He carried the water to the kitchen and pulled the tin bath through to the living room. He began to set the fire. He had to keep her warm.
He dipped his hand into the water and decided it was warm enough for him to bathe his daughter. Carefully picking her up from the sofa, he lowered her into the water and began to wash her tiny body, making sure not to get any water over her disfigured, but still beautiful face.
Mark cleaned Maisie’s hair as best he could, lifted her out and patted her dry. He fought hard to contain his emotions but guttural sobs escaped his throat as washed the blood from her face, trying to avoid the bloody, red, angry-looking cavities.
He dressed his daughter in a clean white dress and put his mother’s pearls around her neck. He put socks and her favourite shoes on her feet and swaddled her in a white sheet. He kissed her cheek before covering her face. Mark looked tenderly at the broken little girl before him, remembering her smiling, cherubic face as Samantha’s words rattled around his brain. He wondered what would Maisie become?
He walked back into the kitchen and calmly picked up his wife’s head and wrapped it in an old sheet. Placing it on the table, he scooped her body up in his arms and carried her out into the garden and towards the well.
Mark placed his wife’s body on the ground next to the well and said a silent prayer, hoping God would forgive him, but more importantly take care of his daughter. Thinking about what he had done to protect Maisie, he was devastated he hadn’t been able to save her. Nothing he could do would have changed the outcome, no matter how much he wished for it. He looked down at his wife’s remains. Disgusted by what lay before him, he picked her up and pushed her body over the edge, hearing the splash as she hit the water below. Mark returned to the kitchen and picked up his wife’s head, then he carried it back to the garden. Pausing by the well, he turned the head slightly to look into her open eyes. “I hope you burn in hell,” he whispered bitterly, then threw her head into the darkness of the well.
Luke’s body was still lying on the kitchen floor. For a moment, Mark felt a pang of guilt for what he had done to him, but he’d had no choice but to protect his daughter. If only he could turn the clock back. He would do things so differently.
He bent down and picked up his son’s head and lay it on top of the body before dragging them out to the front garden. Bringing the trap as close to the front door as possible. He lifted Luke and placed him onto the trap before covering him with straw. He strode off to the end of the lane to retrieve his horse from the stables.
Chapter 46
Mark knew nobody would be outside at that hour to witness what he was doing. He needed to get Luke’s body to the cemetery and bury him just outside – he knew it would be an offense to God if he buried such evil within the cemetery walls.
He arrived thirty minutes later and set to digging the hole, and, once it was deep enough, he picked up the body of his son and held it close to him, guilt creeping in for what he had done. He lowered him into the unconsecrated ground and said a prayer as the soil covered his son’s body.
A part of him wondered why he was giving Luke the honour of a burial rather than burning his body, but, as he stood there, with the grave filled in, he finally realized that Luke was as innocent as his sister. He couldn’t help what he was and hadn’t asked to be born that way. It had been his wife and her selfishness who was responsible for her two children lying dead.
Mark returned home a couple of hours later to take care of his daughter’s body. He couldn’t bring himself to put her in the ground and so he carried Maisie upstairs to the loft and hid her body in a trunk. Afterwards, he scrubbed the floors clean and summoned the local constable. He was confident his hair would hide the small wound on his head.
Twenty minutes later, Michael, the local constable, arrived. He sat at the kitchen table and listened as Mark told him his wife and child were missing and although the constable could find no evidence of foul play, he thought Mark was an honest man and told him he would do everything within his power to find them both.
“Did your wife have any troubles or disagreements with anybody?”
“You knew Samantha. She kept herself to herself most of the time, but the only person I knew she had problems with was young Mr Price from next door.”
“Then we’ll need to speak to him when he returns.”
“From where?” Mark asked.
“He’s gone to see his uncle in the next village.”
“What am I to do until then? My family is missing.”
“Mark, I know this is stressful, but rest assured, I’ll organise a thorough search. For all we know, your wife has gone to visit her relatives, but if you think that’s not the case, we’ll start looking first thing. We’ll find Samantha and Maisie, and start with your garden if you’ll allow it. We can focus on the surrounding areas after that. There’s little we can do this time of night, but at first light I’ll return and start the search.”
True to his word, the constable banged on Mark’s door the following morning. With him were twenty volunteers from around the village.
“Thank you all for coming,” Mark whispered, sounding disheartened. He hated lying, but nobody could find out what had happened inside the house.
“I trust there’s been no word from your wife or child?”
“Nothing. I’m worried sick.”
“Ok, don’t lose hope, Mark. We’ll start the search in your grounds.”
“Do what you can to find them,” Mark pleaded.
“I promise. Now if you don’t mind we’ll make our way around to the garden.”
“Of course, and thank you, Michael.”
The Constable headed towards the walkway with the volunteers following close behind.
Mark closed the front door and made his way into the kitchen, sitting nervously at the table.
Twenty minutes later the Constable returned with a solemn look on his face.
“Mark, I need you to sit down. I have some bad news to tell you.”
