The House on West 10th Street

by Helen Phifer

  ‘I’m going to sound like I belong in a psych unit and you’re probably going to wonder if you should call the cops or the EMS. I need you to trust that I’m one hundred percent sane and also that I’m telling the truth. I wish I could have been long gone before it happened again, but for some strange reason God either has a wicked sense of humour or he needed me to keep an eye on it. Either way I’m screwed and a little scared.’

  He leant towards her, his eyes fixed on her. ‘I’m listening.’

  She nodded. ‘Do you believe that evil exists?’

  He smiled. ‘Missy, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed the dog collar or not. I’m a priest, my whole career depends upon the existence of evil.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, I guess it does. I’ll put it another way, do you believe that a person can summon a demon?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I do. I know that they can for a fact.’

  ‘You do? Good because this is not some bullshit I’m about to tell you. This is one hundred percent a true story.’

  ‘Then you better tell me.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  October 1952

  She didn’t understand how it could smell so bad, the blood had been cleaned up by a professional team who had come in. There was a faded, pentagram on the wall. It looked as if they had tried to scrub it clean and failed miserably. Emilia knew it had been Mae’s blood. In a way that was all there was to remind her. She forced herself to cross the room, so she was standing in front of it. Reaching out and placing the palm of her trembling hand against it she sobbed. Oh Mae, I’m so sorry. Are you still here or did you go to a better place? I really hope you did. She leant her forehead against the cool wall and closed her eyes. Willing an image of her beautiful friend to come into her mind, she tried to concentrate, emptying her head of all thoughts until all she could see inside her head was white. It was then that she heard the growl – a low, guttural sound so close to her it made the tiny hairs inside her ear tingle. Her eyes flew open and she felt the hot, foul-smelling breath of something breathing down her neck. Emilia had never felt fear like it. Afraid to turn around and see what was behind her she froze to the spot and began to pray like she’d never prayed before. Mae wouldn’t growl at her. This was something bad, really bad. Clenching the knife in her fist she counted to three and spun around, expecting James to be standing behind her, wild eyed and crazy. She swung the knife and it sliced through the air. How could that be? She could smell it. Hell, she could feel it and she’d heard it. She could sense the danger, the raw animal enmity. Yet the room was empty or at least it was to her naked eye, then she spotted the Ouija Board and planchette underneath the coffee table. Her mouth dry and heart pounding, she lunged for it, grabbing them both before turning and running to the door. For a fleeting moment she imagined whatever beast or animal it was blocking the doorway and her exit. Then she was through it stumbling onto the landing. For what good it was she slammed the door shut behind her then ran downstairs to her bedroom where she flung the door shut, locking it. Her legs trembled so much she found herself collapsing onto the bed. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest it deafened her. Dropping the board and planchette on the bed next to her, she placed the knife on the nightstand. She wished more than anything that she wasn’t alone in the house. Did whatever it was know that she was? What did you do, James? What have you done to our home? Sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and hugged herself. The knife lay within reach if she needed it, but what good was a knife against something that you couldn’t see? If by some miracle she didn’t die of fright before the morning she was going to insist on visiting James. She would find out exactly what he’d done tomorrow and find out how to deal with it. Having a clear plan of action made her feel a little better, when after fifteen minutes no gargantuan beast from the depths of hell had broken her door down she began to relax a little. There was no doubt about it, her brother had been messing with things that were way out of his control. Well, there was no way she was going to spend the rest of her life paying for his mistakes. First thing she would visit her father’s friend at St Patricks and ask him for his help. Then she would go to Greystone’s and demand that James tell her how to put things right. The atmosphere in this house wasn’t just one of grief and despair, it was one of pure fear and evil.

