The Ghosts of RedRise House

by Caroline Clark

  “In the Name of Jesus,” she repeated the words that she had heard in her head earlier, the words she knew had come from Rosie. As she got to the part of his name, she said the words without knowing what they would be. “I rebuke the spirit of Geoffrey Davis. I command you leave this place, without manifestation and without harm to me or anyone, so that He can dispose of you according to His Holy Will.”

  Geoffrey screamed and shrank in on himself. He was sucked back inside of his own body until there was nothing left but a dark spot. Once more, she threw Holy water over the darkness and it fizzled out of existence to the sound of an eternal scream of despair.

  Ignoring everything, she rushed to help Amy. The battle was not going well.

  50

  Jesse woke on the floor. There was a pain in his head and neck, but he jerked awake and up to his feet. “Gail!” he screamed into the wind, only to find that the wind had dropped, leaving the hallway littered with pictures and debris. What did that mean? Was it over? Had they lost?

  It didn’t matter; he would do what he came up here to do. He had to continue in the vein that there was still hope. Moving hurt his head, but he forced his battered and bruised body to rush. The door in front of him was closed, but he didn’t hesitate. Taking a run, he charged at it with all the strength he had left.

  His shoulder hit the weak wood and he turned the handle. The door gave much easier than he’d expected and he sprawled into the room.

  The room looked exactly as it had when he had been forced from it, earlier – how much earlier he didn’t know but he had to hope that it wasn’t too long. “Hold on Gail,” he shouted as he rushed toward the altar.

  The closer he got, the more difficult it became. The air was thicker, pushing him backward toward the door. He dug in his heels and surged forward inch by painful inch. Now it was hard to breathe. His lungs were deflated with the pressure and he gasped as he struggled to bring precious air into his starved lungs.

  He was so close. The fact that it was still a struggle gave him hope. If she was still defending this, then she still needed her power.

  One step, two, three. He could almost reach the altar cloth and he stretched his hand out further when, below him, he heard an inhuman shriek. “Gail, Gail, hang on, my love.”

  Though his heart wanted him to turn and run to her, his mind and instincts told him the best way to help was to stretch forward just a few millimeters more and yank that black cloth off the table.

  He stretched and pushed against the solid wall of air. Straining, muscles screaming, his fingers brushed the cloth. It was cold and it sent a shock up to his heart. Again, he wanted to pull away but, he took another step, just a few centimeters closer, it was all he needed. Reaching out, he clasped hold of the cloth and ignored the cold darkness that threatened to engulf him.

  Instead of drawing away he clasped his fingers tightly and pulled the cloth off the table.

  Gail repeated the exorcism and the Lord’s Prayer as she approached Matron. Rosie was fighting, and sometimes the face that struggled with the knife as she rolled on the floor with Amy was hers. Other times, it was the dark and evil visage of the spirit that possessed her.

  “Leave this place!” Gail shouted, and she poured the rest of her Holy water over Matron.

  It did very little. In fact the woman smirked up at her, but that satisfied and smug smile took her attention for a moment. It was all they needed. Amy nodded and grabbed the knife from her hand. Rosie surfaced. Her face was drawn back into a shriek of defiance, and Gail reached out.

  Gail had seen Mary’s look as the ghost had faded away, and now she understood. With a thank you to the departed woman, she reached out and grasped onto the necklace that hung around the Old Hag’s neck.

  The chain was cold, heavy and it didn’t want to move. Gail gritted her teeth and tried to pull back. As she did the other two women understood. Amy punched Rosie hard, just as Rosie threw her weight backward, and Gail did the same. Rosie fell away in front of Gail, and she fell backward.

  The wind dropped and the room was quiet as a church on a Monday morning.

  For a moment, they all stood still, shocked that this had happened. But Gail could see that Matron was rallying. That she intended to fight back even now.

  Amy punched her friend again and Rosie nodded as she fell over backward and landed on the floor with her eyes closed.

  Upstairs, Jesse threw the altar cloth to the floor and picked up one of the heavy candle holders. They were metal with square bases. With that, he approached the pentagram and scratched a gap in the blood on the wall. As he made a way through one of the lines, a wave of electricity passed over the wall, and the room was now just a spare room in desperate need of a tidy.

  Jesse tossed the candle holder away and sprinted for the stairs. He raced down them mumbling over and over, “Gail, be safe, Gail, be safe, Gail...” his words died as he came into the wrecked living room to see Amy and Gail tying Rosie’s unconscious body to a radiator.

  He pulled Gail into his arms and kissed her. As he found her lips, tears fell from his eyes and ran down his face. Soon they broke their salty kisses, but he didn’t want to let her go.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he searched her face. She was dirty, covered in dust and a few bruises, but she looked fine.

  Gail nodded. “I’m fine. Mary helped us as did Rosie.”

  “Oh I love you so much. Marry me,” Jesse blurted out the words before he could stop himself. For months he had been planning on doing this properly, and now he just blurted it out. It felt right, and the look on her face told him she felt it too.

