The Priest Hole

by Amy Cross

  “I know you would not.”

  “Then you don't know me well enough,” I reply, getting to my feet and making my way toward the cemetery's gate. “Go and fetch the third woman, so that you might bury her. I must continue my search for Freeman.”

  “I can help you!” she calls after me.

  “Only God can help me,” I mutter, “by guiding me to that monster.”

  “I'm one of them!” she shouts.

  I step through the gate before stopping and turning back to her.

  “I'm one of them,” she says again, making her way toward me. There's fear in her eyes now, as if she's worried about how I might react. “The people Nykolas Freeman is hunting, the people he wishes to torture and burn... There's a reason I live away from the towns, and a reason I mostly travel by night. I'm one of them.”

  “A priest?” I ask cautiously. “You're a woman, you cannot be a priest.”

  She opens her mouth to reply, before simply shaking her head.

  “Then what are you?” I ask. “Please don't try to tell me you're a witch, because I know with all certainty that such things are not real.”

  “And how do you know?” she asks, with a hint of fear in her eyes. “How can you make such a declaration?”

  “Because the only people who speak of such things,” I reply, “are fools and madmen.”

  “They speak without knowing the truth,” she continues. “There are few of us left now, and we spend most of our time hiding from the likes of Nykolas Freeman. Your sister was not a witch and neither were the two women who died with her, but...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I can help you,” she adds finally. “If you go after Freeman in your current state, you will die. I can see it now, I can see you on some remote road, facing him down and trying to avenge your sister, only for him to drive his ax into your heart. That will be your death. There are things I can do that will give you a better chance, but if you're going to accept my help then you need to act fast, because I fear Freeman already has more victims lined up.”

  “Is this your idea of a joke?” I ask, taking a step toward her. “After everything that has happened to me today, I'm about ready to -”

  “Your sister once pushed you off a bridge near here,” she replies, standing her ground. “While we were burying her, I picked up flashes in my mind, images, things you were thinking about. Once, when you were both very young, you were playing on the bridge that crosses the river just outside the town of Mepley and your sister pushed you. The river was shallow that year and when you landed, you scraped your knees. You were so angry, you refused to play any longer and you told her she was an idiot. Eventually she won you around by making you a pair of gloves. While you were burying her, you thought of that moment, and you also thought of the last time you saw her alive.”

  “You don't know what -”

  “You left her at a public house,” she continues, interrupting me. “You left her in the care of someone. You never told me this, so how would I know? You promised you'd return soon, but that was five years ago and you've been in London ever since, trying to make your fortune, always promising yourself that you'd send for her soon but never quite reaching that point. Deep down, you feel guilt for the fact that your sister was still here, even though you must know that none of this is your fault.”

  “If I'd taken her to London with me,” I point out, “she wouldn't be dead now.”

  “Only Nykolas Freeman is to blame for her death, and only Freeman merits punishment. Any other blood that is shed, including your own, would be a waste.”

  “You tell me with one breath that I cannot kill him,” I reply, “and with the next that he should die for what he has done.”

  “If you're to kill him,” she continues, “you will need help, and I can give you that help. If you'll let me, that is.”

  “All I need is my sword.”

  “No, Daniel, you need more than that.”

  Staring at her, I realize that she's absolutely serious.

  “Let me prove it to you,” she adds, stepping closer. “Let me show you what I can do to help you stop this monster, and then perhaps you will understand why it's so important that his reign of terror is stopped, just...” She pauses for a moment. “You must understand that you cannot turn back. If you truly go after him, then you must succeed or you will only make him more powerful. If you fail, his influence might even come to extend beyond his mortal lifespan. He might no longer be contained by the limits of human life.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Laura

  As soon as I open my eyes, I can tell that time has passed. The room is dark now, with moonlight streaming through the window's latticed patterns, and I can hear voices shouting downstairs. I try to sit up, but I immediately feel a sharp pain on my forehead, and when I reach up to check the damage I feel dried blood just above my right eyebrow. I crawl back and lean against the wall, trying to get my bearings, and then I look over toward my bedside table and see that not only is the table gone, but so is my laptop.

  Suzie.

  I have to get to Suzie.

  I struggle to my feet, feeling a little dizzy but determined to get moving. Looking around the dark room, I realize that the blankets have vanished, along with everything else that was here earlier; instead, there's a lot of larger, older furniture that I don't recognize at all. Trying not to panic, I turn and open the door, but as soon as I step out onto the landing I can tell that everything has changed.

  “There's nothing here!” a male voice shouts from Mum's bedroom. “I can take it apart a thousand times, but I'm telling you, there's nothing here!”

  “Look again!”

  “But -”

  “Look again!” an angry voice shouts. “For God's sake, man, what am I paying you for?”

  Hurrying over to the door, I look through and see three men pulling part of the wall away to reveal the narrow crawlspace. Candles on a table by the window light their work.

  “How many times are we supposed to do this, Connaught?” one of the men asks. “You know as well as the rest of us that if there was a priest hiding in this place, we'd have found him by now!”

