Matron opened the drawstring bag and tipped it into her hand. Out came a silver necklace with a pink crystal rose. Her eyes widened and her lips pulled back from her teeth. For a moment she almost flung the cheap costume jewelry back at Amy, but at the last moment she stopped herself. Even without Rosie’s cooperation she knew that was the wrong response.
Biting her lip, she looked up at the strange woman. “Thank you for being so kind,” she said stiffly.
Amy pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly. When she pulled away she took the necklace and placed it around Rosie’s neck. Matron wanted to push her away, wanted to rip the cheap thing off her neck and hurl it to the floor. Instead, she forced a smile on her face.
Soon they were in Amy’s car and as she drove away, Rosie looked back at the house. What was currently beautiful fell strangely and rapidly into a state of disrepair. The garden filled with weeds. Tiles were gone from the roof and the windows were broken. The front door was hanging off the hinges and the place looked as if it had been abandoned for decades. Maybe it had; maybe it was only Matron keeping the place alive.
Surrounding the door were a dozen or more children and two adults hidden in hooded cloaks. Rosie remembered them. Each child had been sacrificed to Matron. They were her power while she was at the house. Rosie had managed to free a few, but Matron had taken her over before she could release them all. As they moved away from the children would Matron weaken? Logically, she thought that she would, and she searched her mind trying to gain access to Matron’s thoughts as she had gained access to hers.
No, the word was hard in her mind and followed by pain as she let out a yelp.
“Are you okay?” Amy asked.
“No,” Rosie managed to say. Leave me here, I’m possessed, she said in her mind but ‘no’ was all that passed her lips. “I just have a headache,” Matron completed the response for her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought this would be really good for you.”
Rosie had lost control, at least for now. She turned to look at the children as they drove slowly away.
The two adults stood at either side of the door, like sad statues destined to crumble and fade into nothing. The children were different. They tried to follow, but each time they got more than twenty feet from the entrance, they would disappear and snap back to the front of the house. It looked like they would be trapped there forever.
I will release you one day, Rosie said in her mind.
“No, you won’t,” a cold voice replied. “You will stay here and watch me murder your best friend. Then you will help me gather souls to become strong and powerful. You will watch me slaughter throughout the centuries and you will hate it. That hatred, that fear, will make my control all the more delicious.”
Rosie screamed and shouted and raged at the prison that was her mind, but the only response she got was a deep and evil chuckle. She had lost and the world would pay for her foolishness.
21
Fatigue dragged Rosie down, forcing her into the seat and willing her eyes to close. The world was like treacle, like mud. With every movement she was fighting against a force greater than she was. She had to rest.
So she let go and tried to rebuild her thoughts. She knew there were areas of her mind that Matron couldn't reach. Places where she could hide. Places where she could plan. She imagined a vault in which she kept her deepest thoughts. That was her place. Somewhere Matron wasn't allowed. It was somewhere she could go to hide and to think. If she was going to keep Amy alive.... she had to do something.
As the car drove away, the warmth and the motion lulled her into a sense of peace and security. It was false, but it was all she had for now.
Matron was picking at her thoughts, trying to decide whether to kill Amy now or whether they needed her for the moment.
Rosie relaxed, placing her real thoughts inside the vault; she imagined being afraid of driving. It wasn't hard. Clive, used to shout at her when she drove. All she had to do was cultivate those feelings of fear and insecurity.
As they surfaced, a red rage dropped behind her eyes. Matron was angry. She wanted Amy dead and she wanted it now.
Inside her vault Rosie smiled. It looked like Matron needed to kill. Like she needed to sacrifice Amy to gain her soul. Rosie thought back to RedRise house and all the children that Matron had sacrificed there. All the souls she had gathered. Maybe without those souls she was weaker.
"You're very quiet," Amy said.
In her mind Rosie cultivated anger at her friend for interfering. For asking about her life and for not leaving her alone. If she could push Amy away then it would keep her safe. Maybe her friend could even help her, if she acted strangely enough.
"Why shouldn't I be quiet," Matron said.
"Sorry. Rosie, are you all right?"
"I don't see what you mean. Of course I'm all right. I just don't need to be bothered by your inane questions. Now, if you will let me rest, I will let you know when I need something."
Rosie could feel that Matron was happy with the look that crossed Amy's face. Her own emotions were mixed. Amy was hurt and confused. It was a start. Though she hated to upset her friend, more than anything she wanted to upset her. Wanted to drive her away, far away, to safety.
The journey continued in silence. To Rosie it was murder, a living hell, and she knew it would be the same for her friend. From time to time Amy glanced across at her. The deep furrows in her brow showed that she was concerned. Rosie wondered how she could use this. How she could get her friend to safety or maybe she could get Amy to help her.
How long is this journey? Matron asked in her mind.
Rosie didn’t want to answer; she didn’t want to give this woman, this creature anything, not even that, so she stayed in her vault.
Pain lanced through her brain and she let out a yelp.
“Rosie, what is it?” Amy pulled the car over to the side of the road.
