Magda: A Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Trilogy - Book 3
Page 16
Almost imperceptibly, Alice nodded.
“You don’t have to trust me, or anyone you don’t want to, okay? But I have a very good idea of what you’ve been through because I know someone who’s had similar experiences. I’ve been her friend for a few years now. She’s funny and she’s clever. I like her ever so much. You remind me of her, do you know that?”
For a while Becky chatted about ordinary daily things, reassuring Alice that she’d just been talking to Judy, and that Judy was very well and had asked about her.
“Shall we have something nice to eat? Would you like one of my biscuits? I’ve got them because I have a real baby coming soon and she’s making me hungry.”
Alice took one but let the chocolate melt in her fingers.
“Alice, I haven’t got a lot of time to talk to you today, but I did want to tell you that I understand how scared you are. Sometimes we need to be scared in order to be aware of danger and you’ve been very, very clever, just like the friend I was telling you about, in dealing with that. But I can tell you this – whoever you think is trying to get to you will not succeed. They are not in here. They are out there and we will find them. I promise you we will find them.”
“Find who, Miss…er…?”
He had not made his presence known with even the slightest pad of a footfall and her heart almost missed a beat.
For a moment, however, Becky did not turn around to answer because the look on Alice’s face told her something more important. The man standing behind her was not to be trusted.
His tone hardened at her lack of response. “I said—”
Becky pushed herself to her feet, giving Alice’s hand a small squeeze. The child’s grip was like a vice so she kept it there, letting her hold on. God, what she’d give to be able to sweep this girl up and run out with her in her arms.
“I heard you,” she said over her shoulder. “Just give me a minute, I’m struggling.”
Silhouetted in the doorway he cut a slight figure as he stood coolly waiting, impatiently observing her discomfort.
“I’m the consultant here - Dr Mullins. And you?”
She got to her feet in a rather more ungainly fashion than she would have chosen.
“Mrs Ross - the ward sister up at Drummersgate.”
“And your business here is?”
“Just a moment, let me say my goodbyes.” She turned round and bent so that her face was skin to skin with Alice’s cheek. “Alice,” she whispered, acutely aware of Mullins’ frustration that he couldn’t hear what she was saying. “I’ll get rid of him. And I will see you again very soon.”
Alice began to cry and work herself up, the nails gripping into her hand so hard it hurt.
“Do you see what you’re doing?” Dr Mullins snapped. “We had her calm and under control. You and that other woman are doing nothing but harm. In my office. Now!”
Alice’s eyes suddenly rolled back into her skull, guttural noises croaking from her throat. God, where was Issy?
“And get those restraints back on.”
Just who did he think he was talking to?
In the absence of any professional authority, Becky decided to ignore him and stay with Alice until Isobel returned. “Alice, it’s alright. Alice, it’s okay.”
It seemed like an age. Alice had clearly switched - a pretty nasty alter now in her place.
Dr Mullins had started to creep forwards, his shadow looming. Still Becky hung on, guarding Alice, holding both her hands until at last Isobel’s scurrying footsteps could be heard rushing up the stairs.
“Issy, she was okay but–” The words died in her throat as her eyes met Mullins’.
His expression bore no emotion whatsoever. “My office,” he repeated.
With one last glance Becky handed over to Isobel, then turned to follow him down the corridor.
Leslie Mullins’ office was at the opposite end of the building in the old Victorian quarters, and he set off at a pace with scant regard for her condition, leaving her little option but to trail after him like a naughty schoolchild. Passing through several sets of double doors he shot down a flight of concrete steps to the basement, with Becky struggling to keep up. Breathless and annoyed she scurried behind his long, flapping coat as he strode through the connecting corridors past the laundry and various store rooms, eventually emerging into an empty tile-floored reception area marked with the chipped paint of neglect. This had clearly been the original psychiatric unit, now housing offices and typing pools; all deserted at this time in the evening. Overhead fluorescent lighting buzzed and flickered on low wattage.
As she stood behind him, out of breath, waiting for him to unlock the door to his office she looked around. They were quite alone down here.
He let himself in, holding open the door for her to follow with one finger.
“Come in, come in – take a seat.”
He didn’t take off his coat, but sat down at his desk, neatly crossing one long, thin leg over the other, and folded his arms. “Tell me again why you’re here, Miss…whoever you are–”
Odd accent. She couldn’t place it. Ignoring his instruction to sit, she towered over him. “Allow me to educate you then. I’m Alice’s mother’s key worker. I’ve been involved with Ruby Dean for over two years and she’s extremely concerned about the welfare of her daughter, who as you know was recently rescued from a satanic cult–”
“Allegedly a satanic cult – nothing proven, eh?”
“Hell of a lot of evidence though, Dr Mullins, and both mother and daughter suffering from DID. It’s taken me six months to get any decent kind of contact here and finally Judy and I met to discuss the case and were making excellent progress. Now I find Alice has been distressed by something she saw in the courtyard, where she should have been safe, and Judy has been suspended. That is why I’m here.”
“Ms Harper has been suspended for reasons other than Alice becoming distressed by something that is not there, Miss–?”
