“Exactly. So think about it. What’s the point of you flitting then? I mean if these bastards are everywhere you could up-sticks to anywhere from Brazil to Oklahoma and they’d still find you. At least here you’ve got us.”
“You’re right - they’re bloody everywhere, aren’t they? And they look normal, do normal jobs…I’d never know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust anyone ever again. God help me if I ever need surgery.”
A sharp wind gusted down the chimney flue, and his glance flicked automatically to the dark shapes scooting along the floor and up the walls. Would they ever leave him alone?
“Another scotch?”
“Thanks.” He held out his glass. “Is Becky okay now?”
“She’s shattered. I’ve taken all the annual leave owed to me so I can look after her for a bit. To be honest with you though, she’s behaving a bit oddly, not quite her normal self. I suppose it’s the hormones and stuff, but she’ll not have the light switched off at night – goes ballistic. The place is lit up like a chuffing football stadium. I suppose it’ll all calm down eventually. I hadn’t realised she’d not been sleeping for weeks, either. Like I said, I’ll not be leaving her on her own like that again – even if I have to take another job.”
“Well, it all came on the back of what happened last year, didn’t it? It gets to you, Cal, it really does. Oh, while I remember, I need to ask you something. Who’s that bloke Noel was talking about – the one who helped him with bad dreams and stuff? Maybe Becky’s suffering with that too, you know? Maybe she could do with some help?”
“Maybe Becky’s suffering with what?”
Callum’s glance flicked to over Toby’s head. “Hello love, what are you doing up? Did we wake you?”
“I thought the slates were going to come off in the wind. The windows are rattling.” She slid onto a chair next to Toby, then did a double take. “Oh my good God – if it isn’t the ghost of Toby Harbour.” Her eyes widened further when she saw the cat on his knee. “And Louie! I don’t believe this, I must be dreaming. When did he show up?”
“Just now,” said Callum. “He came in with Tobes.”
Becky bent and kissed the cat’s head; then looked up, a huge grin spreading across her face. “That means she’s gone, then? She’s gone…oh thank God and all his angels, she’s gone…I’d do a little dance if I had the energy.” Her eyes shone through all the tiredness.
“Who? Bloody hell woman, I wish you’d both stop talking in riddles.”
About to say, ‘Lilith’, she changed her mind. “No one, Cal. Never mind, let’s just say I’m deliriously happy about it.”
Toby stroked the purring cat, nodding. “You’re right though, Becks. This cat disappeared about the time you told us about her.”
“I hope so. I honestly, truly bloody hope so. Anyway, what brings you to our door on this dark and rainy night, Toby Harbour? I’ve been ringing for weeks now and no one would tell me anything.”
“You look done in, Becky - you really should be in bed. I’m ever so sorry if I woke you.”
“That’s fine. Just tell me – I need to know.”
“Okay, well basically they dropped the charges.”
“Cal, would you make me a cup of tea, love? Sorry, I’m just too knackered to walk as far as the kettle.”
“Course I will.”
As soon as he began to clatter around making tea, she inched closer to Toby and whispered, “What about the other business? Are you okay?”
“Ah, that. I was just asking Cal if he knew who the bloke was who helped Noel.”
“Harry. Do you need him? To be honest, I could do with a chat with him too.”
“Becky, can you see shadows following you around, or is it just me?”
She nodded, keeping her voice low. “Yes, out of the corner of my eye. At least I don’t see her anymore - not since I got back, anyway. But yes, the man you need is Harry. Noel’s got his number. Apparently he’s run off his feet but I know he’ll help us.”
“Okay, I’ll ring Noel. I’m worried on another level too, Becky - seriously worried. I was just telling Cal, they’re everywhere. I’ve been freed for a reason and I think one of them is to call in favours whenever they want… the evidence disappeared, you know?”
She nodded. “Maybe we should move?”
Callum, swung round. “Move? Are you kidding?”
“Big ears. Well, they can’t follow us to New Zealand, can they? I’m worried about Molly. I’m worried about all of us. The whole area is in some kind of stronghold.”
“That’s what I said,” Toby agreed. “It’s cursed, and until that’s lifted this place is a magnet.”
“Not you as well with these bloody curses. So the answer is to emigrate, then? Leave our country and run away?” Callum handed Becky a cup of hot tea. “What about Ruby? And Alice?”
Becky took a sip. “Yes, you’re right. Sorry, it was just a panic reaction – I can’t leave them, of course I can’t.”
“So we’re not running away then?”
“No.” She lifted her face to his. “No, we’re damn well not. This is our home. We’re staying and we’re fighting.”
“’Men get away with evil things when good men do nothing’,” said Callum, pouring out more whisky.
“No, that’s not right,” Becky said. “It’s, ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Toby.
“Can you pour me one, please?” said Becky. “I’d like to drink to that as well.”
***
Chapter Thirty-Two
1583, Samhain
Nightfall came quickly, snuffing out the bright, crisp afternoon as Magda tore through the forest to the abbey. Skirting the perimeter, well away from the main track, she kept close to the shadows until finally the abbey walls came into view. From somewhere deep within the woods there came cries not of wolves but of men, and a bolt of fear riveted her to the spot.
