“Stop and face the shedim!” commanded Rabbi Shapiro.
As he turned to face them, Rachel felt the incantation’s grip loosen from her body. This was her chance. She sucked up every molecule of strength in her ruined limbs and ran from the room, rushing to the front door and scrabbling at the lock.
Of all people, it was Rabbi Lieberman she saw next, his furious little eyes and face floating through the front door panel, towards where she stood, fumbling with her door key.
“Just bloody leave me alone, won’t you?” she yelled.
Finally, the door crashed open, and she felt herself half running, half falling down her front steps.
“Piss off! Go away! I am not a devil… I never asked for this!” Rachel yelled, as she sat half sprawled on the pavement, frantically waving her hands about as if batting away a swarm of wasps.
As she remained on the street, she saw the spirit Jewish men making their escape in all directions as the blackness engulfed the entire expanse of her flat, just stopping at the front door. Rachel looked up from where she sat, feeling her bottom beginning to numb from the cold, hard concrete beneath her, and remembering that she was still wearing her old house clothes in broad daylight.
Rabbi Shapiro loomed up abruptly before her. “You may have set your familiars on us, necromancer, and some brothers have faltered when faced with pure evil, but this is not the end. We will return even stronger to defeat the rotten, putrefied flesh within you.” With that, he was gone.
At the sight of two more Jewish men running from her house and down the street, she began screaming again.
Slowly, she became aware of the crowd of people who had formed around her in the street; she heard the words ‘nutter’, ‘ambulance’ and ‘mental’ float out from their number as her bloodshot eyes met their concerned, amused and frightened faces.
A policeman walked up, seemingly out of nowhere. Rachel found this particularly annoying as she recalled never being able to get a police officer to turn up in the past when she had been the victim of a crime. “Now, now, miss; it looks like you need some help here,” he said in a pitying tone.
Angrily, she leapt to her feet. Everyone in the crowd took a step backwards.
“Look, I don’t need any more bloody ghosts haunting me and calling me the devil… so you can piss off as well… See my house; look at it! An entity has taken it over, I have Jews wanting to kill me, and…” She looked back; her house – which, just seconds ago, had been covered in thick blackness, like a dark whipped cream poured on a pudding – was now just as it was before. There was nothing unusual at all.
“There’s no need for anti-Semitism, miss,” said the policeman calmly.
Rubbing her eyes, she realised that the policeman in front of her was not a ghost at all, but a real, living officer of the law who someone, probably from the gawking crowd, had called over to assist.
Oh Jesus Christ. Now what? Rachel had never been arrested before. She wondered if she was arrested, whether she would get the one phone call she saw people being offered in films. She wanted to call Dr Maxwell, but that was pointless, being as he was a ghost and didn’t like phones anyway. For a second, she thought about calling John, but why would she do that? He didn’t give a shit about her really.
All that was left was Andy. Like the last broken sweet in the bag or the tiny crisp always found hiding in a fold at the bottom of an eaten packet, she had to choose him, as there was no one else alive left in the world for her now.
Chapter 40
The three of them gathered in Andy’s small bedroom. Andy was sitting stiffly on his Captain Kirk Star Trek chair, Rachel was seated on the bed, and Dr Maxwell stood in the corner by the window, where he had a good view of the street. Rachel always wondered why so many ghosts looked out of street-facing windows and liked standing by them; she resolved to ask him later at a more opportune time.
Andy began in a brisk tone, “Right, so we have convened here today to discuss the most recent incident that has happened at Rachel’s flat, where she was attacked spiritually, and to review the future of Spirit of London Paranormal Investigations.”
He glanced around the room.
“Obviously, Rachel you are here…” He gestured towards her. “And Dr Mantell is also… er… apparently here.” He gestured towards the doorway; the complete opposite place to where William was standing.
“The man is a buffoon,” muttered Dr Maxwell from his corner.
“Andy… Dr Maxwell is by the window, in the corner,” confirmed Rachel.