Becky saw his mouth twitch with annoyance as she deliberately began to scan his office, looking at certificates and photographs.
“Ms Harper was suspended for professional misconduct; for what is known as inducing false memories. And my staff are doing an admirable job of keeping Alice Dean calm and helping her with her speech. In my opinion she does not have DID but that, frankly, is none of your concern. You have no rights, absolutely none, to be on my ward and I do not expect to see you here again, do you understand?”
Becky’s gaze settled on a family portrait. The house in the background was a serious Georgian pile by the look of it - Mullins grinning at the camera, one arm around a tall, dark-haired woman so bizarrely dressed she had to be in the fashion world; the other around the waist of a pale, skinny teenager in a crop top – presumably his daughter. Her focus flitted back to him as he finished speaking. A sense of deep unease crept under her skin: there wasn’t a shred of humanity about him.
“I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other,” she said. “Good-bye.”
Leaving the door wide open she hastily retreated down the tile-floored corridor, enjoying the loud click-click-click of her echoing heels and the slam of each door as she left the building through the main exit at the back, and out into the car park.
That girl.
Once safely outside she stood among the parked cars, grateful for the nip of autumn air cooling the sweat on her face. If she wasn’t mistaken and she was pretty certain she wasn’t – that was Toby’s girlfriend, Amy.
***
Twenty-Three
Noel woke to the full heat of an electric fire on his face.
Disorientated, he pushed away the blanket that had been pulled up to his chin and swung his legs over the side of the sofa. A carriage clock ticked steadily on the mantelpiece. He stared at it. Was that the time? Seriously? A wide grin spread across his face. It was six in the morning, which meant…Oh, thank God and all his angels…that he’d slept since yesterday afternoon. Slept...
The house was silent as he padded into the hallway; the streets outside still glistening with last night’s rain – a blank canvas waiting for the paint of daily life.
Hoping not to wake Harry, Noel softly closed the kitchen door behind him and switched on the kettle, assuming the other man wouldn’t mind if he made tea and toast. Starving didn’t cover it. But, oh man…he couldn’t keep the smile off his face…And not a single bad dream, nightmare, demonic voice in his head; nothing. Why, though? What was different about being here?
As he poured bubbling water onto a teabag, the question was uppermost in his mind: why? Had it been the fact there was a cross on the wall? Or that Harry was a priest? What was it? Because for some reason he’d been totally free of the terror, which had plagued him since the night they’d exorcised Kristy. A terror which had escalated to the point where he craved the oblivion of annihilation; had started to feel anger with a god who could leave him to suffer like this; and had even, almost, been prepared to surrender to the one who promised both relief and reward.
“Caught you!”
He jumped, swinging round with a piece of toast in his mouth. “Bloody hell, Harry - I didn’t hear you.” He laughed, whizzing round the kitchen finding plates and setting the table. “Want some tea?” He gestured towards the kettle. “Just boiled.”
“Yes, please. Just let me flick the heating on.”
Ambling back a minute later as the antiquated boiler clunked, groaned and reluctantly fired into life, Harry said, “The one problem with these old houses is they take a king’s ransom to get warm. I take it you slept well, then?”
“Magnificently. I feel almost human – amazing - thank you. What happened? Did you slip something into my drink?”
Harry laughed. “No, nothing like that. I said a few prayers for you, that’s all.”
“Magic. And frankly I don’t care what did it because it worked. I feel like me again. Really, it’s incredible.”
“Yes.” Harry sat opposite him, buttering a slice of toast. “But Noel you need to care what did it, because I can’t be here all the time and you have a life to get on with. The minute you leave here you will be attacked again, you do know that?”
“It was just such a relief, I’m sorry – it’s sheer elation.”
“They’d like you to think it’s over, that there’s no problem anymore, but I’m afraid what you’re feeling is a false sense of optimism. You badly needed a night’s sleep in order to have the strength to face what’s ahead, but the danger – similar to only taking a day or two of antibiotics instead of the full course - is that you will feel miraculously cured so you don’t need to do anything else. But you aren’t. We have a huge amount of work to do yet, and if we don’t do it the demonic will return; probably ten-fold.”
“I’d give anything just to walk out of here and go back to life as it was, but yes, I know you’re right. Okay, so what happens next?”
“Well, you know what they say? There’s no time like the present. While you were asleep I organised something for today, later this afternoon if that’s okay? I’ve got a full service this evening but we need to do this before then and it will take a few hours. I have a strong feeling we mustn’t delay.”
“A few hours? Really? That long? It’s not like what Kristy had, is it?”
“No, but we have to start getting you prepared. Your job is to be in as good a shape as possible, remember? Because you will need to be – by that, I mean well rested, strong and determined. I have people coming out of their way to help us and so I’m asking you to do your bit, Noel.” He stared directly into his eyes, the piercing blue steady and focused. “You must be one hundred percent on board with this, so any doubts you have about going ahead, let me know.”
Noel nodded. “There is no doubt.”
“Sure?”
“I swear.”
