by Yirak, Laura
“And I think Father Mac Namara is possessed by a ghost called Ian.”
The last name made her speechless.
“Now as you give me that look, I definitely feel as though I’ve lost it.” Patrick noticed that Alesta looked a little paler and she quickly left the kitchen.
“Alesta??????” Patrick called after her.
He found her sitting in front of the fire looking up at the picture of William above the mantle.
“And why does everyone keep looking at him? He’s dead, just a shadow of the past, a painting.” Patrick watched her.
“Oh Patrick, Judy almost drowned and you never called me?” Alesta put her hands over her face, at this point she didn’t know what to say or what she could say, “Can you just start at the beginning here. Then maybe I can help, though you need to call me if something like this is going on, this is MY Manor, MY House, MY responsibility. Some things need my immediate attention, that’s what that emergency line is for. What if Judy had died? I might be going to prison or who knows what.”
All the guilt set in as Patrick sat and listened to her continue, “Now tell me everything and don’t leave anything out! I know you.”
And he did, she didn’t even interrupt him, but just shifted here and there at different parts of the story. The only part he did leave out was the experience he’d been having in the secret room below the kitchen. He thought it best to leave that whole thing alone for he wanted his own answers. She did know him, he thought.
Alesta sat again, knowing all well that Patrick was telling the truth, but sensed he held something back, “I think you’re right, I’m glad Judy is safe and all this in her first week here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to leave.”
“Quite the opposite,” Patrick said, “The movers came earlier today with the rest of her things, I helped her with most of it up stairs and the rest I put into storage, then she left to help her daughter move or something. She didn’t want you to know about it all, was embarrassed or something, figured you’d think she was away with it.”
“No I believe you both, now just what to do about the Father? He’s a nice man caught up in things not of this world and that have nothing to do with him.”
“So you think it’s a ghost too?” Patrick asked.
“I’ve heard of these things before.” Alesta tried not to give too much away about the real state of Ian.
The fact was that when a vampire took life and soul, it left a shadow behind, an empty shell. It wasn’t a ghost as ghosts were souls left behind to accomplish whatever it was they had left undone or were simply in denial about being dead in the first place. Some ghosts just did the same things they did in their previous life over and over again and some liked to just torment the living, making them feel alive again in the process.
It wasn’t until Alesta had become the undead herself that this new world had showed itself. The living truly had no clue as to all that existed out there. It was just easier for her to see. The rest just held on to their individual specific religious beliefs and molded their perceptions to fit these set frameworks.
Vampires didn’t exactly want to reveal this hidden world either because in doing so it would compromise the secrecy that they had worked so hard to achieve. The living man was more open to the ideas of vampires, witches and the likes in the dark ages and actually foiled a few plots on several continents, but as the age of enlightenments, reason and industrial ages came around man forgot such dark fancies and fears. These fears were replaced with technological fears. In the age of computers today, one only saw vampires in film and story books. Such things could never exist in such complicated and modern days. The smarter man had become, the more closed minded they were as well. All this served vampires perfectly.
Ian was a shadow vampire, with a huge void that would always leave him hungry, never satisfied, he’d feed off the living to help fuel that void. In essence because his soul had been taken by a vampire, he would act like one, just not taking blood, but life’s basic energy. Most of these shadow vampires would leave to go places where Alesta would never venture, places of evil, places of dark. Ian had been hanging around waiting to pounce. She’d assumed years ago that he had left, but now she knew he was here for his revenge and probably wouldn’t stop till he’d destroyed all that was hers.
“I will take care of it.” Alesta looked at Patrick who had been watching her thinking away.
“What are you going to do?” Patrick asked feeling a little better about all of it, telling all had lifted a burden that he hadn’t fully recognized was there.
“Start with Father Mac Namara.”
“I’ll come too,” Patrick said.
“I don’t know about that,” Alesta said.
“You need my help,” Patrick insisted.
“Well it’s nothing we can deal with tonight, the Manor is almost full for the whole weekend, and then I’m back to work Monday. Judy is on tomorrow right?” Alesta asked.
“Yes. She’s with Cara now and then she said she may or may not be back tonight depending on how much help Cara needs.”
“Who’s Cara?”
“Her daughter, I guess she quit her job and is moving to Alexandria.” Patrick got up and added another log to the quiet fire.
“I see. Send her an invite to the ball.”
“Cara?”
“Yes. I’m sure Judy would like that. You two will be my guests also that night; I want you to enjoy yourselves. We’ve hired enough staff for the event.”
“But I don’t have a tux.”
“I’ll have my seamstress come over during the week, it’ll be fun.” Alesta was pleased by the sudden idea and had been so distracted with everything else; the ball just wasn’t in the fore front.
The fire crackled and popped as more air flushed its way through the almost dead embers. Patrick just prodded it till everything looked in place and then stood up and leaned against the mantle. He caught Alesta watching him as she quickly moved her eyes away from him to the fire. He smiled at her and then she looked back up again to see it.