“Yes, yes… right…” Andy put on a large, black-framed pair of spectacles, glanced at a tatty piece of paper with writing on it, removed the glasses and put the paper down. “This is where we are. The company, Spirit of London Paranormal Investigations, is doing very well. I have been on numerous visits to people who have experienced hauntings and have, in all cases, resolved the problem. The website is getting fifty-odd hits a day, and money is rolling in… On paper, it’s all tickety-boo, to be honest.”
Dr Maxwell made a small huffing noise of dismissal.
Andy continued, “But… we now have some problems that need to be resolved for us to move forward. Namely Rachel, who is back under the care of the psychiatric unit, thanks to last week’s alleged episode with the Jews, and the entity which we believe came from Prince von Rahman’s house.”
“Those men were there! They were trying to exorcise me or something. I didn’t make it up!” exclaimed Rachel.
“I never said you did. But, whatever you say, the company is fending off a lot of negative PR thanks to your very public breakdown. Our Twitter feed is alight with talk of you having mental issues… It’s not good,” declared Andy.
Dr Maxwell interjected, “All he cares about is his blasted pocket and how much he can fill it with coins; he cares not one jot about you.”
Rachel looked at William then back at Andy, who threw his hands in the air.
“Did he speak? The doctor? You will have to tell me what he said; this won’t bloody work unless you tell me what the dude says,” complained Andy.
“Dude? What is a ‘dude’?” asked William.
Rachel sighed. “Dr Maxwell just wants to know if you intend to do anything about it. For example, getting rid of the entity would be a good start. It’s the entity that caused all of this; the Jewish gentlemen think I am in league with it in some way. That’s why they tried to exorcise me.”
“Yes, yes… I was going to comment on that,” stated Dr Maxwell. “In truth, I am very worried about your Jewish visitors. They appeared very aggressive before.”
Rachel angrily turned her head towards the window. “You think?”
Andy looked at Rachel, towards the window and then frowned. It was easier said than done having a three way conversation when one of your group was as dead as a doornail. He cleared his throat. “I am going to have a hard think about this whole situation, but, to recap, the main problems we have are the entity and the Jewish guys; to be honest, they are probably targeting you because of the entity. So we are going around in circles.”
“I saw them out the front of my flat way before the entity took up residence,” she confirmed.
“Yes, I know, but they never actually attacked you until the entity came into the frame. I think they believe they are saving the world from what they assume to be an evil person who sees demons,” Andy observed.
“Me? You mean me?” Rachel was shocked.
“I don’t actually feel the entity is a demon,” interjected Dr Maxwell. “I believe it is just, well, a certain kind of evil spirit.”
Rachel rubbed her face. “Look, I have to be honest; there is something else I am worrying about…”
Andy shifted position. “What’s that? As if we don’t have enough to deal with…”
“The poltergeist/sprite thing… that I saw in the woods. I told you about it.”
she looked towards Dr Maxwell. “I have a terrible feeling it’s not good and—”
Andy cut in, “OK, in all likelihood, the hairy woodland-ghost thing is probably linked to the entity. As if the entity has split itself into two things: the ink-blot shit that came out of the wall and this sprite monkey thing that you see in the woods. I am confident that if we deal with the entity, then any offshoot manifestation will also perish.”
Rachel rubbed her eyes with exhaustion. “I am not so sure. Look, I told a bit of a lie to the police, to everyone in fact, about the first girl’s remains.”
“What lie?” asked Dr Maxwell.
“What do you mean lie?” said Andy, almost at the same time.
She looked at both of them, bit her lip, then continued. “Firstly, when I found the girl’s body, it wasn’t her spirit who showed me where it was. I said it was to the police, but that was only because I couldn’t comprehend what actually had shown me where the remains were.”
“Did the hairy poltergeist show you?” asked Andy, reaching for his spectacles again.
“Yes. It actually pointed to where the body was,” Rachel confirmed.
