by Aline Riva
It seems safe to assume in these cynical times that it is rather obvious how Thornton enabled these women to over come their inability to get pregnant, when the reason could have lie with the husbands, who would have paid him gratefully when their 'miracle' child came along. So the stories of Thornton are varied, and all seem to suggest a cunning man indeed – a cunning con artist who knew a little about the occult, perhaps?
No one will ever know the answer for sure, because in the summer of 1912, Thornton disappeared, and was never seen again. Rumours went about the village that he had been paid off and asked to leave because he had been having an affair with the daughter of the local land owner. Other rumours suggest he was killed over the romance, but it seems the mystery to his sudden disappearance will never be solved.'
Zack finished reading the article, then he closed down the lap top and put it aside, and then he lay back on his bed, feeling comfortable because the lamp was on and staying on that night, and he silently turned over all he had read in what had to be the most revealing article he had so far uncovered on Thornton:
He was more a con man than a real magician?
That had come as a surprise.
He knew the occult had been mixed in there somewhere, because he had seen the chalk circle and the Devil at the window – something he didn't like to recall – but to know that eighty percent of Thornton's deeds had been done without magic, instead employing some form of deception, surprised him.
As he thought more on all he had learned, he found he was smiling as he recalled what Sarah had said, about him becoming the new cunning man of Harpley Village. It was a thought that was almost seductive, as if his former life was beckoning to him, urging him to turn a strange and fascinating corner to bring back to life part of a time long gone, to resurrect a way of life that had until now been long forgotten...
Maybe he was romanticising it too much, and he felt sure if he dared to think back to the horrible vision of Thornton being buried alive, that recollection would be enough to kill the allure of the thoughts he played around with. But he didn't think about the dark side of Thornton's end, instead, he thought on the possibility of learning the old ways, ways he had once understood so well in his former life.
Maybe one day he would be the new cunning man of the village...
That was his only thought as he slipped into a deep sleep, and for once, no dark and terrible dreams troubled him, it was almost as if he had been granted some peace because unseen forces that lurked about the cottage approved of the plans he had toyed with...
Sarah woke up in the middle of the night and wondered what had woken her – there were no sounds coming from outside, and when she got out of bed and crossed the hallway and looked in on Zack, she saw he was sleeping peacefully on his side, breathing slow and even, and showing no hint that he could be having a nightmare. The lamp was on next to his bed and she left it on, understanding his need to avoid sleeping in darkness, and then she went back to her room, put on a thin dressing gown to keep out the slight chill of the early hours, and went downstairs quietly.
She didn't know why she had got the urge to leave her bed in the middle of the night, but she trusted it, remembering she had not seen anything like the kind of visions that had tormented Zack – maybe that was because Lillith had not seen any of that horror, and had never known why her lover had vanished... She was sure that was right, because when she tried to think of Lillith and to reach back into the mists of time, no answers came back at her, only a feeling of deep sorrow that could only come from separation from one who was loved deeply and dearly.
She went into the kitchen, pressed the switch and the room was bathed in welcoming bright light, and then she went over to the back door, unlocked it and went outside, standing on the stone patio where the heat of the day before was still cooling and the stonework felt warm beneath her bare feet. The garden still carried the scent of roses, and seemed so peaceful in the dark.
“What happened here?” she whispered into the night air, and then she stood there, thinking of Lillith and wishing she could have another one of those dreams where she saw through her eyes, because she was looking for answers, and after all this time when so many years had gone by, and all the people involved in the mystery were long dead, it seemed asking the dead was the only thing she could think to do. Zack had heard voices in the garden and maybe she would, too, if she listened hard enough...
Then it came to her, carried on the breeze, a gathering of whispered voices, at first chattering all at once and sounding like the rush of the sea, and then as they grew closer and her skin prickled up with goosebumps, she stood still, determined not to lose her nerve and run, as the whispering became clearer:
“Bones,” hissed a voice, “His bones are deep below stones...deep and dark is the earth that holds the bones... “
“What bones?” she said nervously, shivering as the voices seemed to be all around her now.
“He is all alone, as he is now while sleeping...the bones are restless...they hold his essence...”
Fear had made her cold, but the words had been spoken clearly and she had focussed on them as she tried to make sense of what had been said.
“The dark power Thornton possessed is still in his bones?” she said in a hushed voice.
“Yes Lillith....”
She caught her breath, it had been a shock to be addressed by that name, even though she had been sure she was right about her reincarnation theory.
“Where are his bones?” she demanded.
Something shifted closer and it felt like a cold blast of air as if a window had just been opened up in a warm room.
“Under the cobblestones,” it said, “The Cobblestones of Harpley...”
“What are you?” she whispered as she took a step back, closer to the safety and the bright light of the open doorway that led back into the kitchen.
