The Ghosts of RedRise House

by Caroline Clark

  Jesse wanted to pull her from the door. Didn’t she understand when the spirit was in control, there was no Rosie? All they could do was try and force it out, but the more he thought about, it the more he knew they wouldn’t be able to do so. All they could do was end it and make sure there was nowhere for the spirit to escape to. That way she would die with Rosie.

  Amy’s eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. She had seen through his intentions.

  44

  “No!” Amy shouted, and she rushed forward, beating at Jesse with her bunched fists.

  He reacted quickly and raised his arms to protect his face, but all he could do was defend. She was right to be angry, right to hate him for what he knew he had to do.

  “I have no choice,” he said.

  “Stop it!” Gail shouted, and she pulled Amy away, putting herself between the two of them. “What is going on?”

  “He’s going to kill her,” Amy stuttered between sobs.

  “No, don’t be silly, he’s...” Gail’s voice broke as she turned to Jesse and it broke his heart to see the look on her face. All these years she hadn’t believed in the supernatural, but she had believed in him. Seeing that look on her face was enough to weaken his knees, but what choice did he have? “No you wouldn’t?” Gail said, but the break in her voice was clear.

  “I have no choice.” Jesse reached out to take her hands, but she pulled away.

  “There is always a choice and I won’t be part of this.”

  “Gail, listen to me. How many people would you see die? Me, you, Amy? If we go in there with less than full resolve, then this spirit will cut through us like a hot knife through butter. Then she’ll be loose in the world and her reign could last forever, taking more and more lives to exist. We have a chance to stop her. If I can, I will save Rosie, but if not, then we have to end this and we have to do it now.”

  Gail’s mouth opened. Her eyes blazed but she couldn’t form the words. “I... I...”

  Jesse looked down at the ground and then back at the two women. “I will do my very best to save Rosie. I promise, but we have to be clear. This spirit, the Old Hag, has to die. Many more lives are at stake and we have to make that choice now. Gail, with your help we have a chance to save her… without it...”

  “I hate this,” Amy said. “But I understand what you are saying. As long as you promise to try, I am with you.”

  Jesse nodded. “I promise I will try. Gail?”

  Gail nodded, but she couldn’t look at him, and that hurt almost as much as what they had to face.

  “There is a key around the back.” Amy pointed. “Follow me.”

  Jesse grabbed Gail’s arm and she spun around to face him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her lip quivered, but the set of her jaw showed resolve and anger.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we have to be strong. I would give anything to not do this, to not say those words, but sometimes there is no choice.”

  Gail nodded and gave him a faint smile. “Make a choice,” she said, and followed Amy.

  Even with the key, Jesse knew they wouldn’t be able to get in. The Old Hag was strong and ancient and if she wanted them kept out, then the door would be sealed.

  Amy pulled the key from a faded frog that was hidden in the garden. With a sad smile she handed it over.

  Jesse took it and pulled back at the cold and slightly damp metal. Ignoring the feeling it gave him, he slid it into the lock and turned. The tumblers moved and he took a breath as he reached for the handle. Would they get in?

  The handle turned and he pulled the door. Nothing! It didn’t even give. The spirit no doubt sealed the house without even thinking as she entered. She had taken three lives that they knew of. There may be more. It was surprising how many people could go missing without anyone ever reporting them, how they could be lost or murdered and no one would ever notice. If only three, they might have a chance, but if she had taken more, then the battle was already lost.

  “Why aren’t you going in?” Amy asked, her hands on her hips.

  “The door is sealed.”

  “Sealed!” She rushed forward and pulled on the handle. The door didn’t budge. Still, she pulled, pushed, and then kicked at the faded wood. “Oooh!” The sound was filled with anger, frustration, despair, and fear. It summed up exactly what Jesse was feeling.

  “Maybe I can connect with her,” Gail said, and reached forward to put her hand on the window.

  Jesse stopped her. “No, not this spirit, not this time.” The darkness he had felt and seen was too much. If Gail did this, she would make contact, and it could be the last thing she ever did.

  He pulled his Holy Water from his pocket and crossed himself as he approached the door. “Lord Almighty, allow us passage. Let Your light shine on this place. Let Your love fill it and guide those inside back to the path.” He threw the Holy Water onto the lock. It sizzled and hissed.

  Jesse tried again, but the door still wouldn’t budge. It looked like he would have to try all the tricks he knew to even get into the place. Would he have anything left with which to fight?

  Inside, Rosie sat in the corner and waited for her friend to leave. Everything was planned. There was a remote Island that Mary had told her about. If she went there and used the razor, then Matron would be trapped. All she had to do was keep in control for long enough to make the journey and to then take that razor and pull it across her own throat.

  Could she do it?

  The sound of knocking jerked her back to the present. They had to go. With every knock she could feel Matron waking. There was no way she could drive to Scotland. But maybe she could make it back to RedRise House.

  If she got there then all she had to do was kill herself, then Matron would be trapped the same as she was before. If she could manage to free a few of the children first, then all the better. It would reduce the spirit’s power and help the children. Now as she thought about it, this was a much better plan and she felt hope, real hope for the first time in a long while.

