Damned by the Ancients

by Catherine Cavendish

  A twinge of something not unlike panic gripped Yvonne. “Your dad and I went down to the basement yesterday evening and there was no one there.”

  “I know you did.”

  “How?”

  “The man in the basement told me.”

  “Heidi. I have just told you, there was no one there and we had flashlights so we could see everything.”

  “But you didn’t go into the room where he is. The door’s locked.”

  * * * *

  “How could she possibly have known that?” Yvonne asked Ryan. “She was upstairs in bed and she’s insisting the man in the basement told her all this.”

  “I’m getting into that room. This isn’t like one of Heidi’s make-believe stories, and I’m not happy with the effect it’s having on us, either. You’ve got to be in this with me, Yvonne. I’m going to break that door down.”

  Yvonne needed no further convincing.

  Once again, they waited until Yvonne had tucked Heidi in for the night. Then, armed with their flashlights, and Ryan dressed in heavy boots that had last seen service in the rough terrain of the north of Scotland, they opened the basement door and proceeded down the steps, through the kitchen, and down the corridor into the next room. Yvonne flashed her beam around. It seemed the same as yesterday. She and Ryan faced the far door. Once again, Ryan tried the handle. Locked.

  “Okay, here goes.” He delivered a sharp kick to the wood. It juddered but held firm. Two more much-harder kicks later, a sound of splintering rewarded his efforts. The door swung open, letting out a burst of foul air that set Yvonne and Ryan reeling and coughing.

  A dark rush of wind whistled and swirled as it swept toward them from the newly opened room. Yvonne grabbed hold of Ryan to steady herself as the darkness dissipated and, as fast as it had begun, the wind died.

  “What the hell was that?” Ryan recovered himself and shone his flashlight through the doorway.

  “God knows. This smell… I think something died in there. I’m dreading to see what.”

  “Come on. Let’s get it over with.”

  Their flashlights revealed a mostly empty room, with another door at the end of it. Yvonne turned the handle. Locked, with no visible key. She flashed her beam around the room. A plain table and a chair, a small cupboard and a few bits of detritus littered the floor. Then they illuminated the walls.

  “Oh…my…God. Look at that.” The hieroglyphics gleamed bright red on the wall as Yvonne shone her flashlight on them.

  “I wish I could read them,” Ryan said. “They’re beautiful.”

  “That’s not all.” Yvonne stared, not able to believe her eyes. A small portrait, exquisitely painted using lavish amounts of gold leaf, showed a profile of a woman. Ryan joined her, shining his flashlight to add to the illumination.

  “I wonder who she was,” he said.

  A small voice answered from the doorway. “Cleopatra,” Heidi said.

  Chapter 6

  Yvonne rushed to Heidi, who was barefoot and shivering, dressed in a thin cotton nightie. Her mother put her arms around her. “What are you doing down here?”

  Heidi turned her eyes on her mother. Her pupils had dilated until only a faint corona of bright blue framed them. Yvonne recoiled for a second from the unnatural sight.

  “The man in the basement. He told me you had set him free. Didn’t you see him? He came out of there when you knocked the door down. Now he can find his queen.”

  Heidi closed her eyes and staggered. Yvonne caught her and lifted her up.

  “Let’s get her back to bed,” she said.

  Ryan nodded, frowning. He must be as confused as she was.

  Heidi didn’t wake up when Yvonne laid her gently in bed and tucked the duvet around her. Ryan watched from the doorway. His daughter didn’t move when Yvonne kissed her forehead and smoothed back her hair. Yvonne left her bedside and the two went back downstairs in silence.

  In the library, Ryan poured them both a brandy. He handed one to Yvonne and she sipped it, grateful for its comforting warmth as it trickled down her throat.

  “Was she sleepwalking?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s never done it before. And did you see her eyes? I know her pupils dilate and contract more than most people’s but this was extreme. It was like a cat in the dark.”

