What was wrong with her?
As she got closer to Brent, the feeling of oppression left her, and she felt as if they were alone again.
"This place is amazing, don’t you think?" Brent asked.
Emma nodded but amazing was not the thought she was having.
"Take your time," he said. "Just take one step at a time and keep close to me."
Emma could do that. The last place she wanted to be was down here, but if she was going to be, then she would definitely stay close to Brent.
They reached the bottom, and he shone the torch around the room. It looked like it extended the whole length of the house and yet the torch beam barely pierced the darkness. Cobwebs clung to their faces, and Emma felt her arms fly to her face in panic.
Brent moved away from her going to the closest wall on the left. Gradually, he started to walk around the room. It smelt of damp, it was cold, but nowhere nearly as cold as the draft they had felt earlier. The floor was made of dust, cobwebs were everywhere, and yet it just seemed like an empty room. Still, Emma wanted out of there. If she stayed in this house, she wanted it filled with concrete and maybe blessed by a priest.
"There’s something over here," Brent said.
Emma followed him as quickly as she could across the dusty floor. There in the corner, she saw her worst nightmare. There were heavy iron shackles on the walls, the brickwork appeared to be stained, and all she could think of was that it was the blood of her ancestors. A metal cage stood empty next to the wall. This was it, this was the place she had read about. It was a place of torture and death, and it was why the house was haunted.
Haunted, had she really thought that?
Only now that she had, it made sense. Ursula Kemp, her ancestor, had been murdered here, so had her daughter. That was the worst thing that could happen to a parent. To know that your child was killed unlawfully. It made sense that it would be enough to turn someone into an evil spirit. Did she believe in this now? In spirits? It explained everything. The laughing child was Ursula’s daughter. Laughing one moment and screaming the next. And yet Brent had proven that it was just a branch.
All of a sudden Brent let out a burst of laughter.
Emma looked at him and tried to work out why.
"Don't you understand?" he said. "It's a dungeon."
"Why is that funny? I think my family were tortured down here and killed," she said.
Brent laughed again and reached out a hand to take hers. "I'm a detective, remember. I've seen a few things in my life, and this room was not meant for torture… well, not the kind that kills people anyway. It's a dungeon, a play dungeon, a sexual dungeon."
Emma felt heat hit her cheeks, could she be so naïve? Was he right, was this a place of pleasure or was it the place of torture and death.
Somehow she thought the latter, but maybe that was just her nerves and stress once more. "You might be right, but this place really creeps me out. Can we get out of here?"
Brent nodded and led her back to the stairs.
Chapter 12
Brent stayed for another hour. They talked and even laughed a little. Before he left, he found some screws and wood and fastened up the door to the dungeon. It made her feel slightly better, but only slightly. Now she knew it was there and despite everything they had said she felt it was a place of evil.
Brent had suggested she go and stay in a hotel or that he would stay with her. For some reason, she had said no. Yet now he was gone, she wished with all her heart that she had gone with him or let him stay.
Fatigue weighed heavily on her, she was so tired she did not think she could make the drive back into Castleton. So, she went up to the bedroom, only to find the cat lying on her bed. Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. She wanted to throw it off, to chase it from the room, but after all, it was only a cat. So, instead she climbed into the bed in her clothes and tried not to let it touch her.
Emma had expected it to take ages to fall asleep, and yet her head had barely touched the pillow before she was gone. It was some hours later when she felt a presence in the room. The sound of voices drifted into her subconscious, and she felt something touching her ear.
"You have to stop this," the voice hissed.
Emma rolled in her sleep but did not wake. As her legs moved, she touched the cat. It was just a solid lump, there was no give, no muscle, no sinew, and no life. Emma was jerked instantly awake.
Her heart pounded as she lay in the bed trying to work out what had awoken her. Then she heard it again, barely audible whispers, they were so close the person had to be on the bed with her. Emma let out a scream and scooted back up the bed. She had left the hall light on, and she could see shapes, but there was nothing solid. It was as if a dark mist formed and then separated and then formed again. It was in the shape of two people that became one. Were they fighting? Hugging? Blinking her eyes, she tried to focus, and she felt the touch of breath against her ear.
This was too much, she could not cope.
Leaping from the bed, she grabbed the radio and ran to the stairs. As she reached the hallway, she could see the shape of a noose hanging down before her. Pressing the button on the radio, she heard nothing but static. “Brent,” she shouted, but the radio simply hissed at her. “Brent… anyone, please help me.”
The radio hissed in the still house, and before her, the noose swung creating crazy big shadows across the wall and floor. It was in the exact place where she had hurt her neck, the place where something had touched her time and time again. Ice water ran through her veins and seemed to stop her heart. Turning away from the noose she ran to the front door. Stopping quickly to avoid tripping over the cat.
It stood before her, its eyes like fiery pits, its back arched and teeth drawn back. “Get away from me,” she yelled, and for a moment it stayed there.