  Knock, knock. “Rosie, I thought you wanted to talk.”

  She tried to shut out the voice and to push Matron away, but the evil inside her was waking. Like insects in her mind, it buzzed and surged. Soon the noise would be unbearable and she would lose control. She didn’t have long. “Leave me alone, Amy. Please leave.”

  45

  Inside Matron’s head the girl fought, plotted, and pushed her down. It was insufferable, intolerable, and she would not allow it. Apparently, Rosie was stronger than she’d imagined, and the possession had been tougher than she expected. She was still weak… too weak.

  If she could call on her acolytes it would help, but Rosie stopped her at every try. How could this happen? She had planned this escape for so long. Had picked a person weak and beaten. One who shouldn’t have fought back—but she did. Stop this! Give in!” she screamed in her mind.

  “Never,” Rosie answered without hesitation, and her voice was strong. Too strong.

  Matron needed to get to her altar, or to at least hold onto her necklace. But, she sat here in this corner. The floor hurt her back, and her arms and legs refused to budge. She was trapped in another prison. One worse than RedRise House. One of her own making and one she was determined to escape.

  If she could just get up and go to the spare room. It was a room Rosie hated. It had once been the room she shared with a man named Clive. Matron had known some of her story before selecting Rosie. It had been difficult, but she had worked out more since the possession.

  Rosie had loved the man who beat her. The one who left her scarred and burned and broken. It had taken her a long while to let go, and she lived with that guilt. To Matron it was pathetic. What fool would let a man hurt them? What fool would weaken themselves for love?

  That was one of the reasons she had chosen that specific room for her altar. It would weaken Rosie each time she was in it.

  She had set up her seat of power there. It was just a simple table with a cloth,
her book, and a pentagram drawn in blood. Once it was blessed with a dark incantation, it gave her power and an anchor for her acolytes. There, the spirits she took would have to obey her. There, she could go when the world felt too foreign, too bright, too shiny, or too good.

  Or she could simply hold the necklace that hung around her neck. It felt heavy and cold, and was so close, but these foolish arms refused to move.

  Once more she gritted her metaphoric teeth and tried to reach for the necklace. The body she occupied stayed as still as a comatose patient on death watch. Frustration boiled inside her and as she could feel the arms moving and yet they resolutely refused to budge. A scream echoed around her mind, but Rosie didn’t even flinch.

  The girl was strong, but Matron was eternal. She had time, she could wait, and one day she would kill Amy, then, Rosie’s mind would break. So she imagined getting to her altar and grasping the necklace.

  Either of these would help her to call on her acolytes, but even they seemed to be working against her. Except for Geoffrey. Thinking about him filled her with delight. He was dark, evil, cold, and he would help her. No, my beauty, you wait a little longer, she whispered to him as he started to materialize.

  If Rosie was going to fight, then Matron had to be clever. Relaxing, she let her exhaustion wash over her. This human body was so weak and frail. Often there was a pain in her stomach and she would stumble and almost fall. It had been so long since she was human that these weaknesses vexed her. But, she could use that to her advantage. Feigning a weakness that was worse than she felt, she pulled back into the deep recesses of Rosie’s mind. There she hid in the dark, waiting, watching, and building her strength. She was evil, eternal, and stronger than this weak and pathetic human —she would prevail. All she needed to do was to wait for an opportunity.

  Rosie relaxed as Matron pulled back. “Amy, please leave. I have a plan but you have to leave or she will kill you.”

  The pounding on the door stopped.

  “Rosie, let us in. These people can help you. We know what is happening. We know about the Old Hag and the possession. Let us in... let us help.”

  Jesse sprinkled Holy water on the lock of the door and placed his hand on the wood. “Keep talking... the seal is weakening.”

  Rosie leaned back against the cold wall and tried to shut out her friend’s voice. But what if Amy was right? What if they could help? Fatigue weighed her down and the thought of fighting Matron was more than she could bear. Maybe she should let them in, give in, and let them take over.

  The more she thought about it the more she believed it was the right thing to do. She started to stand. Matron was afraid of the two people, Jesse and Gail. She felt their power and believed they could hurt her. So this had to be the right thing to do.

  Only Rosie knew that Matron was clever. Maybe she was using her, letting her feel this to allow Amy in. Rosie knew that it would break her mind if she killed Amy. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. No matter what happened to her, if she died, if she stayed under the control of this beast forever, it didn’t matter, as long as she saved Amy.

  Getting to her feet, she searched her mind... pushing and pulling, searching and shining a light in all the dark places. Matron hid amongst her base emotions. Fear, greed, jealousy. They were places she didn’t like to look into, places she wanted to avoid, but she searched through them. Feeling the bile and angst hidden there, Matron was nowhere to be found. Surely it was safe.

  She took a step toward the door. With each step, she stopped and looked inside. Tasting the air to see if Matron was waiting. Finding her mind blank, empty, she took another step and hope surged inside once more. The brightness of it filled her mind and chased away the darkness. Maybe this was how she would beat the spirit.

  If she was to stay strong and be filled with the purity of hope, surely it was too much for such evil to bear.

  With each step she grew more confident, more positive that she was alone, that she was herself again.

