by Amy Cross
“There's nothing you can do to stop me,” I continue, before glancing to either side, hoping that I might see Abigail. Shouldn't she be ready to strike by now? Her hand is still on my shoulder. “I am the Devil,” I say again, turning back to Kane and forcing myself to keep from screaming as the pain builds in my wrist and face, “and I have come here to Beacon's Ash because I intend to destroy every God-fearing man in the world. You'll just be the first and -” I pause as I realize Abigail's hand has suddenly left my shoulder. While she was with me, I felt as if I was protected, as if nothing could happen to me or to my child, but now I can't stop thinking about the fact that with one blow, Kane could cripple me. I almost take a step back, ready to turn and run, but finally I tell myself that I have to see this through. I have to trust Abigail.
“You're lying,” Kane sneers, but I can tell he's unsure now.
“You wish that were true,” I reply, forcing myself to smile. I need to find a way to make him believe that I'm more than just a lying little girl. “Unfortunately,” I add, stepping toward him, “I'm about to rip your soul apart!”
I wait, but I can tell I haven't quite convinced him yet.
Finally, I realize I should try a few curse words.
“Go to hell, Jeremiah Kane,” I sneer. I feel awful saying such foul things, but I need to make him think I'm not a child. After all, I'm pretty sure the Devil curses. I lean closer, until our noses are almost touching. “Fuck you and your god!”
With that, I lunge at him, grabbing his throat and screaming as loud as I can manage. Realizing that I still need to do more, I bite down on the side of his neck, and I feel blood in my mouth as I tear out a chunk of flesh. I see the fear in his face, and he quickly pushes me back against the desk. Spitting out the flesh from my mouth, I see blood trickling down his neck.
“You know what I am,” I sneer, forcing the biggest smile I can manage. “Deny it all you like, but you know!”
“I know,” he stammers, his eyes wild with fear. “You are the dark one himself!”
“You were right all along,” I continue, forcing myself to start giggling despite the agony in my wrist and face. “All those times I swore to you that I wasn't in the other girls, all the times you killed them to drive me out, did your faith never waver even once?”
“Never,” he replies, “I... I swear...”
“I'm not going to run anymore,” I tell him, and then I let out a growl that I hope sounds like the Devil. After all, I need to give him exactly what he's been searching for all these years. “You've finally drawn me out! I hope you've got a good plan for what to do next!”
“Get out!” he screams, holding his hands toward me and making the sign of the cross with his fingers. “Leave me alone!”
“You wanted me,” I tell him, stepping closer. “I'm here. Do your worst.”
“Go!” he sobs, as tears stream down his face. “Leave this place!” Stumbling toward his desk, he grabs another crucifix and thrusts it toward my face. His hands are shaking now and there's fury in his eyes, as if he's panicking now that he's facing the Devil he's sought for so long. “You are Satan!” he screams, having clearly lost control of his fears. “You shall not prosper in this house of the Lord!”
Before I can reply, I realize that he's staring in horror at something right behind me, and I turn just in time to see Abigail rushing toward us. She crashes into Kane's chest and sends him staggering back against the window. The glass shatters and Kane falls through, but at the last moment he manages to hold on to the edge of the broken frame. Abigail cries out as she tries to push him all the way, but his grip on the frame is too strong.
“This is a trick!” he shouts, struggling to pull himself back through. “The Devil was never here! You're a liar, Ivy Jones!”
Rushing forward, I grab Kane's hand and try to force it from the frame, while pushing against his chest so I can help Abigail throw him out. No matter how hard we try, however, he's slowly starting to force us back.
“What do we do?” I shout.
“Keep trying!” Abigail hisses, but we're powerless to stop Kane as he hauls himself back into the room.
“He's too strong!” I yell.
