I looked to Aaron. He was the sort of person who would wear a pentagram.
And then, something hit me, like a sledgehammer to my brain.
13
“Samantha, did you know a kid called Josh Hunter?”
Silence of the long, aching kind. It seemed like an age had passed before Samantha finally said, “Yes. Yes, the name rings a bell. Why’s that?”
“It’s just ‒ we were told about Josh Hunter. By Jacob’s brother, Phil, believe it or not. He said your boyfriend beat Josh up.”
“I – I don’t know. I’m sorry, I just don’t remember that happening.”
“Okay. But you said you knew Josh? Because I heard from Phil Tanner that Josh was a goth, and a goth would almost certainly wear a pentagram around their neck. That was the star that you described.”
“Yes, I think I knew Josh. I can’t remember if he was a goth. You know, I can’t remember much of anything. All I can see is that fire, and then the star, glinting back at me.”
I frowned. “Well, we’ll certainly investigate him.”
“Thank you. You’re going to keep helping me then? You’re going to find out what happened to me?”
“Of course I am. I won’t stop until I’ve helped you.” I thought of Bella, the twisted bruises around her neck, the resignation in her eyes. But now, I felt connected to Samantha, too. Her pain sat in my heart, made me want to help her. Save her.
“Oh, thank you. I know I need to cross over. But I also need closure.”
I nodded. “I get it, don’t worry. We’ll try our hardest to find out who did this to you. I promise.”
Aaron breathed a deep sigh as he returned to the room. His eyes cleared, turning from clammy grey back to coffee brown. Zara, on the other hand, was white. She stared into Aaron, perhaps wondering if he was still the same person who had been sat with us before.
I pulled my hand from Zara’s clammy, sweaty palm, and from Aaron’s icy fingers. I walked over to the kitchen curtains and tugged them open. Daylight spilled into the room. I squinted.
Behind me, Aaron and Zara were still catching their breath. It wasn’t until Aaron had breathed deeply a few more times that he said, “So, it went well?”
“Very well,” I said, walking back to my seat. “Very well indeed. We found out that the spirit is Samantha Lowry.”
“Brilliant! What else?”
I stroked my chin. “I asked her about Jacob Tanner, but she swore that it couldn’t have been him. Mind you, she still can’t remember much about anything, except for people’s names. She swore that he loved her though. She was his world, as she put it. Though, she did admit that at times he had a funny way of showing it.”
“Hmm. Sounds similar to what the historian was telling us, about how Jacob had a streak in him. Maybe he was a bit violent.”
“Maybe. But Samantha didn’t stop there. She said she could picture something about the fire. She said she could see the flames, licking up her body, and that everything behind the flames was dark. But then she said she could picture one, tiny thing. Something glinting at her. An upside-down star.”
“A pentagram.”
“Yes. And that was when I remembered what Phil Tanner told us, about Josh Hunter. He was a goth. Goths wear pentagrams, right? I see you wearing them all the time. And he got beaten up by Jacob. I don’t know what other motivations he’d have had for murdering Jacob’s girlfriend, but perhaps there’s something we don’t know. Perhaps there’s something that doesn’t meet the eye.”
Aaron chewed his lip. “And didn’t Phil say that he changed his name, and that he was now Peter Abbott?”
“Yeah.”
Aaron drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, Peter did say that he knew Samantha and Jacob, that he saw them around. He said he was in the same school year as Samantha. So already there’s a link.”
“Right. And he knew about the case straight away. It seemed to jump to his mind as soon as we described it.”
“You’re right. We should be careful about jumping to conclusions, though. After all, this could be another vision that Samantha has had implanted into her memories. But, whatever the truth, something’s not right about him. We need to investigate.”
“Definitely.”
For the first time in the conversation, Aaron looked to Zara, who seemed to have recoiled into herself. “And how are you? You okay?”
Zara nodded. “The voice . . . it came from your mouth ‒ right?”
“Yeah. I let the spirit use my body. That’s how séances work, you see.”