  “I wondered if you were ever going to ask,” she said, and kissed him again.

  “Is that a yes?”

  Gail flung herself into his arms. “Yes, of course it’s a yes. I love you too, dummy.”

  Amy appeared behind them and they pulled her into their arms and all hugged. At last, Jesse pulled free.

  “Now, let’s free your friend,” he said.

  In the corner Matron was waking. She hissed and pulled against the ties that held her. “You will never beat me,” she shrieked.

  “I think we have,” Amy said. “Let my friend go.”

  “Never; she will die with me.”

  Amy coiled back and looked at Jesse. “Is that possible?”

  Jesse thought about lying, but he knew there was no point. “Yes, it is, but what would your friend want?”

  Amy nodded. “You’re right. She would die to take this thing with her. Save her if you can, but I know what she would want.”

  “Take my hand,” Jesse said, and he held out both hands. One for Gail and one for Amy. “Think of nothing but sending this evil to hell and freeing your friend. We can do this and we will.”

  They nodded and approached Matron.

  James was blinking in and out of existence to one side of her. Confusion and fear fought for control of his face.

  Gail looked at him… Jesse nodded. Gail let go of Jesse’s hand and walked toward the young man. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s time for you to go to a better place. To a place of peace and beauty. To the next phase of your journey. Do not be afraid. Let go and walk toward the light.”

  “Stay with me you worm,” Matron shrieked.

  “She cannot hurt you,” Gail said, and she reached out to him. Though she could not touch him, she could give a sense of warmth, of comfort, and instinctively she knew to do this. “Listen to me, block out her voice and listen to me. You are no longer afraid. You have passed from this life and it is time to go to the next. Let go, move on to peace. See the light and be free.”

  A light appeared behind him and an expression of rapture came over his face. Gently he floated away from them and was swallowed by the light.

  Then Matron was all alone with the ones who wanted her gone. She let out a shriek that started off defiant but turned into something weak and pitiful. It looked like she knew it was over.

  The three linked hands again.
Jesse and Amy began to repeat the Lord’s Prayer while Jesse chanted in Latin. Matron thrashed and writhed against the radiator.

  “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum.”

  Rosie bucked inside her own body, fighting to push the spirit from her. She was praying that all would be well, but also knew this would be the start of her battle.

  “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come,” Gail and Amy spoke together.

  “Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.” Jesse walked them closer to the writhing figure as she cursed and hissed and spat, her body shaking.

  “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come.”

  “You will pay for this, you will rot in hell.” Matron spat the words and wrenched her hands free.

  Jesse walked closer and they all kept repeating the exorcism. “Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie.”

  “Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” Amy pulled back as Matron tried to stand, but Gail was having none of it. She reached out with her foot and putting it on Rosie’s shoulder, she pushed the girl down.

  “Et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.”

  Rosie was smiling now. Her features were taking control and the dark and evil visage that was Matron was fading.

  “Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

  Rosie fell back and seemed to shrink. It was as if she had been blown up by the presence of the spirit.

  “Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.”

  “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

  As it passed from her, her clothes filled with air for a moment, and then she was alone. The sound of a scream echoed through the house. Matron was falling further and further down as she was dragged back to where she belonged.

  It was over.

  The friends collapsed into a heap on the floor, exhaustion, and hyper-emotion having taken their toll. It would be a while before any of them would believe what had happened. A while before their minds could face it.

  Epilogue

  Rosie sat in court waiting for the verdict to be read out. She was still thin and dark lines marred her eyes, showing that sleep was not easy to come by.

  All the time she was possessed, she had tried not to eat and now she was finding food hard to stomach. Maybe she was punishing herself. That was what Amy told her, but every time she tried to eat, she thought of the spirits, the people she had killed.

  She knew how lucky she was and she understood that she would have to take this punishment. Luckily, Amy, Gail, and Jesse had gotten her the best lawyer. Paul Simmons believed in the paranormal and understood what had happened. He was a good friend of Jesse and Gail and he had done everything he could to help Rosie.

  Though he couldn’t use ghost possession as a defense, he had muddied the water. He told the jury that Rosie had been subject to a terrible ordeal. She had been forced by an older, more forceful personality to commit the crimes, and she hadn’t been alone when she committed them. The damage at the house, some inconclusive DNA results, and the injuries to Amy and Rosie had been enough to bring doubt. The police were not convinced, but they did concede that Rosie had an abusive boyfriend and that she had been badly beaten and scarred for life.

  Paul hoped that it would be enough to get the jury to convict of manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. That way, Rosie would get time in a mental institute. It would be easier than prison, and she would have the possibility of parole.

  Amy reached out and squeezed her shoulder as the jury came back in.

  The judge had already given his direction. Though he hadn’t told them what to do, he had offered Rosie some sympathy.

  Once the jury had all filed into the court and sat down, the clerk of the court stood before them. Rosie didn’t know what to feel. Her hands had killed, and yet she was a victim. She was happy to accept whatever happened to see the world freed of the evil Old Hag. That was what she had to remember.

