The Good Sisters

by Helen Phifer

  Silence greeted him. There wasn’t even a murmur. Up to now all the murders had occurred upstairs and this was where his feet were trying to lead his reluctant body. All the same he let them lead the way. Patrick stuck close behind him, so close he could feel the heat from his body as they climbed the stairs, their hearts heavy. ‘Agnes, where are you?’ He didn’t need to ask because he knew where she would be. Just like the others, she was in her bedroom. As they reached the top of the staircase the smell was that bad it made him retch. So did the priest. The air was so cold up here that he could see his laboured breath in front of his face. A hand grabbed his arm and he turned around to see Patrick stepping up then making his way past him.

  ‘I fear this battle is bigger than you or I, but it’s time for God to step in now and do his work. It’s been nice knowing you, Crosby; you are a good man. I understand if you decide to leave and go and get help, but I can’t. I have to stay and do this for the sake of Mary, Edith and Agnes. I never realised it before, but I no longer feel afraid. I feel ready to step up and do what must be done – something I should have done sooner.’

  Crosby couldn’t speak. The man who had been a trembling wreck looked as if he’d grown at least two foot taller, he was standing so straight. He opened the Bible and began to recite a passage as he led the way to Agnes’s closed bedroom door. The man flicked holy water around the walls and floor; then he flicked it at the door and watched as the door began to sizzle. Patrick reached out to twist the doorknob. ‘Agnes, I know you’re in there and I’m coming. If you’re still with us hold on.’

  The door didn’t move. Crosby pushed Patrick to the side and gripped the knob with his hand, twisting it sharply. It moved this time, but it was locked. Patrick flicked more of his water on it and nodded at him to try again. This time it opened. The room was in darkness, but this was where the stench was emanating from. It assaulted their nostrils. As Crosby’s eyes adjusted he saw Agnes’s frail body. She was kneeling on the floor. He tilted his head to one side because there was something wrong with the picture in front of him.

  Patrick flicked the light on and both men gasped at the same time, because Sister Agnes’s body was headless. The bloodied stump of her neck contrasted starkly with the white collar of her nun’s habit. Crosby couldn’t understand why the woman was still upright. She was on her knees, her hands clasped together in prayer. It was a sight like he’d never seen before and one he hoped to God he wouldn’t see again.

  ‘Where’s her head, Crosby? Where’s her fucking head?’

  Crosby had never heard a man of the cloth use such bad language and it snapped him out of the trance he was in. He looked around the room. There was no sign of it. Blood was splattered everywhere, mingling with the foul smell of rotting meat. He sidestepped around her body to see if her head had rolled to the other side of the bed, out of their view. It wasn’t there. He stepped closer to the bed, lifting the white sheet up with the end of his truncheon in case it had rolled underneath. It wasn’t there either. He turned and shrugged at Patrick, who was staring at the elderly nun’s body.

  ‘Father, I think that we should probably leave now. There is nothing we can do for her now and whoever did this may still be here.’

  His voice fell on deaf ears. The priest was so horrified yet enthralled by the sight of the headless corpse in front of him. Crosby, who had a very bad feeling that someone was coming for them, moved fast. Grabbing Patrick’s cassock, he tugged him until he was looking at his face instead of Agnes’s body.

  ‘We need to leave now. Can you feel it? The air is getting thicker, heavier. Something is coming.’

  He pulled Patrick’s arm. As he left the bedroom the light in the hall exploded, making both men yell in fear and bathing them in complete darkness. The atmosphere was so fraught with tension it was uncomfortable; Crosby blinked his eyes, trying to get them to adjust to the darkness so he could get his bearings. Patrick had clutched hold of the man’s jacket and wasn’t letting go.

  ‘What’s happening? Shouldn’t we get out of here?’ Patrick whispered into Crosby’s ear. He shook his head as the priest’s cold breath tickled the tiny hairs inside of his ear.