Zara shook her head in disbelief. “You screamed. This really high-pitched scream.”
Aaron turned to me. I laughed and nodded.
“Well, you say that I screamed, but it was actually the scream of the spirit.”
Zara rubbed her eyes. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Alright, you go. We’re not keeping you.”
Zara stood up, turned abruptly, and walked from the room. Once she’d gone, Aaron and I looked to each other and grinned.
“Don’t think you’ll be getting any more trouble from her,” said Aaron. “Look, I think we’ve done a lot for one day. And besides, your dad and Bella will probably be getting home soon, anyway. Why don’t we call it a day? I can go back to my room and research Josh Hunter. Sound good to you?”
“Okay.”
“And if anything bad happens with Bella tonight, promise you’ll call me?”
“I will.” Though I prayed that Bella would be okay. We were closer to the truth now; I could feel it. Perhaps all we needed were a couple more nights.
Zara didn’t return once Aaron had left. I assumed she was probably trembling in her room. She’d wanted proof though, so now that she had it, she needed to deal with it. Aaron had been right about one thing: what was seen could not be unseen.
Not having anyone to entertain me, I went to my room. My eyes were sore; I still hadn’t caught up on lost sleep, and I was used to sleeping for twelve hours a day. I laid on my bed, closed my eyes, and thought.
It’d been weird seeing Aaron again. Occasionally, I’d had flash-backs, to Katy Johnson, to the burned house. To Cassy. I tried not to picture her sky-blue eyes, staring back at me from the darkness. Instead, I pictured Samantha Lowry, Peter Abbott. Where was the link? But, just as I tried to grasp it, it fell away from me.
When I opened my eyes again, Dad was standing at the door, grinning. My mind was so fuzzy that I knew I’d been asleep.
“You a little tired?” he said.
I blinked, looked around the room. “What time is it?”
“Only four o’clock. I came home early, thought we could spend some time together. There’s a game on tonight, Chelsea against Man United, pre-season friendly. You up for it? Order a Chinese?”
I smiled. “Sure, sounds good. Is Bella around?”
“Yeah, she’s downstairs. She got back just before me. Why’s that?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just I haven’t seen her all day.”
“Yeah. She said you went out early this morning, and never came back. What were you doing?”
I swallowed. “Just walking. Looking around.”
Dad shook his head. Smiled. “Weird. You’ve never been one for walking five minutes, let alone four hours. Something on your mind?”
Nothing apart from Bella’s demonic eyes staring into my soul. The fact that she might kill herself at any moment. Apart from Samantha Lowry, and her blistering body. Apart from Cassy; Stephen; Aaron. Nothing on my mind at all.
“Not really. It was a nice morning, so I thought I’d go for a wander.”
“Fair enough,” he said, though the way his eyes darted told me he didn’t believe me.
Chelsea won 3-1, so Dad and I went to bed in a good mood. We spent most of the evening on the sofa, chatting about life. Bella walked in a few times. Though, mostly, she left us to it.
But, when she did appear, I scanned her face for any signs of change. Her eyes were still stained a shade
of purple, and the ring of bruising around her neck was turning a sickly yellow colour. Occasionally we’d make eye contact, but she’d always avert her gaze. Had Zara said something to her after all? Was that why her façade was starting to slip?
Zara, on the other hand, didn’t appear for the rest of the evening. Even when Bella called her for the Chinese, she said that she wasn’t hungry. After I’d brushed my teeth, and saw Zara’s closed bedroom door, I made a mental note to check on her the next day. To make sure that everything was okay, even if she’d been nothing but horrible to me since I’d arrived.
Lying down in bed, I closed my eyes, hoped that the pitch black would envelope me, take me straight to sleep. But instead, I tossed and turned, the events of the day flicking though my mind, as well as the questions that came with them, along with the biggest of all. Who had killed Samantha? Who had been psychopathic enough to burn her alive?
When I finally drifted off, it was with an image of a silver pentagram, shimmering in the blackness.
14
Slam!