“So you never saw an apparition of the girl?” Andy enquired, popping his glasses on his nose, making him resemble a rather fat, bemused owl.
“Yes; yes, I did, but she was odd. She didn’t look normal, like normal ghosts look…” she explained.
“What do you mean?” asked Dr Maxwell.
Rachel answered, “She was pale – really pale, like she had stage make-up on – and her eyes were black, sort of dark rimmed. And there was something wrong about how she moved: it wasn’t normal; it was jerky. I mean, I know ghosts are people who are dead, but when they walk, they still move like the living do. This was way different; something was wrong, I could tell.”
“Did she tell you to build the shrine?” asked Dr Maxwell.
“No, no… That came to me kind of organically while I was in the area. She seemed unable to speak,” she concluded.
Dr Maxwell walked from the window; he looked gravely concerned.
“What? Tell me what you are thinking,” Rachel demanded.
“Did he say something?” asked Andy gesturing to where Dr Maxwell had been standing, but wasn’t anymore. “This isn’t going to work if whatever the blasted doctor says isn’t relayed to me.”
“Be quiet, Andy; Dr Maxwell is going to speak,” commanded Rachel.
“Oh, I will just shut up then,” Andy grumbled.
William stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Rachel. “The girl you said you saw; Kayleigh wasn’t it? You said she was pale, that her movements were… inhuman… to your eyes?”
“Yes… Why? What does that mean?” Rachel questioned.
“It means she might be in, for want of a more appropriate word, hell. Her soul may well be trapped in the underworld, where the dark ones live; her soul has been taken. But we should also ponder on whether the hairy ape thing, the entity in your abode and the so-called spirit of the girl are one and the same evil force, just appearing differently. But truly, before—”
A gentle tap came at the door.
“Andy? Andy, can you come down for a moment?” It was Mrs Braithwaite.
“We don’t want any tea or Battenberg cake, Mrs Braithwaite,” Andy called out in a slightly irritated tone, clearly trying to get out of answering the door.
“No… I, um, need you downstairs,” Mrs Braithwaite replied.
“For fuck’s sake,” Andy moaned, heaving his frame out of the captain’s chair. “Don’t you two be speaking without me, you hear?” he said before leaving the room.
They heard Andy’s footsteps stomp down the stairs, and the gentle lilt of Mrs Braithwaite’s voice as he descended.
Rachel looked at William. Glad to give her voice a rest, she spoke to him psychically: “Go on, what were you saying about hell?”
Dr Maxwell sat down beside her on the bed. He had visibly eased since Andy had left the conversation. “Mortals trapped in hell – well, that’s what you may call it – or the underworld, sometimes manage to manifest in your world, but they always appear strange, inhuman and affected… Imagine, if you will, that I took you to a room next to where someone is sitting, separated by a window of frosted glass. You want to communicate with your friend in the other room, who is sitting on the other side of the glass. You shout and call, and try to press your face to the window. She can see you, but your features are distorted; she can hear something, but not your voice clearly, and certainly not the words that you are saying.” He stood up and walked back to the window, glanced outside, then turned around to face her.
“Hell, the underworld, is like this,” Dr Maxwell continued. “The person’s soul – damned eternally – appears distorted in this world, but can still often be seen in some form. But, like I said, this is assuming this is this girl’s hell bound spirit, not a visual trick, devised by the entity.”
“I don’t accept the idea of a hell; it’s a Christian construct, and it doesn’t actually exist,” stated Rachel.
“Well, I might not believe in your modern day internet, but that does not stop it from existing. Hell is unconcerned whether you believe in it or not. In fact, the evil ones prefer that mortals do not believe in them, as it allows them to move amongst your kind with more ease. If you do not think that something exists, you are certainly not going to be looking out for it, or guarding against it.”
A frown appeared on Dr Maxell’s face as he continued: “My view is that this thought you had, to build the shrine, was placed in your mind by the entity, but I am still confused; this is more the work of a…” He coughed. “A demon than an entity…”
“Maybe the furry thing is a demon?” Rachel asked.