“We drift the seas of the lower realm, lost souls...” a distant reply came, and then there was a sigh as if the the unseen souls had taken a final, collective breath, and the garden was still once more.
Sarah drew in a couple of breaths to steady herself, and then she went back into the kitchen, where the bright light made her feel much safer. She was sure it wasn't for the same reason Zack preferred the lights on at night – as she had stood there with those invisible souls whispering about her, she had felt sure she was safe because they didn't like the light. Perhaps what had happened at the graveyard had been different – Kyle's great great grandfather could easily reach him anywhere, it seemed, even in daylight, but perhaps that was because he was a regular ghost and making contact with a relative was easy...that thought worried her. Frederick had told Kyle she was a whore... He had been speaking of her as if speaking of Lillith, the daughter he hated for her liaison with Thornton...
She closed the kitchen door and then put the kettle on, needing hot tea to warm her up after the unearthly chill that had wrapped about her in the darkened garden. She half smiled as she put a tea bag in the mug and waited for the kettle to boil as she thought about what she would say the next day:
“It was my turn last night, I've joined the hearing disembodied voices club at last!”
Then as she finished making the tea her smile faded as she considered how Kyle was perhaps more vulnerable than her or Zack, with his constant worry about his health and his fear of death. Did that make it easier for Frederick to get close to him and say those things? What if his next plan was to take possession of Kyle?
She sat down at the table, looking to the darkened garden as she sipped her tea, and tried not to let her imagination run away too much, because hearing those voices had been chilling enough. Then she grabbed a notepad and pen from the table and began to write down everything she could recall, so that when morning came and she told Zack about it, she would miss nothing out, because they finally had a clue – even though the wording had been very vague:
The bones of Thornton Ravencroft were under the cobblestones of Harpley
. At first glance it seemed like a very useful hint – except that there were cobblestones all over this old village. Those bones could still be anywhere...
As morning broke through with bright sunshine, although feeling a little tired from losing sleep, Sarah was up and dressed by the time Zack joined her. She sat down with him and they had breakfast together, and over breakfast, she told him about the voices she had heard in the garden the night before.
Zack listened to her tale and then spoke up.
“Well now you've heard the voices too, that makes us all even,” he replied, “But what you were told doesn't help us much. There are cobblestones here in the kitchen, out there on the patio, on the paths around the house and leading up to the front gate. There are cobblestones in the village square, and also in or around many of the private homes in this village.”
She gave a sigh.
“I know that too but I hoped you might be glad I made some progress.”
He shot her a look of surprise.
“Of course I am!” he insisted, “This is great – but it still means we have to keep searching.”
“I know,” she told him, “And I think if we keep going, we will find those bones.”
“I hope we do,” he agreed, “After all, they are my bones!”
And hearing him say that again gave her a jolt, but now it didn't seem to affect Zack at all as he turned his attention back to his breakfast and continued to eat.
A phone call had come later that day, and after Zack had brought him up to speed on what Sarah had heard in the garden, Kyle had simply said, “We may not have many clues to go on yet apart from cobblestones, and today I have been helping my wife catch up on some paperwork so I haven't had time to search through the old filing system properly – but, I do have a Grace White. And she's agreed to meet us over at the cottage tonight for a séance.”
Zack paused, looking to Sarah as they sat together at the table in the garden as he held on to his phone and decided it wouldn't be fair to put him on mute while he mentioned this might be a bad idea.
“A séance, here?” he said, and Sarah shot him a look of surprise.
“Yes, a séance,” Kyle confirmed, “Grace is a medium known around these parts for her abilities, she's very accurate and I've been to her myself. She's been talking to the dead for almost fifty years. She knows what she's doing and she could be a lot of use to us.”
Zack thought about it.
“I'm not sure if that's a good idea – I mean, I saw the Devil, remember? Not some apparition in white or some shadowy shape, it was the freaking Devil!”
“She knows about the history of the cottage,” Kyle replied, “And she's okay with that, she can handle it. We're coming over at seven pm, I'm bringing Sally with me – she loves all the spooky stuff. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I do trust Grace. She was the one who told me I'd recover when I was ill, and she was right about that, so I'll feel safe with her around.”
“Okay,” replied Zack, “We'll see you then.” He ended the call and looked to Sarah.
“We're having a séance tonight,” he said.
When night fell, the front room was ready – the dining table had been cleared, although Sarah and asked if a séance could only be held at a round table, because this one was rectangular – and Zack had just shrugged.
“I guess any table will do,” he replied, and then as the knock at the door sounded down the hallway of the cottage, they both went to the door to greet their guests.
Kyle seemed a little edgy as he flashed a nervous smile to Zack, but his wife came in looking happy and relaxed in her turquoise summer dress as she announced she loved anything supernatural.
“So did I until all this happened,” Sarah told her, “It's getting so freaky around here.”
“Maybe it will get even freakier after tonight!” Sally said brightly, and then she went with Kyle through to the front room.