All the things Patrick wanted to do at that moment were pushed back as a ding sounded from the Great Hall.
“Let me,” Patrick said.
“No, no, you’re technically supposed to be in bed by now. I’ll go, just stay and mind the fire. It looks like it might decide to jump into the living room.”
The church was quiet now as the last one left after saying their confession prayers. Father Mac Namara came out from the wooden confessional box and looked around. He felt trapped there, like he needed to break free from the stuffiness of St. Michaels.
Listening to all those confessions had even seemed trivial. Who really cared anyways about the fifty pence piece that little Joseph had taken from his mother’s purse. He had even found it amusing when the fourteen year old had explained how he’d called his mother a cow after he’d seen her coming up the hill with the neighbor fellow. The child had simply perceived that his mother had been flirting with someone other than his father. Maybe he was right.
“Honor thy mother and father,” he exclaimed. The words echoed through the church. “What a load of…..”
“Excuse me, Father Mac Namara?”
He turned to see one of the young nuns standing behind him. Her hair was tucked under her garbs white against black. It made her sharp blue eyes stand out that much more. The father felt a little tickled looking at her there.
“Yes Sister,” he said in a teasing tone with the expression to go with it.
She stuttered, “Uh… you…..uh asked me to assist you with some paperwork.”
“I did?” He smiled at her again and she looked away, “Yes, that’s right, I think I recall. Follow me Sister to my office. This was yesterday?”
“Yes.” The young nun did and as she followed behind him, she swore he walked like someone else, with confidence and arrogance, not the gentle walk he usually had.
After switching on the lights Father Mac Namara stood to t
he side and watched the nun come in after him. Her garbs hid every little ounce of femininity. It was a shame he thought as he tried to get a better look at the back of her, a penguin’s behind.
“I take it I explained it all yesterday?” the Father asked.
“Yes. Something to do with being behind after Judy leaving.”
“Judy?” The Father saw a flash of Judy sitting on a bed telling him a story of some kind, but it was just a fuzzy image, nothing that gave him any inclinations.
The focus moved to the beautiful little creature sitting before him waiting for direction.
“So sorry. I’ve seen many a face here, your name is? It’s on the tip of my tongue?” he intently focused on her innocent little face.
“Sister Ellen,” she replied.
“Ellen, have you ever been with a man?” he pried.
“Father!”
“Don’t be shy, you can tell me anything.”
“Father, I don’t know what to say… how?”
“You have haven’t you? It’s written all over your face.”
“Father, I must leave…I…..I……………..”
“You what?”
“How can you say such things? This is wrong.”
“Wrong? According to who?”
“Just let me leave.”
Father Mac Namara stood in front of the door, his eyes darkened just a little.
“Please Father. Let me go.”
“Why are you calling me Father? My name is Ian.”
The nun stepped back slowly with a look of confusion as the Father started coughing and hunched over. She wanted to put her arm out to help him somehow but all instincts told her to stay away. He flung himself back against the wall knocking over a standing lamp. It crashed to the floor, glass scattering all around. It looked as if he was fighting with himself.
“Go just go!” Father Mac Namara screeched.
She fumbled on the door handle several times, till it finally opened, her little footsteps echoed up the hallway as the priest just lay on the floor of his office.
Everything just felt stuffy, stale, rotten, and decrepit. It was like being in a crowd of sweaty people, but there were no people. Father Mac Namara got up off the floor and made his way back out into the chapel. The rows lay ahead of him, one after the other. He saw an occasional face pop out from the darkness, but vanish just as quickly. The room was empty, just him and the religious statues witnessing. He staggered in front of the large cross at the pulpit and looked up at Jesus, with his crown of thorns upon his brow.
Father Mac Namara attempted to make the sign of the cross, but couldn’t, he collapsed in effort onto the hard cold floor, “God help me…..please.”
He convulsed there for what seemed like an eternity and stood up violently storming down the center aisle. He ripped off his white collar, the symbol of holiness and purity and threw it onto the floor behind him. It was freedom he needed, freedom of self. All he wanted in that moment was to live.
Allister had waited behind the rest of them after the meal with a sparkle in his eye, “You have been a most sincere hostess! I want to thank you for the wonderful meal.” Allister took Alesta’s hand and bend over to kiss it.
It was a kiss that lingered just a little too long, but Alesta already knew that Allister was hers to command as she wished, the results of feasting on him more than a couple of times.
“You’re welcome,” Alesta said as he let go.
“Want to join me for a night cap?” Allister asked.
“So kind of you to ask, but I must decline.” She kept the tone proper and professional.
“Well if you change your mind, you know where I am.” Alesta just smiled and watched him leave; she was feeling a bit hungry.
There were plenty of others to choose from that night and figured she’d browse later.
The clean up was big and she carried the plates in and sat them by the sink. Patrick hearing the clanging carried some glasses in after her.
“Everything is going smoothly. I heard Allister asking you up.”
“Allister! It’s like he lives here now. How long is he booked for?” Alesta asked.
