The Third Skull (Book Two - The Revelation): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller

by Andrew Stafford

  Drake’s coffin had opened almost effortlessly, but Nash’s casket wasn’t giving up its secrets so easily.

  “We'll have to wrench those nails out,” said Morris resting against the side of the hole with his feet astride the head end of the casket.

  “Rupert, look in the tool bag, there should be a claw hammer.” shouted Morris.

  Snow found the hammer and lowered it to him.

  Morris dropped to his knees and used the claw end of the hammer to prise the rusty nails. It was a laborious and time-consuming job punctuated by huffs and curses from Morris.

  Ten minutes later Morris had removed enough nails to enable Drake to jam the crowbar under the lid and wrench it away from the box.

  Drake helped Morris pull the up lid and stand it on its end. Snow reached forward, took the lid, pulled it out of the hole and dropped it to the ground. He cursed as a splinter stuck into his hand.

  “Okay gentlemen, let’s see what we have here. Alexander, please be kind enough to pass me the torch,” said Morris.

  Drake passed the torch. Snow looked from above and waited with eager anticipation as Morris fumbled with the torch.

  The light flashed intermittently and then produced a dim yellow light.

  “The bloody batteries are dying,” said Morris whilst giving the side of the torch a whack with the palm of his hand.

  The torch had been on for hours and was nearly out of juice.

  Snow, Morris and Drake stood over the grave, looked down and made out the bones of an adult wearing perished clothes.

  “Okay, we need to empty everything from the coffin and take it with us. It’s too dark to see anything,” said Morris.

  “Take everything?” asked Drake.

  “Yes, everything, including the last scrap of clothing. If there is a clue we need to examine everything thoroughly. Let’s dump it in a bag and get it back to the house.”

  It was half-past six and the early risers were wearily making their way to work. Drake heard a bus chugging up St Michael’s Hill beyond the graveyard.

  “Come on, we have little time,” said Morris.

  They bundled the contents of the coffin into a black bin liner.

  “What about them?” said Snow, pointing to the women huddled together and tied to the railings.

  “Bring them with us,” replied Morris.

  Snow carried Nash’s remains to the car and placed them in the boot, whilst Drake and Morris undid the ropes and helped Sophie and Heather to their feet.

  “You’re coming with us,” snapped Morris as both women stretched their tired arms and legs.

  Drake marched Sophie and Heather down the steps, away from the church and to the Rolls Royce.

  Morris opened the rear door, and with no resistance the women climbed in. They were tired and exhausted and had no strength to fight. The car was warm and inviting, and the seats were comfortable compared to where they'd been tied for the past six hours. Snow sat in the front passenger seat and Drake sat in the back next to Sophie. She glanced at the man whom she used to consider to be her husband and wondered what was going on inside his mind.

  Morris parked outside the house. Drake and Snow guided the women from the car, whilst Morris retrieved the bag of bones from the boot. Heather looked at the huge house with tired eyes. She was confused, weary and close to tears. Sophie took her hand and tried to give the impression she was cool and confident as they walked to the door.

  Butler's large house was warm, which was something for which the sisters were grateful.

  “Take them to the basement,” demanded Morris.

  Drake led the way to the concealed entrance, opened the door and escorted the sisters down the rickety stairs. He lit candles and ordered the women to sit in the corner.

  Drake climbed the stairs and left them alone in the basement.

  “I’m sorry I’ve got you involved in this,” said Heather.

  “You didn’t get me involved, I've been mixed up in this shit from the start.”

  Sophie stopped talking and gasped as she saw the painting hanging from the wall.

  “Bloody hell, take a look at that, it’s Finn.”

  Heather followed her eyes.

  “No, that’s Drake, the man your husband has become.”

  Morris and Snow waited in the study for Drake.

  “Let’s clear the table, and empty the bag,” said Morris.

  He and Snow moved books and newspapers from the large table and placed them on the floor, just as Drake entered the room.

  “Okay,” said Morris, untying the knot in the top of the black plastic bag.

  Snow and Drake watched with expectation as Morris turned the bag upside down and emptied the bones and rotten fabric onto the table.

  “What are we looking for?” asked Snow.

  “I don’t know. A clue? Maybe a map? Something that can lead us to Mathias’ skull,” replied Morris.

  They shuffled the bones around the table and searched through the pockets of the brittle and mouldy clothing which turned to dust as soon as it was touched.

  After five minutes Drake let out a sigh.

  “There’s nothing here. It’s just bones and old cloth,” he remarked.

  Morris didn’t hear Drake. He wanted to speak, but couldn’t because his mouth had become too dry. It was staring him in the face and neither he, nor the others, had seen it. They’d been too busy looking through the tiny fragments of bone and rummaging through Nash’s clothes to see what was in front of them.

  Drake and Snow watched Morris saunter to the far end of the table. He trembled as he picked it up. He carried it to the centre of the room where a light hung from the high ceiling. His heart was in his mouth as he ran his fingers over the fragile artefact.

  And then he spoke.

  “Mr Drake, Mr Snow…….. I believe we have what we’ve been looking for. We’ve found the third skull.”

