The Ghosts of RedRise House

by Caroline Clark

  "We may die... but that means we may both live, and I have to take that chance. Please show me where he is."

  A tear ran down Stacey's face, but she nodded her head. I will do this, and I will help if I can. But you must understand, if you die here, I think you will stay here forever. I think this place is hell.

  Shelly gulped down her fear and swallowed the words that wanted to say get me out of here. She knew she could do this, knew she had to save Jack, and if she didn't, then it was only right that she died with him.

  As she had the thoughts, she could see that Stacey heard them and she shook her head to apologize. "Lead the way, my twin. Together we ride against the forces of evil."

  Onward to battle, Stacey answered.

  These had been the words they used when they were children while fighting dragons and evil to save the handsome Prince. Who would, then, of course, marry them. They had been fun times, harmless fantasies of two girls growing up with endless imaginations. They gave her strength and faith. They had never been beaten in battle as children, and they were not going to lose now.

  Stacey walked toward the door with the notice on it. It didn't surprise Shelly. A part of her knew that Jack had to be in the cellar, the dungeon. But would her sister have a way of getting through that locked door?

  Stacey turned and nodded as if she had heard the question. She gave a smile that reminded Shelly of lazy sunny afternoons lying on a river bank and dreaming of love. Keeping this thought in her mind, she followed her sister. That one smile had washed away the guilt, washed away the fear. They were the unbeaten twins and once more they would battle evil.

  Stacey disappeared, fading gradually into the door. The air buzzed slightly, and Shelly could see a mist surrounding the door. It was light and gave her a feeling of warmth and hope. As it faded, she heard the door click open. It looked like she was in.

  Shelly pulled the door wide and peered down dark, narrow steps. They looked like they were carved out of stone and she could only see a few feet beyond the door. Waiting at the edge of her vision was Stacey.

  Are you sure?

  "I am."

  Stacey nodded, turned, and floated down the stairwell. She took a little bit of light with her and Shelly hardly needed her torch to follow as long as she kept up. The sound of her feet slap, slap, slapping on the stone steps filled the tunnel and echoed back all around her. As she got to the 10th step, the door closed behind her with a slam, and she jumped so much that she almost toppled down into the darkness.

  Don't worry, I can open it again, Stacey said in her mind.

  "Good to know."

  The further they walked the more disorienting it became. Down they went into darkness, into an underground cavern. It reminded her of a program she had once seen on potholing. All she could remember of it were the warnings, the dangers, and the one mantra – never go alone.

  The walls swarmed toward her, her breathe coming hard and fast. Claustrophobia pushed on her chest like an amateur giving CPR. And with each pound of its fist, her heart jolted in and out of life. She knew she was panicking, hyperventilating, and that if she didn't get hold of herself, she would possibly faint.

  Suddenly she was surrounded by light and by a feeling of love, and she looked up to see Stacey floating in front of her. Her sister was so beautiful and so full of love it took away much of the fear.

  I am with you, Stacey said. I will be with you until the end of this, and then we will talk. I hope we will talk a lot in the future, for I am staying close to you and going nowhere without you.

  Stacey let out a sob as tears of joy ran down her face.

  "You were always the best sister. I have missed you so much."

  Me too. Come on, not much further. Stacey turned and started to flow down the stairs once more.

  Shelly followed her. As they hit bottom, she heard the sound of running water and the air was moist and stale. The stench of something long dead and rotten filled her nostrils and clawed at her throat. This place was death and every fiber of her wanted to flee from it.

  This way, Stacey said, and turned to the left.

  They ventured down a narrow passageway and passed a small alcove filled with books. Ahead of them was the door, and Shelly knew that behind it was a sacrificial chamber where she would find Jack.

  Would they be in time?

  Would he be alive?

  In front of them was a heavy and rough wooden door. It was made out of planks with metal strips across it. Despite its age, it looked impenetrable, and for a moment Stacey faltered.

  Turning, she looked at Shelly with tears in her eyes. This is your last chance to turn around, to return to safety.

  Shelly bit down the reply that wanted to say, get me out of here.

  "Is Jack alive?"

  For a moment Stacey was gone and when she returned, she nodded. The ritual is nearing its climax... there is still a chance.

  "Do not ask me to leave again, just help me."

  The door is open. Stacey passed through it.

  Just for a second, Shelly hesitated. She took a deep breath and imagined Jack’s smile. The way he was always there for her. Then she put her hand on the door handle and pulled. It creaked as it opened and orange light flickered out into the passageway. Before her nerve could defeat her, she walked into a large chamber that appeared to be hewn out of solid rock. The light was coming from the far side of the room, and Stacey beckoned her forward.

  Across the room, four flame torches were held high and surrounding what looked like a group of children and three adults. They all had their backs to her and had formed a semicircle, a U, around what she knew would be Jack.

  Listen to your instincts, Stacey said as she floated toward the figures.

  Shelly tried, but all she could feel was fear.

  From across the room came a scream of abject terror

  Before she knew what was happening, she was running across the room, and shouting, "Get away from him! Don't you hurt him! Get away from him, you bastards!"