The mob was out already – torches flickering with fire in the dark. They’d be looking for someone to hang for Lisbet’s death - for their hunger, their disease and their fear. Who better than a lone woman who had lain with men twice her age and allowed her younger sister to be sacrificed instead of herself? How convenient it was to accuse her of witchcraft, something which would exact a humiliating trial and a public execution.
If they found her…
Before scaling the wall she checked over her shoulder. A crescent moon silhouetted an army of black trees. Motionless she stood listening, waiting...They were heading in this direction.
With moonlight shining on the wall she quickly located the same spot she and Cicely had discovered - a groove between the stones just big enough for foot leverage – then scrambled over the top and sprinted across the lawn to the abbey. On reaching the heavy wooden door, she hurled herself at it, hammering urgently with her fists.
No one came.
Precious seconds ticked by.
She paused and stepped back, scrutinising the darkened windows. There had to be someone here…There had to be…Next to the abbey, the little church sat in silent darkness. They were not at worship…So the sisters must surely be inside the abbey?
Smoke from the encroaching torch flames now reached her nostrils and her heart raced faster, hands trembling badly as she banged on the door.
Oh, please let someone answer…please…
Still with no response, she checked over her shoulder again, wondering if there was a back door or some other part of the abbey the nuns might be in. Perhaps they couldn’t hear her? It would be far too dangerous to call out. What about hiding in the church? Surely they would not come looking for her there? Oh, what to do? What to do?
A sudden breath on her neck caused her to swing round. An elderly nun stood quietly behind her. “Make haste, Child,” she whispered. “You must come with me.”
There was no time for questions: shouts and barking dogs were getting louder by
the second. Determined to track her down, it wouldn’t be long before her scent was picked up and the abbey was searched.
Hurrying after the flowing robes of the nun, who was already disappearing round the corner of the building towards the church, she wondered how this woman had known immediately who she was and what she needed. On reaching the eastern porch, the old nun’s face was in darkness as she stopped and turned, listening.
“Dear God, they’re scaling the walls. They’ll find you in here… No, follow me, I have a better idea.”
“I don’t understand,” said Magda, scurrying after her. “Why would they come here? And how did you know they were coming?”
“My dear, you have no comprehension of what is going on in this village. We have to hide you. Hurry, quickly.”
Magda looked behind them. Torch flames were leaping into the night air, and the heavy thud of men jumping over the walls was unmistakable.
They sped down the path to the rear of the abbey. “You’re going to have to go down the well.”
“What?”
“They’ll be in the abbey in no time: the others are hiding down in the cellar – they’ll hang us all for witches–” The elderly woman was out of breath as she used the winch to bring up a wooden pail inside the stone well. “They take the children to Tanners Dell and make them say things against us – in case we speak out, you see? We take in orphans from the streets – hurry get in. They have no birth certificates, no family. We can only watch as they’re taken to the mill and never brought back. Sometimes, later, we’re told to bury them. Come on, hurry, child. Now hold tight.”
Magda gripped the sides of the pail as it swayed precariously.
“We found out the children were being used in most unspeakable ways, and we took the matter to the mill owner,” she explained, lowering Magda down into the well. “Since then we’ve been threatened with the slur of witchcraft, using herbs to cast spells and talking to familiars in the forest. Some of the children have testified they’re afraid of us, accusing us of talking in tongues, saying they’ve seen us using poison on people as they sleep.”
Far below the water sloshed against the stones as progressively the descent became darker and colder, and the nun’s voice became evermore faint.
Magda’s voice resounded round the well. “But you’re a religious order?”
“Yes.”
From close by a window smashed and muffled screams echoed through the chambers of the abbey.
“Sit tight and keep quiet.” The nun’s voice was barely audible as she peeped over the rim. “I’ll come back for you.”
The rope had extended to its full length, the pail still oscillating, squeaking slightly as it knocked on the stones until finally it stilled; and she was left alone in the dripping, dark chill many feet below ground.
Desperate to cry out to the fleeing woman to remember to come back, please not to forget… she remained silent: the abbess would be running for her life. There was no choice but to sit this out, for however long it took.
After a while, her fear tempered and her sight adjusted to the slimy, dark walls. A steady drop, drop, drop of rain echoed in the well water as overhead the clouds grew heavier, and a brisk wind whipped up. Still she waited, hour after hour, straining to hear what was happening.
With time to think and gather her wits, she puzzled over what the abbess had said. Right back from being a child she’d been told the sisters looked after orphans until they were able to go back into town, acquire work and take care of themselves. Mostly they were young children, who were sick, or their families had been bankrupted or wiped out – grimy urchins found wandering round the back streets begging for food. The villagers held the sisters in reverence, believing the Church provided for them, contributing what little they could afford into the weekly collection box at church.