  Emilia opened her eyes and blinked. How had she fallen asleep? She had waited, locked in her bedroom for either her father or Missy to come home. The sun was shining through the crack in the curtains. She looked at the clock, it was almost seven. She was on top of her covers, fully dressed. The Ouija board and planchette were on the floor, she must have knocked them off. The knife was still where she’d left it and she was still alive which was an unexpected blessing. She had never realized how precious life was until she lost Mae. She got herself up, washed and dressed then unlocked her bedroom door. She tucked the knife under her pillow, not knowing what good it would do against the thing that was hiding in the attic. It made her feel better, not like some helpless damsel in distress. She hadn’t realized just how tough she was until last night when she was faced with the fear of being attacked. She knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Whoever or whatever was up there would have to give its best shot to kill her. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, she had no idea how James had got Mae upstairs, but she hadn’t known at the time that she was walking up to her death. She was aware that the dynamics in this house had changed and not for the better, so stepping out onto the landing she wasn’t sure what to expect. The smell of rotting garbage still lingered, much fainter than last night. She went downstairs to the kitchen, the smell of fresh pancake batter filled the air and her stomach let out a loud groan. She went into the kitchen to see the biggest stack of pancakes she’d ever seen.

  ‘Are you hungry, Missy?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I also have a visitor coming for breakfast.’ Missy turned around the grin across her face turning into a screech as she dropped the spatula she was holding.

  ‘Shoot, Miss Emilia, what happened to you?’

  Emilia frowned and turned to stare at her reflection in the kitchen window, she did a double take. Was that even her? Her face was pale and there were the biggest dark circles under her eyes she’d ever seen. Her hair was stuck up and she looked dreadful. Turning to Missy she whispered, ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, you need to sit down, eat something and have a think about it because you look like a walking corpse.’

  ‘Missy, do you believe in…’ She tried to find the right words, but they were stuck in her throat. It was as if she couldn’t bring herself to speak them aloud in case what she was terrified of would be brought to life because of it. Missy sat opposite her, her hand reached out and clasped Emilia’s.

  ‘Do I believe in ghosts, demons? I’d never had much call to consider it, but these past few months I have. A lot. And if you want the honest answer it’s yes, something is hiding upstairs in the attic. I haven’t seen it, but I’ve felt it. I didn’t want to bother you or Clarke, but it’s getting stronger and I’m scared for us all.’

  There was a loud knock at the front door which made them both startle. Missy stood up, rushing to answer it. Emilia forked three pancakes from the stack, put them on a plate and carried them back to the table where she drizzled maple syrup all over them. She had a feeling she needed to keep her strength up. She heard muffled voices then two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. When she looked up she felt a huge wave of relief to see a priest standing behind Missy. He crossed the room and shook her hand.

  ‘Charles Morgan, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Emilia Carter.’ She gripped his hand much harder than she meant to. It was huge, warm and felt safe. She didn’t want to let it go. Missy pointed to a chair and he pulled it out and sat down. He began to talk about the weather, the upcoming masses and a choir concert he was helping to organize while Missy made a pot of coffee and placed it on the table along with the stack of pancakes. Emi
lia was eating whilst listening to him; he had one of those easy voices to listen to and it wouldn’t have mattered if he was talking Italian to her. He made her feel safe and she hadn’t felt like that in this house since the day before Mae’s murder. She noticed how his hand kept moving up to the starched, white, collar he wore around his neck. His fingers kept pushing inside it as if it was too tight and he was trying to loosen it. Emilia was fascinated by it because he didn’t even know that he was doing it. His cheeks were turning pinker by the minute as if he was in the middle of a sauna and not their draughty kitchen. There was a fine film of sweat on his brow and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his forehead. The whole time she couldn’t stop staring at him, Missy joined them at the table.

  ‘What’s the matter, Father? You look ill?’

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t understand what she was saying. Emilia giggled, it was rude of her and she knew that. It was just the craziness of the moment, both of them stared at her and she stopped as abruptly as she’d started. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m even laughing because none of this is the least bit funny. In fact, I’m terrified because there is something evil in this house that no-one can see. Except for James, I think maybe that he could. I think the only reason it’s here is because of him. He’s such a sick boy he killed my best friend, chopped her head off like he was doing something normal then summoned a demon. Why would he want to do that, Father? I mean it’s not your everyday behavior is it?’

  Charles picked up his tea and began to sip it, mopping his brow at the same time.

  ‘I don’t know why he did it or how he did it, but he’s done something bad. I felt fine before I set foot in this house and now I feel as if there’s a tight band squeezing the life out of my chest. Something is trying to suffocate me only I won’t let it. Whatever evil he has summoned is strong. I’ll give it that, but it’s not as strong as God. I’m a servant of God and he has given me his blessing to fight Satan and his legion to keep his children safe. That’s what I’m here to do. We can’t talk here though, I need to get outside, into the fresh air. That smell of rotting flesh, how long has it filled the air inside the house?’