“Keep -”
“You were very convincing for a moment,” Kane says breathlessly, his eyes filled with anger as he stands tall again. “I almost believed you, but there's a little too much fear still in your eyes, Miss Jones. The Devil would never show fear. Nor would the Devil be so desperate to persuade me of his nature. As for the welts on your face, it's quite obvious that you stole some of my Old Fellow's Wort. Top marks for effort, but none for execution.”
Abigail screams as she lunges at him again, but he simply laughs and waves her away. Sensing my last opportunity, I hurry forward and try to push him back toward the broken window, but I can't get him to budge at all.
“Push!” Abigail hisses. “There's still a chance!”
“I can't!” I shout, as Kane presses his hand against my shoulder and starts pushing me away. “It's too late!”
Suddenly I hear something rushing toward us. At the very last second, I turn and see Sissy's ghost flashing past and crashing into Kane's chest with a scream, sending him stumbling back until he falls through the broken window. Again he manages to grab hold of the broken frame, but this time Abigail and I join Sissy in giving him one final shove and he cries out as his grip loosens and he falls through the night air. I lean out just in time to see him tumble through the snow and slam into the stone path far below. I wait a moment longer as snow continues to fall, but he doesn't move.
“Is he...”
Turning, I look for Abigail, but there's no sign of her.
“Are you still here?” I call out, taking a step over toward the desk. “Abigail?”
I wait.
Silence.
“Sissy?”
Looking back at the window, all I see is snow falling gently through the night air.
Heading to the door, I hurry out into the corridor and then down the stairs. I can hear voices nearby, and I quickly find that some of the girls have emerged from the dormitory.
“Something fell past the window,” Maud stammers. “It looked like... like a...”
“It looked like a man,” Beryl says, her eyes wide with shock. “Not just any man either, but... It couldn't be, could it?”
Ignoring them, I make my way down to the ground floor and then out into the snow. Stopping suddenly, I see that Kane is still flat on his back, but his eyes are twitching and it's clear that he's not quite dead yet. I step forward, before noticing Sykes' shovel resting against the wall. Picking it up, I crunch my way across the snow until I'm standing over Kane, and when I look down at his face I realize that there's a hint of shock in his eyes.
“Were you lying?” he gasps, as snow falls all around us. Some of the flakes land on my face, bringing a little relief to the pains and sores.
“Lying about what?” I ask.
“The Devil... Was that... Was he ever in you?”
I pause for a moment. “No,” I tell him finally. “I just had to give you what you wanted. You've been chasing the Devil for so long, I hoped that a taste of success might be enough to break through your emotions and make you vulnerable. I was right.”
“I can't...” He pauses. “I can't move my legs,” he says after a few seconds. “Or my arms. I think my back is broken.”
“God didn't protect you, then.”
“He will,” he whispers. “You might not sense the Devil in your own soul, Ivy Jones, but I still see him. He has taken root in you, and he will use you for as long as you live.”
“Really?” I reply. “Are you still banging on about all that, even after everything that just happened?”
“You have evil in your heart,” he spits. “You and all the girls here, you have evil and that's why you allowed yourself to become pregnant out of wedlock. The Devil seeks a host for his seed, but he will never get what he wants. I have absolute faith in God above, and I kn
ow with certainty that wherever form evil tries to take on this earth, men such as myself will always stand in the way.”
“You won't be doing much of anything anymore,” I reply. My left hand is crippled now, so I have to use my right hand as I raise the shovel and aim at his head. I still hate the idea of killing someone in cold blood, but I know I can't let Kane hurt anyone else. For my unborn child, I have to do this. I just hope that one day, if he ever learns what happened while he was in my belly, he forgives me such awful things.
“You will burn in hell,” Kane hisses.
“Well,” I reply, as I feel my baby kicking in my belly, “I suppose I shall see you there. This is for Sissy, and for Abigail, and for all the other people you've killed.”
With that, I bring the shovel crashing down toward his head.
Epilogue
Today
“Is this the place?” John asks as he slows the car to a crawl. “Bell Moor Retirement Home. It's okay, Gran, I think we've finally found it.”
