“Come, girl.” He snapped his long fingers. “I haven’t got all day.”
“Where are you taking me?” Aishe stammered.
“To fix you.” His mouth twisted in a cruel snarl. “Now get up or else I will drag you all the way.”
Aishe looked at the woman’s ghost. She nodded. Aishe followed Dr. Blayne out of the room and down the stairs. The operating room was in another part of the house, below the doctor’s personal rooms. Aishe looked down at the floor where she left bloody footprints.
The doctor had made all the preparations to begin the operation. A metal table was stationed below a skylight so he could have the full light of the sun while he worked. A table filled with a number of tools stood beside it. Aishe balked at the sharp instruments, but Dr. Blayne pushed her onto the table and tied her so she couldn’t move.
The girl could see the woman’s ghost hovering over her body. She tried to focus on her face but her eyes were surrendering with rest of her body. “Who are you?” she gasped.
“I’m your mother.” The ghost kissed Aishe’s brow, a cold yet comforting embrace.
As if she was falling into a sleep like state, Aishe’s eyes began to flutter. “Help me, Mother,” she cried, great sobs escaping her tortured lips. “I don’t want to feel any more pain.” She could hear the sound of knives and other tools being readied.
She felt cold hands on her throat and something heavy was pressed against her body, choking her and then she was free. She felt lighter, free of pain but the crying sound continued in the background. It took her a while to focus on what was happening before her when she saw her own body, still cringing, blood oozing out of the lower part of her body, but there was someone else who stared back at her from those familiar eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
London
After his divorce from Anne, he barely spent time at his apartment. It wasn’t that Paul was afraid of being alone, but three years of sharing his space with another person had changed him. He was glad that he had gotten over it by now and that his work required him to travel quite often.
Once he’d entered his apartment, he went straight to his bedroom and switched on his desktop computer. Paul couldn’t stop thinking about the Haunt on the Hill mystery and the old earring he found lodged deep inside the mattress.
He decided to start with the village itself and began to search for its detailed history. He clicked on the first link on the website or history of Drerie. It was a short and to the point historical background of Drerie and its landmarks, including Drerie Haunt with an external link for more information. Paul clicked on it.
It stated that Drerie Haunt had been around since 1502, intended as the family home to the local physician and his family, but on the physicians’ demise it was taken over by another family. Shortly after their arrival at Drerie Haunt, the husband and father of three children, fell into inescapable financial crisis; simultaneously he lost his health too. They had no option but to flee. The locals were of the opinion that it was haunted by a ghost.
Drerie Haunt was then deserted for a very long time until a middle-aged childless couple gladly bought the establishment and turned the physicians’ clinic into a pub, keeping the upstairs rooms for themselves. But luck did not favour them either, and one day the villagers found their dead bodies in their room. Both had heart conditions. The deaths were deemed due to natural causes and dismissed.
He scrolled down to look for more to read but the article had ended with no further data or facts. Paul was agitated; he knew that there had to be more than was stated online.
Deciding to look the physician up, Paul took himself to the National Archives.
On reaching the Archives, he went straight to the receptionist. “Hi, I need some help. I am looking for any information I can find on a physician who operated in a small village in Kent in the 16th century.”
“Wow, that’s specific,” the red-haired receptionist rolled her eyes. “Yes, you need to go down the first aisle towards the end. That’s where all the files concerning Kent are kept. All the records and manuscripts are documented in chronological order so you will need to look up the year yourself.”
Paul followed her instructions and found the section tagged 1500’s at the end of the third aisle. After searching several files, he finally got hold of the file on Drerie, Kent. The words were written in big and bold letters. He hoped it had what he was looking for.
Most of the information in the newspaper clips was the same as he found on the internet. He was shuffling the documents hastily to find any mention of a local physician when one of the pages from a manuscript slid and fell onto his feet.
It was a huge picture of Drerie Haunt, and in the front stood a skinny man who wore spectacles, with a stout woman by his side and three boys in similar striped shirts and plain shorts. The white of the black and white picture was dirty brown and he could hardly figure out more details. Paul kept the cutting aside for later reviewing and he began another search. Finally, he found a file separately representing the cases of Drerie Haunt.
It began with the arrival of a troupe of Romani’s, better known as gypsies in the early 1500s. Their men worked as horse traders and metal workers while the women told fortunes and wove hearthrugs.
“The Egyptians Act must have taken care of these poor folks,” Paul muttered. “Is that the source of the haunting?” Paul brought out the earing he carried wherever he went. It was hand-made and brightly coloured.
After hours of searching with still not much data collected, Paul was dog-tired. He knew what he had to do.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Return to Drerie Haunt
“I’ll have no more out of you!” Bob bellowed, pointing the butter knife in Milly’s direction. “I know you hate this life but it’s an honest life. What did you want to do if you didn’t want to go to college? Lounge about? That isn’t going to happen so stop trying to run our business into the ground.”
“Bob!” Val soothed. “You’ll do yourself a bad turn. Stop shouting like that.” She turned on her daughter. “Stop adding to your father’s stress.”
