The Good Sisters

by Helen Phifer

  His hurtful words rang in her ears, ‘Get a fucking grip, Kate. When are you going to realise the world doesn’t revolve around you? You’re a complete embarrassment. Do you think the girls want a drunken slut for a mother? Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life.’ And on and on it would go. Not once had he offered to help her, unlike Ollie.

  She found herself back in the kitchen. The house was cold because the front door had been open for the last eight hours as the police had gone in and out. There was no milk left because she’d made them all numerous mugs of tea and coffee. She was so thirsty. She should get a glass of water, but her mouth was dry and itching.

  She knew what her mind was telling her would quench her thirst, and she opened the fridge. She was almost out of alcohol. There was a solitary bottle of wine in the fridge. The taste of sour bourbon filled her mouth when she looked at it. How was she supposed to sleep here, on her own, after everything that had happened? She slammed the fridge door shut. Her bloody arms were smarting and throbbing. She turned around and jumped to see Ollie standing there, concern etched across his face.

  ‘The police rang. I’m sorry about earlier, Kate. You’re right, your life is none of my business and I had no right sticking my nose in. I was so worried about you. I just want to help, in any way that I can.’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m such a bitch when I’m faced with the truth. I’ve never been very good at admitting I can’t manage. I spend each day pretending how I’m fine, coping with life.’

  She lifted her arms up, holding them out, the sleeves of her dressing gown revealing the white bandages wrapped around them. ‘Well I’m not fine and I’m definitely not coping. I’ve been on my own for so long, even when I was married I was lonely. Martin never cared about anything I did. He didn’t care about me and I guess I’m not used to it. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. Thank you for coming back.’

  He leant against the door frame. Kate thought he looked as if he was trying to support himself.

  ‘I didn’t count on getting to know you so well. I really, really like you, Kate. I know you have your problems – don’t we all – but I think if you had the right support you could turn your life around. I’d like to be the one to help you, but if you think I’m talking rubbish and you’re still mad at me then I’ll leave and I promise not to bother you. I have a friend who can take over the rest of the building work and finish the house for you.’

  Her eyes sparkled with tears for this kind, gorgeous, too good to be true man. She blinked them back and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around his waist as she pulled him towards her. ‘Oh, Ollie, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ve been struggling with my feelings because I loved Ellen so much. I was devastated when she died – in fact I still am – but she’s gone and I know that she wanted me to live my life to the full. She made me promise I would before she died, but I couldn’t. I was just going through the motions until the day I came here to speak to you about the renovations. For the first time in a long time you gave me a reason to get up and come to work each day and look forward to it.’ He pulled her closer, leaning down. Her lips met with his and the kiss that followed was one of the most explosive kisses that either of them had ever had.

  ***

  Ollie pulled away, breathless. ‘Where did you learn to kiss like that?’

  He winked at her and she began to laugh. ‘To be honest I thought it was you who was the expert kisser. Maybe we just make a perfect kissing couple.’

  He laughed. ‘So, Kate, what happens now? I mean I would like nothing more than to pick you up and carry you to your bed where I could show you just how good my kissing skills really are, but I don’t want to rush things. I value your friendship far too much. I don’t want a quick leg-over and that’s it. I’ve never been a one-night stand kind of guy.’

  ‘Well I’d very much like you to kiss me again – just to prove to me it wasn’t a one-off because kissing is something I like, a lot. So it’s one of the key stipulations of any relationship that we might have.’

  He pulled her close again, this time not wanting to stop. He scooped her into his arms and carried her towards her bedroom where he used his foot to kick the door open. It slammed against the wall so hard the sound echoed around the room. Kicking it shut, he walked across to the bed and lay her down. She wouldn’t let go of his neck and pulled him down onto the bed with her where he lay next to her.

  They both lay staring at each other. Kate lifted her fingers and traced the outline of his cheek down to his jaw. He kissed her fingers, which then found his hair. She tugged his head towards her and she reached up and kissed him with even more passion than before.

