his knees as his only source of comfort.
*
An hour later, Vince’s hunched figure could be seen walking along an unlit, country road towards Thorn Village. The postman had felt compelled to leave the safety of the Open Grange Manor, but he was unaware that he was being shadowed.
19
Ten minutes later, Vince stopped to stare at Lulu’s moonlit cottage in the middle distance. Again the postman clamped his hands around his severely-throbbing forehead. In his chaotic mind, the witch’s voice was like a metal talon that was scratching on a windowpane relentlessly.
Vincent!, screeched the witch’s voice inside his tortured skull; It is Lulu Crescent, who has done this to you. Remember all those nights when she crept into your bed, and she sapped the life out of you. She has totally destroyed your marriage. From the moment the Succubus turned up in Thorn this summer, she has constantly tormented you with her body. In return, she has given you nothing but frustrated, aching loins, and a bedevilled brain. So now you must not go back to Open Grange Manor until you have completed your failed mission. And your mission is to destroy the Succubus.
As the late December night wind urged a cloud to spread its octopus-tentacles over the moon, Vince swayed against Lulu’s front wall. He peered back in the direction that he’d come from. The country road seemed deserted, but he still sensed that he wasn’t alone.
The postman was about to retrace his steps, and confront anyone who was following him, when the witch’s voice inside his head became even more insistent.
And the mome
nt you burst into Crescent’s cottage, Vincent, you must tear all the clothes off her succulent body with your claws. Then you will sink your insatiable fangs into her throat, and you will rip out the whore’s jugular. As you gulp down her blood, you will drive your ravening lance into the moist depths of her loins until she screams in her death-throes.
The witch’s commands continued to echo within the vault of his skull. In response, Vince slashed his claw-like-fingers at the re-emerging moon, and it seemed to him as if his teeth had transformed themselves into fangs. Snarling, he lurched forward towards the glimmering front-windows of Lulu’s cottage, where he could see the Succubus silhouetted against a solitary standard lamp. Howling like a demented werewolf, he broke into a run. Then he heard running feet behind him.
A moment later, the sound of the pounding feet behind him was silenced by a different, stereophonic voice, which was now resonating inside Vince’s cranium. And instantly the new, compelling voice took possession of the postman.
‘You are being manipulated against your will, Vincent,’ the voice clarioned. ‘Yes, the Witch has bewitched you again. So Gwynne Spark must pay in kind for what she has done to you, and to your family. She must pay in full. And she must pay now, Vincent. NOW!’
It was as if a waterfall of cascading blood had reversed itself inside Vince’s brain, and he realised that he had stopped running towards Lulu’s cottage. His fingers were no longer transmogrified into claws, or his teeth into fangs. Now he stood motionless.
Then the new, imperious voice ordered him to turn his back on Lulu’s cottage.
Immediately Vince obeyed, and he turned, and run swiftly in the opposite direction.
As he raced down the road, he didn’t notice a man in the shadows, who ducked back under a leafless willow as the postman ran past him. Vince was too intent on shouting his dire intentions to the December moon; ‘Enough is enough, you evil bitch-of-a-witch. Now it’s time for you to suffer in Hell, Gwynne Spark!’
At the same moment, Lulu stood by her cottage window, and she shook her head ruefully at the precipitate and violent course of action, which she had just set in motion. Flicking back her blonde tresses, she regretted playing the manipulator, and she felt guilty that she had filled the demented postman’s head with sadistic thoughts.