“What is it, Michael?”
“We discovered bloodstains leading to the well and, upon further investigation, we found Samantha’s body.”
Mark gripped the kitchen table and fell back into the chair.
“Where?”
“Down the old well.”
Mark put his head down as guilt overwhelmed him and the tears began to fall.
“And, my daughter?” he said, whimpering.
“There’s no sign of Maisie, but there’s more I need to tell you.”
“More?”
“Whoever is responsible, cut off your wife’s head.”
“Lord Jesus, please help me.” Mark made the sign of the cross against his chest as Michael followed suit.
“Mark, the well is dry. Samantha’s remains were found at the bottom.”
“Dry. That’s not possible. I drew water from that well yesterday.”
“I don’t know what’s happened, but I promise you, it’s now dry. My men are pulling the body up as we speak and are searching for...”
“Maisie.” Mark continued to sob.
“I promise I’ll do all I can to find your daughter, but it doesn’t appear she is anywhere near where we found her mother.”
There was a knock at the door as one of the volunteers signalled they had retrieved the body.
“Do you want to see her, Mark?”
He looked down at the floor. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
Samantha’s body was taken away for examination a while later.
Throughout the day, various neighbours from the surrounding farms and villages came to pay their respects, each bringing with them dishes full of food.
The constable had called by at regular intervals to inform Mark there was no sign of Maisie, but they were waiting for David to return so they could question him. He was positive David would not be accused as there was no evidence to suggest he had any part in Samantha’s death and Maisie’s disappearance.
Darkness fell,
and Mark went upstairs and retrieved Maisie’s body. He stood motionless, staring at her - she was still his little girl. He lay his daughter on the kitchen table and unwrapped the sheet. Her face was now discoloured, her skin had a grey tinge, her lips pale blue, but to him, she was still beautiful.
He retrieved her doll from her bedroom and placed it on the table next to her body. He pulled a small bloodstained cloth from under the sink and opened it. Inside the cloth were his daughter’s eyes. He froze as the eyes stared back at him.
He packed the doll’s delicate head with old newspapers and placed Maisie’s eyes inside the holes where the doll’s eyes had once been. They fit snugly and for a moment he felt like his little girl was there and looking back at him. Satisfied, he tilted the doll and watched as the doll’s lids closed over. A little tilt the other way and the lids opened. He brushed his finger over the doll’s cheek and set it down on the kitchen table.
Mark retrieved a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer and cut chunks of Maisie’s hair from her head. He had taken one of Samantha’s hair brushes earlier that day and carefully began to brush the chunks of her long hair in his hand. Placing the hair down on the table, he sliced holes into netting where the doll’s hair was before stuffing Maisie’s hair through. He smiled as the doll was transformed – a part of his precious daughter would live on.
It was time for him to say goodbye to his little girl, and, wrapping the shroud tightly around her tiny body, he picked her up and carried her into the garden and towards the well. He sobbed as he pushed her over the edge and heard the thud as it struck the hard floor below. He prayed that Maisie would rest and Samantha’s terrible prediction wouldn’t come to pass, but he knew how powerful a witch she had been.
His chest heaved with sobs as he walked back into the house. The doll was sat on the kitchen table. He picked it up and stared into Maisie’s eyes before carrying it into the garden and placing it inside the old doll house.
Chapter 47
Sandra shook her head, unable to process what she was hearing, as Mark relayed the events of more than a hundred years ago.
He appeared grief-stricken, and the time he had spent waiting to return didn’t seem to have eased the pain he felt at losing his beloved daughter. The horror of that night had never left him. Sandra guessed he felt enormous guilt about not being able to protect Maisie and had paid a heavy price.
“My God, you’re all mad,” Sandra said, horrified.
“Yes, we were all mad and I allowed our little girl to be dragged into the madness with us. I should have hidden her away from her mother and that monster. I stood and watched as her body dropped to the bottom of the well and prayed for forgiveness for what I had allowed to happen.”
“She never stood a chance, and it was David who paid the heaviest price for your family’s madness. He came back to make sure your daughter was kept within these walls, and what did you do? You hid away and watched him do your duty,” she said, as the anger rose within her.
‘Sandra, my love, what’s done is done. Please don’t hate him for his actions. Mark is a good man and has suffered enough. He did what he thought was best,” David said.
Sandra had more to say, but David glared at her, and at that point she knew it was futile to argue any further.
“I did what I thought was right and I’m truly sorry for what you gave up, David, but I stayed away until I could return to finally stop her.”
“Why has it taken you so long to return, if you knew how to stop her? Why now?” Sandra couldn’t understand why Mark had chosen to wait so long. “Come on, David deserves to know why he lost his life and had to spend over a hundred years babysitting your daughter.”
“It’s not as easy as that,” Mark replied. “I didn’t know for sure how to stop Maisie until I discovered Samantha’s grimoire again. I’d searched the house from top to bottom the night my daughter died – desperate to find a way to reverse what her mother had done. I knew nothing would bring Maisie back to me, but I would have taken comfort from her being able to rest -- not returning as the monster she is.”