  ‘Do you remember what Agnes said? That woman thrives off your fear and somehow manages to turn into whatever it is you’re scared of. What are you scared of, Father?’

  ‘Nothing much. I suppose I’ve never liked the dark. I don’t read any scary novels or watch scary films, if that’s what you mean. How about you, Crosby? What are you scared of?’

  Crosby felt stupid for what he was about to admit, but wasn’t that part of a priest’s job – listening to people confess their guilty sins?

  ‘I watched a film last year at the picture house with Vera. We only went because she has a bit of a thing for that film star Guinn Williams and normally I don’t mind because he usually makes Westerns, but this one was different. It was one of them horror films called The Phantom about a killer who escaped death row to carry out his revenge on the man who sent him to prison. He stalks a group of people in a mansion wearing a mask. I suppose you could say that film scared me a lot. I kept thinking about how doing my job – you never know who you come into contact with and…’

  A loud thud from the attic made both men jump. It was followed by a heavy dragging noise and loud footsteps. Crosby’s heart was racing so fast he thought it might just kill him. He should really be going up there to apprehend whoever it was for Agnes’s murder, but the thought that it could be the masked crazy man from that film filled his entire being with fear.

  Patrick tugged on Crosby’s jacket. ‘Come on, we can’t do anything in the dark. We need to get out of here.’ Crosby forced himself to turn towards the stairs. Patrick led the way this time, all the time praying under his breath for God to save them both. It was hard to see. The darkness in the house was so dense, unlike his own home when the lights went out and the fuse needed fixing. He knew every piece of furniture, nook and cranny back home so it never felt scary. This darkness was so all-consuming he couldn’t even make out his own hand in front of his face.

  This time it was Crosby who clutched onto the back of Patrick’s robes, hoping the priest had better night vision than he did. They almost made it to the bottom of the stairs when a loud cackle filled the air. It sounded as if it was coming from downstairs and behind them all at the same time. Crosby felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn’t want to die here, in this big house of death. Killed by a figment of his own bloody imagination. How did that work?

  Patrick stumbled over something, falling forwards, and Crosby just managed to catch himself from landing on top of him and winding him. The air was filled with the smell of fear and he knew it was from him. Stop it, man, you’re sounding like one of the inmates from Hellshall. Monsters from your dreams don’t come to life and kill you. Take control. Get yourself and the priest out of the house and it will all go away. He began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Although he went to church every Sunday – his work permitting – he couldn’t say that he was a religious man. It was something he did out of duty to his wife. He tried to block all thoughts of Vera from his mind. He loved her dearly and he didn’t want whatever evil it was that was lurking in this house to know about her.

  ***

  Patrick pulled himself onto his knees, fumbling in the dark for his Bible and bottle of holy water, which had flown from his hands when he’d fallen. Panic was beginning to fill his chest. He’d lost his security blanket. The water and Bible had been his tools against whatever evil force was at work here. He had no doubt that Agnes had been telling the truth. Evil had taken over this house of God and was threatening to take over him. He could feel its long tendrils of darkness reaching out and probing him. He had to believe that God would help them both. He didn’t need the Bible or the water. What he needed was his faith in God and in the power of good over evil to overcome whatever demon it was that had decided to make the convent its home.

  He stood up straight, knowi
ng what he had to do. He had to pray for this house, for Mary, Edith, Agnes, Crosby and himself. If the thing showed itself he would be ready. He filled his mind with the warmth of God’s love, wiping out all thoughts of darkness and fear.

  ***

  Crosby felt a slight shift in the air around them. He realised that he could see the priest’s black outline in front of him when moments ago it had been impossible.

  ‘Show yourself, demon. I have no time for your tricks. I’m asking in the name of God that you come forth and show me who you really are. God commands you.’

  Crosby thought that Patrick had lost his mind; he grabbed hold of him and tried to drag him towards the direction of the front door. Patrick pushed his hand away.

