In the Devil's Name

by Dave Watson

  When I got home some hours later, I went straight upstairs to my room without even saying hello to my dad, who was in the kitchen making dinner, and called our former drug dealer.

  I’d only met Barnsey on the occasions when he’d come to drop off some gear at Cairnsey’s house. Mostly I tried to steer clear of the guy. He was a dodgy cunt, as Sam had been fond of saying. I needed to speak to him now though. He answered on the second ring.

  “Barnsey. It’s Phil Densmore here. Cairnsey’s pal?”

  “Phil,” he said. “Don’t know if I should be talkin’ to you. The fuckin’ pigs pulled me a while back askin’ questions.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I reassured him. “You didn’t get done did you?”

  ”Naw, man but that’s no the fuckin’ point. Point is one of you gave him my name. What the fuck’s that all about? I didn’t even know what the fuck they were talking about when they spoke to me.”

  “How’d you mean?” I asked him, getting confused. “They wanted to know about Ozay. That’s why I’m phoning you. Who the fuck is this guy?”

  “Listen Phil,” Barnsey said. “I don’t know who you’re getting your gear off these days, but it must be good. Like I told the pigs, I don’t know any cunt called Ozay.”

  “Barnsey you don’t have to be paranoid,” I said. “No one’s listening in on this call if that’s what you’re worried about. Come on now. Who is this guy?”

  ”Jesus, I’m no paranoid. I’m telling you, I don’t know anyone called Ozay. Never even heard the fuckin’ name.”

  I started to get impatient at that point. There’s caution and there’s caution, you know? Only thing was, he sounded like he was being serious.

  “For fuck’s sake, Barnsey, you spoke to Cairnsey about him that night he phoned you from Bennane Head, remember? About how he left a note on the back of the bench instead of turning up to meet us?”

  “Aye, that’s the same shit the pigs said to me when they showed up, and I told them I never even spoke to Cairnsey that night. Probably the only time I’ve ever told the pigs the truth in my life.”

  Now I knew he was being serious. I was suddenly very cold.

  “But… but I heard you on the phone… that laugh of yours. We could all hear it coming out of Cairnsey’s mobile.”

  “Look, Phil. I’m goin’ to tell you one last time. I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about. Cairnsey never called me that night and I’ve never heard of any cunt called Ozay. I’m sorry about what happened to your mates but get a fuckin’ grip, eh?”

  I was starting to get really freaked out now. I tried to reassure him I wasn’t setting him up one last time.

  “Barnsey, please. This isn’t being recorded. The cops aren’t interested in you. They’ve closed the case. You’ve got to tell me who this guy is. There’s some seriously weird shit going on.”

  He let out a long exasperated sigh, like he was dealing with a particularly slow witted child.

  “Phil, I don’t think it is being recorded. Here, how’s this. I’ve supplied you and your mates with various illegal drugs over the last three years or so, and I keep at least four ounces of cannabis as well as quantities of cocaine, speed and heroin in my house at all times. I’ve also got a handgun under my bed. That convince you, Phil? Would I say that shit if I thought this was a set up? Once more: I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. Last time I spoke to Cairnsey was when I dropped off that soft black a couple of days before you all finished school. Jesus, check the calls from his mobile for that night if you don’t believe me.”

  Something icy dropped into my stomach at his words, and then he hung up. Griff had said the same thing about checking Cairnsey’s phone.

  I believed him.

  Barnsey didn’t know what I was talking about. The cold feeling in my gut seemed to spread outwards and my skin started crawling.

  My mobile rang, making me flinch and I almost dropped it. I looked at the phone’s screen to see who was on the line, but it was a private number. With a less than steady finger, I pressed the green button to accept the call.

  “Hello?”

  “He didn’t know what you were talking about did he?” a familiar voice asked me.

  It was Griff.

  “Who didn’t know?” I asked, trying to sound calm although every nerve in my body was screaming panic. What the fuck was going on here?

  He laughed down the line at me. A mocking, disdainful snigger.

  “Barnsey,” Griff said. “He said he didn’t speak to Cairnsey that night, didn’t he?”

  “How did you know…”

  “I know lots of things, Phil. More than you could imagine.”

  “What…” my throat closed up and I could say no more. Griff’s voice had started to change halfway through the sentence. It’d became rougher, more guttural. I started to get the distinct feeling this wasn’t Griff at all. I didn’t know whether that was more or less freaky than if it had been my friend. Although the fear that gripped me was icy cold, sweat ran from my temples and down my cheeks.

  “Call me back,” the Griff impersonator said, the voice now not much more than a loathsome wet sounding rumble. The line went dead.

  Calling that voice back was the last thing I wanted to do, but I’d the feeling that things weren’t really in my control anymore and had taken on a malevolent life of their own. I was merely along for the ride.

  My hands had been less than steady before. Now they were flat out shaking, and I had trouble scrolling through my mobile's phonebook to find the number of the hospital where they were holding Griff.

  A pleasant sounding woman answered the phone.

