I waved Aaron away. I didn’t want him hurting my stomach. With great difficulty, I rose to my feet. For a moment met his eyes, full of worry and concern.
“We need to get you checked out,” he said to me. “Have you seen Peter?”
How could I not have seen Peter? But, not having the energy to reply, I merely nodded. I looked then to Alicia, who had been freed of her ropes by Aaron.
“I owe you my life. You saved us. You risked your life for both of us.”
I couldn’t even shrug. I supposed that I valued their lives more than I valued my own. I guessed it was normally that way with those who were important to you.
“Excuse me, excuse me! Are you okay?”
All three of us turned to the source of the voice, the man in the black vest with ‘police’ written across it. It was then that I realised we had some explaining to do.
24
We left in the back of an ambulance, taking us all to A&E. When we’d left, Devil’s Lake had already been crawling with police officers and medics, investigating the mysterious events of that evening.
Alicia assured us several times that we had a wealth of evidence against Peter, and that we’d be okay.
The doctors treated the searing burns on my stomach, which were of the second degree, I was told. If I’d been on fire for perhaps a few seconds more, then they may have been of the third degree, where I’d have needed skin grafts, and would have had serious nerve damage. As it was, the burns would scar, and I’d be in some pain for several weeks.
Listening to this, I gritted my teeth and bore it. Being burned led to saving three lives, so I didn’t care.
It wasn’t long before a police officer arrived at our ward to ask us some questions. He was there for over an hour, and we told him the story exactly as it’d happened, right up from visiting Peter for the first time. Of course, we left out the details about Samantha’s spirit, instead claiming we had an interest in cold cases, and we’d come across Samantha’s by chance. We told them about the diary, the finger, though we lied and said that Alicia had taken them from Peter’s house the night before. The fact that all three of us still stank of petrol only supported our claims.
On the whole, there was more than enough evidence to nail Peter Abbott.
But, during the drive back to Aaron’s hotel room, we all sat in stony silence. Because although Peter had been guilty to the grave, his burning body played on all our consciences, consumed all of our minds.
Alicia left our hotel the following morning, giving me a massive hug before she went. She deliberately leaned in though, making sure she didn’t touch my stomach. It now felt as if someone were consistently poking me there, rather than scratching at my skin. The ointment the doctor used had soothed it somewhat.
“Thanks again for saving my life,” said Alicia as she pulled away.
I struggled to find what to say to this. I certainly didn’t think of myself as a hero. “I just did what I had to do.”
“Well, I owe you a massive favour. Like literally, enormous. If you need my help again, let me know, okay?”
“I will.”
She moved onto Aaron now, gave him a similar hug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Sure. Let me know how you get on over the next few days.” The truth was, despite our happy goodbye, we were all deeply scarred by what we’d seen, and probably would be for some time. And Alicia, who lived on her own, was being visited later that day by a victim’s counsellor. I hoped that she could find happiness in her beautiful home again.
Walking back to Aaron’s hotel room, I said to him, “I guess there’s only one more person that we need to speak to now.”
I wondered how she’d react when we told her what we knew.
That afternoon, Aaron and I prepped Dad’s house for another summoning. However, seeing as there were only two of us, we were going to use a single candle, and allow Samantha to speak into our minds, rather than aloud. I wondered if I’d see her full form this time, rather than wispy shadows. Perhaps finding out about herself might give Samantha a greater sense of who she truly was, and thus strengthen her projection.
Aaron rubbed the candle in oil, while I wandered through the house, pulling the curtains. Once the kitchen was plunged into darkness, Aaron and I sat either side of the kitchen table, placed the candle in its centre, and lit it.
We spoke together this time. “We call the spirits among us who wish to communicate,” said several times, before the darkness began to shift, and the air began to curl. For a moment, through the curl, I could have sworn there was a single, blue eye, watching me. But as soon as it appeared, it disappeared again, and I was merely left wondering.
Yes?
The spirit spoke clearly into my mind. Aaron perked up in his seat; he must have heard it too.
“Samantha, is that you?” I said to the wisp.
Yes. It’s me.
I looked into the wisp, said, “Samantha ‒ since the last time we spoke, we’ve figured out everything that happened to you. Who did it. Why he did it. When he did it. Everything.”
You did? My word. Please, tell me then, put me out of my misery. What happened to me? Who did this to me?
Slowly, I recounted every detail of the story to Samantha, all while looking into the curling smoke of the candle. Samantha said nothing the whole time, gave no hint of remembrance or emotion.
Once I’d told her about the diary, I said, “He was obsessed with you, Samantha, that’s why he did it. It drove him to such intense jealousy that he couldn’t bear to see you or Jacob alive anymore. He killed Jacob, too. He drowned him.”
Can I see the diary? Can I see what he wrote?
The first thing Samantha had said since I started my story. I apologised: the police were keeping the diary as evidence to use against Peter. I continued though, told her how Peter had admitted everything he did to her and Jacob at Devil’s Lake. Before he too lost his life in the same way that she had, twenty years before.
