Hiding From the Light

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘No! ’

  A scream rang out through the church, echoing under the high beams of the chancel.

  The three men reeled back, looking round. Mike recovered first. ‘Christ be with us, Christ within us. In the name of Christ, Sarah Paxman, begone. I command you, leave this place – ’

  ‘No.’ The voice was deeper now. Still recognisably female, and somehow all around them in the silence. ‘Emma is mine!’

  ‘Lord, grant rest to the soul of your servant, Sarah. Take her and give her peace. Save Emma from her. Hold her in the light.’ Mike’s voice was gaining strength.

  There was a quiet laugh. ‘Emma is mine!’ The words resonated round the church. ‘By her own choice.’

  ‘Emma belongs to God!’ Mike stood up. He raised his hands. ‘In the name of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, leave her alone!’

  109

  ‘I can’t reach him. He is fighting me.’

  Emma subsided to the floor, exhausted. The voice was still not her own. She ran her fingers over her face wearily and looked up. Then she frowned. ‘Lyn?’ She stared round, confused.

  ‘It’s OK, Emma.’ Lyndsey took her hand and dragged her to her feet again. ‘We have to go outside. To the churchyard. We can focus the power there better, over the grave. Use all that dark energy from the mist. You can finish him there.’

  Emma stared at her, disorientated. ‘I don’t want to go out. This is not right, Lyn. What have you made me do?’ She shook her head.

  Lyndsey smiled. ‘I did nothing. It was Sarah. She has grown wonderfully strong. She is using both of us. The two women of her blood.’ She laughed in delight. ‘Come on, you have to get dressed.’ She pulled Emma to her feet and reached for her jeans and sweater, scolding and bullying until she was ready. Then she pushed her towards the door.

  Emma was too tired, too dazed to argue. Somehow she found herself following Lyndsey down into the hall. Her arms were being forced into her jacket and her feet into her boots. ‘Hurry!’ Lyndsey’s face was animated, her eyes glittering with suppressed excitement. She reached for her bag which had been lying on the side-table. The little ebony-handled knife was still there on the coffee table, where the doctor had dropped it. Picking it up, she carefully tucked it in with the rest of her things. ‘I have my tools here. We will perform a ritual over the grave. It will reach him. The final push. We are so nearly there, Em!’

  ‘Where’s Mike now?’ Emma was staring round. Her eyes were unfocused. She felt drunk. ‘He came back. He was here.’

  ‘No, my dear. You went to see him. Here.’ Lyndsey tapped her own forehead. ‘He’s inside your head. But it wasn’t him, it was Hopkins, and it wasn’t you, was it. You were Sarah.’

  ‘Christ –’ Emma was groping for the words. ‘Christ be with me – ’ She broke off with a small cry as Lyndsey turned round and hit her, hard, across the mouth.

  ‘Shut up!’ She was furious. ‘Don’t say another word. You belong to the goddess now. Come on!’ She grabbed Emma by the wrist and pulled open the door.

  Rain was still pouring down, slanting icily from the north. Lyndsey cursed silently. She had forgotten to bring the torch. Never mind. She had visited the churchyard so often now that she could have found her way over the wall blindfold. Somehow she dragged Emma with her, aware that every second they wasted Emma, the real Emma, was growing stronger and less confused.

  ‘Go on.’ She half pushed her, half dragged her over the wall and once they were safely over, caught her hand again, heading between the sodden thistles and brambles. She was breathing hard.

  ‘No. I’m tired.’ Emma was reeling. ‘Lyn, this is all crazy. What are we doing here? For God’s sake. I’m hallucinating.’

  Lyndsey gave a grim smile. She was pulling her ritual tools out of the bag. ‘Stand here while I cast the circle.’ She manhandled Emma into the partial shelter of a tree. ‘That’s it. Now, don’t move.’

  ‘I can feel Sarah!’ Emma was shaking her head. ‘I wish she’d leave me alone.’

  Lyndsey smiled again. ‘She will. One more time. That’s all it will take. She needs you, Emma. One more time and we will be rid of Hopkins forever. The town will be safe. The whole area will breathe more easily. His ghost and his evil memory will have gone for good. Only you can make it happen. You want to do that, don’t you?’ She stared hard into Emma’s face. In the dark they could barely see one another, but Emma could feel the power of the other woman’s personality reaching out towards her.

