The first hour of the journey the brothers barely spoke a word, instead relying on the early morning radio DJ to fill the vehicle with signs of life. It was a bubbly, overexcited girl who sounded like she was trying to sound cool and pretended like she knew all the latest popular bands personally, even acting like she discovered them.
Chris changed the station and turned the volume down.
“That was doing my nut in,” Pete said. “If I hear one more comedy squelch noise I'm going to use that shotgun to blow my brains out.”
He sipped at his travel mug as his brother chuckled to himself.
Chris flicked through the case file again, taking in the details once more. The photos of the poor girl who was currently possessed by a monster from hell certainly were not pretty, or for the faint hearted, but they had seen worse. Chris had lived a life where anything was possible. He had seen ten-year-old children launch wardrobes across a bedroom. An elderly lady crawl along a ceiling, spewing forth a torrent of vicious curse words. There wasn't much that could shock him, but this case was proving to be a far more personal affair, and it troubled him. If the demon that had possessed their mother had returned, then they had to deal with it as quickly as possible. They knew the damage it could do, and this time they were going to make sure that no one would die because of it.
He placed the folder back into his satchel.
After forty minutes, the van began its final journey along the oddly winding B roads leading into Hullenbeck. Judging by the great clumps of dried up mud that adorned the tarmac, these were farm-used roads. It was a rough ride, as the van bumped and bounced along the pot holed route. The skies grew darker the nearer they got.
“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Pete mumbled.
Chris pondered: was there ever a day when the weather wasn’t dark and foreboding before an exorcism? He couldn't think of one. After a few more minutes of bumpy road travel, everything smoothed out. A sign at the edge of the road announced:
Welcome to Hullenbeck
Twinned with Creux Pleureur
Home of the UK's largest Duck Pond
Please drive carefully through village
No sooner had the van passed the sign than the Sat-Nav began to flicker. The arrow showing them the blue route line twisted and flipped in all directions as it lost and found its signal, repeatedly flashing the messages of 'Searching for GPS' and 'Rerouting' as it struggled. Pete slowed the van down and gave the little gadget a shake.
“Oh, for shit’s sake! This thing is bloody useless.”
Chris batted his brother’s hand out of the way and removed the Sat-Nav from its windscreen holder, holding it in his hands and trying to keep it steady.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, Pete. It's being out here in the middle of nowhere that’s the trouble.” He tapped a few buttons and tried to reset the machine, before looking out the window, searching for the distant horizon. “We must be in a valley or something. Pull the van over.”
Pete did as his brother suggested and found a small lay-by to temporarily park their vehicle, leaving the motor running.
“Any luck?” he asked.
Chris was about to reply when suddenly the machine beeped once before switching off completely. He tried to switch it back on but it was no use.
“Bugger,” Chris said.
“See? Told you that thing was a bunch of knackers. Should have bought that one I picked out,” Pete said.
“I am not spending almost two hundred pounds on a Sat-Nav, It’s ridiculous.” Chris reached into his jacket pocket. “Hang on, maybe we'll be able to get it to work on our phones.”
They pulled out their smart phones and tried to get Google maps to work, but to absolutely no avail. In fact, there was no signal at all.
“Well that’s just great! How the hell are we going to find this house now?” Pete asked.
Chris reached down into his satchel and pulled out some folded up bits of paper. They were filled with bullet point notes and a basic map, all printed out from a computer.
“I printed out the map directions last night as a backup, just in case,” Chris smiled, waving the sheets in Pete’s face. “After all, it’s not the first time we've been stuck in the middle of nowhere without any signal, is it?”
Pete sighed.
“You're never going to let me forget that, are you?” he said.
“You're damned right I'm not. I am not walking five miles in pitch darkness again, all because some idiot forgot to fill the petrol tank.”
“Fine, don't start whinging again,” Pete huffed. “So, come on, then, clever-clogs. Where do we go from here?”
***
As Chris read out his pre-prepared route directions, the brothers took in the not so welcoming sights of the little village known as Hullenbeck. Before entering the village fully, they first had to drive over a large bridge that crossed an enormous pond. It was clearly the aforementioned 'largest duck pond in the UK', but there were no ducks. The water looked almost black, hardly something that you would want to advertise, but one thing was certain. It was vast, and needed the bridge that ran across it in order to reach the village proper.
Once they were over the bridge, it was not long before they reached Hullenbeck, and if ever there was a greyer and more morose looking village in England, it had yet to be found. They passed quiet, gloomy suburbs and drove across empty roundabouts, devoid of any local traffic. It was early in the day, so that might have explained it, but something about the whole place unnerved the brothers. They reached a set of traffic lights, which for some peculiar reason were red, despite there being no signs of life or traffic. Pete put the van into neutral while they waited.
“Who in their right mind would want to live here?” Pete asked. “No internet, droopy trees, so much grey—”
“People who want to be left alone, I imagine,” Chris replied, organising his directions once more.