I feel a knot of fear in my chest as we drive into the parking lot. This place seems so mundane, so ordinary. It's hard to believe that something truly evil could exist here, and yet... Somehow, deep down, I suppose I have always known that evil hides most effectively in places where it can slip through unnoticed.
“Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?” John asks, turning to me. “It's no bother, honestly.”
“Just wait here,” I reply, opening the car door and climbing out, and gasping with pain as I feel my bad hip flaring up again. “I won't be long.”
As I shut the door, I catch sight of my reflection. It's strange, but in my head I always think of myself as a young girl still, and whenever I see my wrinkled old face and white hair, I'm surprised. I remember when I was just a teenager and old people seemed like a different species, and it was hard to believe I could ever become one of them. Now, turning and shuffling carefully toward the retirement home's front door, I realize it's a miracle I don't live in one of these places myself. Fortunately, I'm still pretty spry for a woman in her ninth decade.
Stopping for a moment, I stare at the door.
“You can do this, Ivy Jones,” I tell myself. “You didn't wait this long and come this far, just to back down now.”
***
“You shouldn't expect him to talk too much,” the nurse says as she leads me along the corridor. “He has days where he's a little more lucid, but this morning he's been very tired. Still, he never has visitors, so I suppose he might perk up for you. Are you family?”
“No,” I reply, feeling as if I want to turn and run away. Or rather, shuffle away awkwardly on my bad hip.
“An old friend?” She asks.
“Not really.”
She stops at one of the doors and knocks gently. “So... Why are you here to visit Percy?”
“I just need to see him one more time,” I reply.
“Okay.” She clearly thinks I'm a little strange for coming, but she opens the door and leans in for a moment to check on him, before stepping back. “He's all yours, but please don't spend too long here. He gets very tired, although he's not doing too badly for one of the oldest men in Britain. He'll be one hundred and nine years old next month. Fair play to the old guy, he keeps on keeping on.”
With that, she turns and heads away, leaving me standing by the door but not quite daring to go inside, not yet.
“Oh this is foolish,” I whisper to myself, “either get in there or don't.”
Finally, despite the fear in my chest, I push the door all the way open and step into the room. I feel a flash of shock as soon as I see the old man sitting in a wheelchair by the window, attached via various tubes and wires to a bank of machines. It's hard to believe that after all this time I've finally managed to untangle the myriad false names he's used over the years and track him down, but as I make my way across the room I'm able to see just enough of his old, tired face to realize that it's really, truly him.
Percy Winterbottom.
Or as I knew him back then, Jeremiah Kane.
Or Abel Stone, as he called himself at one of the other schools he terrorized. Ezekiel Coal was another. Edward Graves, Michael Carver, the list goes on. All names designed to scare little girls, all very theatrical and doom-laden.
Finally, after a lot of research I learned that his real name was always Percy Albert Winterbottom, and that for the past four decades he's been a resident here at Bell Moor. He's paralyzed from the neck down after his fall from the window, but he somehow clung to life ever since that night at Beacon's Ash. Apparently no serious charges stuck against him, so he ended up being dumped into the health system. I swear, I feel as if I might faint at just the sight of him, but I manage to reach a chair next to the window and I slowly lower myself down, wincing as I hear my tired old bones creaking with the effort.
Kane's eyes are old and blood-shot now and he's staring out at the garden, but I've already established that he still has his vision and that he has working hearing aids. That's important. I want him to see me and to hear what I've come to say.
We sit in silence for a few minutes. He's given no sign that he recognizes me, or that he even knows someone else is in the room with him, and to be honest I'm not really sure how to begin.
“It's me,” I whisper finally, my voice trembling with fear. I take a deep breath. “It's me,” I say again, more loudly this time, so that there's no risk of him not hearing. “Do you remember me? I know there were a lot of girls, but I imagine I stuck in your mind just a little. I'm Ivy Jones.”