  ‘I am not going to do it, Lyn.’ Her voice was stronger now. ‘You can’t force me.’ She looked up at the sky. To the east the heavy cloud was a strange livid red, reflecting the lights of Felixstowe and Harwich. Beyond it was the dark.

  ‘I won’t need to force you, Emma.’ Lyndsey turned away. ‘She just needs to borrow your body. She is already part of you, Emma. Only this once. That’s all it will take.’ Quickly she was arranging the small glass candle-holders on the ground. In the lee of her jacket, with her back to the wind, she managed to strike a match but it was no use. She couldn’t light the candles. In a second she had given up. What did it matter? She glanced at Emma quickly and swore, the words lost in the wind. Emma was moving off towards the wall, back to the road, stumbling in the darkness. ‘No!’ Lyndsey grabbed her athame, the black-handled knife, out of the bag. Cast the circle, that’s all that was needed. Raise the cone of magic power. The strong, incredible magic power. Then bring Emma back and force her into the centre where she would be trapped. Then, at last, Sarah would fully be able to enter her soul and finish the job she had returned to earth to perform.

  110

  Bill woke up suddenly and lay quite still, listening to the wind. The rain was lashing at the window of his cottage but that wasn’t what had awakened him. He sat up slowly, every sense attuned. There was trouble out there in the night.

  Slowly, groaning with the effort, he climbed out of bed and painfully he began to dress. Dragging on his coat and finally his muffler he made his way to the front door and pulled it open. A blast of cold wind rocked him back on his feet, but he gritted his teeth and forced his way out, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Best go to the church. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never set foot in it before – no need. Not his place. Not his religion – even though he loved the churchyard – but tonight he knew he would make an exception.

  He only hoped the rector was there.

  111

  Alex crept up the stairs and peered round the door of Jamie’s bedroom. He was asleep, thumb in mouth. Paula was sprawled in a chair beside him; her head had fallen back and her mouth was slightly open. He watched her for a moment with a mixture of affection and irritation, then he turned towards Sophie’s room. The little girl was fast asleep as well, a teddy firmly cradled in her arms. He smiled and tiptoed out, closing the door behind him.

  Even in the pouring rain it would take only ten minutes to reach Emma’s house. Late though it was, he couldn’t rest until he had checked that she was all right.

  Grabbing his car keys off the kitchen counter he let himself out into the rain, and with a last quick glance up at his son’s bedroom where the pale glow of the night-light barely lit up the small red and blue fire engines on his curtains, he climbed into the Volvo and backed out of the drive.

  Turning the car in next to Emma’s, the headlights swept across Lyndsey’s bicycle which was still lying against the hedge. Alex frowned. He squinted up at the house. Lights were on upstairs and down; to his surprise the front door was standing ajar, a thin wedge of light pouring out onto the path. Clutching his collar up around his chin he pushed the door open, knocking as he did so. ‘Emma?’

  There was no one downstairs.

  He stood at the foot of the narrow staircase, looking up. ‘Emma? Are you up there?’ It was strange how one could tell when a house was empty just by the feel of the place without having to check each room. But he ran upstairs in case, glancing into each bedroom, noticing that the bathroom beyond its open door was in
darkness.

  So, where were they? Running down the stairs again he went back into the kitchen and pulled open the back door. The terrace was deserted, silent but for the slapping of the rain onto the old flags. He shut the door and walked back to the front of the house, puzzled. Emma would never have gone out this late, leaving the front door open. Unless, he frowned thoughtfully, Lyndsey was here somewhere too. Pulling the front door fully open, he stood looking down the path towards the road. The churchyard. Would they be there?

  ‘Christ, I hope not,’ he murmured fervently as he pulled up his collar again with a shiver. Stepping out onto the path, he made his way towards the gate and headed across the lane.

  Squinting into the wind, he wondered if he could make out a movement in the dark. He wasn’t sure. For a moment he hesitated, then he heard a shout – almost a scream – from beneath the trees ahead of him.

  ‘Shit!’ He began to scramble over the wall, feeling the wet mortar crumble under his shoes. His trouser leg caught on a broken brick and he heard it tear. He slipped, almost tumbled and managed to keep his balance as he regained his feet on the far side.