  Emilia nodded, glad he could smell it too. ‘It was never prevalent until after Mae’s murder, now it lingers in the air. It comes and goes, sometimes it’s so powerful it makes me gag. Otherwise I can barely smell it.’

  He stood up ‘I didn’t come prepared. I wouldn’t leave and give in so quickly, but I have nothing on me to protect any of you and I won’t deal with it if there’s a slight chance you could be in danger.’

  Missy spoke, ‘Are we in danger?’

  He looked around the room as if making sure no-one had crept in to eavesdrop on their conversation whilst their backs were turned. ‘Yes, you are. Anyone who chooses to live in this house is in danger. Can’t you feel it, hovering in the background like some disease? It’s nauseating, cunning and strong, but it can be dealt with. I need to speak to the Archbishop and take some advice and then I’ll be in touch with you, Missy. If you need to talk anytime then come to the church, I’m always around and if not, someone will get a message to me. He crossed the room and made the sign of the cross on both of their foreheads with his thumb. Then placing both hands on top of their heads he began to recite a prayer in Latin. Emilia closed her eyes. The warmth of his hand on her head made her feel safe and at peace for the first time since that night. Why, when her life was beginning to get interesting, did it all have to be taken away so brutally? She was so glad to have had the pleasure of Mae in her life for what short time they’d spent together. She had been like a breath of fresh air to this house and she hoped that Mae had enjoyed her last days as much as she had. Of course she would give anything to turn back the clock and change it. Even if it meant her pop never having an affair with Mae and her forging such a close friendship. If she could stop it all before it happened she would, treasuring the knowledge that she’d known how swell it was to find a friend so special. She felt the pressure removed from her head and opened her eyes to see that Missy was holding a paper towel in her hand. She waved it at her and it was only then she realized that her cheeks were damp and she’d been crying.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The taxi pulled to the sidewalk, she paid her money and got out. The bar was all in darkness and she pressed her face against the glass. Cupping her hand against her forehead to block out the light, she saw movement in the far corner and hammered on the glass. Pulling her ID from her pocket she pressed it against the plate glass window so whoever was inside would see her badge. The door opened enough for her to squeeze in and she found herself standing in front of the biggest, man she’d ever seen. His arms crossed against his chest he nodded at her.

  ‘NYPD Detective Miller. I need to ask you or anyone else who works here some questions about a girl who may have gone missing December 2014.’

  He didn’t say a word, she pulled the photograph from her pocket and passed it to him. He studied it and she wondered how long he was going to take when he muttered.

  ‘Anya.’

  ‘Yes, Anya. Do you know her?’

  He pointed to a bar stool. ‘Please, sit down.’

  She did and he went behind the bar. In her entire life Maria had never seen so many types of vodka. There were bottles of every color and flavor you could imagine lined up against the glass mirror on the oak bar. He unscrewed the cap off one and poured out a large measure, handing it to her. She took it, not wanting to insult him and stared at it. He poured himself one, downed it then poured another. Turning to look at her she noticed his eyes were brimmed with tears and she wondered how close they had been. Lifting the shot glass to her lips she took a sip and immediately regretted it as she began to cough and splutter as it burnt all the way down her throat.

  ‘Sipping is no good, you need to tip your head back and swallow it all. Yes, I know Anya. Very well, she worked here six nights a week. Never missed a shift, one night she picked up some guy and they got drunk in the corner together.’

  He pointed to a booth. ‘She never came back, it broke my heart. I liked her, she was a good worker. A kind girl, easy on the eye.’

  ‘Did you report it to the police?’

  He laughed. ‘What was there to report? She shacked up with some guy who bought her drinks all night. He made her happy, it’s life.’

  ‘Could you describe the guy she was with?’

  He stood up and went back behind the bar where he began to search around under the counter, muttering in Russian under his breath. He shouted, ‘Da.’ Then turned around and came back to where she was sitting, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. He passed it to her and she looked at a grainy black and white still of Anya with a man. It wasn’t the best quality, but it was something.