  “Freeman won't take that for an answer,” replies the man by the window. His name is apparently Connaught, and he seems to be in charge. He glances toward me, as if he's worried someone else might come into the room, but it's clear he can't see me at all. “I received word that he's on his way, he could get here at any moment. If we don't find that priest, he'll just make us start all over again.”

  “There's nowhere else that a man could have hidden,” the other guy says as he leans down and peers under the floorboards. “Unless this priest is the size of a child, there's no way we wouldn't have found him by now.”

  “I know,” Connaught mutters, still looking out the window, his face lined with worry. “Our work is good and you're right, it's impossible for that priest to be here, but Nykolas Freeman is not a rational man. When he believes something to be true, he moves heaven and earth to ensure that it comes about and he doesn't take kindly to those who stand in his way. If we don't produce a priest from this house, Freeman will just assume that some devilry is afoot. We'll be lucky if he doesn't start thinking that we're all involved somehow, and you know what'll happen then.”

  “You'll have to get the family to confess,” the man at the far corner tells him. “Maybe they sent the priest away. Maybe they can tell Freeman which road he took. I mean, if I was a priest, even a dirty papist, I'd not sit around in a place like this if I knew Nykolas Freeman was after me. I wouldn't want others to risk their live for me.”

  Connaught mutters something under his breath before turning and coming over to the door. I instinctively step out of the way as he makes his way past me, but it's clear that none of these people can see or hear me. Heading out to the landing, I see Connaught heading into the room at the far end. I follow, and when I reach the door I see to my horror that Henry Baxendale, his wife and little Jessica are bound with ropes
. Jessica immediately looks over at me, her eyes widening with fear.

  “Where is the priest?” Connaught asks Henry.

  “I don't -”

  Before he can finish, Henry is felled by Connaught's punch. Dropping to his knees, with his hands still tied behind his back, Henry spits out a little blood.

  “Where is the priest, man?” Connaught asks, towering over him. “No matter how harsh you think I am, you must know that Nykolas Freeman is another matter entirely. Why, they say Freeman is known the length and breadth of the country, and that even in London they fear his name.” He pauses for a moment. “He's coming. Do you understand that? Freeman himself is riding to this house, and when he gets here... Well, I'm sure you've heard the same stories as the rest of us. You'd have better luck trying to plead your case with the Devil.”

  Making my way over to Jessica, I kneel next to her, but I have no idea how I can help her.

  “It's going to be okay,” I whisper, as candlelight flickers by the window, lighting the side of her face. “I'm going to make sure everything's okay.”

  Reaching around her, I start pulling at the rope around her wrists. She's bound tight, and as Connaught continues to interrogate Henry I find myself having to work harder and harder until, finally, I manage to get Jessica's hands free.

  “You won't get another chance after this,” Connaught tells Henry. “Maybe I can help you receive mercy, Mr. Baxendale. Once Freeman gets here, I fear nothing can be done to help you personally, but there's still time to save your wife and daughter. If you're relying on Freeman to spare them, I fear you're making a grave mistake. You must have heard the stories about his actions in Winchester last year, you know that no-one is safe when he's got the sniff of a priest. They say he even killed a newborn child once, on account of it having suckled at the teat of its papist mother.”

  “You have to run,” I tell Jessica. “You have to get out of here right now.”

  “I can't,” she stammers.

  “What's that?” Connaught snaps, turning to her. After a moment, he makes his way over and leans down to look into Jessica's eyes.

  “Don't come near her!” I hiss, but he can't hear me.

  “Tell me, petal,” he continues, still looking at Jessica, “do you know where your father has been hiding the priest? Have you seen a man crawling into a narrow space somewhere in the house? It's okay, you can tell me.”

  “Leave her alone!” Henry shouts.

  “Here's the thing,” Connaught continues, kneeling next to me and putting his hands on Jessica's shoulders, “your father is a wicked man, he's taken the side of those who would overthrow the king. Can you believe that? King James himself, our ruler and protector, is a good man, but your father and his papist friends think otherwise. Now, that's his own matter for his own conscience, but the problem is that he's dragging you and your lovely mother with him. There's no priest in the land, of any persuasion, who's worth this sacrifice. A bad man is coming, a very bad man, and I can't stop him, but I can at least help you. You're going to have to help me first, though.”

  “Run,” I tell Jessica, with a rising sense of panic in my chest. “Run!”

  She turns and looks at me for a moment, but suddenly Connaught looks behind her and sees that her wrists are unbound.

  “How did she get out of these?” he shouts, turning her roughly and starting to tie the ropes again. “I thought I ordered them all to be tied good and proper?”

  “Stop!” I hiss, trying to push him away but unable to stop him at all. I can feel him as I push, but he clearly has no idea that I'm here. “Let her go! She's just a child!”

  “He's here,” a voice says suddenly.

  Turning, I see that one of the workers is standing in the doorway.

  “Freeman,” he continues, clearly scared. “He's here.”

  “Damn it,” Connaught mutters, finishing with the ropes on Jessica's wrists and tying them extra tight, before getting to his feet and heading to the door. “I tried to help you, Baxendale. As God is my witness I tried, but you wouldn't have it. Now you'll have to deal with Freeman himself, and I can assure you that he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants. I fear you've lost any chance you might have had to save your family.”