  ‘Emma!’ He managed a slow heavy lope over the wet uneven ground. ‘Emma? Lyn? What’s going on?’ He stumbled on a tussock of knotted grasses and hurried on, like Lyndsey before him cursing the fact that he had no torch.

  He could see them now. Two faint silhouettes in the dark; they appeared to be struggling.

  ‘Emma? Are you OK?’ Alex was panting heavily now. ‘Lyn? What are you doing? Leave her alone.’

  He had reached them now. He grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her to face him. ‘Emma? What’s going on? Are you all right? Look, this is crazy. It’s pouring! For God’s sake come inside.’

  ‘Leave her, Alex.’ Lyndsey gave him a push. ‘Go away. This is none of your business. Sarah, can you hear me?’ She had turned back to Emma. ‘Sarah, this man is interfering!’

  ‘Too right I’m interfering.’ Alex still had hold of Emma’s arm. ‘You really are bats, Lyn. I’m beginning to think that Paula is right. You genuinely could have hurt Jamie! Leave it. Stop doing this. You’ve done enough damage.’

  ‘Jamie?’ Lyndsey dropped her hold on Emma and turned on him. ‘What are you talking about? How dare you come here and interfere. How dare you?’ Her eyes were like quicksilver in the darkness. ‘You are standing on sacred ground, within the circle. That is sacrilege.’

  ‘Balls!’ Alex took a step towards her. ‘If you don’t stop this, I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘The police?’ Suddenly she was laughing. ‘You stupid man! You have no idea, have you. No idea at all.’

  ‘Leave him, Lyn.’ Emma was suddenly alert. It was as if she had seen Alex for the first time. ‘Leave him alone. Let him go. He means nothing to us.’

  ‘No.’ Lyndsey shook her head. ‘The goddess must have sent him to us for a reason, Sarah, so we will use him. He is just what we need!’ Her eyes were glittering. Suddenly her expression had grown dangerous.

  Emma smiled enigmatically. ‘What is this nonsense about a goddess, Lyndsey? We do not worship a goddess,’ she said firmly. ‘We worship Satan himself.’ She laughed. It was a strange shrill laugh that held no humour.

  Lyndsey shook her head. She set her jaw. ‘No. The goddess is here with us. She is here. Now! Look! Listen! Obey!’

  Turning her back on Alex, she raised her athame into the air, clutching the handle with both hands. ‘Blessed goddess, I do this in your name.’ She was shouting towards the sky, exultant.

  ‘My God, she’s gone mad! Grow up, Lyndsey!’ Alex’s angry shout was blown away on the wind. He caught at Emma’s arm.

  She struggled, trying to push him away as Lyndsey turned to face them again. Her face a mask of rage, Lyndsey stared at Alex for a moment, then calmly and without a trace of emotion on her face she brought the knife down with every ounce of strength she possessed into his chest.

  For a moment nothing happened. He stood staring at her in astonishment, then releasing Emma’s arm, he clutched wildly at the ebony handle sticking out of the front of his jacket. Slowly he fell to his knees as a dark patch of blood appeared on the green waxed cotton.

  ‘Yes!’ Lyndsey’s hiss of triumph was almost drowned by the roar of the rain on the leaves around them. ‘Can you feel it, Sarah? Fresh blood. The energy is incredible! Incredible!’ She raised her hands above her head, fingers outstretched, and lifted her face to the storm. ‘Now we can do it. We can reach Hopkins. Now the world is ours!’

  Emma stood quite still, paralysed with shock.

  As Alex slumped forward onto the ground, the last vestiges of control slipped away and Sarah elbowed her way into Emma’s mind.

  112

  ‘Hopkins has taken refuge with the parson!’

  Sarah turned to Lyndsey and beckoned. ‘We have to go there. Now.’ She did not even glance at Alex, lying on the ground. Heading towards the wall she walked purposefully forward over the wet grass.

  Lyndsey followed, scrambling over the wall after her. In the lane she caught her arm. ‘Wait. Where are you going?’

  ‘To the parsonage.’ Sarah was already striding down the lane. In her mind’s eye it was muddy, rutted with cart tracks, already dragging wet at the hem of her gown.

  ‘No. No, we can drive.’ Lyndsey, even in her madness was still a child of the twenty-first century. ‘Wait, I know where your car keys are. It will take us hours to walk to Manningtree in this rain. Wait here.’

