Ben felt as if his head was spinning from trying to absorb so much information. ‘And these people took Sam?’
‘I’m afraid it’s likely.’
‘But why? What did they want with her? Did she escape? And where is she now? Have they taken her again?’
Knight sighed. ‘I really don’t know. And you have so much to learn, Ben. In fact, it’s time you started. I’ll introduce you to the other children. As I say, we only have a few pupils here at the moment, until the next intake. But you can start at once.’ He rubbed his chin as he considered. ‘Yes, I think you can start this afternoon. Gemma and I have a job to do, with the help of a good friend of ours. He could manage it on his own, of course, but I need to see him anyway. You can come too and see what we get up to.’ Knight’s eyes widened slightly as he leaned down towards Ben. ‘If you dare,’ he whispered.
*
Knight guessed that Ben had already met the other children, even if only briefly. The three of them were sitting in the lecture hall. Gemma and Rupam sat in the front row of the large amphitheatre-like room. Maria was near the back, scowling down at the rows of empty seats as they listened to the lesson.
Knight led Ben in through a door at the back of the hall. He looked down on to the semicircular stage below, where an elderly lady was standing at a wooden lectern. She leaned heavily on a walking stick as she peered through horn-rimmed glasses at a bundle of notes in front of her. She had white hair that stood out in a mass of curls round her head like a halo. She was wearing a tweed skirt and a dark knitted cardigan.
‘So the events at Widdecombe Hall would seem to bear out my earlier point,’ she was saying, ‘about the importance of checking thoroughly for curses and other enchantments that may have been placed on an area or property in antiquity.’
She looked up over the top of her glasses as Knight led Ben down towards the stage.
‘Forgive me, Madam Sosostram,’ Knight said. ‘I’ve brought you a new pupil whom I’d like to introduce to everyone.’
Ben stood nervously beside Knight. Gemma and Rupam smiled at him. Maria turned away, sitting sideways on her chair.
‘I’m sure you’ve met already,’ Knight announced, ‘but this is Ben Foundling. He’ll be joining you for the time being. Maria …’
Maria swung slowly round to glare down at them.
‘Maria, I’m sure you and the others will make Ben very welcome. It’s all a bit new to him.’ Knight turned to Ben. ‘Maria has been my Personal Seer for a long time. For the last eighteen months she’s been helping to train Gemma to take over.’
Maria’s scowl deepened and she looked away again.
‘Gemma you met briefly at the home,’ Knight went on. ‘And finally, Rupam is one of our star pupils. He’s still here because it’s too far for him to go home between terms. Partly, anyway. Our terms don’t match with the normal school terms,’ he added.
Rupam gave Ben a wave and mouthed, ‘Hi.’
‘You can speak more over lunch. For now, I think it will do Ben good to sit in on your session, Madam Sosostram, if that’s all right. After lunch, he’ll be joining Gemma and myself.’
The old lady nodded. ‘He will be most welcome.’
Knight patted Ben reassuringly on the shoulder before leaving by a door at the back of the stage area.
‘You can sit at the front here with the children who are willing and ready to learn,’ Madam Sosostram told Ben. ‘Or,’ she added, her glasses twinkling in the light as she turned, ‘you can sit at the back with those who mistakenly think they know everything.’
Ben looked up at Maria, who was inspecting her fingernails.
‘I’ll sit with Gemma and Rupam,’ he said.
Madam Sosostram smiled. ‘I think you’re going to get on very well here, Ben. Welcome to the School of Night. Our subject for today is contemporary witchcraft …’
11
IT WAS GETTING DARK AND THE MIST CLUNG TO the ground as if it was seeping out of the earth itself. Tombstones emerged from the grey as if they were floating in the mist. The church was a dark pencil sketch, vague and insubstantial. It was strange to find such a place in the middle of a modern city. Tower blocks of concrete and glass rose up either side of the cemetery. Monuments of a very different kind.
There wasn’t room for three of them in Knight’s Morgan, so they’d come in a modern saloon car. Ben sat in the back with Gemma. Gemma spent the journey staring out of the window and biting her bottom lip.
