Magda: A Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Trilogy - Book 3

by Sarah England

  “Has Ruby continued to make good progress?”

  Becky nodded. “Yes, very. She’s identified a lot of her alters and they talk to each other inside her – it’s quite amazing. A fascinating subject really, how the mind works, how it’s protected her soul, the essence of her. She’s clairvoyant too. Can you imagine not being sure of who you are, and you’ve got voices speaking from the inside plus others from the outside? She’s a true miracle.”

  Judy smiled. “You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”

  “I adore her. I’m worried sick about leaving her for three months, to be honest.”

  “I think she’ll be fine. Does she still ask about Alice?”

  “God, yes. Actually, she’s very agitated at the moment–” Becky stopped mid-sentence, her mouth dropping open.

  “What, what is it? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

  “Something else is bothering me. The thing is, neither Noel nor Toby have been answering any of my calls. I’ve been ringing them both for days now and left tons of messages. I particularly wanted to be able to reassure Ruby before I went off. But I’ve had absolutely no replies. Nothing. Nada.”

  “They’re both grown men and probably very busy. Try not to worry about everyone, Becky. Worry about yourself and Molly.” Judy stood to put on her coat. “Where’s that husband of yours, anyway?”

  “Away again and that’s what’s just occurred to me.”

  They stared at each other for a significant moment. “Removed,” said Becky before Judy could voice the thought. “You know how these occult circles work, you know what they do… someone has been sending him all over the sodding country from one wild goose chase to another. Someone in the police force.”

  “Fuck.”

  Becky raised her eyebrows. It seemed odd a word like that coming out of Judy’s mouth. “Yes. Oh God, Judy. Do you think they will get Molly from me? I mean, how? Some kind of baby switch while I’m out of it and Cal’s in Timbuk-bloody-tu? What if I’m alone when I go into labour? I haven’t really got anyone close except Noel and I need him to look out for Ruby.”

  “You’ve got me,” said Judy. “If he isn’t there in time I will be. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” She gave the other woman a hug, watching her hurry to her car, turn to wave before jumping in and reversing down the long drive, the headlamps blurring into the foggy night until they disappeared from view.

  ***

  Midnight, and still Becky lay wide-awake. Despite the comfort of the bedside lamp being on, the fear of closing her eyes kept the adrenalin pumping. Having gone over the afternoon’s conversation with Judy but still coming up with no clear answers, she began the now nightly routine of carefully noting every individual object in the bedroom at least three times – from the location of the chair under the dresser, to the position of the jewellery box, and the hairbrushes on the table. Callum’s charcoal coloured towelling robe hung on the back of the door and the wardrobe was locked with the key sticking out. Her zebra patterned Kindle cover lay on the bedside cabinet and the clock showed it was one minute past midnight.

  She looked down at her white, almost childlike hands clutching the rose-sprigged bedspread as if they weren’t hers at all. Everything seemed like a dream; her own existence an oddly, distant thing. Staring into the atoms of the air she wondered what truly lay between her own breathing body and the inanimate items of furniture in the room. Could something see her? Was it staring into her face right now? Someone she could not see in return? Just because human perceptions did not facilitate anything other than the basic five senses did not mean something else wasn’t there. Some people, sensitives, picked up these energy vibrations all the time, as did animals. Possibly there were dozens or even hundreds of parallel energies here right now all peering in? The darker, more malevolent ones just waiting for playtime.

  Her breathing sounded tenuous, fatigue weighing heavy. Spirits, she thought, drifting off – we are all spirits and this life is but a dream, the wider truth shown to us only in microcosms in case we lose our minds…

  The shock of the phone ringing woke her from a bizarre dream involving old school mates she hadn’t seen for thirty-five years or more; and her first thought was that it was light and she’d slept without incident. Picking up her mobile, she glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty. She grinned. Fantastic. That was seven hours she’d had. Oh God, though, her neck was cricked.

  “Hello?”

  “Is that Becky Ross?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  It was Judy’s husband as it turned out. Hers had been the last number on his wife’s mobile and he thought she ought to know. Judy had been killed outright in a car crash on the M1 late last night. She would not have known a thing.

  A few minutes later Becky’s contractions started.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The roar of the motorbike filled his senses as it accelerated over moors hazy with mile upon mile of dewy, purple heather. It was going to be one of those briefly hot, perfect blue-sky days, ablaze with shimmering coppery leaves. This is how we’re supposed to feel, Noel thought – this glorious exhilaration. He twisted the handle further until the bike felt like it was flying. How wonderful, how absolutely bloody marvellous to be alive.

  The ward, when he walked in half an hour later, seemed by contrast to be stuck in an institutionalised time warp of daytime television and disinfectant: smaller, darker, and dirtier than he recalled.

  Sandi was halfway through the drug round; her back to him.

  Sensing an atmosphere, he shrugged, calling out a casual “Hi!” as he unlocked the office door. Yes, he was late for his shift today, but so what? He was here and he’d slept and life was wonderful.