  Running up the path to the cottage, she pushed open the door and hunted desperately on the hall table for Emma’s keys. They were there, next to her purse. Grabbing them, Lyndsey turned and ran out again, leaving the door wide open, a broad track of light shining down the brick path and across the wet lawn.

  She pushed Emma into the passenger’s seat and let herself into the driver’s side. With shaking hands she managed to insert the keys into the ignition. She was high on adrenaline, barely able to engage the gears, shooting first forward into the hedge, then, cursing, backwards into the road.

  Swinging the car round she somehow found the lights and headed down the lane.

  The rectory was deserted. Although there were lights on everywhere there was no car and the door was locked. Lyndsey did not even bother to knock. ‘Where is he?’ She turned to Emma, who had climbed out of the MG and was standing behind her in the rain.

  ‘He has fled to the church.’ Emma was not aware that she had spoken. The alien presence in her head had taken her over completely. ‘We’ll find him there with his lackeys.’ She turned and walked towards the gate.

  Lyndsey followed, leaving the car engine still running, lights on, illuminating the pouring rain.

  They pushed open the gate into the churchyard and paused, looking at the church. Faint light glowed behind the stained-glass windows and Emma nodded. She was smiling. ‘They will have locked themselves in,’ she commented matter-of-factly.

  Lyndsey nodded in agreement. She grinned. ‘And I know where Bill Standing hid the key to the north door. I saw him do it.’ She chuckled. ‘The witches’ door! Follow me.’

  The old key was under a flower pot next to the spot where an old lead down-pipe disappeared into a gully beside the church wall. The pot was wreathed with weeds and covered in lichen. It had not been moved for a very long time. Grasping the key triumphantly, Lyndsey led the way, groping along the wall of the church in the black shadow of the yews. ‘Most churches sealed their north doors,’ she murmured over her shoulder. ‘But not this place. This church expects witches!’

  They came to the door, which was very small, gothic, the pale ancient oak soaked black by the rain, the base overgrown with weeds. If Bill Standing had ever used this as a way into the church, it hadn’t been for a very long time.

  Cautiously Lyndsey fitted the key into the lock. It didn’t move. Gripping the handle with both hands she gritted her teeth, forcing it round, and smiled with satisfaction as she heard the lock grate open.

  ‘Read
y, Sarah?’ She glanced over her shoulder.

  Emma’s eyes were blank. She was staring into space. ‘Open the door and let me in. I shall deal with him.’ Her voice was quite unlike her own.

  Lyndsey nodded. Gripping the twisted iron ring which lifted the latch, she turned it and pushed the door as hard as she could. It opened a foot and then stopped, caught by the heavy woven curtain which was drawn across it on the inside. Lyndsey cursed. Reaching in she hooked the curtain aside, and swept it back with a rattle of wooden rings. A cloud of dust descended on them as Emma pushed past her and walked into the church.

  Mike was standing on the altar step, flanked by Mark and Colin. They had all heard the door open.

  ‘Emma?’ Mike turned, screwing up his eyes to see into the dark body of the church, past the spotlights focused down from the high roof beams onto the altar.

  ‘Emma has gone.’ The voice which floated up the chancel towards them was alien to Mark and Colin. Mike had heard it before. In his nightmares. He reached for his cross.

  ‘This is the house of God!’ he called. ‘Emma, can you hear me?’

  ‘Of course she can’t hear you.’ Lyndsey was following Emma up the chancel steps. ‘She’s gone. Sarah was too strong for her. And she’s too strong for you. Wherever Hopkins is hiding she’ll find him, even if she has to cut out your heart!’

  She and Emma were standing at the top of the chancel steps now. Emma was smiling. ‘I have waited a long time to catch up with you, Matthew,’ she said quietly. Her voice was low and husky.

  Mark stepped in front of Mike. ‘Matthew is not here, Emma.’

  ‘It’s OK, Mark. I can deal with this.’ Mike gently pushed him aside. ‘Go and fetch help. I need back up from another priest. Ring the bishop’s office. The number is on my blotter. Someone must be there by now. And call Dr Good. Have you got a mobile? Hurry.’ His eyes hadn’t left Emma’s face. ‘I want you to fight this, Emma. I’m sure you can hear me. Matthew isn’t here. Use your psychic eyes. Look. He has gone for good. God has punished him, Emma. Sarah doesn’t need to.’ He took a step towards her.