My eyes opened. My mind still weary, trying to register where I was; what was going on. That sound. What had it been? It had been near; it had been close.
I tensed my body, my lungs aching with the new silence that followed the noise. But through the aching, I heard it. Short, raspy breathing. In the room. In the room with me.
My brain snapped out of its coma. I tried to twist my body to the door, what I now realised had been the source of the slamming. But before I could, she hurled herself into my chest.
For such a small woman, the force she hit me with was shocking. My body crumpled into the mattress. Her knees wrapping around my stomach. The air being crushed from my already starved lungs.
I wanted to cry out, to shout for Dad. Shout for help. But before the first syllable could escape my mouth, her hands were at my windpipe. Squeezing my neck. Nails digging into my flesh, choking the life from me.
I tried to inhale. Nothing. I whipped my arms to hers, felt how taut they were. In this state, there was no hesitation in her brain. She had only one goal: to kill me.
I tried to pull her arms from my throat. Tried to tug them away from me.
But it was no use. Somehow, she only gripped tighter. Only thrust her fingers in deeper. Crushing my arteries, my veins. Making my eyes feel as if they might burst.
My windpipe whined, fought to open, fought for air. She growled, panting through clenched teeth. A grating, sucking noise. And it was then that I saw her face, illuminated faintly by the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the curtains. In the hollow greyness, I absorbed her bulging, pulsating eyes; her pale skin; her sharp teeth; the saliva pouring from her mouth. It was as if she were a beast, relishing her prey.
And I was going to die, I realised, killed by the woman I’d been trying to save. Only I’d been too late. It had all been useless. And now the words rebounded off the inside of my head. I am going to die.
I am going to die.
She pushed her face closer to mine, so close that I could smell her warm breath. Bizarrely, it was minty, from where she’d brushed her teeth. When she was inches from my red, swollen face, when I was on the edge of unconsciousness, she whispered to me.
“Don’t worry; we’ll all be dead. All of us, really soon. I’ll see you in hell tonight. We’ll all see you in hell tonight.”
Flecks of saliva hit my cheek. But the world was leaving me. Bella was fading. My eyesight fuzzy. Eyesight fuzzy. Leaving me.
And then I erupted into a huge, gasping breath. The nails were no longer in my flesh, the hands no longer tight around my throat. Bella’s body crashed against mine, then went limp.
I breathed deep, ravenous breaths, the life returning to my body. The light flickered on, and I was able to look to my saviour.
At first, Dad was just a fuzzy shape. But as my eyes refocused, as the world came back to me, I made out his face, his mouth moving. I saw the syringe in his hand, now empty of liquid. I snapped back to his mouth.
“Jonny! Jonny! Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I croaked. My throat felt as if it were on fire.
“I’m so, so sorry Jonny. So, so sorry.”
“Syringe,” I breathed. “Where did – you – get it from?”
Dad frowned. He looked as if he were on the edge of tears, his eyes glassy, his voice wobbling. “I bought some a while back, just in case. I never told Bella. I kept them hidden. When I saw her strangling you, I had to use one. It’s the first time I’ve done it.” He put his hands over his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jonny. I just wish there was something I could do to stop her. I just don’t get it. I don’t get it—”
“I know why she’s doing it.” We both turned our heads. Saw Zara, standing by the door. She walked further into the room.
“What do you mean?” said Dad. I felt a shiver run through my body. Surely she wasn’t going to tell him?
Zara took a deep breath. “Michael, it’s a really long story. But your son, and his friend, they can speak to ghosts. Spirits. And they talked to one today, in our house. The spirit of a girl, who was burned alive. It’s the spirit that’s making Mum act like this. The guy and Jonny, they explained it to me. And I heard the spirit talking, Michael. I heard the spirit talking. I heard it!”
The words exploded from her. Dad stood with his mouth open. On a normal day, I’d be screaming at Zara to keep quiet. But it didn’t seem to matter anymore. If anything, relief rolled through me, now that one of my parents finally knew my secret.
Dad shook his head. At least he didn’t laugh at her. “Zara, this is not the time for jokes.”