“And ‒ that’s it,” I said, taking a deep breath once I’d finished my story. For a while, nobody said anything. The room sat in an uncomfortable silence, all of us considering the gravity of Peter’s actions.
However, after some seconds had passed, I noticed the darkness beginning to change, beginning to morph and shift. I looked to Aaron, whose eyes had widened. Slowly, the darkness solidified, and I gasped as I realised I was staring into the lively blue eyes of a teenage girl.
“Samantha,” I said against my breath. Straight away, I understood why Josh had been so infatuated with her. There was no denying that she was beautiful, even as a translucent spirit. Her blonde hair curled around her shoulders, her blue eyes intense with feeling. She stood tall and slender, with no sign of her grisly fate at all.
Samantha held my gaze for a moment, then looked to the ground. All of this time she’d been harbouring an odd excitement at discovering who she was, what had happened to her. But now, the excitement had faded. She was left with nothing but sadness and regret.
I remember it. I remember it all.
I looked down. “Part of me is glad that you remember. Part of me is anything but glad.”
Samantha continued to speak into my mind, even though I could see her projection. The weirdest thing was that her mouth continued to move, even though no sound hit my ears. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, as if the events brought her shame, even though they shouldn’t.
Josh was obsessed with me from the moment I met him. Her mouth moved delicately, her lips curling around her words. For a long time, we were friends. Okay, he used to follow me around school like my shadow, bug me for what I was doing every evening and weekend. If I told him I was busy or was seeing someone, he’d turn up, uninvited. He was like my stalker. But still, for a long time, we were friends. We got on well.
I guess that the reason he stayed happy for so long was because I didn’t have a boyfriend. Why he was happy playing the stalker. I knew that he loved me, and I also knew that if I me
t someone, it would break him. When I met Jacob ‒ well, he didn’t take it nicely.
I was about fifteen when it started. Jacob and I got talking at a friend’s party. He was a year older than me, and I kind of liked that. A lot of the boys in my year were quite immature, and Jacob had this maturity, this sense of humour. In truth, he hit me like an arrow. I was completely in love with him.
When Josh saw us together for the first time, after school I think it was, he sort of stared at us, gobsmacked. For about six months after that, whenever I saw him, he’d turn in the opposite direction. Which in a way, made me happy. I’d finally got him off my back. I’d finally got him to leave me alone. I could be with Jacob, and feel comfortable.
She frowned. The thing is, I realised after a time that Jacob could be a total arsehole, too. He had a dreadful temper, and the few times I got on the wrong side of him, well, he terrified me. He’d literally get right in my face, start yelling and shouting at me. Josh saw this once, and he didn’t like it. Not at all.
That’s when Josh started following me around again. I’d see him at the end of the school corridor, always some steps behind. I’d see him on my walk home, when he lived nowhere near me. After we started driving, sometimes, I’d even see his car parked outside my house. If I went out, he’d follow me. One time, at a party, I even saw him standing outside, just staring in.
“Didn’t you call the police?” I asked.
No. If it was some random guy doing it, then I probably would have. But this was Josh. In my heart, I thought he was harmless. Obviously, I was completely wrong.
At the time, I always thought that he was looking out for me, rather than stalking me. He didn’t want to see Jacob hurt me again, hence why he never went any further. Hence why he never attacked me or anything.
With time, he did get braver though. Ironically, perhaps it was after Jacob and Phil absolutely beat the crap out of him. I should never have told Jacob about him stalking me. That was a mistake. But afterwards, Josh kept coming up to me, repeatedly, telling me that Jacob wasn’t right for me. He could be quite aggressive, a bit too forthcoming at times. And then he started to tell me that he loved me, that him and I were meant to be together. I tried to be polite with him, I really did. At times it was difficult.
She paused for a moment.
All this had been happening for maybe six months before he turned up at my house that day. I can remember it now. In fact, it feels crazy to me that I could never remember it. The panic in his eyes ‒ he made me feel like he was terrified. I understand now that he must have been some sort of sociopath. He told me that something terrible had happened to Jacob, and I needed to come quick. Little did I know Jacob was dead in the boot of the car.
Another moment of aching silence, stretching through the kitchen.
He took me out to some random wood, which I think was next to Devil’s Lake. When I saw Jacob’s dead body, I screamed and screamed. Then he started saying that he’d killed him for me, that we could be together now. It was only then that I realised his love was completely misguided. That he was a total lunatic.
I picked up a branch and threw it at him, tried to run. But he caught up with me, drugged me or something. Some sort of chemical, on a cloth. I have no idea where he got it from, but it knocked me straight out. When I woke up, I was on the stake, him looking at me like I’d betrayed him. Like I was worthless.
Tears were pressing against Samantha’s eyes. I watched as one shimmering, majestic tear fell, like a sparkling diamond. It hit the kitchen floor, before fading altogether.
We argued for a time. He insisted that he would give me one last chance. If I could tell him that I loved him, then he would save me. I don’t know what he was thinking; surely he knew that any claim to love in that moment would have been a lie? But I guess it was just his fantasy. His little fantasy that needed to be fulfilled. His dream of me loving him back.