As the car stopped, Rosie was released from the pain, she was panting heavily inside, and fighting for control against the agony, but outside she breathed normally.
They were out in the countryside, somewhere she didn’t recognize.
How long until we get to somewhere that I can kill this woman? Matron demanded in her mind.
Rosie fought with all she had, shaking and pushing against the force that held her thoughts so tightly. It was excruciatingly painful. Like needles inserted into her brain and yet she could tell that she had a stupid grin on her face.
The pain increased and she screamed in her own mind. Did it matter if she gave in on such a small point? Somehow she thought it did. She believed that every time she gave in it would become easier the next time. Or if not easier to give in, then harder to resist.
I don’t know!” she shouted at Matron. I’ve only traveled this way once and I don’t remember.
Matron bristled inside her mind. Angry that she couldn’t get what she wanted. It was a small victory, but Rosie was going to enjoy every one she got.
A series of images flashed through her mind: They were in a cellar. It was dark. A flame flickered from a torch on the wall casting shadows around her. A feeling of weakness and yet euphoria overtook her. A heavy robe hung on her shoulders. It smelled of sweat and a coppery substance that she knew was blood.
To her side stood a taller figure. Cloaked in the same garb, she couldn’t see his face. In front of them was a stone platform, an altar and a young girl was held upon it. Four cloaked figures surrounded her. One on each limb, but she was no longer fighting, but simply lying there knowing what was to come.
She was desperately thin, her eyes wide and afraid and yet there was a resignation in her features… as if she had always known that this was coming... as if it was all she could hope for.
Rosie wanted to run to her, wanted to hold her in her arms and tell her that everything would be all right. She wanted to take her away from there. True enough, she was advancing toward the girl, but the thoughts in her mind were no longer o
n rescue. Terror, pain, and damnation swirled around her brain and she was exultant to be inflicting it on the young girl.
Together, step by step with the man on her right, she approached the terrified girl. Shadows cast across her shoulders. They splayed on the wall like gargoyles creeping up on her. Each time the shadow crossed her face, the girl shied away. Trying to sink into the stone and slink away from the terrors.
Rosie felt her right arm rise above her head and she looked up to see a wickedly curved blade. It wasn’t held in her own hand but in one gnarled and twisted with swollen arthritic joints.
Euphoria ran through her at the same time as a sick dread. The part of her that was Matron was reliving one of her favorite memories. Taunting Rosie with what was to come. The knife plunged down, dragging her arm with it. Rosie’s mouth opened and she let out a sigh of ecstasy as the knife struck flesh and sliced deep inside the girl.
Her arm was jolted as the knife tore through flesh and hit the stone bench below. Warm blood ran over her hand and the part of her that was still Rosie reeled in terror. That part of her that was now Matron was strengthened by the vision. It glanced across at Amy and a sick smile spread across its face.
Rosie gasped for breath as the vision cleared. What was she to do? What had she unleashed on the world and how could she stop it?
You can’t, a voice said in her head. I have been waiting for someone just like you for so long. I selected well. I will ensure that you and all those you love shall suffer.
22
Resignation, along with horror, fear, and sickness washed over Rosie, but for now her fight was gone. Exhaustion finally got the better of her. It was too hard to fight, too painful, so with tears that she could not shed, she let go and slunk back into her vault. There she would recover and plan.
As she retreated into her vault, a coldness filled her, chilling her to the bone as Matron smiled. She knew that she needed to regain her strength and she just prayed that Amy would survive until she could.
Rosie was still vaguely aware of her surroundings. It was like floating just above a drug-induced sleep. Much like she had felt after having her wisdom tooth removed. The world was there; it was just fuzzy and dark, a little out of focus, and the conversation was just out of range of her hearing. For now she would have to let Matron take control, knowing that at least during the journey, the spirit couldn’t kill her friend.
“I’m really worried about you,” Amy said.
“Why?” Matron snapped.
“Because you’re so different. I found you that job; was it really so bad?”
Silence filled the car and Amy shuffled in her seat.
“Rosie, I’m so sorry if I made things worse for you... I never wanted to... I thought it would be good for you.”
“Do you not understand boundaries? I don’t want to talk about it,” Matron snapped, and Rosie could feel her searching for information, for answers on how to react.
Rosie kept her mind as still, as silent as she could, and did nothing as Matron picked and picked at her brains. It was working. She had kept her thoughts inside her vault and for now Matron did not understand. Maybe she thought that she was exhausted, but with a long sigh, she backed off.
“Maybe we could get that... Mocha?” Matron asked. “I feel the need for one.”
“Okay, but don’t you want to shower first?” Amy asked.
“Shower? Oh, that; I only bathe on Friday… what day is it?”
Any was looking out of the window but her eyes were pulled down and her mouth had dropped open. She turned to Matron and raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. Asking if this was for real, when she got no answer, she drove on a little way in silence. Soon they turned onto a motorway.
Matron gasped at the sight of so much traffic. She had seen the occasional car. Every time she lured someone to the house they would arrive in a vehicle, and over the centuries things had changed but here now—it was overwhelming.