“Well there must be a lot of very lonely people living here,” Pete said. He tapped the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for the lights to change. “Oh, come on!” Pete grumbled. “This is taking the piss!”
Chris noticed a small newsagent just off the main road. It had large printed posters exclaiming super cheap prices on some nondescript alcohol and fizzy drinks, and also made a point of stating that there was a post office inside. Chris wondered briefly if this was the only post office the village had. If that was the case, this place was even smaller than he initially thought.
The shop was open, no doubt for those people who wanted their papers the moment they woke up, but it still looked gloomy and uninviting.
“Finally!” Pete said, as the light changed.
Chris continued to call out driving instructions and the van trundled through the village, along a high street comprising charity shops, estate agents, and empty units. It was so depressing.
“It's like the town that life forgot,” Chris stated, solemnly.
“Have we got much further to go?” Pete asked.
“It’s just up the road and to the left.”
Chris' version of 'just up the road' was in fact another few minutes of driving along gloomy looking suburbs, before they finally got the turning for their destination. They took a left and, at the end of the cul-de-sac, sat the church Sister Sarah had spoken of. There was a brooding air of mystery and ominous foreboding as it loomed over them with ornately carved gargoyles and high gothic arches. and only the swatches of coloured cloth that fluttered from the many lead studded windows made it seem lived in. The photos the brothers had seen may have been black and white, but in this current light and weather, it was almost as if those very photographs had come to monochromatic life. One thing that wasn't in the files, however, was how vast the front garden of the property was. Clearly used as a procession pathway when the building was in full swing as a religious property, it was now just a blanket of patchy grass.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the only detail of the property that the brothers found disconc
erting. There were very few parking spaces already taken up by residents of the street. Pete parked up where he could.
“This is ridiculous. They all knew we were coming, they could have at least saved us a bloody parking space!” he cried, unclipping his seatbelt.
“It's not that bad. At least we managed to park somewhere,” Chris replied.
Pete leaned over to his brother, a sarcastic smile on his face.
“Let’s see how bad it’s not when you've got to carry all our gear to the front door later,” he said.
They stepped out of the van and took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of the building at the end of the lane. The clouds above the church seemed to be darker, somehow, if such a thing were possible.
“Is this the creepiest place we've done one of these at?” Pete said.
“It’s certainly in the top three,” Chris replied, before they both began walking.
Inside was a girl whose soul hung in the balance, perhaps possessed by a demon that had tried to kill them once before. Either way, they knew there wasn't a damn thing they liked about number 13 Gallows Hill.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE HOUSE ON GALLOWS HILL
As they approached the house, Chris tidied the collar of his shirt and straightened his jacket, which was creased from the two hours of sitting in the passenger seat. His brother, however, didn't bother. He was wearing the same beat-up old leather jacket he had owned for years, and the same jeans he wore yesterday. He had changed his underwear and decided to wear a fresh t-shirt, of course. He wasn't a complete savage. His brother was the face of the business, and certainly more of a people person, but Pete has taken it upon himself to be the 'cooler' looking one.
They entered the front garden and began the trek to the front door. Pete saw movement in one of the upper windows. He looked up, and in the highest window of the building there was clearly someone standing there, watching them. At first he thought it was one of the students living there—maybe even Claire Marie herself—but, upon closer inspection, he realised how wrong he was.
It was a tall male figure, with long dark hair, dressed all in black. His face stood out against the shadows of the room he was in. He reminded Pete of that creepy Japanese ghost film where the little girl climbed out of TVs to kill people. Pete nudged Chris as they walked.
“What the hell is the matter now?” Chris said. He suddenly saw that his brother’s face had drained of all its colour. Pete gestured very carefully to the upper window.
“Up there. In the top window,” he said in hushed tones.
Chris looked up. “Yep. It’s a big building, alright,” he said.
Pete looked at the window. Just a dark, shadowy window frame with no signs of life.
“I thought I saw—”
“Pete, we're about to walk into a house containing a bastard from hell that wants to destroy a poor girl’s life. It might even try to rip our throats out while it’s at it. I'm sure we're going to see all kinds of creepy things today.” He put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Time to get our game faces on, dude.”
Pete nodded, and shook the vision from his mind.
“Yeah. You're right,” he said, “Let’s go kick a demon in its tits.”
“That’s my bro,” Chris laughed.
They approached the large, solid front door. It was painted a deep red colour, which looked as vibrant as the day it was painted. Chris reached for the lion door-knocker. He rapped three times and the duo waited on the step for an answer.
They didn't have to wait long.
There came the sound of deadbolts being shifted back and a chain being unset, and then the door opened and they were greeted by a stocky, bearded man with thick glasses and a red hoodie that had the word 'MOFO' emblazoned across it. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“Can I help you?”.
Chris immediately engaged his 'people skills' mode and smiled back at the man.
“We're Chris and Pete from Idol Hands Cleaning, I believe you've been expecting us.”
“No one here ordered any cleaners,” the man replied, indignantly.