  Little did she know that Matron was waiting, planning, and that she rejoiced in the dark.

  “Rosie, are you there? I love you so much and I want to help you!” Amy shouted through the door.

  “I’m here.” Tears fell from Amy’s eyes as she heard the love in her friend’s voice. How could she have ever doubted that Amy would save her? Her friend could cope with anything. No matter what life threw at her, she just took it in her stride and always with a smile on her face.

  Rosie took three steps and stopped to check inside. Did she feel a stirring, a greasy sickness that spread cold through the back of her mind?

  She searched for Matron. “Where are you?” she screamed, but there was no answer… just darkness, shadows, and cold.

  “Can you open the door?” Amy called.

  “I’m close, just let me take my time.” Rosie had to be sure that it was her will that was doing this and she would take as long as it took.

  A shadow crossed the room in front of her with a darkness that coalesced and swarmed. It loomed just beyond the corner of her eye. Each time she tried to look, to focus, it was gone, and yet she knew that it wanted her to see.

  “Mary?”

  The shadow formed in front of her and from out of the mist, a face appeared, contorted into a scream. But then, it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

  “Mary, I’m so sorry.” Tears formed in Rosie’s eyes. She had killed this woman. This kind and good person’s blood had run down her hands as she plunged a knife into her throat. Stepping forward, she was now just a few paces from the door. “Mary, can I help you?”

  The shadow was back, between her and the door. At first it was just a mist, just a feeling of dark, fleeting, ephemeral, and transitory. Then it formed, and the hint of pink appeared. This time the spirit had a smile on her face. It lit up her features and made you want to hug her.

  The cold was gone and replaced with a feeling of warmth, but Mary was blocking her way. She raised her arms and pointed behind Rosie.

  Rosie quickly spun around, but nothing was there.

  “What do you want?” she asked, and stepped closer to Mary.

  The ghost shook her head, she was fading, drifting away. The anguish on her features was now clear and she shook her head again and pointed. Waving her arms frantically, she made pushing motions at Rosie, and then she was gone.

  The room was instantly warmer, but to Rosie it appeared darker and less welcoming. What had Mary wanted? To keep her from the door? That had to be it. Did it mean that Mary knew something? Did she know that Matron was tricking her? Was the evil waiting and wanting her to let Amy in?

  It made no sense. Mary was under the control of the spirit. She had been sent to keep her from the door. Maybe the ghost was like an alarm system that Matron had left to keep her safe. That made more sense. Rosie rushed the last few steps to the door and grasped onto the handle.

  It never occurred to her that when the ghost was under Matron’s control she was wearing a black cloak and not the pretty pink coat she had died in.

  46

  Jesse concentrated on the door, using every trick, every prayer he could to break the spirit’s hold. But he was failing. What they were dealing with was older and more powerful than anything they had ever met… anything he had ever imagined.

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gail pacing. She wanted to try and contact the spirit. The innate goodness in her believed that she could solve this with words, with negotiation. As much as he wanted to get into the house, to save Rosie, more than anything he wanted to keep Gail safe. Of course, Gail was never one to be cautious. She would rush in wanting to help, not caring if she got hurt in the process.

  Rosie’s hand touched the door and a jolt went through her. Like static raging up her arm, it shocked and fizzled. She wanted to pull back, but her arm wouldn’t move. Something held it there and turned the handle.

  Matron was back. It had all been a ploy. The spirit had let her think that she was in control, and he
re she was letting her friend in. Maybe to her death… she had done exactly what Matron wanted. A wail of grief sounded in her mind, but her lips didn’t move. The door cracked open.

  What had she done?

  While he was concentrating on Gail, Jesse felt the door handle turn and the door pulled away from him.

  “You did it!” Gail rushed forward and through the open door. “Rosie, is that you?”

  The brown-haired girl nodded, but there was something manic about her eyes, and the scar on her left cheek stood out more than the last time they had met. It seemed new and shiny, like a beacon.

  Jesse understood this was just his tired mind making the connection, but he didn’t believe that Rosie was the one driving, not for one moment. They had to be so careful.

  “Gail wait,” he called out, but she had already rushed past him, and before he could move, Amy followed.

  She pulled her friend into a hug and Jesse was spared the empty, dead fish eyes of the scarred woman for a moment.

  While they hugged, Rosie edged herself around, forcing Jesse and Gail back toward the door. Step by delicate step she pushed them closer without Gail realizing, but Jesse knew what was happening. The spirit was in control and she wanted them outside. Maybe she even feared them. That was something.

  Jesse moved to the right to step around Rosie, and as he did, she pulled back from Amy and shrieked. She pushed Amy so hard that the young woman fell against the wall. Then, Rosie launched, not at Jesse, but at Gail.

  A knife appeared in her hand. It was big, and evil and the sight of it turned his bowels to ice. For a millisecond, he couldn’t move and he watched as Rosie, her face contorted into a malicious grin, dived at his sweet Gail.

  Gail froze. The smile dropped from her face, but at the last moment her arm swung out and contacted with Rosie’s shoulder. The blow deflected the knife away from her and pushed Rosie back.