  As Connaught heads out of the room, the other man starts rechecking the ropes around the family's wrists. I want to try to pull him away, but I know there's nothing I can do, not unless I'm able to come up with a better plan. Looking down at Jessica I see that she's starting to sob.

  “Everything will be okay,” Henry says firmly, staring down at the floor almost as if he's in a trance. “The Lord will see to it that our souls are protected. I will not have my family acting like animals, you must control your fear.” He turns to Jessica. “Pulls yourself together, girl,” he says firmly. “Don't give them the satisfaction of seeing your weakness.”

  “Henry,” his wife replies, “please, maybe it's time to -”

  “No!” he hisses, turning to her.

  “But -”

  “Quiet, woman!” he continues. “This is my house and I make the decisions. I will not have you going against me. Remember what I said, the Lord will protect us.” He looks at Jessica again. “Make the child stop with her sniveling. She's a Baxendale, not some common peasant. She should show pride in her family name.”

  “Where is he?” I ask, kneeling once more in front of Jessica. “Tell me where the priest's hiding, and maybe I can do something, maybe I can get you out of here.”

  Still sobbing, with tears flowing down her face, Jessica stares at me.

  “Where is he?” I ask again. “Please, you can trust me, I'm trying to help you!”

  Her bottom lip trembles, but I can see from the look in her eyes that she's holding something back. “Father...” she whispers finally, “Father... Father made us promise not to -”

  “What's that?” one of the workmen asks, stepping closer, having apparently heard her starting to speak. “Got something to confess, have you?” He grabs Jessica's hair and forces her to look up at him. “Where's the dirty Catholic, darling? There's still time for you to save your own soul, even if your parents are doomed to rot in hell.”

  “Be strong, Jessica!” Henry shouts.

  “You know where the priest is, don't you?” the workman sneers, yanking Jessica's head back hard. “Tell me!”

  “Leave her alone!” I hiss, even though I know he can't hear me.

  “Take your hands off my daughter,” Henry says firmly. “She's just a child, for God's sake!”

  “A child you've corrupted,” the workman replies, stepping over to him. “What kind of a father would let his own daughter be dragged into the filthy cult of Catholicism? What kind of a father would have more loyalty for a lowly seminary priest than for his own family?” He leans closer. “She'll die, you know. Freeman'll kill the lot of you.”

  Henry mutters something under his breath.

  “What's that?” the workman asks. “A prayer for deliverance? A Catholic prayer?” He takes a knife from the nearby table. “I ought to -”

  “Bring out the owner!” a voice shouts suddenly, from outside on the lawn. “Bring out the miserable bastard and his family!”

  “Come on!” the workman sneers, grabbing Henry's bound wrists and dragging him to his feet. “Sounds like Mr. Freeman wants to deal with the three of you personally.”

  “Stop!” I shout, as two other workmen hurry through and grab Jessica and her mother, shoving them roughly toward the door. “What are you doing?” I hiss, hoping against hope that I can make them hear me. “Why are you just blindly following orders like this?”

  Following them out to the landing, I see that other workmen are already making their way down the stairs, as if their job is done.

  “Where are you?” I scream, turning and looking around at the nearby doors. “Darian Kinner, I know you're hiding here somewhere! You have to come out! These people are going to die!”

  Racing down the stairs, I follow Jessica and
her parents as they're led out through the front door into the night air. The workmen are already outside, and to my horror I see a man striding across the dark lawn with an ax in his right hand. As soon as I see his face, I can tell that this must be Nykolas Freeman, the man I was told about the other day in the church. Everyone else seems to be trying to keep as far away from his as possible, except for Connaught, who is following him toward the steps.

  “It's going to be okay,” I stammer, looking down at Jessica as she continues to sob. “I swear, there's a way out of this. They're just trying to scare you...”

  “What are you going to do?” Connaught asks.

  “Your work is done here,” Freeman replies with a calm, confident smile as he comes up the steps toward us. It's almost as if he enjoys this cruelty. “Now my work shall begin.”

  “You're wrong!” Henry shouts at him. “I don't know why you think I would hide a priest in my house, but -”

  Before he can get another word out, Freeman smashes the ax handle into the man's face, knocking him down.

  “Run!” I shout, grabbing Jessica and trying to pull her away, only for one of the soldiers to grab her and hold her in place. I try to pull her free, but after a moment I realize that the struggle is hurting her and I stand back, trying to think of another option. I remember hearing about Freeman killing the people who lived here, but no matter how horrific the situation seems, I can't believe that he'd murder a child.

  “Don't lie to me,” Freeman sneers as another soldier hauls Henry up. “When a man lies to me, I am immediately set free of any restraints that I might otherwise feel upon my soul.”

  “This isn't really happening,” I whisper, looking around at the figures on the dark lawn before turning back to the terrified family. “None of this is real. I'm just dreaming...”

  “We're not hiding a priest!” Henry stammers, with blood running down his chin. “Why would we do that? Has someone made a false claim against me? Your men have taken my house apart, if there was a priest hole here they would have found it!”