  “I didn’t see her eyes, but new home, new country. Lots of changes for a nine-year-old to cope with, and she’s been remarkably cool about the whole thing. Maybe this is payback time.”

  “Yes, but it’s what she said, Ryan. She said the man in the basement was free and she said the portrait was of Cleopatra.”

  “It could all be part of a fantasy.”

  “Really? Do you still believe that? Because I’m not at all sure I do anymore. If I ever fully did.”

  “I still have trouble believing it’s for real.”

  “I’m running out of suggestions. It’s certainly real to her.”

  “Granted, but…” He set his glass down on the table. “Maybe we should take her to see someone. A child psychiatrist.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s any need for that. She’s not ill.”

  “But she’s…I don’t know what she’s doing.”

  “We’ll see what she remembers in the morning.” Yvonne stood. “In the meantime, we’d better shut that basement door.”

  In the kitchen, they both stared at the closed steel door.

  They looked at each other. “Did you…?” Ryan asked.

  Yvonne shook her head. “You know I didn’t. I had Heidi in my arms.”

  “Then who…?” Ryan turned the handle. A look of incredulity spread over his face “It’s locked.”

  “It can’t be. It’s a mortice lock and there’s no key.”

  “You try opening it then.”

  Yvonne twisted and turned, pulled and rattled the door but it remained locked tight. “I don’t understand it,” she said. A wave of nausea rose up from her gut. She swallowed hard. The padlocks were still where they had lain since the locksmith removed them. Open and on the counter.

  “Let’s go back into the library,” Ryan said.

  Yvonne followed him without a word, her mind a jumble of fears and confusion.

  In the library, they went to retrieve their drinks. Yvonne caught a glimpse of something on the wall and let out a cry.

  “What is it?” Ryan rushed over to her.

  She pointed a shaking finger at the wall. “That picture. The one in the basement. It’s over there.”

  Chapter 7

  Ryan approached the portrait. “How did it get there?”

  “I have no idea.” Yvonne didn’t like the way her voice trembled.

  Ryan took the picture off the wall.

  “I don’t think you should do that.”

  “Why not? However it got itself here, it’s still only a picture. It’s been hung on a picture hook and I don’t remember seeing any bare hooks on this wall, do you?”

  “No, but we could easily have missed it.” Yvonne shivered. The brass picture hook looked as if it had been there for years.

  Ryan replaced the portrait and stepped back. “It’s weird the way that eye follows you.”

  “It’s a trick of the artist.”

  “Clever, though. There’s a signature.” He peered closer. “Gustav Klimt. Looks original, too.”

  “It probably is.” Yvonne nodded up at the ceiling.

  “Discerning art collector, our Dr. Quintillus.”

  “You mustn’t touch that.”

  Yvonne and Ryan swung around. Heidi stood in the doorway, her eyes closed.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Yvonne went to her and tried to steer her away but the little girl wouldn’t move. Her strength surprised Yvonne. “Come along now, Heidi. Come back to bed.”

&nb
sp; Heidi opened her eyes. The bright blue of her irises shimmered with diamond fire. Her pupils had contracted until they were mere slits—like a cat’s in broad daylight.

  “My God, Yvonne. Look at her.” Ryan stepped back and shielded his eyes.

  Yvonne gave an involuntary cry and staggered backward. “What the hell’s happening to her?”

  Heidi opened her mouth again. “The man in the basement said you mustn’t touch the portrait. Bad things will happen.” She crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

  Yvonne and Ryan rushed to pick her up. Ryan carried her back to her bedroom. Yvonne felt her forehead. “She hasn’t got a fever. Heidi, open your eyes. Please.”

  The little girl stirred and her eyelids flickered. A moment later, her parents were looking into her normal, bright blue eyes. Yvonne’s heart rate slowed to a steady beat and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “What’s the matter, Mum? Why are you and Dad looking at me like that?”

  “Do you remember coming downstairs just now?” Yvonne said, stroking her hair.