Pete stepped forward. “We're not those kind of cleaners, mate,” he said, before Chris raises his hand slightly to quieten him.
“We're here about Claire Marie,” Chris said, locking eyes with the gentleman in a serious, yet non-aggressive, manner. He had gotten very good at that.
A look of realisation came over the tired man’s face.
“Oh, right,” he said, and then opened the door fully. “Come in.”
The brothers stepped into the house. Pete looked down at the hard, mosaic floor, an echo of the building’s former life. A large staircase stood in front of them, leading to the upper floors and Claire Marie herself.
“Nice to meet you mister...?” Chris said, leaving a blank for the other man to fill.
“Jim. Jim Gerken,” he blurted. “I'm sorry. I'm a bit out of it. Haven't been getting much sleep recently, for obvious reasons.”
“No apology needed, Jim. These situations rarely allow for a good night’s sleep,” Pete replied. “You live here currently?”
“Yeah,” Jim said. “There’s four of us.” He glanced at a doorway behind the brothers. They followed his gaze and saw another two students standing there, staring at them nervously. One was a tall, well-dressed, skinny young man of Asian descent, and the other was a short, stocky female, whose light brown hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, revealing a pretty face and piercing pale blue eyes. A moment of silence passed before the tall gangly young man stepped into the light and rushed over towards the Idol brothers, hand outstretched.
“Benjamin Hughes,” he said, shaking each brother by the hand energetically. “I’m studying philosophy, and I can’t tell you how amazing it is to meet men of your reputation. We study all about exorcisms and possessions in my Religious Mania module. So, the possibility of getting the chance to see one for myself is hugely exciting. If all goes well, I'll have the perfect material for my dissertation!”
“Well, let’s hope nobody gets horribly mutilated then, shall we?” Pete said.
“Or worse,” Chris added, taking delight in seeing the excitement fade from Benjamin's face.
“Oh god. I didn't mean… do you actually think something like that could happen?” Benjamin stuttered in reply.
Pete slapped him playfully on the arm. “Relax Ben,” he said. “It's rarely the bookworms who get that treatment.”
“My brother’s right,” Chris added. “Worst case scenario is that someone violently soils themselves. Embarrassing, yes, but not life-threatening.”
“And you are?” Chris asked, shaking the young lady’s hand.
“Petra Granov,” she replied, a strong eastern European flavour to her accent. She offered the brothers a faint smile. “I apologise for Ben. He is a dickhead.”
Pete laughed as she shook his hand next. A strong handshake. So strong it hurt.
“He is also my boyfriend, so I guess he is my dickhead,” she added.
“I take it Sister Sarah is upstairs already?” Chris said.
The three students looked at each other, confused.
“No,” Jim said. “We thought she was coming with you.”
***
Sister Sarah O'Sullivan sat in the back of the large black Sedan, nervously fidgeting with the rosary beads in her hands. She should have already been at the house on Gallows Hill, helping Christopher and Peter prepare for the difficult task ahead. She had promised them she would be there, and instead here she was, in the back of an air-conditioned vehicle, getting very annoyed. They had left early enough, allowing ample time to get there, but there had been an accident on the motorway which had delayed them almost an hour.
Then there was the flat tire that she had to help replace, leaving her hands grimy. Now they were stuck behind a large tractor, trundling its way along the bumpy road and throwing dried mud into the air. The small country road was just wide enough for two cars, b
ut this tractor was far too wide to overtake and despite having ample opportunities to pull over to let them pass, had continued onwards obliviously.
“I'm sorry about this, ma'am,” the driver said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror.
“Oh, it's quite alright,” Sarah replied, shooting the man a pleasant smile. “It's not your fault. These things can’t be helped.”
The tractor suddenly took a sharp left turn, throwing up more dried filth into the road as it did so, and drove into a nearby field.
“Finally!” the driver exclaimed, and put his foot down on the accelerator. He glanced once more into the mirror. “It shouldn't take much longer now ma'am.”
“That’s great. Thank you,” Sarah replied, and she turned to look out of the window at the muddy grey fields and the approaching gloom of a storm-ridden town.
A twinge of nervous excitement ran through her. It was her first time facing this kind of thing, and she had trained long and hard for this day. The Idol brothers had a reputation like no other, and although they certainly seemed unconventional in every sense of the word, she was looking forward to working with them. Her mind wandered back to a recent conversation she’d had with the man she was replacing. Father Rhodes had spoken to her privately once they had settled him into his new surroundings. He had taken her hand with a firm, yet tender grip, and looked her directly in the eyes as he spoke.
“Listen to me, and listen good, Sister,” he had said. “What I am about to say is very important.”
She nodded and let him speak.
“You've no doubt read a lot of things about Christopher and Peter. Reports of the demons they've faced when doing our good work, and the unfortunate case involving their mother that led them to this path.” He paused, a sad look overcoming him for the briefest of moments before he continued.
“Those files and papers are merely factual evidence. Records of things that have transpired, but they can never fully prepare you for what it is like to work alongside those boys.”
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