“No… no, it couldn’t be.” He crossed his arms, deep in thought. “Mortals, for the most part, cannot perceive demons. If they can see them in some form, and happen to glance upon them for any length of time, they become ill and perish, so it cannot be a demon.” He seemed certain.
“Look, I see dead people, walking around, day and night, and now I am seeing entities; why would I not be able to see a demon as well?”
He turned to her sharply, clearly irritated. “You just couldn’t! Probably less than one in a million are capable of seeing them, and if you could, and it chose to manifest before your eyes, you would sicken and die, because your physical body could not withstand such a diabolical onslaught. A demon has the power to steal the mind of its victim, in order to use the living body as a puppet to act out its will. No, this is merely an entity; albeit an evil one that has manifested as the mist in your flat and as the furry beast you saw in the woods. Entities can still be dangerous and do hover on the peripheries of hell.”
“Maybe I am the less than one in a million?” she ventured.
“It has used you; don’t you see? It relished the death of the first girl, so it placed an idea into your mind to build a shrine that would be visited by other youngsters, which it can also prey on. Like I said, entities can also be evil in nature. Basically, you have been used.”
“That’s crap; sorry, but it is. How could a hairy entity kill someone, especially if it isn’t actually a demon? And, how would you know the difference between an entity and a demon in the first place? They don’t exactly wear name badges do they?”
“It has used someone else to do the deed for them; a mortal, someone vulnerable and already nursing a grudge.”
“That sounds more demonic to me…” she said slowly.
Raised voices were heard downstairs, Andy’s and a woman’s, clearly arguing.
“Woman, I have told you a hundred times! It is not a demon! It cannot be!” exclaimed Dr Maxwell. “Look… look… tell me what happened when Icarus flew too close to the sun?”
Groan, another analogy. “What has Greek mythology got to do with this?”
&
nbsp; “Tell me what happened!” he demanded.
Rachel sighed in resignation. “The wax that held his wings together melted, then he fell out of the sky, and into the sea, and drowned.”
“Precisely! If you had gazed upon a demon, your fate would have been like that of Icarus, you would have perished, overcome by the sheer force of evil before you. Only very rare people, such as religious scholars or learned monks can gaze upon a demon and remain untouched, with their mind unturned, and their body unaffected. Why can you not just believe me?”
“Fine; you are the expert. So, basically, you are saying that this entity has used me to help it succeed in its evil plan to attack humankind, to be part of a plot to assist it in luring other young girls into hell?”
“Yes, that is essentially what I am saying. Your own power has been used against you.”
Rachel immediately jumped to her feet. “Screw you! No really. Screw you to hell!” She yelled out loud. “Yeah, great; because of me, this second girl is dead, and probably more are going to go to the shrine, get murdered and burn in hell. Brilliant…” Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t ask for this. Do I look that stupid? I didn’t ask to see ghosts and devils everywhere. I hope the Jews come back and kill me, and then all this can be over!”
A woman’s loud scream was heard downstairs, then Andy shouting again. They both paused at the sound.
“I have to get some air,” muttered Rachel as she rushed out of the door.
William heard her footsteps as she ran down the stairs. He was sorry he had upset her, but, bizarre though his idea was, he was so very sure that he was right.
*
“Don’t you two be speaking without me, you hear?” said Andy to Rachel and Dr Maxwell. Irritated at the interruption, he left the room, closed the door behind him, and then stared at Mrs Braithwaite. She was standing on the landing, rubbing her hands together gently; she always did that when she was nervous.
“What is it? You know you shouldn’t really disturb me when I am in the middle of a business conflab,” moaned Andy, worried that he was probably going to miss something interesting between Rachel and Dr Maxwell. He suspected some kind of romance thing was going on between them, but how one could do anything remotely romantic with a ghost was beyond him.
Seeing Things Page 24