  “Hello, I need to speak to a patient there. Dean Griffiths.”

  “Are you a relative or a friend?” she asked cautiously.

  “A friend. I was up visiting him this morning. My name's Phillip Densmore.”

  “Please hold, Mr Densmore.”

  After a few minutes, a man’s voice broke into The Four Seasons hold music.

  “Mr Densmore? This is Steve Hetherington, your friend’s doctor?”

  The guy who’d spoken to me as I left the hospital earlier. The well manicured lying cunt.

  “Griff, I mean Dean just called me,” I stuttered. “He asked me to call him back. Can I speak to him please? It’s very important.”

  The doctor was silent for a few seconds, then said “Mr Densmore, I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”

  “Listen you prick,” I said, my patience officially run dry. “I need to speak to my friend right now, and I don’t give a fuck about your security procedures. It’s just a simple phone call.”

  “No, Mr Densmore, you don’t understand,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Right away, I knew.

  When I didn’t reply, he went on.

  “I’m very sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but your friend was found dead in his room this afternoon, not long after your visit. I’m terribly sorry…”

  I ended the call. The phone dropped from my fingers onto the floor.

  Chapter 25

  Niall McDowell sat in Steve Hetherington’s office. He was still shaking.

  The good doctor sat across the wide neatly ordered desk from him, a patient, understanding expression on his smarmy face, a pen in his hand and a writing pad before him.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Niall,” Doctor Hetherington said with a friendly smile. “I just want to say that you don’t have anything to worry about. This interview is just standard procedure in the event of a patient’s passing.”

  Niall nodded, looking down at the desk and not meeting the doctor’s gaze.

  “You began your shift today at seven am, is that correct?” Hetherington began.

  “Yes.”

  “And you were assigned to room forty eight for the duration of your shift?”

  “Aye. It was my turn in the Blair Suite.”

  “Excuse me? The Blair Suite?”


  “That’s what we’d been calling room forty eight, the other orderlies and me. We didn’t like working that room. We were scared.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I think you do, doctor.”

  “Niall, I must ask you to speak plainly. This is a very serious situation as I’m sure you are aware. Why do you and the other orderlies refer to room forty eight as the Blair Suite?”

  “After Linda Blair.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ve never seen The Exorcist?”

  “Niall, please. We are here to discuss the tragic death of one of our patients. I really don’t think this is the time for guessing games and film trivia. It’s most inappropriate.”

  “Aye, you’re right it’s inappropriate. Everything about that boy was fuckin’ inappropriate.”

  “There’s no call for foul language, Niall. I understand you’re upset about the death of a patient who was under your care…”

  “I’m not upset about his death, doctor. I’m fucking glad he’s dead. I might just be able to get some sleep for the first time in three months now.”

  “Niall, I must warn you that you are treading on dangerous ground here.”

  “I don’t know, doctor. Seems to me the ground just got a whole lot less dangerous. I’m sure Doctor McLellan would agree. You know? The guy who lost two fingers when he was in that room?”

  “Doctor McLellan has already signed a waiver freeing this facility of any responsibility for that incident.”

  “I’m sure he did. What’s a missing digit or two when you’ve a nice juicy pay off in your back pocket?”

  “Niall, can we please get back on course here? I am trying to make this as easy as possible. You were present during the patient’s visit this morning, yes?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about the patient’s behaviour during the course of his visit? I fail to see what is so amusing, Niall.”

  “I’m sorry for laughing but that’s just brilliant. Unusual? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Niall…”

  “Jesus Christ, you were that boy’s doctor. You were in charge of his case and you’re asking me if there was anything unusual about him?”

  “Dean Griffiths was very ill.”

  “Tremendous! ‘Very ill’. That’s your prognosis, is it? I’ve worked here for seven years, Doctor Hetherington, and I’ve seen my share of ‘very ill’ people. Plenty of them. That lad was many things, but ill wasn’t one of them. How about fucking possessed?”

  “Niall, really…”

  “If all that was wrong with that boy was a medical condition, why is that all those anti psychotics didn’t so much as make him blink? You’d have been better injecting him with holy water. That lad didn’t need a doctor, he needed a priest.”

  “Niall, please calm down…”

  “DON’T TELL ME TO FUCKING CALM DOWN, YOU SMUG CUNT!”

  “Niall, may I remind you that you are an employee here, and as such…”

  “You can consider me an ex employee if you like, doctor. I think maybe it’s time for a career change. I’ve been thinking of trying my hand at freelance journalism, know what I mean? I’ve got a whopper of a story to tell.”

  “Mr McDowell, may I remind you that breaching patient confidentiality is a criminal offence? Not to mention the fact that I’m sure the patient’s father would be most displeased. You are aware of who Desdemona Griffiths is, aren’t you?”

  “…yes.”

  “Very good. Now please continue.”

  “…Doctor, I’m sorry. It’s been a very strange morning, and I apologise if I’ve spoken out of turn. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone…”

  “That’s okay Niall. Like I said, I understand you’re upset. This can be a most trying profession.”