  6 January 1933

  Father Patrick hadn’t spoken much to either Agnes or Crosby. He stood up. ‘I need to go to the church. I need to speak to the bishop about all of this. What you’re talking about is out of my hands. It needs an experienced priest. If this woman is indeed a demon she will need more than I can give to get rid of her. I’ve never done anything like it in my life.’

  Crosby stood up too. ‘In the meantime I’m going to get two of my officers to make some enquiries around the town to see if anyone knows Lilith Ardat. I suggest we meet back here at four o’clock before it gets dark, if that’s all right with you, Agnes. What are you going to do with yourself? Would you not be better to leave this house with the good Father and come back later?’

  Agnes knew that Crosby and Patrick were right. They did need expert advice and she shouldn’t be here on her own, but she felt as if she was attached to the house herself. Poor Mary and Edith’s souls were still here. They had died so horribly there was no way they would have crossed into the light. If she walked out and left now the house would fill with darkness before she came back, and that was what Lilith wanted.

  Agnes knew that for whatever reason the woman wanted this house of God to turn into a house of evil. She had already done a very good job of achieving that, but Agnes would stop her. Her faith in God and the light would help her to fight. She would send the demon back to wherever it was that it came from. Vampires slept throughout the day. They couldn’t go out in the sunlight. So if Lilith was appearing as a vampire to scare her then she should be able to track her down and put a stake through her heart. She would play her at her own game.

  ‘I’ll be fine while it’s daylight. She doesn’t like to do her work unless it’s in the black of night. Just make sure you are both back here before the light fades. As stubborn as I am I don’t want to be here on my own when it gets dark.’

  Both men nodded and stood up to leave. The quicker they did what they had to the quicker they would be back. She watched them walk out of the front door and prayed that she was right about Lilith only showing her true colours at night. After putting her crucifix back around her neck, she picked up her prayer book and walked to Edith’s bedroom where she stood outside the door and prayed for Edith’s soul. She had a small bottle of holy water, which she’d tucked in her pocket. She took it out, sprinkled some onto her fingers and made the sign of the cross on the door. The wood began to smoulder as steam rose from the surface. Agnes didn’t let that put her off.

  Lilith might have turned these two rooms into shrines to the devil himself, but Agnes wouldn’t be scared. As she crossed the hall towards Mary’s room she heard a low, deep, guttural growl come from inside. It struck the fear of God into her, turning the blood running through her veins into iced water. It was so animalistic.

  She threw the water at Mary’s door and began to pray to God to protect her from evil. This door did exactly the same thing. The smell of smouldering wood and something much darker infiltrated her nostrils. Terrified to open it, but having no choice, she threw it back until it slammed against the plaster. Inside it was very dark and empty. She felt relief wash over her body, even though the essence of evil was everywhere. It felt as if it was seeping from the very walls, with the master of evil hiding out of sight. Of this Agnes wa
s one hundred per cent sure.

  They needed to find Lilith, and Agnes knew that she wouldn’t be too far away. The woman, beast, abomination had sensed the three of them living here on their own in a house that belonged to God and had taken it upon itself to claim the house for its own. This whole thing was probably no more than a game to it. Was this how demons sought their pleasure? Picking off innocent souls and claiming them for their own?

  Agnes felt her whole body shudder with revulsion at the very thought of who Lilith really was. Even though the police had searched the house from top to bottom, it was big – with plenty of hiding spaces they could easily have missed. She would start to search it herself and make her way down. In the book, Dracula had spent his days confined to a coffin in the cellar of the castle. So it was common sense that Lilith would be hiding in the cellars of the convent.

  This idea felt so right Agnes wondered if she should just go straight down there and get the confrontation over with, because there was no doubt in Agnes’s mind that this was going to end in a fight – one that she might not win. She just hoped that surely God wouldn’t abandon her like he’d done with the others. Wouldn’t he want to protect his own? She was the last one left to fight this battle for him.