“I’m not joking! It’s true!” There were tears forming in her eyes, now. Her voice was hysterical. “Jonny, tell him!”
Dad turned to me, his stare deep and confused. “Jonny. Is this true?”
I closed my eyes for a second. Composed myself. When I reopened them, I said, “It’s – true. I – can speak – to dead people.” And there it was. My secret, out in the air yet again, this time for Dad to hear.
Dad gave one short, sharp laugh. He looked to Zara, then back to me again. Drank in our expressions. And it was only then that his smile faded, turned to a worried, scared, little frown.
“You’re not kidding, are you?”
I shook my head. Zara said, “No, we’re not kidding. And I didn’t believe it at first either. I thought Jonny was nuts. But then I heard the spirit talking, and I realised that it was true. She was just a seventeen-year-old girl, and she used to live in this house. She was burned alive at that Devil’s Lake place we went to. She doesn’t know who killed her. And she’s stuck in this place called Limbo, and she’s scared and angry and worried, and she just wants someone to help. And Jonny’s been trying to do that. He’s been trying to help her. And if he helps her, then the spirit will cross to the after-life, and the spirit will leave Mum alone, and she’ll go back to normal again, and all this will be over. And all this sound nuts. I know it does! And I feel like I’m going nuts! But holy shit, here we are! Here we all are!”
It was like word vomit. For a minute, I felt a bit worried for Zara. I felt as if the séance might have pushed her over the edge. But, once she’d finished, she breathed deeply, and watched Dad levelly. Dad merely sighed.
“I don’t know what to think.” He turned back to the limp form of Bella. A string of saliva hung delicately from her mouth. There was nothing of the demon I’d faced. Her eyes were closed peacefully, a contented smile playing on her lips. The colour had returned to her, even though she’d been sedated.
“Let me take your mum back to bed,” said Dad. “After which, I think we could all do with a strong cup of tea.”
Dad positioned Bella in bed, resting her head against a pillow. Hopefully, she’d stay there for the remainder of the night.
Afterwards, Zara and I sat at the table, a few minutes before Dad plonked a tea in front of me. I blinked the bleariness from my eyes. As Dad sat, his face was a screw. I prepared mysel
f.
Convincing Dad of the spirit was as difficult as convincing Zara, even with Zara’s help. And it angered me to see the way he looked at me, as I swore that I could speak to the dead. The way his eyes shifted, as if I were some sort of freak. Not that I hadn’t given him a second chance, after everything he’d done to me. He at least owed me this.
“It’s just, I’m not sure if I even believe in ghosts,” said Dad, after I’d shown him an article on Samantha on my phone.
“But you’d believe your own son and step-daughter, right?” Zara insisted.
I looked into him. My throat was feeling a little looser now, though I knew I was going to have some bruising in the morning. Not to mention I had puncture marks across my neck from Bella’s nails.
I pointed to these wounds now, and croaked, “You think Bella, the normal Bella, would do this to me? You think it wouldn’t take something unusual; supernatural even?”
Dad buried his face in his hands. He rubbed them around his cheeks. At moments tonight, he’d had tears pooling in his eyes, even if they were yet to escape. I saw them forming again now. “I just don’t know what to believe. I’m sorry, Jonny. I think – I think I need to go to sleep. See how I feel in the morning. See what I think when I’m not so delirious.”
I shook my head. Zara and I shared a quick glance. She smiled at me sadly. It was weird how she was now on my side, after she’d resisted me so much.
“Whatever, Dad. You believe what you want to believe. At the very least, you need to give me a chance. And that involves getting Bella away from this house. Understood?”
Dad’s face remained tight, giving little away. “Like I said, I’ll see how I feel about it tomorrow. For now, I think it’s best if we went back to bed.”
“I’m going to wait up for a bit. You can head up, though.” I tried to sound as bitter as possible as I said this.
“Alright, suit yourself. Zara, you coming?”
“I think I’ll wait up too.”
The Witch Hunt (Jonny Roberts Series Book 3) Page 11