  Heidi shook her head. “I’ve been in bed,” she said. “I can’t have been downstairs.”

  “It’s all right, love,” Ryan said. “You go back to sleep.”

  The little girl turned on her right side. “Night night,” she said.

  Yvonne kissed her cheek.

  Downstairs, Ryan and Yvonne went into the kitchen where Yvonne made tea. They sat at the table and sipped it.

  “I don’t know what to do. There’s no way Heidi could have moved that picture and as for sleepwalking… It’s not like her.”

  Ryan shook his head. “Maybe it’s some sort of phase she’s going through. I think we should get her to a specialist. Find out what’s going on in that head of hers. Especially with the meningitis history.”

  “Okay.” Yvonne sighed. “I really hoped we were done with hospitals and doctors for a few more years at least.”

  “I’ll ask around. Find out who’s the best.”

  Yvonne nodded. “We still don’t have a clue how that picture moved or how the basement door was locked.”

  “More than anything, it’s the effect this place is having on Heidi. It’s like she’s slipping away from us somehow. We’ve got to get her back.”

  * * * *

  Dr. Feingarten removed his rimless glasses and placed them neatly on the desk in front of him. His smiling face inspired confidence and, much to Yvonne’s relief, his English was excellent.

  “Your little girl is most intelligent. She has a bright and enquiring mind and is a credit to you. Do you know she can already speak quite good German?”

  Yvonne and Ryan exchanged glances.

  “Only a few words,” Ryan said. “The usual greetings and a few nouns and verbs.”

  “On the contrary, we have enjoyed a fluent conversation about a man in your basement. Who is he, Herr Mortimer? You have a…lodger? Is that the right word?”

  “It’s the right word but, no, we don’t have one,” Yvonne said. “For some reason we don’t understand she has invented this…imaginary friend, I suppose. That’s the main reason we’re here. She has always been able to distinguish between her fantasies and reality but with this creation, she seems to have lost it. She genuinely believes he exists and that he talks to her.”

  “And teaches her to speak German,” Dr. Feingarten said.

  “Apparently so.” Yvonne sighed. It rankled her to speak about Heidi like this—especially when she herself increasingly believed in the existence of the “imaginary friend.”

  The doctor replaced his glasses and turned to his laptop. “If you give me one second, please. I read an article a few months ago…a girl of around Heidi’s age who had a similar experience.”

  Ryan and Yvonne waited. Seconds ticked by and Yvonne’s palms sweated. She wiped them as discreetly as possible on a tissue from her pocket.

  “Here it is. A little girl called Charmaine. She lives with her parents in Chicago. The family moved house and right away she began hearing voices. She would sleepwalk and speak to her parents in a language none of them understood. Eventually they consulted a professor of linguistics and he determined it to be a long-dead language of the Potawatomi tribe, Native Americans who had lived on the land the house was built on until the mid-nineteenth century.”

  “Did they find out what she said?” Ryan asked.

  “Oh, yes. She was issuing a repeated warning from an elder of the tribe. He said they must all leave or face the consequences. They decided to stay and the house burned down six weeks later. Fortunately, they were away at the time. It says here that since they moved away, Charmaine has been her normal self. The land is to become a public park.”

  “So you think we should move house?” Ryan said.

  “I’m not saying that. What I think is that there are many reasons your daughter could be behaving like this. She is of that age when many stories exist of children experiencing apparently ghostly phenomena as they reach, or are approaching, puberty. There are some well-documented cases. Perhaps you have heard of the Enfield Poltergeist? A child of similar age was involved there.”

  Yvonne remembered a television program that had kept her enthralled for a couple of hours. Objects and people flying around the room. A girl speaking in the voice of an old man. Could it all be tied to Heidi’s age?