  Chapter 78

  ‘Police are investigating the desecration of two graves in a church near the centre of Bristol.

  The police were called just after seven am by a pedestrian who passed the church on her way to work.

  St Michael on the Mount Without, which closed its doors over twenty years ago, has had two graves severely damaged. One grave was robbed of the body, whilst the body in the other grave remains intact.

  At this early stage in their enquiries, the police do not know to whom the graves belong. Both are very old, and one is dated 1839. Police suspect that either one, or both of the graves may have contained something of value.

  Police have cordoned off the area and are asking the public to stay away whilst they are carrying out their investigations.

  The Police are appealing to anyone who may be able to help with their enquiries’

  Linda switched off Sky news and glanced at the clock. It was ten am, and she felt tired after a poor night’s sleep. She wasn’t looking forward to speaking with Kieran after the row they’d had the previous evening.

  The news report she’d just watched sent a chill down her spine. The thought of grave robbers in the twenty-first century made her uneasy.

  Kieran entered the lounge wearing his dressing gown, grunted ‘good morning’, and went to the kitchen.

  He returned with coffee for each of them and hoped she’d accept the drink as a peace offering.

  “Are we speaking?” asked Kieran.

  “That depends, doesn’t it,” replied Linda staring at the blank television.

  He sighed and returned to the kitchen. He leaned against the work surface and thought of their ‘heated words’.

  Linda was right. They didn’t need Butler’s money, they had more in the bank than they could ever spend. Kieran’s problem was that saying ‘no’ to Gabriel Butler wasn’t easy. He was manipulative and always got what he wanted. Kieran had known of others who’d not toed the line and had regretted their decision.

  He looked up as Linda entered the kitchen. She placed her coffee on the kitchen worktop and kissed t
he side of his face.

  “I’ve got such a bad feeling about this evening. Please don’t go, I’m begging you.”

  “What can I do? I have to go. You were right when you said that ‘Butler had his claws in me’, because he has.”

  Linda saw he was scared.

  “I promise, I’ll be careful. I’ll do whatever he wants me to do, and then I’ll get out of there and come straight home.”

  Kieran’s phone interrupted them. He pulled it from his dressing gown pocket and took the call in the lounge. Two minutes later he came back with the phone in his hand.

  “That was Gabriel. I have to be at his place at six.”

  Linda lowered her head. She had given up. A tear formed in her eye and made its way down her cheek. There was nothing more she could say to change Kieran’s mind.

  She brushed past him and went back to the bedroom.

  Linda lay on the bed, turned to her side and looked at the stone head on the pillow beside her. It faced the ceiling and had been next to her during the night. From the side she looked at its manic ‘drawn on’ eyes and creepy grin.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re smiling about,” she said under her breath.

  The head flipped on to its side as if someone had rolled it over. It stared into her eyes and radiated the strange heat.

  Then she heard the voice of an elderly woman.

  “Help me Linda.”

  Chapter 79

  “It’s definitely Mathias, there’s no doubt,” said Morris after he’d compared the pattern on the back of the skull to the third archetypon that the raven had carried in its beak to the church.

  “But that skull belongs to an adult,” said Drake,“ you were sure the kid died in the pond.”

  “Well, I was wrong. Somehow or another he either escaped the pond, or was rescued and grew to be an adult.”

  “I hate to say ‘I told you so’,” said Drake in a borderline patronising tone of voice.

  “Okay ladies, let’s not fight. We have the third skull and that’s what’s important,” said Snow.

  “May I?” asked Drake, reaching out his hand.

  Morris passed the skull to Drake who took his time to marvel at it.

  “I find it more than a little odd to know that it’s been lying next to my dead body for all those years.”

  “I wouldn’t let it worry you Alexander. Let’s put it down to coincidence.”

  “It’s so much bigger than the infants’ skulls, do you reckon it'll be okay?” asked Snow.

  “I don’t see why not, it’s the archetypons that matter. Providing they correspond everything should be fine."

  Drake admired the skull.

  “It’s amazing. Let’s take it to the basement with the others.”

  “No, no you can’t. The three skulls mustn’t be together until the ceremony. That's the whole point of keeping Mathias away from his brother and sister when they were alive."

  “May I raise a practical question?” asked Snow.

  Morris looked up.

  “What shall we do with the women?”

  “Kill them,” blurted Drake.

  “No, no, let’s not be too hasty, they may be of use,” said Morris thoughtfully

  “To whom?”

  “To Azazel. He’s not experienced the gratification of flesh since he impregnated the triplet’s mother. I’m sure he’d welcome the pleasure of their company.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” smiled Snow.

  “But what shall we do with them after Azazel has finished with them?”

  “I'm not sure. By that time Azazel will be among us and we can leave the big decisions to him.”

  Both Snow and Drake grinned menacingly.

  Sophie and Heather were terrified.

  Sophie had been studying the portrait of Alexander Drake and found it impossible to contemplate that it wasn’t her husband.

  “But it has to be Finn. Look at the scar on his cheek and that grey wisp of hair over his temple, it’s exactly like him.”