  ‘That’s him, I don’t know why I took the picture from the system. I didn’t like him, something about him was off. I have a nose for that kind of thing. Do you know where Anya is?’

  Maria couldn’t tell him she was almost one hundred percent sure she was dead. ‘No, someone reported her missing this morning and I’m following up what little leads we have. Can I keep this? I’ll return it as soon as I can. Does she have any tattoos or birthmarks?’

  He nodded at her. ‘Yes, she has roses and vine tattoo from her leg to her…’ He pointed to his chest. ‘I should have called it in? Yes?’

  She didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did. ‘You weren’t to know. Thank you for your help.’

  She lifted the shot glass and downed the rest of the vodka. He smiled and saluted her. Standing up she walked towards the door.

  ‘Hey, if you find her tell her Viktor wants to say hello.’

  ‘I will.’

  She tugged the heavy door open and stepped out into the bright sunlight, which was so light she had to blink several times. So their Jane Doe was Anya Petri. The tattoo would be a huge step in a positive identification. Poor Viktor carried a bit of a flame for the beautiful gi
rl. Who wouldn’t? She was stunning. The feeling that things were coming together along with the shot of strong vodka made her smile for the first time today. She couldn’t wait to tell Frankie, but it wouldn’t be today. Tomorrow she would come back and show the photographs of the tattoo to Viktor, she would probably bring Frankie with her when she broke that news. She had no idea how the huge guy would take it. Right now she needed to go back to the station to look up Anya Petri, see if there was anything on the system about her, along with Petra and Viktor. Who wasn’t to say they weren’t all involved in an organized crime group or had something to do with her murder? Her phone beeped and she smiled as she read the text.

  Busy tonight or do you fancy grabbing a bite to eat? You choose where and when. Harrison x

  She did fancy going out for supper, it would take her mind off today. A twinge in her stomach reminded her something was wrong, and suddenly picturing Frankie’s bruised and bloody face wiped the smile off her face. She felt bad, almost as if she was cheating on him. Come on Maria how can you cheat on a guy who isn’t your lover? He’s your friend and partner. That’s it. Before she could change her mind she began typing back.

  Love to, Black Tap on Broome @ 8pm. x

  Tomorrow she would tell Frankie about Harrison, she might feel better. Confession is supposed to be good for the soul. He wouldn’t be mad at her, he’d be happy. She was worrying over nothing then she could cheer him up with the news that they finally had an ID for their vic. Tomorrow they would find out where she lived before she went missing and see if they could find anything to match to her DNA. If she had family living here it would be easier, but it didn’t matter though. She knew it in her gut that it was Anya and that was all that mattered.

  She thought about getting the subway, but it was too hot to be stuck down there. Normally she’d walk, but she wanted to get as much information off the system as she could before going home for a shower. She looked like a tramp in her sweats, not her usual work attire. Hailing her second cab of the day she asked him to drop her at the station. Her head was spinning and she could feel the beginnings of a migraine in the back of her eyes. She massaged her temples. Frankie had given her a heart attack this morning. All in all, today had been one stressful mess. She was looking forward to a couple of drinks and some food with Harrison. All week she’d been fantasizing about one of the Black Tap’s freak shakes because they made the best damn milkshakes in the city. After her run to Frankie’s apartment this morning she’d earnt one. Slipping into the station no one gave her a second glance which was fine by her. The department was unusually quiet. She sat down at her desk and began typing in the passwords to get access to the system to run the checks she needed. She could hear Addison shouting down the phone inside his office, even with the door shut. She wanted to get out of here before he dragged her in for an update, he’d want to know where Frankie was and she wasn’t about to drop him in it. Sending everything to the printer she slipped from her desk and went the long way around to collect her paperwork so she wouldn’t have to pass his office window. Waiting for the ancient printer to spit out her papers she crossed her fingers behind her back that he wouldn’t see her and yell for her to go speak to him. The paper stopped coming out and she scooped the pages up, shoving them into a cardboard file. Tucking it under her arm she left, running down the stairs. Leaving by the rear exit so she didn’t have to talk to anyone, she began the walk to her apartment. The thought of a cold shower giving her a good enough reason to keep walking, despite the uncomfortable heat and the tiredness spreading through her bones.