“So, you were the one I heard upstairs? You’ve been coming back to this house to look for a book?”
“Yes, it was me, but I had to be careful not to be seen. I couldn’t take the risk Maisie would discover me. I had to be sure that when I finally confronted her, I could stop her.”
Sandra turned to look at Maisie. “And you’re certain you can stop her? How?”
“I found the grimoire in Maisie’s old bedroom - it was the last place I expected her mother to hide it. Contained in the book was the pact she had made with Moloch. Samantha would give birth to two healthy children. One boy, born to rule and one girl, born to sustain him. For five years, the boy would survive by feeding on his mother’s blood, but after that time, he would need the blood of an innocent.”
“Then why didn’t he feed from you, or your wife?” Sandra asked.
“Samantha was never innocent. I rescued her from a remote village up north, believing her to be held against her will by her family. They were crazy. I chanced upon their dwelling purely by chance, and, still to this day I can remember the smell as I approached the house – it was the smell of death. I could hear screaming as I drew nearer so I crept gently up to the window and watched as a young woman was savagely beaten by an older man. I was much braver in my youth and rushed in, horrified to see maggot infested body parts strewn all over the floor. I was scared for my life, but all I could think about was the girl. I picked up the nearest thing to me and smashed the man over the head, concussing him. I picked up the poor girl, carried her out and led her swiftly away. We were married a year later, and it was only then that she told me what she was -- a blood witch. Never in my darkest nightmares had I believed such evil existed, but at the same time, I knew there was a darkness within Samantha. By then, however, I was madly in love with her, and she with me. Samantha promised she had left that side of her life behind her, and I truly believed what she told me. It wasn’t long before her sister found us and I assumed she had written to Juliet to tell her where she was, but now I think darker magics were at play. So, you see, Samantha was born to evil and her blood would allow our son to survive until he could feed from an innocent.”
“Then why couldn’t Luke feed from you, his father?”
“Because I allowed the abomination to live and feed on human blood – it was a sin and for that my daughter paid the price. The grimoire is written in blood – the strongest bond to any magic. Samantha wrote her deepest desires in that book, with her own blood, and it answered her. The pact would give her everything she had ever wanted, but it also said there would be a terrible price to pay if she did not honour her side of the pact.”
“And what was that?” Sandra asked, curious to know.
“She had to provide our son with her blood, and the blood of an innocent and keep him strong. The book told how as he aged he would be blessed with supernatural strength and the power to control the minds of others. That when he was fully grown, he would be strong enough to take life at will, feed on the flesh of others, and father a generation of creatures just like him, ready for the day Moloch crept out of the pits of hell and enslaved humanity.”
“But, what was the price Samantha would pay if she failed?”
“She would burn in hell for eternity. That was her punishment.”
Maisie made a noise behind, as though she was gasping for breath, but she hadn’t moved.
“And how will you stop her? Tell me please,” David asked.
“By giving her back what was taken, of course,” Mark said cryptically.
“And that’s it? You give her back her dolly?” Sandra said spitefully. “And how are you going to give David what you took from him?”
“You misunderstand, Sandra. The book doesn’t tell me how to restore Maisie’s soul to her, but the eyes are the window to that soul – you must have heard this.”
“Mumbo jumbo,” Sandra replied, dismissing Ma
rk’s riddle. “And what about David?”
“I can never give David back what he lost. The only thing I can do is reunite him with his family. I’m so sorry I can’t give you any more.”
David bowed his head in recognition of Mark’s apology. “All is forgiven. It’s what was meant to be,” he quietly said.
Sandra was angry and felt like her blood was boiling, but she was distracted as Maisie had moved from the corner of the staircase and was stood listening to her father.
“So, you came back to save my soul, Father. You couldn’t help me then and you can’t help me now.”
“Maisie, please.”
She sniffed at the air and screamed as she picked up his scent and ran at her father, her pale, skinny arms outstretched.
Several cats came rushing back into the room and jumped onto her back, biting and scratching at her little body.
Maisie screamed at the top of her voice, her arms flailing around whilst she tried to rip the cats from her. She grabbed one and tore its throat out with her jagged teeth and tossed the remains to one side before lunging blindly for another.
David pushed Sandra towards the staircase and stood in front of her. She closed her eyes, wishing it was only a nightmare.
Maisie’s screaming continued as more cats jumped onto her, biting at her bare arms and legs.
“David, please you must help me now,” Mark begged.
He turned to face Sandra. “Don’t move,” he ordered as he walked towards Mark.
”David. No. She’ll hurt you. Please stay with me,” Sandra shouted, terrified at what was about to play out.
“I have to help put an end to this once and for all, Maisie deserves to rest,” he shouted back at her.
“David. Now!” Mark yelled as his daughter was still trying to keep the cats at bay.
Promised Land Lane Page 26