Milly pushed her chair back and left the breakfast table.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bob shouted.
“Out.” Milly grabbed her jacket from the hook next to the door.
“We’re opening in a few hours.” Val scolded. “You’re supposed to clean the bar.”
“Oh, yeah?” Milly shot back. “Why? It’s not like you two pay me. Find yourself another slave!”
Milly didn’t wait to hear their response. She opened the door and bolted down the stairs. Halfway down, she paused. She placed a hand on the cold wall. The lodger’s rooms were on the other side of the wall. She placed her ear against the wall.
Shallow breathing met her ears like a beast waiting for prey. She jumped away and ran down the rest of the stairs.
Norman was sitting on the step outside. He squinted up at Milly as if he was seeing her for the first time. “We open already?”
Annoyance bubbled up Milly’s throat. “Don’t you have a home?”
“I do.” Norman nodded across the way to where his cottage was situated.
“You mustn’t like it very much since you’re here all the time.” Milly wanted to wound him like her parents had wounded her, but he didn’t seem affected.
“There’s no one there but me.” Norman shrugged.
Milly felt guilt slice her gut. What was she doing making fun of Norman? The poor guy was probably lonely. Sighing, Milly sat beside him.
“You’ve seen the thing in there, right?” Milly asked stubbing the toe of her boot into the ground. Norman nodded. “Why do you think it’s here?”
“Always been here.” Norman shrugged. “Seen her since I was little and the old couple owned the bar.”
“What happened to them?” Milly asked. “The old couple?”
“Died.” Norman shrugged. “But they were really old.”
Milly wasn’t
convinced it was all harmless. “Does everyone think the place is haunted?”
“Yes.” Norman scratched his head. “But they don’t see her.”
“I can’t see her.” Milly said. “I can hear a little, and see a little. I used to be able to see too when I was little… I can’t explain why I can’t now.”
“Because you don’t believe.” Norman said matter-of-factly. “You like to think all of this isn’t real so it becomes hazy for you.”
Milly stared at him. She had hardly expected Norman to be a fount of wisdom. You learned something new every day.
“How do we get rid of her?” Milly asked the question that had been plaguing her since the dreams began.
“If I knew that, I would have told you that a long time ago.”
Milly nodded. She supposed that was right. That only meant that she’d have to find a way, and soon. “I’m off to the library, Norman. Take care of my chores for me, will you?”
Norman nodded and waved her goodbye.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Expert Opinion
Paul sipped his tea. A short woman sat opposite him in a small room cluttered from floor to ceiling with antiques and books. She observed the earing meticulously.
“It is definitely from the 16th century.” Siobhan pushed her large spectacles up her nose. “Bead work suggests gypsy.”
“Really?” Paul sat up intrigued. “I’d thought it looked like something from the 70’s.”
“A lot of 70’s hippie fashion was inspired by gypsy culture you know.” Siobhan sipped her tea then made a face because it had gone cold. “It isn’t really valuable in terms of money, but it is valuable in terms of history. If you can date it precisely, it could be one of the pieces left behind when the Egyptians Act was enforced.”
“That was my thinking.” Paul was glad he had come to Siobhan for her opinion. “Do you sense anything else?” he asked, raising a brow meaningfully.
Siobhan stared at him from over the top of her spectacles. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I might not have your strength of detection but I can still see that piece of jewellery has a spirit attached to it.” Paul smiled gently.
“It’s a very strong spirit. Died in great trauma.” Siobhan closed her eyes. She was silent for a time, fleeting expressions flitting over her face as she saw things only she could detect.
Paul had come into contact with Siobhan some ten years before when had started in the trade. His then colleague had suggested Siobhan to cleanse a Ming dynasty vase. Paul had been sceptical about the whole thing until he had seen Siobhan banish the spirit of a British explorer clinging on to the piece of antiquity.
With a shudder, she opened her eyes and set the earring down. “I’m going to need more than tea after that.” She got up and fetched two tumblers and a bottle of Old Monk. After she had taken a fortifying gulp, she set her glass down and stared at Paul. “The spirit is female, but that I think you already know. She died young and in considerable pain. She died on a doctor’s operating table. Since it was the 16th century and most gypsies were viewed as social pariahs and subhuman, I’m sure she wasn’t given any anaesthetic.”
Paul shuddered at the thought. “Do you suppose it was the very same physician who originally owned Drerie Haunt?”
“I expect so.”
“Must be why she targets lone men. In fact, all of her victims have been men, except the old lady who owned the pub before the Freestones.” Paul’s thoughts were racing ahead. “But a botched operation doesn’t explain such wrath.”
“I could only glean half of the story.” Siobhan spread her hands. “There was more to be discovered but it was all hazy. Either the spirit is guarding its secrets or it only manifests in its fullest in its place of origin.”
Paul nodded. He was going to have to go back to Drerie Haunt if he wanted to get to the end of this.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
The Smell of Decay
Milly was engrossed in her book when a paper plane hit her on the nose.