‘Nervous?’ Ben whispered after over an hour.
Gemma forced a thin smile. ‘Always. Schools are OK – just children and the Judgement Box. But a mission …’ She turned back to the window.
‘So where are we heading? What are we going to do?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
Ben looked at Knight and found the man was watching him in the rear-view mirror as he drove.
‘I like to get Gemma’s first impressions,’ he said. ‘That’s why I don’t give her the details. We’re nearly there.’
Standing by the car at the gate into the graveyard, Ben knew what his own first impressions were. ‘Spooky,’ he said.
‘That’s the point,’ Gemma told him.
‘Gemma, you come with me and we’ll see if we can work out what’s going on.’ Knight raised a finger to Ben to stop him following. ‘You can wait here for the Reverend.’
Ben watched the two of them make their cautious way into the graveyard. Soon they were swallowed up by the gathering mist.
‘Ben Foundling!’ The voice was deep and gruff, right behind Ben.
He gave a yelp of surprise and whirled round.
A dark-cloaked figure stood beside the car. A hood covered the figure’s head so that its face was wreathed in darkness.
‘Are you a ghost?’ Ben stammered, taking a step backwards.
The figure advanced towards him. It raised a pale hand and pushed back the hood of the cloak. ‘Good gracious me, no.’ Beneath the hood was a very ordinary-looking man with a round, ruddy face. ‘I am the Reverend Alistair Growl. Mr Knight called me to say he was bringing a new chap with him. That must be you. How do you do?’
Relieved, but with his heart still pounding, Ben shook hands with the man. Beneath the cloak, he saw that Growl was wearing a black cassock and clerical collar.
‘Gone to take a look, has he?’ Growl asked.
‘Yes. With Gemma.’
‘Good, good.’ Growl stared off into the misty evening. ‘She’s nothing too complicated. A couple of well-chosen prayers should see her off.’
‘Gemma?’ Ben asked, confused.
‘The Grave Lady. That’s what the locals call her anyway. She’s been sighted on and off since the seventeenth century, according to the parish records and local gossip. But she’s become a bit more of a nuisance recently. Appearing more often, frightening people. Walking through the walls of the offices over there.’ He gestured to the vague shape of an office block. ‘The head of the accountancy department is in hospital, you know – weak heart, poor chap. Can’t have that. Oh dear me, no, no, no.’
They stood together, staring into the deepening fog.
‘Are you one of the School of Night?’ Ben asked at last.
‘I am indeed, for my sins. I don’t know that I have a title as such, but I am a sort of visiting teacher of exorcism. I’m looking forward to teaching you, Ben.’
‘Mr Knight told you about me?’
‘A little. Did he tell you about himself?’
‘Himself?’
Growl nodded. ‘I thought not. You know, a little honesty and openness can go a long way. Knight used to see things, as I think you do now.’
Ben didn’t correct him. ‘You mean, like ghosts and stuff?’
‘I mean like ghosts and stuff,’ Growl agreed, amused. ‘Oh, Dirk Knight doesn’t see ghosts any more. But he used to, when he was a child. So he knows how terrible, how malevolent, some of them can be. Not our Grave Lady, she’s strictly an amateur compared to some. But th
ere are ancient powers, monstrous creatures, ghosts and demons struggling to break free and wreak havoc.’
‘What happened? Why doesn’t he see them now?’
‘He grew out of it, just as everyone does. Well, almost everyone. I have a certain … facility,’ he admitted. ‘Though it comes at a price.’
Before Ben could ask what he meant by this, Growl went on, ‘Knight lost the Sight in his early twenties. Until then he fought the darkness and he banished the spectres. But then his abilities deserted him.’ Growl raised his hands in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. ‘He grew up. Occupational hazard, I suppose.’
‘I suppose.’
‘But he knows that children – some children – have an affinity with the unnatural and paranormal. It’s a rare gift in a child. Even rarer for the child to retain that gift into adulthood.’
‘And so now he trains those who still have it,’ Ben said, remembering what Knight had told him earlier.