  “And you won’t say anything to Mr Griffiths about what I just said?”

  “Of course not, Niall. This conversation is strictly confidential. As is information regarding our patients, do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very good. I’m glad we understand each other. Just tell me what happened after the patient’s visit.”

  “I took the patient back to his room. He was calm, not as aggressive as he usually was whenever one of the staff came close to him. He wasn’t trying to bite or break his restraints. I left him in his room still strapped in the restraint chair and went to the monitoring room.”

  “You say he was still secured in the restraint chair when you left him?”

  “Yes…”

  “Please go on.”

  “I went back to the monitoring room and I could see the patient on the screen, still in the chair. He was quiet and relaxed. He was just sitting there, not moving and stayed that way for about half an hour. Then there was some interference on the video feed and I saw him smile, then he started talking.”

  “He was addressing you through the camera in his room? I understand he would often taunt the staff.”

  “No, he wasn’t talking to me this time.”

  “I see. He was talking to himself?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, then who was he talking to?”

  “It was like there was someone else in the room with him.”

  “There was another member of staff in room forty eight?”

  “No. The camera covers the entire room. There was no one else there.”

  “Interesting. He’d never displayed that kind of behaviour before. Can you remember what the patient said?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said ‘It’s good to see you at last.’ Like he’d been expecting someone.”

  “I see. And then what happened?”

  “Doctor, my job here… I’ve got a family…”

  “It’s alright, Niall. Like I said, this is strictly between us and your job is quite safe. What happened next?”

  “The straps on the chair…”

  “Yes?”

  “They… undid themselves.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The restraints came loose.”

  “Niall, you know that’s impossible. Those chairs are manufactured to the highest standards and every one is checked daily for faults.”

  “I know, doctor. I checked the restraints myself at the start of my shift, same as I always do. It wasn’t a fault with the chair.”

  “Then how do you explain how the straps came undone? Niall, I sincerely hope you’re not covering up for someone who went into room forty eight without authorisation. That could mean your job. Those restraints did not come off by themselves. Come now, who went into the room? It could only have been you or another member of staff.”

  “I swear on my kid’s lives, Doctor Hetherington, I’m not covering up anything. The straps on his chair unfastened themselves like there was someone I couldn’t see doing it. I know that sounds crazy but…”

  “Niall, I think I’ve heard enough…”

  “No, please, doctor. You have to listen to me. There was something in the room with him. He spoke to it.”

  “It?”

  “Yes, fucking it. The boy thanked it for freeing him, then started talking about how he was going to go home and ‘kill them all’.”

  “Niall…”

  “He got up from the chair, said ‘let’s go’, but then he stopped smiling. He said ‘I can do it alone’, then he just started screaming, and his hair…”

  “What about his hair?”

  “It all bunched up, like whatever was in the room with him grabbed his hair and lifted him off the ground by it…”

  “Niall, please…”

  “Watch the fucking tape if you don’t believe me! It’s clear as day. That boy was floating three feet clear off the floor, kicking his legs and screaming, then the blood started pissing from his nose, his ears, his mouth, even his eyes. It was like it was squeezing his brain…”

  “Like I said, Niall,
he was very sick. I admit I’ve never seen a psychosis like his, but whatever was wrong with Dean Griffiths caused some sort of catastrophic and fatal internal cranial haemorrhaging. I know it would have been extremely distressing to witness, but you’d been under a lot of strain caring for a particularly disturbed patient. It’s not unusual for psychiatric staff to see things that appear to be unnatural.”

  “It threw him across the room…”

  “Niall, please, get a hold of yourself. There’s no need for tears.”

  Chapter 26

  When I was a child, about five or six years old, I was, as many children are, afraid of dark places in the midnight bedroom. My recent experiences had brought that fear back to me, and it made me think that maybe we’re all a bit smarter about what’s real and what’s not before our minds are shackled by the reason and intellect of adulthood. Don’t they say that kids and animals have a better awareness and sensitivity of the supernatural?

  Ever since that moment in the cave when Cairnsey’s severed head had rolled over all bug-eyed and chatty, till the moment Doctor Hetherington informed me of Griff’s passing, I’d been trying like fuck to rationalise, rationalise. I’d tried to convince myself that that lovely little scene in the cave and seeing Griff’s overgrown teeth and black eyes had simply the products of stress and emotional turmoil. That just wasn’t washing anymore. Denial can be a bitch, but it can also be sanity’s saviour.

  As my mobile thumped softly onto the carpet in my bedroom, I slumped down on my bed, slack jawed and wide eyes shining. I think at that very moment, I was as close to losing it as I’d been so far. I could actually feel the inside of my head closing in, and an overwhelming tiredness took hold of me in a great soothing flow which I swear I felt from the very tips of my toes to my prickling, crawling scalp. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world to just let go and forget all these senseless, tiresome problems, to just slip slide away into a warm, safe place far back in the psyche.

  The world went away for a time.

  When I opened my eyes, I was standing on a beach.