Sammie smiled knowingly. “You for different reasons than others, I think.”
“W-what do you mean?”
Sammie hopped off the work counter and planted his dirty, bare feet on the tiled floor. “I get the impression that you have some sort of interest in me that goes beyond simply being my mother’s chauffeur.”
Mike nodded. “That’s because you’re a very special boy, Sammie. Very special.”
“Why, thank you for saying so, Michael. What a lovely compliment.”
“My pleasure.”
Sammie’s smile grew wider. “You seem nervous.”
Mike shifted uncomfortably. “No, not nervous. Just tiredness. I’ve been up all night. You have, too, Sammie. You should really be in bed.”
“Perhaps. I seem to have less and less need for sleep recently.”
Mike nodded. “Sleeping is unnecessary for someone like you.”
“Because I’m special,” Sammie stated. “I wonder just how special I can be.”
“You have no idea,” said Mike.
Sammie reached over the nearest work surface and slid something long and metallic across the surface. “Don’t I?”
Mike’s breathing increased as Sammie stepped slowly towards him with a chef knife held out in front of him. “W-what are you doing, Sammie?”
Another step. The knife came closer.
“What do you think I’m doing, Michael?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Sammie thrust the knife out at Mike. Mike yelled, the sound a strangled whimper. Then Sammie flipped the knife over and presented it, handle-first. “You came in here for a knife, didn’t you? To work at the door?”
The air came out of Mike like a deflating balloon. “Yes! Yes, I did.”
“You best get back to my mother then. You know how she can get.”
Mike took the knife and felt a quick spark run through his wrist. “Of course,” said Mike. “Whatever you require, I am at your service.”
Sammie giggled like an ordinary child, but continued to speak like a much older soul. “Excellent. Then I trust you will not tell my mother you’ve seen me. This night is endless and I wish to enjoy it a while longer. The moon is magnificent right now, don’t you think? I hear it singing to me.”
Mike didn’t know what to say, so he laughed nervously.
“I see nothing funny,” Sammie said in a voice that was both soothing and angry at the same time. “Leave me in peace, Michael. Now!”
Michael left Sammie alone in the kitchen, moving as quickly as his feet would carry him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“It’s almost nine-o-clock,” said Angela.
She was now officially freaked-the-fuck-out. The fact that she was looking out of the bedroom window at a full moon when there should have been a morning sun was enough to frighten her on a primal level. Human existence relied on certain constants: there would be air to breath, food to eat, and the sun would bloody well rise each morning. Delete one of those constants and things quickly devolved into chaos.
Tim came and stood beside her at the window. “This is bad, isn’t it? Like, horror-movie bad?”
Angela nodded. Something evil was at work in this house; something powerful and malevolent. One man was already dead and Angela feared it was only the start of something bigger. “I need to perform another exorcism,” she said. “But this time I need to be more…assertive.”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked her.
Angela walked over to her suitcase and pulled out her exorcism kit. From inside she pulled out a long stiletto-like dagger. “There’s something called a blood exorcism. It is something the Church condones only in absolute emergencies – no official records have ever been kept. There hasn’t been one performed in over seventy years to my knowledge.”
Tim stared at the dagger and swallowed. “But you know how to do one, right? One of these blood exorcisms?”
Angela nodded. She remembered the secrecy order she’d been forced to sign. She remembered slicing into the flesh of rabbits and guinea pigs as she practised the sacred ritual. “I learned the Sacrament of Cursed Flesh a long time ago, but I remember everything like I learned it yesterday. A person doesn’t tend to forget a thing like that. There’s just one problem, though.”
Tim frowned. “What?”
“If I perform the Sacrament, there’s a chance Sammie might die. To banish the demon from his soul, I will have to take him to the brink of death. That is the only way to weaken the demon’s influence and expel it.”
“Helsinki,” said Tim, swallowing another lump in his throat.
Angela nodded. “Let’s hope the Lord is with us this day. We will need His guidance.”
“I think I should probably do some praying of my own.”
“You believe in God, Tim?”
Tim smiled. “No, I was thinking about praying to my guardian, Thor.”
Angela looked at Tim’s unflinching face and wondered if he were crazy. Then she said, “That’s a joke, isn’t it?”
Tim laughed. “Levity is as important as religion at times like this.”
“I agree.”
“So what can I do? I want to be involved this time. Let me help.”
“I want you to. Go to the kitchen and see if you can find any basil.”
“Basil?”
Angela nodded. “Where basil is, no evil lives. Sprinkle it in as many rooms as you can, particularly across the thresholds. It will confine the demon’s influence and weaken it. If you mix it with Black pepper, even better.”
“Okay,” said Tim, shrugging his shoulders but seeming happy to go along. “I’m on it.”
He went to walk past Angela but she reached out and grabbed his arm. She looked him in the eye. “Be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt. If this is going to work then I will need your help.”
Tim raised his fist at her in a gesture of solidarity. It was a manoeuvre more suited to seven-foot basketball players than a skinny ginger dude, but she appreciated the show of support. He had her back.