‘He has dedicated his life to learning all he can about the ghosts and demons, creatures and spectres. No one alive knows more than Dirk Knight. No one alive is better qualified to arrange the exorcism of the malevolent forces. If only he can find them.’ Growl put his hands on Ben’s shoulders and stared deep into his eyes. ‘If only he can track them down. If only he can see them. So that’s why he trains children with the Sight to be his eyes. He trains them to seek out and exorcise the demons and spectres.’
‘Yes, he told me a bit about that.’
‘So now you know,’ Growl said. ‘There seem to be more of the unquiet and undead than ever these days. The authorities have finally come to realise that it’s Dirk Knight they need to call in when there’s a problem. A haunted office block, a possessed cat, or –’ he turned to gesture at the misty landscape – ‘sightings in a graveyard. Whatever it is, the police, the army, even the museums and the physicians discreetly send for Dirk Knight.’ He leaned forward so that his round face was all that Ben could see. ‘Are you sure you’re ready to go with him?’
Ben wasn’t sure at all, but before he could answer Growl straightened up again. ‘Not a word,’ he whispered to Ben. ‘I only just got here, all right?’
As he spoke, the dark shapes of Knight and Gemma materialised out of the mist in front of them.
Gemma looked happier and Ben guessed that she was less nervous now she knew what they were facing.
‘You know what’s going on?’ Knight said to Growl as they shook hands.
‘Oh indeed, yes, yes, yes. Seems straightforward enough. I really didn’t need you to come all this way.’
Knight nodded. ‘A poor restless soul who craves sleep. Gemma could see her easily enough just now. I’m sure you can manage very well on your own.’
‘But there do seem to be a lot of them about,’ Growl said seriously.
‘Something drawing them out, you think?’
Growl nodded. ‘Possibly. What do you think, Gemma?’
‘There’s more of everything,’ she said. ‘I see more every time I come out. Maybe there’s no room left in Heaven and Hell.’
No one seemed to want to speculate on that suggestion. After an awkward pause, Knight said, ‘Right, let’s get this over with, then. We can talk afterwards about … other things. You sure you’re up to this, Alistair?’
The clergyman sighed and nodded. ‘Did she die violently? It seems more drawn to the violent deaths.’
Ben wanted to ask Growl what he meant, but a warning glance from Knight silenced him.
‘Plague,’ Gemma said. ‘She caught it from her brother. He lived, but she died. I could see the resentment and the bitterness. And the sweat from the fever on her face.’
‘Ladies don’t sweat,’ Growl said quietly. ‘That’s for men and horses. Ladies perspire.’
They had started walking, following Gemma deep into the graveyard. The girl was looking round constantly, staring into the misty distance.
‘She’ll be here again soon. I can feel the chill of her coming.’
The mist seemed to swirl, as if a large shape was pushing through and blowing it aside. But Ben couldn’t see anything.
‘There she is,’ Gemma said, pointing.
‘I can see her,’ Growl said. His voice seemed even deeper, gruffer and less friendly.
‘Will she manifest?’ Knight asked. ‘The locals have seen her, so she must become tangible, surely. Can you see her, Ben?’
As he spoke, the gap in the mist seemed to solidify into a shape. A woman. Ben had expected her to be old and hunched. But she was young, walking upright, carrying a small bunch of withered flowers.
‘Yes – yes, I can,’ Ben said, his voice husky with fear.
Knight nodded. ‘Me too. A complete manifestation. Anyone else watching will get a shock – she’s come right through into the real world. A proper ghost, if you will.’
The young woman’s face was as pale as her dress and her expression was completely blank, stony as a statue. She looked at Ben as she approached. He thought that actually she had a kindly face – innocent and unblemished.
Then the face changed. In a moment it was a snarling mask of rage and fury. The mouth opened impossibly wide and the woman howled. It was a noise filled with anger and despair, loathing and hatred. Her fingers stretched out like talons as she hurled herself at Ben and the others.
‘Time you were going,’ Growl said, stepping in front of the shrieking woman.
‘Are you sure …’ Ben started. Despite his fear, he didn’t like the idea of leaving the kindly old man with this creature.