  She continued to bless every door along the hallway; the others didn’t react to the holy water until she got to the door to her bedroom. Scared to bless it, she had to lift her trembling fingers to shake the water out of the bottle. Before her finger touched the door, she smelt that terrible, earthy, rotting-meat smell and knew that Lilith or whatever it was that pretended to be Lilith was nearby, taunting her like some complicated game of cat and mouse.

  As Agnes’s fingers touched the wood, it smouldered and the heat was far more intense. She felt it burning the fleshy tip of her finger and carried on despite the searing pain. Afraid to open her door she knew that somehow the monster was waiting inside for her. She stopped her fingers from reaching out for the doorknob and turned away. She would be damned if she was going to make this too easy for it.

  She walked as fast as her arthritic knees would go. She was going down to the kitchen for some garlic cloves and she needed a wooden stake – something to stab Lilith through the chest with. Agnes’s heart pounded in her ears as she reached the ground floor. She ignored the sound of her bedroom door as it creaked the way it did each morning when she opened it. What are you doing, woman? You’re too old for this. Get out of here now. Get to the church. Who in their right mind would want to fight monsters at your age?

  She silenced the terrified voice in her head and carried on. She was almost at the kitchen. The warm glow from the lights she’d left on were like a beacon, telling her she was almost home. She hadn’t realised just how dark the rest of the convent was until she saw the light. As she stepped through the door she felt better. It was the light. There was no doubt about it.

  She could hear noises out in the hallway, but she didn’t turn to see what or who was making them. There was a string of garlic cloves hanging from one of the kitchen door handles and she grabbed it, putting it around her neck. She tipped holy water from the bottle and splashed it around her neck, rubbing it all over. As she touched the two crusted puncture wounds they began to smart and burn as if she had rubbed pure alcohol onto them. The pain in her neck was intense, but for the first time that day she felt clean, as if the goodness in the water had washed out the dirty, unclean germs.

  She looked around but couldn’t see anything she could use as a wooden stake. Pulling each drawer open then slamming them shut, the only thing wooden was the heavy rolling pin, which would only be any use if she wanted to bash its brains in. There was a wooden spoon, but that also had a blunt, rounded end. If she were to try and stake someone’s heart with that she was going to need a lot of help from God himself.

  She turned around expecting to see the woman, vampire thing standing behind her with a smirk on its face, but there was no one around. She caught sight of her reflection in the kitchen window and wondered if she was going insane. What did she look like standing there – her face white with a garland of garlic for a necklace – and what would happen if Crosby came back with Father Patrick and saw her like this? They’d think it was her who had killed Mary and Edith. That poor Sister Agnes who had spent her entire life doing good deeds and worshipping God had lost her mind. They might even blame it on her age.

  Tucking the wooden spoon into her trouser waistband, she looked around for something sharper. They could think what they wanted. She knew the truth. She knew that she wasn’t mad and that was all that mattered. The sharp butcher’s knife on the chopping board caught her eye. It was big and sharp enough to stab through anyone’s heart. She reached out for it, her fingers wrapping around the wooden handle, and picked it up. It felt heavy and right. It might not be wooden, but it should do the job. Just to make sure, she sprinkled some holy water onto it and said a prayer.

  Looking up at the kitchen clock she saw she had an hour before Crosby and Patrick returned. The sky was already turning inky grey as the sun began to fade. This wouldn’t take an hour. As soon as her shaky legs were ready to continue, she was going down into the cellar to confront the beast. If she had luck on her side it would still be asleep and she could end it all now. If it was waiting for her then so be it. God would help her to fight her best. This was out of her hands now and in the good Lord’s, and she had the advantage because Edith and Mary had been caught by surprise. But not her – oh no she knew what its game was and she would be the one to stop it.