  ‘We will not run; we will stand here, our faith in God and the light protecting us from your darkness. Now I command you to show yourself.’

  Patrick’s voice filled the entire hallway. It sounded as if it had been amplified, but at the same time it sounded stronger than any voice Crosby had ever heard. A white light filled the hallway, making it easier to see. Crosby wasn’t sure if he wanted to see what was going on or not.

  Patrick turned to him. ‘You need to pray to God, harder than you’ve ever prayed in your life. Through his love and forgiveness we can send this demon back to where it came from.’

  Crosby began reciting the only prayer he knew from start to finish. ‘Our Lord who art in heaven, give us this day our…’

  A figure appeared in front of them. Crosby shut his eyes, afraid to look, but his survival instinct kicked in and he opened them again. He couldn’t fight what he couldn’t see. He was shocked to see the petite woman standing in front of them. She was beautiful, with long, silky, raven hair. Her face was so pale it looked white. She pouted her blood-red lips at them. She took a fighter’s stance, crossing her arms, and he couldn’t miss the long, red talons on the ends of her slender fingers. She looked like some Hollywood film star.

  ***

  ‘What do you want, priest? I’m busy.’

  ‘I want you to leave this house of God and go back to the hell that you came from.’

  She laughed. ‘Oh you are a funny man, but I think you’ll find this is no longer God’s house. It’s all mine.’

  ‘This was built to be a house of God and will continue to be a house of God long after you’ve taken your filthy being out of it.’

  ‘Then you’re going to have to make me leave. How will you do that now you’ve lost your Bible and holy water?’

  Patrick didn’t answer her. It was taking all his strength to face her. He knew this was one of the demon’s many faces, but he’d been surprised to find out that she was in fact a female. She’d reverted to her human form to throw them off guard and it had for a second.

  ***

  Crosby looked past her to see the huge dark shadow forming on the wall behind her. It was growing by the second and he didn’t want to hang around to see what it turned into. He whispered in Patrick’s ear, ‘Why don’t we just leave? There’s nothing we can do, is there?’

  The woman tilted her head, trying to listen to what he was whispering. Patrick shook his head in defiance at Crosby’s suggestion.

  ‘Tell me your name, demon.’

  ‘You know my name, priessst.’

  ‘By the power invested in me by God, tell me your name.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to know my name? What good will it do you?’

  ‘Your name now, your God demands it.’

  ‘He’s not my God, neither are you my priest.’

  Patrick began walking towards her, lifting the heavy silver cross from around his neck. He held it out towards her and Crosby watched as the woman stepped back from him.

  ‘Your name, demon.’

  A loud growl filled the air around them, but it didn’t seem as if it had come from the woman standing in front of them.

  ‘Lilith Ardat.’

  ‘Your real name or I swear to God I’ll push this cross down your throat and make you choke on it.’

  Patrick was standing directly in front of the woman who Crosby thought looked as if she had shrunk since she’d first appeared.

  ‘I told you, priest, my name is Lilith. I am the princess of hell.’ She laughed, a cold, high-pitched sound that hurt both men’s ears.

  ‘I have no idea why you killed these women of God, but God now commands you to leave this house for good – and don’t come back. You are banished back to where you came from. Now get out.’

  He shouted the last words, which were lost in the howling wind that was filling the hall. Crosby reached out and grabbed hold of the banister to keep himself upright. Patrick stood with his arms outstretched, praying, only Crosby couldn’t hear a word of it for the howling wind. The woman stumbled backwards towards the shadow on the wall and he watched in horror as it seemed to swallow her up; then the shadow folded in on itself until it disappeared. The wind dropped as fast as it had appeared, returning the house to normal. Crosby looked at Patrick, who had fallen to his knees and was praying his thanks to God. He clasped his hands together.

  ‘Dear God, I have no idea what just happened, but thank you for helping the priest to get rid of that bitch. Amen to that.’