“His case is taking longer than expected. He reserved the room for another few weeks. It’s good, but usually we don’t have people stay that long.”
“Yes, odd isn’t it, I mean rates in the city are a lot cheaper than here, of course it’s good for business.”
“He’s a funny old bloke.” Patrick smiled thinking about his random conversations he’d had earlier in the day with him. “Makes me laugh. He’s full of stories.”
“Aye, did you hear him in the dinning hall earlier, I don’t think the ladies know quite how to take him.” Alesta rolled up her sleeves to do some dishes.
“Let me, I can do that.” Patrick came up next to her and bumped her a little.
“I’m fine; you think I don’t know how to wash dishes?”
Patrick laughed, “Nope!”
“You forget I ran this place alone before you arrived.” Alesta poured some dish soap under the running water and it foamed up.
She then picked up a spot of foam and wiped it on Patrick’s nose.
“Awe, is that how it is then? I’d get you now but not in a dress like that. It’d be an awful shame to ruin it.”
The sound of the water filled in as white noise as Patrick took his hand and touched Alesta’s chin. She looked up at him, their eyes locking on each other. He felt his stomach tighten and leaned slowly in to kiss her.
Her lips were cool and supple like she’d just been out in the cool night. They stood together locked and she embraced him as he pulled her closer. She felt so delicate, but strong at the same time. Her hands were hot and wet and she soaked his shirt as she pressed them against his firm warm torso. Foam dripped down onto Patrick’s kilt, down his bare leg and onto the floor.
The kiss lasted a long minute and Alesta pulled away as she sensed the Count near. She scanned the room.
“Is something wrong?” Patrick asked.
She could feel Nicholas but couldn’t see him.
“I…..I…..I’m sorry Patrick.” She pulled away from him and ran out the back kitchen door.
The nun came out from the confessional booth where she had been hiding after she heard the doors to St. Michaels’s slam behind Father Mac Namara. The scene before had been quite horrid to watch. She followed the Father’s path down the center aisle and picked up his white collar and held it against her chest. As to what to do she didn’t know, a quick glance back at the altar and a glance up at the Mother Mary, she decided to follow after him.
All she could see was a dark figure walking quickly towards town, the Father was already half way across the bridge, or so she thought it was him. Ellen picked up her pace.
The Corner Pub as it was so named for its obvious location was the first establishment to serve spirits in Alexandria, and it looked that old with small windows, and the glow of ages past from the wrinkled panes. Father Mac Namara pushed the heavy door open to the smell of cigarettes and merry making. The place was packed full of regulars who for most part never noticed the usual addition walk through the door, but this time was different. It was a once in a lifetime moment and one that would be retold for years to come.
The place became slightly quieter as Father Mac Namara made his way to the bar. He looked around as he noticed all eyes on him.
“What? Can’t a man enjoy a pint?” he said it with humor which seemed to lighten the audience up just a little and they went back to their drunken conversations, while eavesdropping at the same time.
It was so difficult not to watch.
“Right then, one pint!” the Father said to the owner who had been serving his devoted customers for years.
The owner who was white haired and looked like he’d been a captain on some pirate ship delivered him one pint with a perfect froth at the top and Father Mac Namara downed the thing like he’d been walking through a dry hot desert.
“Nae bad! Another please!” he slammed the glass down. “Aye such a fine night it is!”
The missing white collar had been noticed by all and they watched as the Father joined them in his binge. He was beginning to wobble just a little after two more and looked up dizzily as Ellen entered the pub.
Considering it was her first time in such a place she looked around and felt that she hadn’t missed much. But everyone had a rather pleased look on their faces as they turned their focus to her. She however ignored the looks and focused her attention to Father Mac Namara who now sat up on the bar stool with a big friendly grin on his face.
“Sister Ellen! You made it! I knew you’d come!” He reached out his hand to her noticing a few wisps of bright blonde hair that had come undone from her head dress, “Come over here, my darling wee thing.”
A few mouths dropped open.
She took his hand and said, “Father, we must get back. Come on then.”
He resisted.
“Father!”
As quickly as you could blink the Father put his arms around Ellen and tossed her back and almost planted a firm kiss on her lips. He just held her there in cruel temptation. She squirmed underneath him, though some of the women watched with a little envy as the Father was the best looking Priest the town had ever seen.
“Right, that’s enough aye that!” the owner made his way out from behind the counter, “Ootta here, the two of yea’s. They’ll be none a that here!”
The owner had seen many diverse and untimely situations over the years but nothing that could even begin to compare.
“Father! COME ON!!!!!” Ellen said red in face.
She wriggled her way from his grips, and took his hand, “It’s time to go.”
“How much for the pints?” Father Mac Namara asked with a look of utter entertainment on his face.
“Consider it a donation to the church Father…..Noo on yis get!” The owner pointed towards the exit and the little nun lead the Father back out into the world. The night was still young.
The Loch had no reply for Alesta as she sat by its side looking out, although even if she wanted the answer she might not have taken its advice anyways.