  “No Sophie, it’s the other way around. Finn is exactly like Drake. Finn hasn't always looked like that,” said Heather pointing at the painting.

  She was right. Until recently he had been a little overweight, wore his hair short, and he didn’t have the scar. But ever since he’d gained the ring from the antique shop he’d completely changed. And now, by means of a force Sophie didn’t understand, he’d metamorphosed into the man in the portrait which had been painted over one hundred and fifty years ago.

  Heather shuddered and looked around the basement. It had been decked out in the way she expected a cheap B movie horror film would have been. Tapestries adorned the walls with demonic images.

  Sophie recognised the patterns embroidered on the blue cloth which covered the circular table in front of her.

  “Those patterns are the same as the ones on Finn’s ring. And they’re the same ones Rosie drew.”

  Heather didn’t answer. She was considering what would happen next, and whether she still had a chance to protect Charles Nash from Morris and the others.

  The basement was cold. Sophie thrust her hands into her pockets to keep them warm. She felt something in her right-hand pocket and pulled it out.

  “It’s Amy! I’ve no idea how Butler or Morris, or whoever that man is supposed to be, got his hands on it. It went missing and Rosie said she’d given it to William to give to his sister.”

  Sophie looked at Heather.

  “So where are your guiding spirits now when we need them?” asked Sophie.

  Heather was going to answer, but the sound of a creaking door interrupted her. The dimly lit basement became illuminated by light pouring in from the top of the staircase. Sophie rammed the bear back in her pocket.

  Drake descended the stairs followed by Snow. Drake carried a tray on which were two plates with bread and butter.

  “I hope you’re making yourselves at home,” sneered Drake. He placed the tray on the floor in front of the women.

  “You two must be hungry,” said Snow, following behind with two glasses of water.

  “What do you intend to do with us?” asked Heather.

  The men didn’t answer. Sophie saw a smirk on Drake’s face.

  “Finn, don’t you remember who I am?” said Sophie.

  “I’m aware of who you are, and I’m grateful to your husband for loaning me this,” said Drake waving his hand over his body. “It’s a pity he won’t be getting it back.”

  He turned to walk towards the stairs.

  She knew her husband existed somewhere within the body that Drake had commandeered. She needed to find a way of getting him back.

  “Don’t you remember our children, Rosie and Jack?”

  Drake stopped in his tracks, turned around and looked at Sophie.

  “Rosie….., Jack?” he said with a puzzled look as if deep within, something stirred.

  “Yes, our children, don’t you remember them?”

  Sophie watched a smile appear on his face.

  “Of course, Rosie and Jack, our children.”

  Sophie’s heart pounded hard as she looked at the man standing over her. His facial expression gave her the impression she had connected with Finn.

  He knelt to her level. He was so close she could feel his breath against her skin.

  “Sorry, I’ve never fucking heard of them,” said Drake shaking his head and laughing.

  Drake got to his feet and turned towards the door.

  “Eat your food, you two need to keep your strength up.”

  He and Snow left the basement, pulling the door shut behind them.

  “So I guess this is it,” said Sophie after Drake and Snow had gone.

  Heather didn’t answer.

  “I’ll never see my children again.”

  She sobbed and thought about her children. She considered her parents. They would be beside themselves with worry not knowing where she and Heather were. All she wanted was to hold her children close and feel their
skin against hers.

  She cast her mind back to when the estate agent showed her around the house in Whitcombe Fields Road for the very first time and how Heather became ill after walking into the kitchen. She should have guessed back then that something was wrong. She wished she’d taken Ruth Jackson’s advice and got out of the house as soon as she’d been told of the suicides.

  The land on which the house had been built was sour, and it had carried Drake’s evil secret for two centuries.

  For the past two hundred years, other than the hawthorn tree, not a flower or plant grew, not a creature burrowed, or bird sang. Snowflakes didn’t settle and raindrops evaporated the instant they fell upon the barren soil. Men became ill and death always followed those who spent too much time on the desolate strip of land above the well.

  The bodies of those two innocent children, who carried the mark of the devil, cast a spell on the land above them.

  Heather considered those she’d let down. Charles Nash, Alice Donaldson and her great grandmother Elizabeth. Most of all she’d let down Sophie and her family.

  Elizabeth told her she’d been blessed with the ‘veil of tears’, and that she’d been the chosen one. As far as Heather was concerned she had been useless. Why was she considered so special? Maybe Elizabeth had been wrong all along? What if a mistake had been made? Heather never considered any great gift had been bestowed upon her. She didn’t think that her character was strong enough to deal with such things.

  She wallowed in self-doubt and negativity, when a wave of warmth passed over her. From somewhere deep within her came a surge of positivity. It was as if something had enveloped her in a cloud of love and support.

  “I think everything will work out,” whispered Heather, squeezing her sister’s hand.

  “I wish I was as positive as you.”

  “I feel someone or something’s watching over us. I reckon we've a guardian angel.”

  “I hope you’re right, I really hope you’re right.”

  Sophie looked at the tray of bread and butter.