For a moment, fear tugged at her and she regretted the decision of leaving her home. Of leaving behind her souls. Out here in this noisy, dirty world she was vulnerable. She had to kill and she found herself staring at Amy’s neck. Maybe she could just kill her here and now. It would give her strength, but her knife was in the case in the back of the car. There was another problem.
Pulling her eyes from the sweet skin, pulsing with blood, she licked her lips and looked out of the windscreen. The world rushed toward her at a dizzying speed and everything was so foreign.
How she wanted a drink. Sweet, warm blood would be her choice, but she would settle for water, wine, or tea. Anything to ease the dryness of her throat… and what was a Mocha?
Rosie had given in. The girl was weak and feeble. Right now Matron was pleased. She didn’t feel strong enough to fight but it caused her a problem. If Rosie let her mind collapse then she couldn’t use her for information. The world had changed so much, she was going to need that source of knowledge. Apart from that, it would have been fun to torture her. How she had enjoyed the torment she had given over the years. Firstly to the young girl, Mabel, whose soul had been her doorway into this realm.
A laugh escaped her as she remembered how the scared and sickly girl had still fought. Like a little tiger she had thrashed, spit, and scratched to be free, but it was all to no avail.
Amy was looking across the car, a strange expression on her face.
Now what?
“Is something wrong?” Matron asked trying to keep her tone as conversational as she could.
“I wondered what was so funny.”
Amy was staring back out at the roaring vehicles as they overtook some huge metal monster. Matron gripped onto the seat and put a hand to her chest. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it against her palm. This could not be good but what could she say?
Again she searched around the remnants of Rosie’s mind for an answer but nothing was there. She wanted to blurt out that she was reminiscing about torturing Mabel and then how delicious it was to see her father, Bartholomew, come to terms with the fact that he needed to kill his own daughter. Those had been her glory days and she would have them again. Then an answer came to her.
“It was just something from my book. I did quite a bit of writing and... well you know me and the characters.”
“I’m so glad you were able to write. Did you get the book finished?”
Oh why won’t she shut up and let me rest? “My book will never be finished,” Matron said, and in her mind she could see the book that she had brought with her. The Sacrifices of RedRise House and the Resurrection of Old Hag, only that wasn’t what Amy meant. It was the silly romance that Rosie had been writing.
“I thought you had a deadline?” Amy asked.
“Yes... that book... it’s nearly finished. I just meant, that as an author, one’s work is never done.”
“I see that,” Amy said, and then she turned the car off the road and down a narrow lane.
Matron knew that she was failing, that she was making too many mistakes and that Amy would become suspicious. The woman had to go and she had to go soon.
Now she was driving too fast down a narrow path with a concrete wall too close, too close. Matron let out a yelp.
“Hey, it wasn’t that close,” Amy said as she pulled the car into the services. There was a Costa Coffee sign up ahead and she parked near the entrance.
Matron stared at all the cars lined up. What were they doing here? Was it some kind of market?
Amy grabbed her bag and got out of the car. Matron stared after her and waited but Amy simply started to turn away. Matron sat waiting for Amy to open her door. It didn’t happen, Amy was just looking at her. She rummaged in her mind, causing a spike of pain where she thought Rosie was. She could feel the remnants of Rosie and knew that she was expected to follow Amy for the mysterious Mocha. Only she didn’t know how to open the door and then she looked down as she had no idea how to get out of the car. For a moment, panic squirreled in her mind and she sta
rted to scrabble at the door until she found the handle.
When she found it, Matron was filled with relief but Rosie could feel fresh sweat running down her back. This was taking it out on the spirit, so maybe she could use that to her advantage. Quickly she shut down and retreated into her vault.
“Come on slow coach!” Amy shouted. She was waiting on the pavement which was flooded with people.
Matron wanted to stop and stare. So many people, so many souls for her to take, to control. It was too much and so was the noise. There was traffic everywhere. Great big monsters that lurched toward her and the sound of the traffic was a roar in her ears. It was all so tiring. She wanted to rest, to recuperate, and to rejuvenate for she knew that she was aging. If she didn’t kill soon then this body would fail her. Once again, her eyes were drawn to Amy’s neck as she looked at the car. Could she get the knife, maybe find somewhere quiet and kill this woman?
Then what?
Maybe she could kill a few people here and gain control.
A thought came into her mind, you would be caught and killed first. Was that Rosie? Was she playing her?
Matron wondered if the girl was maybe not as weak as she thought. Maybe she was clever and sly. It didn’t matter; she would bide her time and she would have her soul. So she followed Amy, but while she did, she filled her mind with the image of a knife slicing into Amy’s throat. Inside her mind Rosie recoiled and she had her answer. Rosie was cleverer than she looked.
23
Matron followed Amy into the services and knew that her mouth was open. So many people and they all looked so different. She knew about different clothes but this was just overwhelming. The room buzzed with noise and there was so much bright light that she just wanted to curl into a corner and hide.
“Are you all right?” Amy asked as she passed her a tray.
Matron looked at the plastic item that had been smeared with a damp cloth and she wanted to drop it.
The Ghosts of RedRise House Page 13