  “But Ryan and I both saw her eyes change. They glittered somehow. It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Frau Mortimer, I can find nothing wrong with your daughter’s mental health. She has an unusual capacity for languages and her eyesight is, as you know, most extraordinary. You are lucky parents. I think whatever is happening now will pass in the fullness of time. Please try not to worry. Take her home and enjoy your beautiful child.”

  He stood and shook their hands. Ryan and Yvonne left, collecting Heidi from the nurse who had been looking after her. They found their daughter chattering happily away in flawless German.

  As soon as she saw her parents, she immediately switched back to English.

  “Had a good time?” Yvonne asked, forcing herself to sound and act normal.

  “Yes. The doctor was very nice and the nurse has been telling me about the horses she rides at the weekends.”

  All the way back on the U-Bahn, Heidi regaled them with stories of the nurse’s favorite chestnut gelding and a beautiful pure white pony she had been given when she was a child. “I would love to learn to ride, Mum. Can I?”

  “We’ll see,” Ryan said.

  Back home, Heidi went straight to her room to read her latest book.

  Ryan and Yvonne settled in the library.

  “What do you think of that?” Yvonne said.

  “I honestly don’t know. When did she learn all that German? Has she been watching TV a lot?”

  “No. She’d rather be outside playing, or upstairs with her books and dolls. You know Heidi. Anyway, I didn’t only mean the language thing. Do you think the doctor’s right? That this will all go away on its own account? I remember that Enfield Poltergeist story on television. The phenomena stopped when the children grew up.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t, but there’s nothing much more we can do. He says she’s fine and I’m reliably informed he’s the best there is. He should be, given the cost. Not that it matters, of course. Heidi’s welfare comes first every time.”

  Yvonne’s attention strayed toward the portrait. “I wish I knew how that got there.”

  “We should have mentioned it to the doctor. See how he would have explained that one away.”

  “I’m going to check on Heidi,” Yvonne said and left a puzzled Ryan staring at that single, searching eye.

  She heard the chatter from halfway up the stairs. Heidi’s door was open. As Yvonne approached, she realized that her daughter was once again speaking German and she hadn’t a clue what
she was saying. As silently as possible, she returned downstairs and summoned Ryan.

  “Just listen and tell me what she says.”

  The couple paused outside Heidi’s door, out of sight, but Ryan could make out every word. He whispered to Yvonne, “She’s having a conversation and we’re only getting her half of it. She’s telling someone that she’ll help them.”

  “The man in the basement,” Yvonne mouthed.

  Ryan nodded and listened some more. “She’s saying that she’ll let the spirit in. Hang on, she knows we’re here.”

  Ryan marched into Heidi’s room, swiftly followed by Yvonne.

  Heidi looked startled.

  “What are you up to?” Ryan asked.

  Yvonne took in the scene. The dolls arranged in a row; the dark-haired one no longer wore her summer dress but was once again swathed in black. She lay with her hands by her sides and the piece of black lace draped over her face. “It looks like a funeral.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  Ryan followed her gaze. The other dolls were seated in a row, dressed smartly. All in black. The sight startled Yvonne. Where did Heidi get so many black clothes for her dolls?

  “It’s not a funeral, Mummy. She’s going to live again.” She pointed to Selena.

  “And who is she?” her father asked.

  “Cleopatra.”

  Yvonne gasped. “Heidi. Who were you talking to when we came in?”

  “The man in the basement. Only he’s not there anymore.”

  “Why? Where is he?”

  Heidi pointed. “He’s over there, in the corner.”

  Chapter 8

  Yvonne turned on her heel. As she did, she caught a flash of someone moving from the corner of her eye. A split-second later, there was nothing there and she was staring at a bare wall. From somewhere, a faint aroma of cigars wafted toward her. Heidi giggled.

  Yvonne turned back to her. “What’s so funny, Heidi?”

  “You, Mum. You’re as white as a sheet. He’s gone now anyway.”

  “Yes. I thought you might say that. Heidi, I don’t think this game you’re playing with your dolls is entirely appropriate. Where did you get the idea from?”