  The cellar door was situated outside the kitchen door. She couldn’t see it from where she was standing, but a cold draught enveloped her ankles and she knew that it was ajar. Someone had opened it. Less than a minute ago she had passed it and it had been shut. It was as if it knew what she was thinking and pre-empting every move. Then Agnes realised that yes it did know exactly what she was thinking because it was feeding off her fear. It had fed off all their fears and now there was only her left.

  She began walking towards the open door. She tugged it so it was wide open. The smell of rotting flesh reached her nostrils. It was much stronger down there. She nodded her head, praying to God to give her the strength to overcome the evil waiting down in the darkness for her. She tugged on the cord. The single bulb illuminated the steep steps that led down into the cellar. Her legs felt like lead weights, but she forced them to move, taking one step at a time. She hated coming down here at the best of times when she didn’t think there was some evil, demonic entity waiting to kill her and take her soul to hell. The knuckles on her right hand were white, the knife secure inside them. She could smell the garlic as well as the earthy, rotting stench, and her stomach was churning.

  She had never in her entire life envisaged dying this way; her left hand clasped the silver crucifix to her chest as she began to pray. As her feet stepped onto the damp, earthen floor she listened for some sign of where the monster could be. It was a huge cellar with single bulbs periodically spread along it, not giving off enough light to see the sides, which were cloaked in blackness. There was no silk-lined coffin in the middle of the room as she’d expected and for a second she wondered if she had gone mad. Then from the far end of the cellar she heard a scratching sound, like nails on a chalkboard, and an image of those long, red talons on the end of slender, white fingers made her shiver.

  ‘Who’s there? This is a house of God; you have no right to be inside here. By the power of the Lord I’m commanding you to leave.’

  Her words, which had felt so bold as she spoke them, fell flat in the huge room.

  ‘I know you’re there, hiding in the shadows like the coward that you are. Step into the light and show yourself, demon. I’ll not be scared out of my home by the likes of you. I won’t let you – and God certainly won’t let you.’

  Movement somewhere in front of her made her step forward; her only exit from the cavernous room was up the stairs. There was another door that led straight out into the garden, which she
’d instructed Mary to put a lock and chain on for the winter, to keep the wind from blowing it open in stormy weather and letting every animal known to man from making beds down there. For all she knew it could be rats scratching and moving around.

  As she was about to turn around and go back upstairs, she felt a dark shadow fall over her and she muttered: ‘You sneaky little bastard.’ As she turned around to face it the smell was so repugnant it made her eyes water. When she saw what was standing on the bottom step of the cellar she took a step backwards; instead of the monster she had been imagining there was a man in a crisp white shirt and black tuxedo. He was almost as tall as the door frame and was stooped a little to fit in. His body blocked out what light there had been filtering down. He moved towards her and his black, satin cloak billowed out behind him. Agnes couldn’t draw her eyes away from his face. He was very attractive. His eyes fixed on hers and he smiled, holding his hand out for hers. She tried her best to look away, but it was impossible. She couldn’t break his gaze.

  ‘Agnes, you can make this as easy or as hard as you want. This is your decision – whether to succumb to me like you want to or whether to stand your ground and fight. Tell me: where is your God now, Sister? Because I’m looking around and it seems to me as if he’s let you down.’

  She clenched the knife and tried to clear her mind of impure thoughts, but she was struggling. It was hard to think of anything except the man in front of her.

  ‘I can see it’s a bit of a dilemma for you, Agnes. Are you really happy now that you’re here on your own? You didn’t mind me last night when I was up close to you, caressing your neck. You were quite happy for me to drink your blood. You murmured in your sleep with pleasure.’

  As he spoke he pulled back his lips so his long, white, razor-sharp incisors glinted in what little light there was.

  ‘I mean let us be honest with each other – we’re certainly both old enough. What has spending your life a lonely spinster done for you? Has God rewarded you for your lifetime of servitude?’