  Patrick turned around and for the first time in hours he laughed. It was such a loud, happy sound Crosby couldn’t help but join in. The pair of them were laughing as if it was the funniest thing ever. Eventually Patrick pulled himself up. He stopped laughing.

  ‘I don’t know if you want to put any of what just happened down in your police report – or is this just between the pair of us?’

  Crosby wiped his eyes. ‘If it’s okay with you we’ll keep this between ourselves. If I write any of this on a report they’ll have me taken away to Hellshall and locked up. To be honest I’m not quite sure what just happened, but can I just say that you were amazing? Has she gone for good?’

  ‘I agree with you about the report, but I can’t answer that question. I feel as if the house is different now. The atmosphere doesn’t feel as heavy as before. I hope that it’s gone back to wherever it came from.’

  ‘I don’t understand though. How did it get in and why did it kill the good sisters?’

  ‘I think that it was looking for somewhere to reside and the sisters invited it into this house, with the best intentions of course. They had no idea that it was a demon in disguise, but they paid the price with their lives. What are you going to tell your inspector?’

  ‘I’m going to tell him that we gave chase to someone who managed to get away from us and that they won’t be coming back, but we’ll keep them on high alert as our most wanted. Of course he will never believe that the beautiful Lilith Ardat had anything to do with these deaths.’

  ‘This house needs to be closed up for the foreseeable future. We can’t let anybody move in until we know that it’s safe. Once you’ve removed Agnes’s body, I’ll speak to the bishop and arrange for it to be boarded up.’

  ‘Can you stay here with us until we’ve finished?’

  As if on cue there was a knock on the front door and the sound of multiple voices carried through to them. Crosby opened the door to his inspector and a couple of constables. He told them about Agnes’s body and then gave them directions to search every inch of the house from top to bottom to see if they could find Agnes’s head. After an hour every room, closet, drawer and inch of space had been searched, but to no avail. There was no sign of it and the sky was getting darker by the minute. The grounds would have to be searched tomorrow.

  An ambulance arrived to take Agnes’s body to the hospital mortuary. As she was carried out of the house on a stretcher, her headless corpse covered with a blanket, all the men bowed their heads in respect. As the ambulance drove away, Crosby gave the order for everyone to leave the house. He asked the two constables to wait on Bill Mosson – the local builder and handyman – to come and board the windows and doors up. The younger of them had looked at Crosby in wonder.

  ‘What…yo
u want us to wait up here in the cold? For Bill to come and board this huge place up? Can’t it wait until tomorrow and we’ll just lock the doors for now?’

  ‘No it can’t wait until tomorrow. Three women have been murdered in this house in cold blood. I don’t want anyone else going inside. We’ve searched the place from top to bottom. If we leave it unsecure now the killer could come back and hide in there. I want it boarding up tonight and if it’s too cold for you to wait around, tough. You can cry to your mammy when you go home.’

  ‘Yes, Crosby.’

  ***

  Patrick nodded his agreement with what Crosby had just said. Although he believed that Lilith Ardat had gone for now, he couldn’t be sure it had been a permanent banishment. He’d done his best, but he wasn’t a trained exorcist. Once the house was boarded up, he would come back with the archbishop and bless every entrance to the building, sealing it up for good. Crosby got into the car, motioning for Patrick to get in.

  ‘Come on, Father, I’ll drop you off before I go to the hospital. I think it would be fitting under these circumstances to have a wee nip of whisky and drink to our winning the battle.’

  ‘I think you’re right; however, I can’t shake the feeling that it was too easy to get rid of her. I thought she would have put up a much bigger fight than she did. I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for her to come back.’

  ‘Maybe you should have some faith in yourself, Father, and not just in God. You did it. You stood up to whatever she was and sent her back. For that I’m truly grateful. I’m just sorry we couldn’t have done it before poor Agnes was killed. Where do you think her head is? We can’t bury her without it.’