She looked up, startled. Sean and his friends cheered. Milly frowned and got back to her book.
“For goodness sake, put that book away.” Val hissed. “Customers are waiting.”
“First you complain that I’m not serious about an education, now you grumble when I read.” Milly slammed the book shut. “Make up your mind.”
Val looked hurt. “You know,” she thinned her lips. “We’ve always been supportive of you. The least you could do is not come in the way of our venture. It’s mighty selfish of you.”
Milly felt bad, but was distracted by a regular who wanted another glass. Milly didn’t understand the regulars. Sean and his lot were easy to explain; they were blowing their fathers’ money down the drain. But some of the old geezers complained all the time about cash being tight and the value of money deteriorating, yet they were willing to spend it all on a drink.
She replenished the drinks, stocked up the peanuts and pretzels in the bowl, took orders for supper and sent them back to the kitchen, then finally went back to her book. It wasn’t a pleasant read by any means, but it was the answer to all the questions she had had since she was five and had seen the hand of something smoky poke from out of her grandfather’s study door.
The book detailed how most spiritual energy was generated when a person died a traumatic death. The trauma wasn’t always physical but could be the end of a very painful life. All spirits were bound to an object or a place, and the longer they tarried on earth, the more bitter and malicious they became. Some had the power to manifest fully (audio, visual phenomena) while others were mere whispers and cold winds.
Milly was sure they were beset by one of the malevolent powerful spirits. But she hadn’t found anything the spirit was bound to, unless it was the house itself. She sighed and closed the book. This still didn’t help her figure out how to get rid of it.
Norman came through from the kitchen holding plates of food. Milly took them from him and served the tables. There was still a lot about Norman that she didn’t understand but he wasn’t as creepy as before. She was certain there were things he was hiding from her but she didn’t wish to pry.
The clock struck ten and Milly smiled for the first time that night. One more hour and she’d be free to do as she liked. The door tinkled and in walked a customer she’d seen only a few days ago.
Paul gave her a large smile. She hadn’t expected him to drop by again so soon. As he walked towards the bar, something in the air changed. She couldn’t say what it was but she felt a physical blow as if all the energy was draining out of her feet as he walked closer.
“I’m back for another round of your hospitality,” Paul smiled.
Milly tried to smile back but her face was not co-operating.
“Is everything alright?” Paul looked concerned.
“You have something.” Milly didn’t know why she said that but it must have been the right thing because Paul’s face went pale and then brightened with interest. “You have something of hers.”
“Yes.” He spoke silently so only Milly could hear. “I have come to end it if I can.”
“Do you know how?” Milly whispered. She glanced behind her to make sure her parents weren’t listening. Only Norman loitered behind the bar.
“I have an idea.” Paul nodded. “Could you book me the same room, please?”
Milly nodded and did as she was told. Paul sat at a table and Milly served him dinner. They kept glancing at each other as closing time approached, both very aware of the building miasma in the bar.
Last call came and Milly got busy serving the last drinks. She was just passing Sean’s table when she stopped. A young girl sat at the bar. Milly had never seen her before but she looked painfully familiar.
Her long hair was as black as the darkest cave, her eyes were dark and so heavily lashed that they looked bruised. Her skin glowed in the light, her full lips revealed small pretty teeth. Her dress was a riot of colours; blue, white,
red, and greed. She was so stunningly beautiful it made Milly feel like a field mouse.
She smiled at Milly and jumped off the stool. As she walked closer, the smell of decay hit Milly’s nostrils and she gagged. She nearly lost her footing, but Sean caught her arm.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she stammered, staring at the approaching girl. No one else seemed to notice her. No one but Paul. He came rushing to step in the way of the girl. Suitably distracted, the girl turned from Milly and faced Paul.
Her heart pounding in her chest and Milly watched as Paul led her to the gloomy hall that went up to the lodger’s rooms.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
The Conversation
There was glamour in her, there was no doubt, and the power she exuded was palpable. Paul could feel the fillings in his back teeth buzz. She was full of purpose, taking the steps two at a time. She stood on the landing, her hips jutted out coquettishly, waiting for him.
“You walk so slowly,” she teased. “Are you the same in bed?”
“We’ll see, shall we?” Paul humoured her.
“Come on then,” the girl stepped to the door Alasdair and Robert had been lost behind. The door opened of its own accord. Paul could feel the key burning hot in his trousers. He touched his breast pocket to make sure the earring was still there.
The girl lounged on the bed, her back arched. Her skirt rode up her legs, revealing milk-white thighs. She laughed when Paul placed his bag down by the door and sat in the only chair in the room.
“Don’t be afraid,” she laughed. “I won’t bite.” There was evil in her eye but she was bewitching to watch. Paul could feel himself getting lost in her magic. He clenched his fists till his nails made bloody crescents in his palms. The pain wasn’t enough to completely regain his head but it was enough to snap him out of immediate danger.
“I’d rather talk,” Paul smiled. “If you don’t mind. I don’t even know your name.”
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