It was time to put a stop to all this.
Angela put on her cassock and smoothed it down with her hands. She looked in the mirror at her tired face and couldn’t believe how much it had changed in less than a week. Weariness clung to her cheekbones, but her mind was still strong. Her will was resolute. For the first time in a long time, Angela felt like she was doing God’s work again. It felt good.
She pulled her crucifix from underneath her clothing and let it hang against the jet-black fabric of her cassock. May Jesus Christ guide me. May the Lord protect me. May Heaven watch over my soul as it journeys the righteous path.
She picked up her Bible from where it sat on her bedside table and clutched it close against her breast. With her other hand, she clutched the ceremonial dagger. It was made from Damascus steel and etched with the verses of Genesis.
Deliver me, I pray thee.
Angela was ready to do what was needed. The only thing left to do was find Sammie. Hopefully before he finds me.
Angela stepped out of the bedroom and took a candle with her. She felt like Florence Nightingale as she floated down the corridor in her small globe of light. For a moment she had the strange feeling that the hallway was infinite, stretching on endlessly, but then the stairway appeared on her right and she breathed a sigh of relief. I’m being paranoid.
She headed down the stairs and could hear the sounds of banging from below. Eventually she encountered Mike and Jessica on the ground floor. They were working at getting the front door open.
“Is it still stuck?” Angela asked as she exited the staircase.
Jessica turned around and gave her a stern look, but gradually forced a polite smile onto her face. “Morning, Angela. If you’re looking for Tim, he just headed into the kitchen. I take it, from what you’re wearing, you intend on staying?”
“If you’ll allow me to. Not like I can leave, really, anyway.”
Jessica took in a large breath and let
it out in an exasperated sigh. “I‘ll give you that. I just want to focus on getting this door open before we discuss other matters.”
“Okay,” said Angela. “Can I help at all?”
“No,” said Mike. He was brandishing a badly bent chef’s knife in his hand. “We have everything under control.”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t suppose you’ve spotted Sammie anywhere yet?”
Angela shook her head. “Afraid I’ve been in my bedroom. Tim and I can look for him now if you wish.”
Jessica nodded, her pointed chin cutting through the air. “Yes, that would be most helpful. I’m a bag of nerves with him missing.”
“I understand.” Acting on the information she’d been given, Angela headed across the foyer towards the kitchens. There was a good chance that Tim still intended to leave, but at least he had no choice at the moment, not until the doors were open again. Until then, he would be helping her.
Entering the kitchen, Angela found it empty. There was a candle burning on the centre work surface and several of the cupboards had been left open. It certainly appeared that somebody had been there recently, but there was no sign of Tim.
Angela approached the centre work surface and noticed something. There was something lying on its surface. She tiptoed towards it, not wanting to risk injury by rushing around in the unlit room. Almost 20% of accidents occur in the kitchen, she remembered someone telling her once.
As she got closer, the object revealed itself to be a piece of paper. Angela was just about to pick it up when somebody grabbed her from behind.
She shrieked.
“I’m not sure you want to look at that,” said Tim.
Angela punched him in the arm. “You sod! Almost gave me heart attack. Where were you hiding?”
“I wasn’t hiding. There’s a meat locker back there. I smelt something rotten so I checked it out. Just a bunch of spoiled meat, though. Nothing omen-y or anything.”
“Okay,” said Angela. “So what is this thing that I don’t want to look at?”
Tim pointed at the piece of paper on the work surface. “It’s another one of Sammie’s drawings. Seems like we might have just missed him.”
Angela frowned. “What would he have been doing in the kitchen?”
Tim shrugged his shoulders. “Eating a poptart?”
Angela took the final few steps over to the table and reached for the piece of paper. She pinched it between her fingers and thumb, then slid it towards her.
“Oh, how delightful,” she said, clearing her throat of the mucus that suddenly rose up to fill it. “Let’s just hope this isn’t a literal interpretation.”
“You’re telling me,” Tim agreed.
Angela turned the picture in her hands and looked at it from all angles. It was obvious that the four bodies swinging from the charcoal balcony were supposed to represent Mike, Jessica, Tim, and herself. All of them hanged by their broken necks and their eyes were gouged out and bleeding. The detail was immaculate for a child’s crayon drawing. It was almost as if the colours were dancing on the page and giving life to the flat, waxy images.
“Should we take it as a threat?” Tim queried.
“Definitely,” she said. “But it also means something else.”
“What?”
“If Chamuel is making threats it’s because he’s scared. He knows we’re coming for him.”
Tim laughed nervously. “Either that or Sammie is trying to warn us about what will happen if we don’t leave this house.
I guess we’ll find out soon enough, thought Angela as she tore the drawing to pieces.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Angela and Tim joined Jessica and Mike in the foyer. When they got there it seemed like Jessica had just about given up trying to get the door open. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up around the elbows and her sweaty forehead sheened in the moonlight.
Angela decided not to waste any time. “I want to perform another exorcism.”
Jessica didn’t hesitate. “No! Mike told me the last time didn’t do anything. What would be the point of putting Sammie through such a thing again?”