“Don’t go,” a voice whispered in her ear and yet it did not seem threatening. For a moment it lulled her and made her want to stay. The sound was familiar and warming. She shook her head to clear the thoughts.
“DON’T GO,” a deeper voice yelled, commanded and this one scared her witless.
Emma grabbed her car keys and jumped over the cat. She fiddled with the door, almost dropping the keys. Then the lock turned, and she pulled the door. It slammed away from her hands. She pulled again, and this time it was as if she had help.
“Come back to us,” the whisper said, and she could swear she felt lips moving against her ear.
Emma ran, she was out of the house, her feet carrying her away from it as fast as they could. She ran across the yard, down the mossy path, through the trees, and to the car. Pressing the button, she watched the lights flash, and she was in the door, pulling it closed behind her and pressing the button again to lock the doors tight. A gasp escaped her, and hot tears flowed down her face. Somehow, she never expected to be allowed to leave, and yet here she was in the car. She felt the radio in her hand. Would it work now? Should she call Brent?
She wanted to more than anything, she wanted him here and yet? She pressed the button on the radio, the static had gone. Quickly, she checked her mobile, she had a signal, it was faint but there.
Glancing at her watch, she could see it was 3 AM. Soon it would be light, she was away from the house and safe. She could simply sleep in the car, she would be safe, and then drive into town once it was light.
Chapter 13
Somehow, knowing that her mobile was working gave Emma the peace she needed to sleep. She reclined the car seat back and closed her eyes. She did not expect sleep to come and yet within minutes exhaustion had claimed her and taken her down to sweet oblivion.
She was woken by the notification of her phone receiving a text. It was light out, and she rubbed her eyes as she came awake. For a moment, she was confused, where was she? What happened? Then it all came back. The voices? The feeling of both familiarity and fear? The darned cat stopping her at the door. She had to get away from this house and yet for some reason, she felt drawn back to i
t. Taking a breath, she reached across to check her phone. The fact that it had worked filled her with a sense of safety. Maybe it was Lynn… that would certainly cheer her up.
As she looked at the text, she froze. It was a number she recognized, it was Mark. How had he found her new number!? Did he know where she was? Suddenly, everything in the house made sense, it had to be Mark. Playing jokes on her. What else could it be? He was simply trying to scare her back to London. Emma was engulfed by fear and exhaustion, and she wanted to give in. To run back to the shelter where Mark could never enter. What should she do? She thought of Lynn, of her friends and the work they had put in. How they told her she must stand firm and never let him beat her. That was what she would do. He would not scare her. It would not work this time, she would not let him rule her life.
Emma heard the sound of a vehicle, and her heart missed a beat.
Was he here?
She looked around to see a car pulling up behind her. A huge wave of relief washed over her as she realized it was Brent. Part of her was so relieved to see him and yet another part was once again scared of men. As he came up to the door, she could see the look of confusion on his face. What should she say?
"Did you sleep in the car?" he asked.
Emma laughed and ran a hand through her hair. She knew it must certainly look as if she slept in the car but she did not want him to know that. "I came out to use my phone." She shrugged her shoulders after getting out of the car in her night clothes. Looking down she realized she was barefoot and dirty. Her hands were shaking, but she hoped he did not notice.
"Emma, please tell me what's wrong," Brent said. "Did something happen last night?"
How could she explain what happened? When it must all be in her mind. Instead, she handed him the phone. The text was still there unopened, unread. She did not know if she had the courage to look at it.
"Is this from the ex?" Brent asked.
Emma nodded.
Brent took the phone and led the way back to the house. The door was standing open, he walked in and went straight to the kitchen, putting on the kettle.
"Take a seat," he said and sat down to face her. Then he looked at the phone, opened the text, and read it. "He hasn't found you," Brent said. "He has your phone number, which is bad, but not the end of the world. We change your phone today. From now on I will be here at night just to make sure that you are okay. That he doesn't find you."
"What does it say?" Emma asked even though she didn't really want to hear.
Brent got up to make the coffee. "It's just the normal type of bullying," he said as he put two mugs on the table.
"I think it must have been him all along?" Emma said. "All these things I've been seeing, they weren't real, they were just in my mind. They were just Mark messing with me."
"I saw some things too," Brent said.
Emma shook her head, she knew she had imagined things, and the last thing she wanted was to be humored. It was time to face up to it, she was suffering from stress.
After two rounds of toast and copious amounts of coffee, Brent took her phone, promising to bring her a new one that night. Gently, he reached out and held her hand. Emma pulled back, and she could see the look of hurt in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I will be back tonight.” Finally, he left to go to work.
Once the house was empty again, Emma felt afraid. What if Mark had found her? What if he was here hiding?
In the end, the solitude and quietness of the house were too much. Emma had a quick shower, got dressed, grabbed her laptop and drove into Castleton. At least there she could Skype with Lynn and tell her what had happened.
Sat in the café with a toasted teacake and hot chocolate, Emma Skyped Lynn. It was so good to see her friend’s face and they spent the first few minutes just catching up.