I couldn’t do it though. I couldn’t bring myself to it. So, he pulled out that match. I remember the look in his eyes, the hatred and anger burning inside of them. He flicked the flame onto the stake, and it caught light quickly. I screamed, cried out for him to save me, to let me go. But it wasn’t enough.
She stopped now. Neither of us wanted to relive the thoughts of her burning alive.
I looked to the table, felt sorrow welling inside of me. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you Samantha. So, so sorry.”
It’s okay. The two words were close to a whisper, playing softly into my ears. You don’t need to be sorry. Because of you, I know what happened to me. I know who I really am. Her head jerked up. She seemed to be staring at something, in the distance.
I can see a light.
I gazed into Samantha’s brilliant, blue eyes. Smiled. “I think it might be time.”
I watched as Samantha’s frown curled into a smile. Not a happy smile, but a contented smile. A smile of someone that was starting the process of forgetting, due to remembering after such a long time.
Is it as nice as they say it is?
“Yes. It’s beautiful there, from what I hear. Very different from the world you’re stuck in now.” I stood up, walked over to her, and held out my hand. “Are you ready?”
She looked into my eyes. Couldn’t be readier. She placed her palm in mine, her mouth still curling slyly at the corners. I felt an icy tingle in my fingers, radiating up my arm. My eyes darted to our hands.
When I looked back to her face, I blinked. For she was already gone.
25
Aaron left once we’d pulled the curtains, and had a cup of tea. We needed the short debrief, the chance to discuss everything. And then we could bury Peter Abbott, in the same way we’d buried memories of Alice Pickering, and Katy Johnson.
As we sat drinking our teas, there was no way of avoiding the question hanging in the air, asked by Aaron. “So, is this it for you, then?”
It took me longer to answer than I’d originally intended. If he’d have asked me a few days ago, the answer would have been a flat yes. But after seeing the look in Samantha’s eyes, the feeling of pleasant coldness running through my arm, I felt a little differently.
So instead, after a time of thinking, I said, “I don’t know.”
Aaron smiled. He knew the true meaning behind my words.
As he walked out of the door, he turned down my handshake and drew me in for a hug instead. He patted me firmly on the back.
“You know you can always call or text if you need me, right? I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks. It means a lot.”
As I watched Aaron walk away, waving his arm in the air, I knew that this wasn’t the end of our friendship. That this was still just the beginning.
Bella and Dad came home the following afternoon. I’d called them the day before and had filled them in on everything that had happened: that at some point I actually had to go to court to give evidence against a murderer, who had nearly killed me and my friends too. When I’d told them, they could barely speak.
When they did come home, Dad nearly hugged me to death. Bella, on the other hand, walked in with a reluctant happiness. The bruises around her neck had faded, and as she entered she asked me, “So everything is okay now, right? No more ghosts hiding anywhere? No more night attacks for me?”
“There shouldn’t be, no,” I said. “How have the last few days been?”
“Perfect,” said Dad. “No night-time awakenings at all. You were right, Jonny. About everything. I don’t know how to repay you.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Seeing you again is repayment enough.”
He smiled. “Once a month at least, right?”
“At least,” I said with a grin.
Zara blundered in with her suitcase. “Yeah, cheers Jonny. For everything.”
We sat in the living room for a detox of an hour-long chat about the week’s events. I was getting a little tired of recounting it now. When I went back to Mum in a couple of days, I hoped it would be the last tim
e I would have to go through it all. This time, I knew I was going to have to tell her that I could speak to spirits. In a weird way, I was looking forward to it.
It was a relief when Dad loaded up Netflix, and put on some action film starring Tom Cruise. A welcome break from ghosts and murderers. I relaxed into the sofa. The weather was grey and sombre, so it was nice to get tucked up under some blankets. Nice to have a simple, relaxing afternoon.
The film was near its end when my phone started to buzz.
At first I thought it was Mum, so I pulled it really slowly from my pocket. But when I saw the name on the screen, I had to blink, twice.
Feeling my voice turn to fluff, I squeaked, “Sorry, guys, I need to take this.”
They all stared at me as I walked out of the room, my legs feeling like jelly as I went. I stumbled into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, feeling like I might keel over at any second. My breathing had quickened, heightened to the point where I felt like I was about to have a panic attack.
I stared one last time at the name on the phone, before I pressed answer, and put it to my ear.
“Cassy—” was all I could say.
When I heard her beautiful voice, it was like listening to a melody.
Want a FREE copy of The Making of a Medium: The Diary of Aaron Wright?
Then sign-up to my monthly email newsletter, and discover Aaron’s first encounter with a spirit in your exclusive free gift (you will find it nowhere else!). Plus, be in the loop for book updates, special offers, giveaways and more!
Just click here to sign up!
About the author
Alexander Lound is an author living in Buckinghamshire, England. He first started writing for young people while working as an English teacher in a secondary school. The Witch Hunt is Alex’s third novel, and is the third in the Jonny Roberts Series.
When not writing, Alex can be found at home with his fiancée; reading lots of books; or watching his favourite team, Chelsea Football Club.
The Witch Hunt (Jonny Roberts Series Book 3) Page 19