  The clerk of the court was speaking. “Will the jury please rise. Will the defendant also please rise and face the jury.”

  Rosie heard the scrape of chairs and she tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. Paul put his hand under her elbow and helped her to her feet.

  “Mr. Foreman, has your jury agreed upon your verdicts?”

  A kindly man of about fifty who looked like he was an accountant avoided her eyes as he spoke. “We have.”

  “What say you Mr. Forman, as to complaint number 5879643, wherein the defendant is charged with three counts of first-degree murder? Is she guilty or not guilty?”

  Rosie held her breathe as she heard a collective gasp behind her, and knew that Amy, Gail, and Jesse would all be wishing the verdict in her favor.

  The Foreman turned toward her and Rosie felt her knees go weak. He looked down as if he couldn’t face giving her such bad news.

  “Not guilty.”

  Rosie let out a gasp and the court murmured and muttered. Rosie understood that the relatives would not be happy with this verdict and she felt for them. She wished that she could explain, but Jesse had told her that to do so would only make things worse. She had thought about writing a book, after all she was a writer.

  “Order,” the judge called.

  Rosie knew the next charge had to be guilty, that she would serve a good part of her life in an institution, but still it felt like all her dreams had come true.

  “What say you Mr. Forman, as to complaint number 5879644, wherein the defendant is charged with three counts of manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility? Is she guilty or not guilty?”

  “Guilty.”

  Rosie sunk down into her seat. She didn’t hear anymore. Soon she felt Amy pull her into her arms. It was safe and comfortable and it may be the last time she would ever feel it.

  “I’ll visit you every week, I promise,” Amy said. “Don’t give up.”

  Rosie hugged her tight. “Thank you for saving me, for saving countless people. I don’t care about this prison or where I go—it will be much nicer than being a prisoner in my own mind. Thank you Amy.”

  Guards came to take her away. As they guided her from the court, Rosie turned back.

  “Thank you,” she said, and this time she was talking to Gail and Jesse.

  Once the doors had closed and the court had cleared, Paul turned to the three friends. “Don’t despair. I will keep working. I will make sure she gets nice accommodations and that she is released as soon as possible. Most of all know, that your friend is free.”

  He stood and left the courtroom.

  “What happened to him?” Amy asked.

  “His wife was possessed. He managed to get her back, but her mind was never right again. She killed two people but she was lucky. There was no evidence. Trust him. Rosie will be fine and we will get her out in as few years as possible.”

  “I do,” Amy said. “I know Rosie, she is stronger than she knows. She will survive this. Now, I have just one more question.”

  Jesse cocked his head and waited.

  “What is it?” Gail asked as she reached out and took Amy’s hands. “Whatever it is we will do our best for you.”

  “I just wondered if I would be invited to the wedding.”

  Gail laughed and pulled her into her arms, grabbing hold of Jesse she pulled him into the hug. As they pulled apart she smiled.

  “Invited, how would you like to be my maid of honor?”

  Amy nodded and wiped tears from her eyes. “I would like that.”

  Suffer the Children

  The Ghosts of RedRise House Book 3

  Suffer the Children

  By Caroline Clark

  ©Copyright 2018 Caroline Clark

  All Rights Reserved

  Prologue

  RedRise
House

  Yorkshire Moors

  England.

  10 p.m.

  Sprinting through a dark and clouded night, a young boy raced as if for his life. Tiny bare feet made no sound as he tore along an overgrown path. So thin, so frail, and yet he raced like the devil was on his tail. Arms pumping, lips pulled back into a snarl. The breeze didn’t lift his home-cut hair as step by step he ran on and on.

  Though weeds and brambles blocked his path, he passed through them without hinder as he ran toward the freedom of the countryside beyond.

  Behind him, a chill, keening sound started. Stood at the door of a once imposing house were over a dozen children. None of whom moved their mouths, yet the sound came from them and rose upon the air. Louder and louder, higher and higher. Like nails on a chalkboard, it shattered the stillness and ripped through the quiet. Was it encouragement, disapproval or despair? It followed him, as step by step he came closer to freedom. Closer to the open grassland dotted with trees, and beyond that the world.

  Yet the shadow of the hulking house stretched out into the darkness, and he had yet to break its reach.

  It had once been an impressive sight, but now the front door hung half open. Broken windows winked in the black night and yet kept the secrets within. A tile had slipped from the roof and lay shattered on the path. Weeds crowded the garden. Straggly, forest-like growths had attempted to take over, but instead, lay brown and dying around the base of the house and the front door.

  Surrounding that door were over a dozen children, ranging from five to twelve years in age. Although it was difficult to tell, for all of them were small and malnourished. They wore old-fashioned clothes. The girls dressed in plain, dark, work dresses that came down to their bare feet. The material patched and threadbare in places. The boys’ trousers didn’t quite cover their bony ankles and were topped with plain dark smocks.