  The figures turned and parted as one. The children's faces were feral masks of hatred. The look in their eyes was enough to turn her blood to ice and their mouths… the teeth in them were ready to rip her apart if she stood in their way.

  All dressed in black, they reminded her of rats on a film she had seen about the Pied Piper. Rats that would destroy everything in front of them — but could be beaten by one man. Why had that come to her mind? Was that her instincts? She didn't know. But she didn't know what else to do. So, she ran toward them.

  "Get away from him, or I will send you back to hell!"

  Then she remembered the releasing ritual that Rosie had told them about and how it would send the spirits back one by one. Could she use it to send all of them back in one go? She didn't know, but she was going to try.

  Rosie had told her the most important thing was to fill any ritual, any exorcism, with the intention of rebuking the spirit. So, she gathered her anger, her fear, and her disgust at what these creatures had done and she piled it into her voice as she recited the prayer.

  “In the Name of Jesus, I rebuke the spirits of RedRise House. 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.”

  One of the children turned. Shelly stepped back. A gaunt face, black eyes so terrible that they bored into her, and the smile. The look on its face was one that she would remember for life. It would fill her nightmares. The child wanted to destroy her.

  Standing, shaking, she wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t obey. So, she repeated the ritual, projecting it with all her being.

  “In the Name of Jesus, I rebuke the spirits of RedRise House. 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.”

  The mask of loathing dropped away, and in its place was a sweet smile on a dirty and emancipated face. He nodded at her and then faded,
the black of his clothes turning lighter until he was like an angel who blinked out in the darkness.

  Shelly was filled with delight, hope, and a feeling of glory. Another of the children approached her, a little girl this time. She nodded and mouthed the words, thank you and then she changed from a solid being of darkness into a mist of light before she, too was gone.

  It was working. They were leaving, going to peace. If she had known it would have been this simple, she could have done this right at the beginning. It felt like weeks since they had entered the house, though it was probably less than 24 hours, but the exhaustion this had caused was more than she had ever felt. Now all she needed was for the other spirits to go so that she could get to Jack and then they could rest.

  As if in answer to her thought, the children threw back their heads and she saw the gashes at the necks.

  “No!” the word was torn from her as their life must have been torn from them. It was too horrible, too much to bear.

  The hooded figure to her right threw back his hood. She recognized the man who had greeted them, Mr. Duncan.

  He smiled at her recognition and pulled a wicked knife from his cloak. It was curved and glinted in the darkness. Flickering with the orange light as if it were alive, on fire, a blade of hell itself.

  Stacey floated in between Shelly and the man but he flashed the knife through her — she dissipated and was gone.

  “No!” Shelly screamed, her knees giving way. She dropped to the floor. It was over.

  “Shelly, get out of here. Run!” Jack shouted.

  She watched as he tried to get up off the altar, but was pushed back down before he could.

  The other two hooded figures held onto his ankles and kept him there, pinning him down and holding him.

  “In the Name of Jesus, I rebuke the spirits of RedRise House. 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,” Shelly shouted the words, and as she did so she advanced on the spirits. For a moment nothing happened and then all of the spirits faded away, but this was different somehow. They didn't change, didn't come to her, they just faded... then they were gone. Maybe that was because there were so many of them. It didn't matter, they were gone.

  They haven't gone, they heard the others coming. Stacey said, as she appeared again, only this time she was much fainter, translucent, and her smile was missing. She moved over to the altar and looked down at Jack.

  “The others!” Shelly asked as she followed her, but as she saw Jack she forgot about everything but him.

  He was lying on the hard stone, his shirt off, his face bruised and bleeding as was his shoulder, but he was alive. Shelly reached out to touch him and his eyes opened, and he smiled up at her.

  Shelly pulled him into her arms.

  "I'm so glad you survived," she whispered into his ear. "I could have sworn I'd lost you and I don't think I could live without you. Jack, I should have told you this a while ago... I love you."

  Jack held at arm’s length, she could see him trying to speak. At first, the words wouldn't come, he just made a croaky scratchy sound. He swallowed, causing his Adam's apple to bounce in his throat. "I love you too. I have wanted to tell you for so long... I just... I never thought you would think of me as anything but a friend."

  "You will always be my friend, but I want to be so much more."

  Jack lifted her chin and found her lips with his. He tasted of blood and salt, but it was still the sweetest kiss she had ever had.

  I don't mean to be a killjoy, but maybe we should get out of here, Stacey said in both of their minds.

  They pulled apart. Jack stared over Shelly's shoulder.

  "Can you see her," Shelly asked.

  "Your dead sister? Yeah, she’s right behind you. I always believed you, but I always had some doubt. I think that's gone now."

  Jack laughed. "Can you stand?"

  "Yeah, I think so."

  Shelly helped him to his feet and let him lean upon her shoulder. "Then let's get out of here before they come back."

  69

  "Can you help us get in," Jesse asked.

  Beneath the hope, there was still fear in Nick's eyes, but he nodded his head and pointed to the side of the house.

  "Follow me. There is an old service entrance on the far side of the house. Most of the owners forgot about its existence. The people who used it were not important to them, so they didn't see it."