As Grace entered the house, she was something of a surprise. The slender and surprisingly glamorous woman who looked to be around seventy with short greying hair, wore a long dark, classic summer dress that was complimented by diamanté earrings, and she looked about the hallway, her spidery mascara coated lashes fluttering as her gaze shifted left to right as she sensed much in the atmosphere of the old cottage.
“You certainly do have an interesting home, Mr Stirling,” she said.
He smiled politely.
“Please, call me Zack.”
She arched a thin, heavily drawn eyebrow as she looked at him thoughtfully.
“I'd be more inclined to call you Thornton. Kyle told me everything. And I have to agree the likeness you share with the late Mr Ravencroft is uncanny. Those dreams mean something, Zack. I would say yes, you most probably are the cunning man of Harpley. It would make sense that you chose to return here one day. Did you feel a calling to this property when you first saw it?”
“I felt a calling to the reasonable price!” he joked, but she did not smile.
“I think this is going to be a very interesting experience,” she said to him, and then he led the way, and they went into the front room to join Kyle and Sally at the table.
A short while later, the curtains were closed, the lights were out and a single candle burned brightly in the middle of the table. The medium had sat in silence with her eyes closed and head bowed for ten minutes, then she looked up and indicated it was time for everyone to join hands.
“I shall begin by addressing the spirits,” she said, “And I have to emphasise this – no matter what we see, hear or feel at this time, no one must leave the table or let go because if the circle breaks, the link is gone and we will lose contact with the spirit realm.”
“Yes, I know that,” Sally said as she nodded and reached for Kyle's hand. He looked nervous as he in turn reached for Zack's hand, who reached for Sarah's. Then Sarah and Sally took the hands of Grace, and they sat at the table, hands linked, as the medium focussed on the light of the candle flame and then began to speak.
“We are here tonight to speak with the restless spirits who visit this cottage,” she said, “We mean no harm, our intention is to help. Is anyone present who wishes to be heard?”
They were met with silence, apart from the sound of the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
“Does anyone wish to speak?” Grace asked again, “We are seeking information on the fate of the cunning man Thornton Ravencroft. Frederick Brackenby, are you present? If you are present, I demand you answer my question. Tell us the truth, the lie has already been discovered.”
Suddenly the room seemed darker, as if the depth of the darkness already present had sunk lower, and as the candle flame danced wildly as a chill cut through the room, Kyle caught his breath and Sally held on to his hand tightly.
“Something went past me...” he whispered, “It was cold!”
Sally responded by gripping his hand even harder.
“Don't break the link,” she whispered, “You're okay, I'm here...”
He nodded and glanced at her.
“Just hang on to me,” he said quietly, and his hand trembled in her grip.
The medium straightened up sharply in her chair as she felt the presence growing closer.
“Speak to me, Lord Frederick Brackenby,” she said, “Tell me where you put the body after you killed Thornton.”
And then she gave a gasp and her hands shook in the grip of the others, and as she turned her head to the dark empty space beside her, she looked angrily to the unseen spirit.
“Yes, you did have a part in the murder of that man!” she said accusingly, “Now your title and wealth have no bearing, Frederick – you are a spirit humble as any other. I know you arranged the murder of Thornton Ravencroft – why?”
And the medium's hands were almost torn from the grip of the others at the table as her body jerked violently and she gave a gasp, and then her head fell forward, her eyes were closed, and the others looked on in shock as she remained still.
“Grace?” Kyle said nervously.
She snapped her head upright, and now her eyes were open and blazing with anger as her face contorted into a twisted mask of hatred.
“You disappoint me,” she said, and the voice was not her own, but male and deep and cracked with age. Kyle's face paled and Sally clung to his hand as Zack and Sarah also held on, looking in horror at the sight of the medium possessed by the spirit of Frederick Brackenby.
The possessed woman's gaze was still fixed on Kyle.
“Call yourself a Brackenby?” hissed Frederick, “You are not!”
Zack looked to the face that now looked more like that of an old man than the woman who had entered the cottage to host the séance.
“Frederick?” he said, and as he spoke, he swore something old and dark was rising up in him, some kind of memory that had been lost but was now found once more, as his eyes grew dark and menacing and he found a strength to call on that he never knew he had, “Why did you kill me? Why did you kill Thornton?”
“You,” Frederick rasped, “Are not a man of God, warlock! You defiled my daughter and suffered the consequences!”
“I loved her!” Zack said angrily, not caring that something old and once forgotten was now flowing out of him as he glared at the spirit who had taken over the body of the medium. The others were staring at him, and Kyle's hands were shaking as he used every ounce of his courage not to break the circle and run from the room.
Sarah was staring in disbelief at Zack, who now seemed more like Thornton than Zack as he spoke again.
“Tell me where the body is!” he demanded.