But why would William take those children to the mill? What for? What unspeakable deeds did she refer to, that meant the children did not return, or at least only to be buried in the little cemetery? Was it to work? Why would that be unspeakable? And why had her mother talked about depraved things and the nuns being paid for what they did? As if in answer to her questions, her head began to pound and a sudden vision appeared to her, of chains nailed into a wall, of a black altar and hooded men…
You know…Magda…you were there…Magda…
The whispers, they were coming from somewhere. She whirled around, staring into the dripping darkness of the well. Who was here?
“Are you here with me? Show yourself then. Help me!”
The sudden acrid pungency of fire and terrified screaming forced her back into the moment. They must have found the nuns. She covered her ears. What were they doing, hauling these religious women from a place of worship to try them for witchcraft? And why would the children they’d helped accuse them of such things? This was evil beyond all words and the men who did this should be punished in hell.
Daring a glance upwards, her heart lurched. A man was peering down the well staring directly at her. Instinctively she faced downwards, squeezing shut her eyes, thankful her hair and clothes were black. Surely he couldn’t see, surely, surely…
“Found her?” said a man’s voice.
“Nah, she’s gone – probably off on her broomstick.”
“They leave a pile of black soot. There’ll be soot somewhere, you mark my words.”
“I’ll cut the rope anyway – if she’s down there she’ll drown then with her toads.”
Magda clung onto the side of the wooden pail as the ropes were chopped, and the pail plunged deeply into the dark pool below, scraping her knuckles raw as it crashed sideways into the stones.
Even as her skull cracked and she sank under the freezing water, she made not a sound. And briefly the world eclipsed. Before a slam of pain thumped her hard in the chest, and she surfaced, fighting for air, gulping water. Desperately her fingers clutched at a jutting stone, and with her toes on a narrow ledge below water level, she held on, spewing out water from her lungs, gasping for air, teeth chattering uncontrollably. She would die down here. If the nuns had been taken she would die because no one was coming back.
Fleetingly, she wondered where the older lady had gone. Would she have gone to the church? Would they have dragged her from the altar?
She held on, gradually losing hope - her hands were too numb to grip on for much longer - until she began to lose consciousness. Resting her forehead against the slippery, lichen covered walls, she began to pray for forgiveness when a glint in the wall caught her eye. Something was there. Was it glass? Would it help her?
Inch by inch she edged a little further round. Overhead the clouds had now cleared to reveal a starry sky, and the facing wall had caught a shard of light. Curiosity drove her on. Reaching out, she strained as far as she could without falling back into the water, until finally she had it. A glass phial. She held it up to the silvery light and a stab of recognition twisted inside her. Inside the glass bottle were locks of hair, nail cuttings, a waxy substance and what looked like the bodies of insects.
Men’s voices overhead made her start. Hadn’t they gone? Frantically, she edged back to the dark side of the well, looking down, the phial clasped tightly in her hand.
“Is that all of ’em?”
A voice she recognised all too well replied, “Aye, we strung ’em all up. William said hang the lot in case they spoke out.”
“Did they find Magda?”
“Nah, she’s gone. We’ll get her eventually, though, she won’t be far off. He said keep going ’til we find her – those were his orders.”
“At least we’ll not go hungry this winter, eh? Not with this bloody, great feast. Mr Miller will just have to get his bairns another way now, won’t he?”
“Be some money in it for us, I reckon then Mr Dean – you and your lads could go hunting for ’em? He’ll pay handsome and no mistake.”
“Could be, could be.”
Magda’s feet were as lead, the strength and th
e will to crawl out now having ebbed away. She closed her eyes. So he had deliberately had his own daughter and unborn granddaughter hunted down for slaughter…
Those were his orders…
The icy, black water closed over her head as she sank through its murky depths, clutching the phial she knew without doubt, had been placed there by her mother. It seemed so clear now – her mother had cursed the nuns who abandoned her in her hour of need. She had been raped. Of course…
And the whole of this village knew about it; knew about those children; and knew what happened at the mill. No wonder Magda had been filled with rage. No wonder she had invited in the one who had not abandoned her: the one who had come to each of them in turn, bestowing the power to invoke a curse on the whole damn lot of them.
Icy black water filled her lungs with crushing pain as her eyes met with the white eyes she now knew were the same as her mother’s; the same as her own. And her smile widened in the final moment.
Lucifer, take me for I am yours.
“May this whole village be cursed with misery and fear; and whoever looks into a mirror and sees me, be possessed by the spirit of Lilith for all eternity. This is my will. So mote it be.”
***
Epilogue
Ruby
Doncaster Royal Infirmary
November
My window is different. No bars. And blobs of amber are fuzzy in the dark. Streetlights? Are they streetlights? A loud, rhythmic hissing and clunking fills my ears with every breath; my body weighted down…so heavy...
I wake again, blinking, to another change. To daylight radiating through cloud. To white uniforms. A stab of fear. Faces loom over me; something fizzing in my veins and once again the world spins away.
It feels like a limbo-land of time; an endless grey fog in here. We can talk and sometimes we see each other. And inside the fog there is a light – a lantern – we are being shown something…Come with me, come and see…come and see…
Magda: A Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Trilogy - Book 3 Page 23