  “Can it be that simple?” Jesse asked. “They simply forgot it?”

  Nick smiled and raised his eyebrows. It made him look so much younger and more relaxed. “I used to bless it every week and have still done so on occasion. The spirits avoid me as much as they can...”

  “What?” Jesse knew there was more.

  “I was always drawn to them when they made a sacrifice. It was as if I couldn’t stay away. It is why I think I must be a witness.”

  Jesse thought about it and wondered if he was wrong, but he didn’t think so. “Why would you have to be there?” Though he said the words aloud, they were really said to himself, to what Sylvia probably thought of as his power. When he spoke like this, he often received insights and now was no different. He understood.

  “You have tied yourself to them. Your guilt at not stopping this has linked your destiny with theirs. You are not a witness. In fact, you could be our secret weapon. Come on, we must hurry.”

  Nick nodded and walked easily through the overgrown garden. It was not so easy for Gail and Jesse. Luckily it was getting lighter by the minute. Even so, they had to struggle over brambles, weeds, and even sapling trees that had rooted there. Everything was wild and distorted, and as he pushed through, it reminded Jesse of a post-apocalyptic world. Something he had only read about.

  "Ouch."

  Jesse turned to see Gail on her knees, he rushed back to her.

  “Are you all right?" He helped her up to find thick rose tendrils with vicious thorns had wrapped around her legs. There was a speck of blood on her cheek and more soaking through her jeans. Seeing her hurt filled him with fury and he grabbed hold of the cane, ignoring the wicked thorns as they dug deep into his skin.

  Blood ran from his hands, but he pulled until they came free and stamped them down, helping Gail back to her feet.

  "Your hands. You shouldn’t have done that." She pulled a hanky from her pocket and fastened it around his right hand, though she had nothing for the left one.

  "I'm okay, let's just keep moving." He wiped the speck of blood from her cheek and ignored the urge to pull her into his arms.

  Gail nodded, and they both set off after Nick.

  It took them a good 20 minutes to negotiate the overgrown garden. The weeds grabbed and snagged at their clothing, holding them back, cutting their skin, and generally making it hard labor to travel even a few feet. It was the first time it was obvious that Nick was a spirit. He passed easily through anything and looked back frustrated that they were taking so long.

  Part of Jesse wanted to tell him to go ahead without them, but he knew if he did that they could lose the priest, and right now they needed his help. Inside he was bubbling with frustration. Everything was taking so long, and they had so little time. From what he could find out about Shelly and Jack, they knew nothing. They were wannabes, rank amateurs. Maybe that would work in their favor. Maybe the ghosts would leave them alone, but somehow, he doubted it. Something inside him said they were in danger and time was not on their side. So, he stamped through the garden rushing as much as he could, but now ensuring that the path was clearer for Gail.

  They turned the corner to see Nick stood looking at the house. It appeared he was staring at an elderberry bush. When they arrived at his side they could see the door behind it.

  Not only did they have to break down a spirit barrier, they would have to get through the bush as well.

  "This is the door?"

  Nick shrugged his shoulders.

  Jesse clen
ched his fists and tried to work out what to do. They could break the branches, tear them down with their hands. Elderberry was weak but flexible... it would take time.

  "Are there any tools nearby?"

  Nick nodded. Yes, there is a tool shed around the back of the house. There would be a scythe in there which would be adequate for this.

  "Tell me where it is, I’ll go fetch it," Jesse said.

  Nick shook his head. You could, however it would take too long. I can fetch it.

  Before Jesse could say anything else, the ghostly priest had gone and he turned to look at Gail.

  "He's a ghost. How can he fetch it?" she asked, as she pulled her shirt out from her jeans and ripped a strip off the bottom. She took Jesse's left hand and started to bind it.

  "Nick’s a very old spirit. He’s been around so long that I imagine there isn’t an awful lot he can't do. The problem is, the more he materializes, the weaker he will become. Manipulating the material world is very tiring, even for one as old as Nick."

  Gail nodded. "I see. So, he may not be there when we need him?"

  Jesse didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about any of this. He could feel the loathing and despair coming from the house. Waves of darkness broke around him, so strong he could almost see them.

  Nick was back and handed the scythe to Jesse. Then he blinked out of existence.

  It didn't bother Jesse this time. He understood. While Nick was resting, he would be close, and he would be there when they needed him... hopefully.

  The sun was up now, and it made them all feel a little bit better, but the clouds were heavy. Jesse imagined it never got that light around RedRise House. There was so much darkness, he doubted the light could penetrate.

  Indicating to Gail to step back, he swung the old-fashioned scythe at the elderberry bush and began to chop it down. As he cut into the tree, the smell, arid, sour, and most distinctive, was strong in the air.

  Usually, the smell didn't bother him, it was part of the countryside. But today it seemed so strong and vile. It cloyed in his throat making it harder to breathe. It didn't matter, he kept slashing and slicing and pouring all of his frustration and anger into hacking the tree to pieces. He stopped occasionally to throw away what he had cut down before starting again. The scythe was sharp and deadly and soon made short work of the bush.