“In that case I need you to do exactly what I ask. Firstly, stay here and get plenty of rest, drift off, sleep if you can and eat well. Also think hard about what we talked about yesterday. You have to fully want deliverance and you have to fully repent of any residual negative feelings you may harbour; and most of all have faith in our Lord Jesus Christ that He has the power to do this. I can’t do it, no man can, only God can deliver you.”
“I do have faith, yes. I saw what happened to Becky and I saw what happened with Kristy. Nothing will ever be the same for me again. It’s shaken me to the core, shattered me.”
Harry nodded. “You don’t have to be religious or follow any particular teachings, I should be clear on that; just be in touch with your true spirit and believe in the power of God.”
Noel nodded.
“Good, well we’re halfway there. I’ll need to give you some instructions but I have an overwhelming feeling of urgency. There’s something really nagging at me…To be honest it was my turn to sleep badly.” He drained his tea, put down the mug and stared hard again at Noel. “You haven’t dabbled in the occult, have you?”
Noel frowned and shook his head. “No.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Harry suddenly stood up and pushed his chair back. “Right, best crack on. I’ve a few errands to run first. Then when I come back we’ll have lunch and a little chat about exactly what happens before we pop down to the church.”
“I’m going into the church for this? Oh, I thought it would be here?”
Harry sat down again. “Does that worry you?”
“No, of course not, I’m just surprised. I thought you would do it here, privately, like a kind of therapy or counselling session.”
“No one in their right mind would perform a deliverance on their own outside a church – it’s far too dangerous. There needs to be three of us, and we’ll have an entire team of people in another room praying throughout.”
Harry’s gaze had fixed on something above his head and Noel glanced over his shoulder. “What? What is it?”
The other man looked uneasy.
“I’m getting a headache. I don’t feel well. What is it? What’s going on? Can you see something? Oh my God.”
Harry was transfixed. Without taking his focus off whatever it was, he answered slowly and carefully. “Noel, because of what we’ve been through together and because of what you do for a living, I’ll tell you if you insist, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Yes, too right I insist. What is it? Can you actually see something? What’s happening? Harry, I’m scared.”
“You have a dark shadow behind you, Noel. These things can attach themselves physically like creatures doing piggy-back – weighing you down, affecting your thoughts and your feelings – but you can’t see them because they’re on your back. We must not be afraid, though, because they are as nothing and we can and will cast them out. Have faith.”
Abruptly he stood up. “Right, it’s nearly seven already – got to make a move. Feel free to use the bathroom and have a shower. There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet - just make use of whatever I’ve got.”
He turned to leave, got as far as the door and then hesitated. “Noel. Promise me you will not go anywhere while I’m out? Don’t let this thing win. You are a good man and we need to do this. Hang on in there, okay?”
Noel nodded. “If I hadn’t seen what happened to the others I’d probably be legging it by now, you’re right. I’m not daft, though. I’ll stay here, I promise.”
“Good man. And hopefully when I come back you won’t be smelling like a farmyard animal anymore, either?”
Noel laughed, stroking his overly long stubble. “I’m so ashamed. This could not be less like me. I’m known for being so scrupulously clean I squeak.”
“Exactly.”
Sobering in an instant, Noel searched Harry’s eyes.
“I don’t think I realised how bad it was. You don’t, do you? You cope and keep going for as long as you can until–”
“Until you either give in, or stand and fight?”
“Yes.”
***
It was four in the afternoon when Harry’s key turned in the lock. Noel sat up from where he’d been dozing on the sofa; startled to find the bright morning had been replaced with the insipid greyness of a dull afternoon.
Harry strode in. “We’re going to have to get our skates on. Sorry, it’s been one of those days – laden with fools’ errands; appointments made and cancelled, waylaid at every turn, and two of our prayer team struck down with the flu. The main service is at six as well, but come on – we’re ready for you now, me lad.”
Soggy yellow leaves clamped to their ankles, a cacophony of bells chiming through the chilly air, as the two men hurried down the stone steps towards the church.
“Have you had a good think over what we talked about yesterday?” Harry asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you find yourself rebelling at all? Trying to justify any of your feelings?”
“God, yes. Sorry, I mean–”
Harry laughed.
“Yes, I did get a surge of rage when I thought about the bigotry, the high-handed piety and sheer hypocrisy of what my own family said to me. But then, you know, what others think or say isn’t anything I can control. Anyway, I’ve truly let it go; and to be honest, bearing grudges or trying to change other people’s attitudes isn’t going to help me now.”
“Exactly. So there’s no lingering anger?”
“No, none.”
“What about bitterness? That you were excluded from family events and didn’t get what most people take for granted? Do you still feel cast out? Isolated?”
“I feel sad about it sometimes, but not bitter. It’s their loss.” He laughed.
They had reached the old Gothic church where Noel had waited in vain to see Michael at the end of last year; the one he’d brought Becky to when she needed him most. The lych-gate creaked on its hinges, above it the inscription, ‘Grant O Lord, That Through The Grave And Gate Of Death We May Pass To Our Joyful Resurrection.’