“There are other rituals I can try.”
“Look,” Jessica said. “I’ve had a think about it and, while I appreciate that I was the one who asked you both here, I think our business is done. I don’t believe you can help my son. In fact, I feel quite silly for having ever asked for your help in the first place.”
“I can still help you,” Angela protested. “You were right to ask for help.”
“The only help you can be to me right now is by finding Sammie and getting him back to his room safe and sound. You’ll be paid generously for your time, Ms Murs, but I feel it would be best if you left us at dinnertime. Mike will have to drive you if Frank hasn’t returned by then.”
Tim stepped forwards and was actually pulling his hair with frustration. “Are you not seeing what we’re seeing? There’re a couple of concerns I have with what you’ve just said. Number one is that Frank left the house going on twelve hours ago and hasn’t returned from a trip that should have taken him no more than an hour or two. Number two is that your request for us to leave at dinnertime is slightly marred by the fact that no one can get the frickin doors or windows open. I won’t even go into the fact that, according to that moon out there, lunchtime is still a long way away.” Tim took a moment to catch his breath, then continued. “You tried to commit suicide last night, Ms Raymeady, and then you went blind – although only temporarily – and to top it all off, one of your employees is hanging dead out of a hot tub upstairs.”
Jessica gawped at him. “What? Who is dead?”
Mike was the one to tell her, although he seemed reluctant to do so. He skirted over the more gruesome details about how they had found him.
Jessica put her hands against her face. “Graham is dead? I don’t believe it. How?”
“Somebody cut him and he bled to death,” Tim explained.
“Take me to him. I need to see for myself. Has anyone called the police yet?”
“I tried,” said Angela, “but the phones are all dead. As for seeing him yourself, I wouldn’t advise it. There’s a lot of blood.”
“Try giving birth, Ms Murs. I can handle blood.”
Nobody was in the mood to argue and Jessica was adamant so they went upstairs. As they walked the second-floor hallway, there was a brief flickering of the lights. For a second it seemed like the power might come back on, but it was not to be. After a brief flash of colour and light, making the bright red of the carpet come back into existence, the darkness returned.
“That sucks,” said Tim.
The door to the spa room had been left open and the tang of chlorine drifted out from the hot tub. Thankfully the chemical odour overpowered the smell of Graham’s blood.
“He’s in there,” said Mike.
Jessica nodded and passed through the door. Almost half a minute passed before she returned to them. “I don’t see anything,” she said irritably. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”
Angela didn’t understand. She hurried into the room to take a look for herself.
Graham’s body was gone.
Puddles covered the tiles and there was a slight pinkish hue to the water that suggested the presence of blood, but to a casual observer there were no signs of any murder. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Somebody’s moved the body.”
“Who?” Mike asked. “I’ve been with Jessica the whole time. If there’s anybody who could have moved Graham’s body, it’s you and Tim.”
“Hey!” Tim protested. “There’s no way you’d catch me fondling a naked dead guy. This isn’t Weekend at Bernie’s.”
“We didn’t move him,” Angela stated firmly. “Somebody is playing games with us.”
“This whole thing is a game,” said Tim. “We can’t be sure that we haven’t been played since the very start.”
Jessica folded her arms. “What exactly are you accusing me of, M
r Golding? I’d be very careful. I brought you here in good faith and things have only gotten worse since your arrival. If anyone is to be suspicious of a ruse, it is me. This is my home.”
Angela put a hand up in deference. “Tim doesn’t mean any offence, Jessica. We’re just as confused – and as frightened – by this whole situation as you are. You’re right, things have gone from bad to worse since we got here, but I assure you that Tim and I played no part in that.”
Jessica softened up a little, let loose a sigh. “I just want to know that my son is safe. Is that too much for a mother to ask? I just want to know that my Sammie is okay.”
Angela looked left and right. “Then let’s go find him.”
Somewhere nearby was the sudden sound of voices.
Tim’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Who the hell is that?”
Jessica was the first to get moving. Angela and the others hurried after her.
The voices were coming from a couple doors down the hallway. As Jessica went there, she explained that the room contained a small lounge that was scarcely used.
“Do you think that Frank could be back?” Angela asked, but didn’t actually believe it was a possibility. Why would he come back and not tell anyone? Besides, she could hear more than one person’s voice. In fact, it sounded like there were several.
Jessica turned around and called back to Mike who had fallen several steps behind. “Michael, open this door.”
Mike nodded and strolled forward. He seemed in no rush.
“Hurry up,” Jessica shouted.
Mike opened the door and poked his head inside. Angela held her breath. The voices inside the room continued and got louder. There were other noises too. It almost sounded like…
“Is that a television?” Tim asked.
“I think so,” said Angela, relieved and disappointed at the same time.
“But that’s impossible,” said Tim. “There’s no power.”
Angela stepped into the room and examined her surroundings. The room was bathed in shadows, just like the rest of the house, but there was a glaring source of light at the far corner. A television mounted to the wall there was switched on and working.
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