As soon as I say those last two words, I see a flicker of emotion cross his face.
“It's Christmas Day tomorrow,” I continue. “That seems rather appropriate, don't you think? After all, it was Christmas the last time I saw you.” For a few seconds, I think back to that night, and to the moment when I swung the shovel down and then, at the very last chance, made sure to miss his head by millimeters. I could have killed him, but then I would have been a murderer, and my unborn child would eventually have had to find out that his mother had done such a wicked thing even while carrying him in her belly. For her sake, I'm eternally grateful that I didn't kill this man.
“I kept my baby,” I say finally. “I raised her, and as far as I can tell she never suffered any ill-effects from that awful place. I never married, never had any other children, but my daughter has given me five grandchildren and they've already produced two great-grandchildren, so I'm very busy these days, even at my advanced age.”
Again I wait for a reaction, but I can tell now that he's studiously avoiding eye contact.
“I kept in touch with some of the other girls,” I continue. “Most of them are dead now, of course. Some of them passed tragically young. Only Beryl is still going these days, living out in Spain and...” My voice trails off for a moment. “Well, I don't suppose you care about that, do you? The old school is a back-packing hostel now, can you believe such a thing? I made a few inquiries, but it seems there have never been any reports of ghosts at the place, so I suppose... Well, these things finally fade and that's alright.”
Sighing, I realize that I've begun to ramble. After a moment, I hear a faint whisper coming from Kane's lips, and I lean closer so I can hear what he's trying to say.
“Go to hell,” he sighs. “You go to hell, girl.”
“Still a charmer, then,” I reply, forcing a smile. “I didn't come here today to torment you, or to tell you I hate you, or to forgive you. None of that. I came because I felt I should see your face one more time, while I still have a chance. One cannot ignore evil, one must face it. I also wanted you to know that I've lived a long and happy life. I didn't let your cruelty change me, and once I'm dead and Beryl's dead, I dare say you will be forgotten by the world, Jeremiah Kane. Or Percy Winterbottom, or any of the other names you took during your time as a teacher. You chased the Devil but you never caught him. If he exists, I doubt he'd pay a scrap of attention to a fool such as yourself.”
“Go to hell,” he whispers again. For a fraction of a second his old eyes turn to me, but he quickly looks away again. “The Devil is in you.”
“No,” I reply, “he's really not, and he never was. Mind you, I did some jolly good acting for a moment back then, didn't I?” Holding my left hand up, I briefly make a fist, just so he can hear all the bones clicking together. “It's not been perfect since that night, but I get along just fine. Maybe I should have -”
Suddenly I feel it again.
A hand, resting on my shoulder.
After all these years, Abigail is back.
“I must go,” I say finally, gasping as I get to my feet. “My grandson is waiting for me outside, and I promised him I'd only be a minute or two. We're going carol singing, can you believe that?” I pause, feeling as if I should say something else, something profound, but nothing comes to mind. Stepping past the sad old man, I briefly place a hand on his shoulder, but then I let go and head toward the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Kane,” I say calmly. “I hope you understand that what happens next is not my choice. In fact, I tried to stop them, but they won't listen to me. I suppose the dead have every right to want revenge, now that your faith is weak and you're vulnerable. They offered to let me see you before they come, though, and for that I've very grateful. But what happens next... Well, I'm truly sorry, but they won't listen to me.”
I glance back at him one final time, but he's still staring out the window. Taking a deep breath, I step into the corridor, and to my shock I find that I can actually see all the ghosts coming this way. They file past me, spirits of people who died decades ago in the schools that Kane ran. I spot Abigail and Doctor Ratcliffe, but I avoid the rest of their faces. There must be two dozen of them all told, but I make my way along the corridor, not wanting to stay and see what happens next. It took me a long time to get over my desire for vengeance, and I have no need to witness Kane's final moments.