"I can see something's wrong," Lynn said at last.
"Am I so obvious?" Emma shrugged her shoulders, but she knew that she looked terrible.
Lynn laughed. "Yes, I guess you are, now come on, tell me what the problem is."
So Emma told her everything. All the problems she had with the house. The injury to her neck. The secret room, the screaming, the weird cat that didn't seem to be alive and yet was. Then she told her about the whispering, the feeling of somebody touching her ear and talking to her. How sometimes she felt that she was wanted there, that she had to be there. Yet sometimes she felt she was in danger. When she had gone through all of this, then she told Lynn about the text.
"So you've heard everything, do you think it is all stress, do you think this is just Mark?"
Emma could see Lynn thinking. For once she was not laughing and bubbly and making light of what had happened. That in itself was worrying.
"This policeman doesn't think that Mark is there?" Lynn said.
"No, he doesn't, but what else could it be?"
"Maybe you should come back," Lynn said.
For some reason, the thought of going back to London, of leaving the house filled Emma with fear. Was it because Mark was in London? Maybe he wasn't, maybe he was here. Somehow the thought of leaving the house left her feeling empty and yet the thought of staying terrified her. How could she sort out a problem like that? So, she tried to explain that to Lynn. That she felt as if she had to stay and yet she felt as if she would be in danger if she stayed.
"You know what we usually do in this sort of problem," Lynn said and then laughed. "Okay, maybe we don't get many of this sort of problem. But the technique would still work. Go back to the library and research that house. Find out everything you can about it. Then write it down, everything, including what you feel. Just let the words come, let them flow, let everything out about how you feel. Then read it all back until you understand how it makes you feel. Keep writing and reading until you understand what you want to do… and then, do what we always do, take it outside and burn it."
Emma knew this was a good idea and just listening to it made her feel excited, and yet when Lynn said burn it, all she could think of was the burnt ground outside the house and the smell of smoke, of burning that sometimes filled the house.
Chapter 14
Emma went to the library and tried to research the house. The only problem was she couldn't find out anything more than she already knew and she was becoming more and more frustrated. She was searching around the back of the bookshelves, looking for anything, when a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped into the air and let out a shriek, only to turn around and see Janet stood there, a startled expression on her face.
"Sorry," Janet said. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"
Emma ran a hand through her hair and tried to talk. It was difficult because she was still feeling shaky. Now she even felt embarrassed, about leaping into the air, shrieking, and because she was looking into whether her house was haunted or not. Then she remembered that Janet had actually hinted at such things. Maybe she could help. "I wanted to find out more about the house," she said.
Janet's face seemed to light up. "I know of a couple of books, they are very old and difficult to read, but I think they are what you are looking for." Without waiting for an answer, Janet walked through the book shelves further and further away from the desk until stopping in the very corner. Dropping to her knees, she started searching through the books.
"It looks like only one of them is here," she said. "I can't understand who would have the other one, but I will ask Judy at the desk."
Emma nodded and together they took the book over to a table. The book was a fascinating, if scary reading. It told of witch trials that took place in the town, and it didn't take long for her to find a mention of a building called The Cage. There was a pencil drawing of the property, and it was obvious that it was her house. A shudder ran down her spine as she read on about it. The book told of the torture that had taken place there. Finally, she read about a woman called Ursula Kent who was the last person to be tortured there. The book to
ld of how the Inquisitor found it impossible to break Ursula. How she denied everything despite the fact that he tortured her. Emma felt a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes as she continued reading.
A man named Alden Carter had taken Ursula's daughter and burned her alive just outside the back door of the house. A shudder ran down Emma's spine. Just outside the back door of the house! That was exactly where she had found a burnt circle. No, this was ridiculous, this book was written in the 1700’s. There was no way the ground would still be burned... that there would still be ash there.
She read on and found her hand was shaking. Ursula's black cat, Gaia, was also burned outside of the house, and his bones, along with those of the child, were thrown into the cellar. The book said that the creature’s spirit still resided there.
Emma slammed the book closed. This was ridiculous. How could she even think that the two cats could be the same? And yet somehow. she knew they were.
"You have seen things, haven't you?" Janet said.
Emma had actually forgotten she was still there and she looked up, surprised.
What should I say?
Should she confide in this woman and be seen as someone who was losing her mind?
"I understand," Janet said. "You don't want to admit anything. I've seen things too, and I know what you are going through. The other book tells you more, it tells you things you need to know. Until you have read it, you must not go back in that house. It has never been easy for your family, no one has been happy there and may have died too young.”
Emma could feel her heart pounding. What should she do?
“You need the manuscript, it will tell you more.” Janet was looking concerned. “Let's ask the librarian if it's been moved somewhere."
Emma nodded. She had read everything from this book, and though chilled to the bone, there was nothing more to learn from it. So she followed Janet to the librarian's desk, and they asked about the other book.
The Haunting of Brynlee House: Based on a Real Haunted House Page 7