  Why hadn’t the bloody woman pulled up the blinds in here or stuck some coffee on, anyway? He sighed as he pulled out the patients’ notes, missing Becky already. Funny he hadn’t had any calls or messages from her. Not a word in days and he badly wanted to speak to her, to tell her what had happened and how brilliant and amazing it was to be alive today, tomorrow, every day….He checked his mobile again. Nope, still nothing. The rattle of the drug trolley sounded like Sandi was moving further down the corridor, so he closed the door, sat on the edge of Becky’s desk and picked up the phone.

  It rang and rang and rang… echoing, he imagined, around her empty cottage while she was taking a lovely, long walk. Okay, well he’d try again later. It would have been really great to talk to her, that was all. In fact, he was bursting with it. Becky was the sister he’d never had; the one person on earth he could confide in without fear of judgement or rejection – and the one person on earth he now wanted to share his good news with. She’d understand, that was the thing; and it would be good to thrash out one or two other matters too. Like the weird behaviour of the congregation at Harry’s service last night. What would Becky make of that? Oh, and his surprise at Sandi’s presence there.

  He sat thinking about that. He’d never have had Sandi down as a born-again type. He thought she was into yoga and new-age stuff. Yet there she was, seated about halfway back in a throng of people wearing business suits.

  After his ordeal, he had woken to find himself covered in a blanket, lying down in a candlelit room. A kindly old couple were washing up and chatting, keeping an eye on him, he supposed. And when he sat up, dazed, wondering where he was and why it was dark, they’d fussed around making cups of tea and asking how he felt.

  How long had he been there? What had happened? Had he made a fool of himself? And most of all, had it been successful – would he be able to sleep again?

  The old lady pulled up a chair and spoke quietly. He was to ask Harry these questions but yes, he had been delivered to the Lord. She looked so happy, he remembered thinking - her eyes as bright as a young girl’s. “Mind you,” she said. “Such language!”

  He flushed to the roots of his hair, then realised she was laughing. “That old devil,” she said. “Doesn’t have any ma
nners, does he?”

  They chatted for a while longer until it occurred to him they may want to go home. “Oh, sorry,” he said, jumping up, then swaying for a moment.

  “Don’t hurry, dear. Take your time. Do you want to wait in here? We can stay until you’re ready. Or would you prefer to sit at the back of the service? They should be finished soon.”

  In consideration for the couple, who did look tired and must have had quite an ordeal themselves, he opted for the latter. Besides, hadn’t Harry asked him to comment on the congregation?

  The desire to go home and sleep was overwhelming, but it was important to see his friend before leaving, and so, offering profuse thanks and even more apologies to the old couple, he slipped into a pew at the back of the church to wait. With the overhead heaters on full behind him, and an aching fatigue from the trial of the afternoon, he’d been a bit slow on the uptake and only noticed Sandi at all because she’d glanced over her shoulder. Recognising her with surprise, he’d been about to nod when, unsmilingly, she simply turned back to face the front again.

  He shrugged - strange old broad – and tried to focus. So what was different or odd about the congregation that had so disquieted Harry? It seemed to him they had swayed with almost gospel enthusiasm during hymn singing and contributed extremely generously when the collection box came round. The atmosphere had been formal but rousing, candlelight burning smokily, the abundant offerings of pumpkins and flowers for the harvest festival still in evidence. He’d concentrated hard, trying to do his best for Harry as he sat in the dusty shade of the arches with a clear view of the flock. A couple more had turned round to take a cool look at him; but that was it.

  Until it came to prayers. And this is where Harry may have had a point. As Harry read out the Lord’s Prayer the congregation recited it with him, as expected in a church service; except some of the suited ones were slightly shaking their heads from side to side. Barely perceptibly. He frowned. No, that had to be his imagination: he was looking too hard, trying to find fault.

  Leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, he put his hands together in prayer while Harry administered Communion.

  Finally, concluding the service, Harry declared, “Peace be with you.”

  “And also with you.”

  Noel remained seated while everyone filed out, realising he actually knew one or two of them – doctors mostly, who he recognised from various local workshops, case conferences and training modules he’d attended over the years. A young, dark haired girl cast a sly, somewhat smirking glance his way as she walked out quite unsuitably dressed in a black PVC mini skirt and fishnets. Ah – typical rebellious teen? There was also a guy who’d been in the papers a few times – a lawyer. And wasn’t that the woman who presented the news on local television? It did seem quite a highbrow mix for a deeply unfashionable, inner city church like this one. As he’d say to Harry later, you’d imagine these sorts of people would attend a church with a much higher profile, not one in Doncaster hidden by moss and overgrown shrubs.

  Outside, as Noel and Harry watched the last of them leave, they climbed into various Audis and Jaguars, some chauffeur driven. The light rain from earlier had set to solid drizzle, rainwater dripping steadily from the yews, pooling on the bare earth below.

  “And?” said Harry.

  “I think you’ve got a new fan base. To be honest the only thing that struck me as odd, and please don’t take offence, is why people of that calibre are coming to a down and out place like this? And why now?”

  Harry nodded. “Well, it could be we were the one church round here with a regular, loyal following; the operative word being, ‘were’ because those regulars have now stopped attending. Even Tom, our local news editor.”

  His words hung in the air between them.