Growl turned and his transformation was every bit as extreme as the woman’s. His face was twisted in anger. ‘Just go!’ he roared. ‘Leave us!’
‘Us?’
Gemma grabbed Ben’s arm. ‘Leave him,’ she said. ‘He can manage.’
Ben stumbled after Gemma, with Knight following close behind. He glanced back and through the mist he saw the Reverend Alistair Growl raise his hand, like a monk giving a blessing. He could see the old man’s lips moving, though he couldn’t hear what he was saying. The air was filled with the cries and screams of the ghostly woman as she twisted and writhed and clawed the air.
The air seemed to explode, exactly where the woman had been. The mist closed round the figure of Growl and then there was silence.
*
They waited for about ten minutes by the car before Growl joined them. His cloak was caked in mud and he looked exhausted.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think that’s all sorted out now.’ He beamed at Ben, as if his earlier angry outburst had never happened. ‘You’d best go and check,’ he said to Gemma. ‘Just to be on the safe side. Your sensitivities are so much better tuned than mine.’
‘Go with her, Ben,’ Knight said. He helped Growl to the car, opening the door so the old man could sit inside.
Ben followed Gemma back into the graveyard. ‘Has she gone?’
‘Oh yes,’ Gemma said. She too seemed to be back to her normal, carefree self. ‘Growl just wants a minute alone with Mr Knight.’
‘Why?’
Gemma grinned. ‘Probably to talk about you.’
‘Oh, thanks … Really?’
‘I don’t know, do I? But Mr Knight wanted to talk to Growl.’
‘So what was wrong with him?’ Ben asked. ‘Why did he get so angry?’
‘You didn’t do as he asked.’ She was serious again now as she turned to look at him. ‘You mustn’t upset the Reverend when he’s working.’ More than serious, she sounded scared. ‘Never upset him. Not ever.’
Seeing Ben’s worried expression, Gemma’s own softened. She took his hand. ‘You’ve got loads to learn. It’l be such fun. I’m glad you’re here. Come on.’
She led him back through the misty graveyard, forever looking from side to side. Ben could sense that she was seeing the spirits of the dead at every step. He could see nothing himself, nothing out of the ordinary. But he shuddered at the sight of the glistening tombstones sweating in the mist. Fun was
not the word he would have chosen.
12
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, BEN WOKE WITH the horrifying face of the screaming woman imprinted on his dreams. The duvet had slipped off the bed and he lay for a while shivering and listening to the moaning of the wind outside. The windows rattled and rain scattered across them.
He pulled the duvet back on to the bed and snuggled underneath it. Knight had told Ben that tomorrow he would start his education. Mrs Bailey would set him English and maths and ‘ordinary’ schoolwork. But alongside that, he would have other lessons and lectures. Ben was conscious that his life had changed. He hoped it would be for the better.
He hoped it would help him discover what had happened to Sam.
But how much would Knight help – how much could he help? Tired and confused, Ben drifted back into sleep.
*
In the event, Knight had already left by the time Ben joined the other children for breakfast the following morning. Over the next few days, Knight was hardly at the house. Sometimes Gemma went with him and once he took Maria as well. But usually he went on his own.
‘He’s a busy man,’ Mrs Bailey told Ben. ‘You were lucky he was here when you arrived. More often than not he’s away on business. But he has arranged for you to stay with us here. That’s all sorted out officially now.’
The lessons with Mrs Bailey were similar to others Ben had had at a variety of different schools. But now it was just him with Rupam and Gemma. Maria rarely joined them, but Ben saw her sometimes out on the lawn with Mrs Bailey, training in martial arts or with a sword. Maria’s sword strokes were practised and elegant. But however fast she moved, Mrs Bailey’s sword was always faster. It was as if she could anticipate every move that Maria made before it actually happened.
Ben, Rupam and Gemma had workbooks rather than swords and Mrs Bailey spent time with each of them in turn. Ben was about to ask her if she was really a teacher when she told him she was actually trained as one. ‘A long time ago,’ she added, smiling. Though Ben didn’t think she looked that old.
Demon Storm Page 7