  “The Scutts trial is coming up soon, Harry. Smack of anything to you?”

  “Well, they could have come to disband the Christian stronghold here, I suppose–”

  “What about converting people? Do you think it’s that?”

  He shook his head. “They’ve thrown a few fund-raising parties but to be fair I don’t think any of the old regulars were converted – there were more quarrels than anything else. It’s such a shame. People who’d rubbed along for years organising raffles and coffee mornings, were suddenly at each other’s throats.”

  “What about yourself? Do you feel under threat in any way?”

  Harry’s laugh echoed in the porch. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t check over my shoulder when I’m locking up at night. But my faith is very strong, Noel.”

  “It wasn’t your faith I was worried about. Your soul radiates out of you–”

  “You mean my life? Because they don’t want anyone being helped and they know I’m possibly the only person in the entire area who’s an exorcist?”

  Noel gave his upper arm a squeeze. “Watch your back, mate, that’s all I’m saying. We need you. We all do.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about that. How are you feeling, by the way?”

  Noel grinned. “Shattered but a million dollars, if that makes sense? Thank you, Harry. I mean it - I can never thank you enough – but you know that.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t me,” said Harry, raising his eyes skywards. “But I think you know that. You take care now, Noel.”

  ***

  It was coffee break before Sandi finally went to the canteen and he had chance to call Becky again.

  The phone rang and rang and rang. He tried her mobile. Straight to voicemail. She hadn’t left any messages, hadn’t replied to his texts; nor had she called the ward.

  Something was wrong.

  He glanced at his watch. There were at least five hours to go before he could reasonably knock off, and with that infernal woman ruling the unit like a 1950s hospital matron it was unlikely it would be any earlier.

  Come to think of it, the atmosphere in here was like a morgue: not a single patient sat in the dayroom, all of them choosing to stay in their rooms and lie on their beds in a daze. He frowned. All of them in a daze?

  Locking the office he shot past that lazy article with the little bunch of hair tied on top of his head. “Ewan, can you do something for me?”

  Ewan stood with his hands in his pockets. “Sure.”

  “Give Claire a call and ask her to come over, will you? I’m pretty sure she’s up in Leeds today but some of these patients are bit too zonked for my liking. We need the doses checking. Something’s not right.”

  Ewan nodded, still standing there as if hankering for a longer chat. “Sure, man.”

  “Like now?”

  “Yeah, right. I’m on it. Jesus – everyone’s, like, so stressed.”

  Noel turned in the direction of Ruby’s room.

  “Oh yeah, man. Nearly forgot…”

  He stopped, half-turned back again. “What?”

  “Message for you. Sorry, it was a couple of days ago now. Amanda had to go off – her kid’s sick with chicken pox or something. Anyway, she said to call her, that it was urgent?”

  “A couple of days ago and it was urgent? Right okay, fine… thanks for remembering to tell me, anyway.”

  “No worries,” said Ewan, sauntering off.

  Despite his new-found surge of optimism for the human race, it was a struggle when it came to those like Ewan, and he made a conscious effort to shake off his irritation before knocking on Ruby’s door - Ruby’s perception was a hot knife through butter. She looked sound asleep when he walked in – coiled into a foetal position, sucking her thumb. Had she had a switching incident? Nobody had said. And it seemed odd she was out of it at this time.

  “Ruby?”

  He picked up her wrist. Her pulse rate was barely forty bpm*. What the fuck?

  Turning her frail body onto her back he shook her slightly but she was as limp as a rag doll. “Ruby? Can you hear me?” Pressing the buzzer for assistance he darted into the corridor and grabbed a blood pressure machine, dashed back with it and quickly att
ached it to her. Only then did the situation hit him full on. She had a systolic* of eighty-two and a diastolic of fifty. By now her limbs were beginning to twitch and her eyes had rolled back in her head; drool oozed from the corner of her mouth and her tongue began to dart forwards in a lizard-like fashion as if she was about to be violently sick.

  Ewan trotted up to the door.

  Noel shouted, “Have you phoned Claire? Right – this is urgent Ewan – bleep the SHO and bring the crash trolley down, I need an airway. Now!”

  “Ruby? Ruby, are you with me sweetheart? Come on, it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you now.”

  ***

  In the end he held her in his arms for two hours, long after an IV infusion had been inserted and the medical team had arranged for her to be transferred to the infirmary. Her respiratory rate was dangerously low and the extrapyramidal effects alarming, particularly the spasmodic twisting in her neck. She hadn’t surfaced from the coma and artificial respiration would need to continue through the night.

  When she was finally carried into the ambulance on a stretcher, tears coursed down Noel’s face. He looked away, over at the moors, not realising until now just how much this girl had crept under his skin. And Becky would be devastated.

  They’d all suffered part of Ruby’s torment but the girl herself had weathered most of it – this slight, bird-like child of a woman.

  “Please God, don’t let her suffer anymore.”

  There was, however, no time to dwell on her further because the rest of the ward was in turmoil. Claire Airy was back, tearing from room to room. All of the patients were heavily sedated, not eating or drinking, and some had soiled themselves in their beds, having lost muscle tone in addition to consciousness.