by Mina Carter
* * *
By the time everyone had been filled in on what had gone on and what the gist of the plan was, it was well into the afternoon. Becky felt as if she’d been telling the story over and over all day. Once the initial disbelief and shock was out of the way, the Wiccans were all on board with the plan. They seemed to think they had to prove to Reverend Wallis and Father Egerton they weren’t Satanists themselves. Becky guessed that to most people, pagan meant evil, so probably the Wiccans frequently had to overcome prejudice. Personally, she wasn’t fussed what religion people followed, just so long as they didn’t try to push it on her. Faith in anything was a personal choice.
“Are we ready then?” Becky eventually asked. She wasn’t happy about having so many people in harm’s way, but at least these people were open to the idea of the paranormal. Much as the police had done their best, they had definitely been in unknown territory.
It was time to go and kill Miss Freaky.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE FIRST STEP in the plan was blessing the ground all around Frippe House. The vicar, the priest and the Wiccans had all agreed the ground outside needed to be cleansed and purified.
Becky stood back and watched, finding the Wiccan process rather interesting. She had to wonder if representatives of the three different religions had ever worked together in that way before.
Once everyone was happy outside was as cleansed as they could get it in such a hurry, they congregated by the front door and prepared to enter. As they gathered just inside the entrance, another set of blessings were performed. They planned to do each room as they checked it, hoping it would stop Miss Freaky going in once they left the room. The holy water being used was a bit impromptu. It came from plastic bottles Becky had in her car and had been blessed on the spot.
As they made their way slowly through each room downstairs, Becky became increasingly afraid. This had to be done, but that didn’t stop her being scared shitless. She grabbed Heath’s hand and held onto it tightly. In return, he gave her fingers a squeeze.
After the first couple of rooms, they settled into a routine: one person opened the door while Peter stood in front of it with the sword poised, ready to go into action. As soon as they knew the room was empty, all three blessings were performed. While that went on, a few people stood together looking out of the room to make sure Miss Freaky didn’t creep up on them. The progress was slow but methodical. Becky showed the others the secret room off the entrance hall and that was blessed too.
Once they had finished in the kitchen and were moving on to the storage rooms, Becky found herself shaking all over.
Of the whole group, Heath and Becky were the only ones who had seen the secret room. Just to make sure it was extra blessed, Peter used the tip of the sword to carve a crosses into the plaster and wood of the walls. He added sacred Wiccan symbols all round to make doubly sure it was as close to a sanctified space as they could make it in the time they had.
Unlike every other time she had been in there, Becky found she could face the coffin a lot easier. Without its occupant, it was basically just a box.
A gasp of shock made everyone turn to face the doorway. Filling the space was the same white mist Becky and Heath had seen before, only this time it was getting progressively more solid.
“Is that . . . ?” Reverend Wallis whispered nervously.
“A ghost. Yes,” one of the Wiccan’s replied. She was a woman in her early fifties dressed in the sort of floaty clothes Becky always associated with people of the non-Christian western religions.
“Leave this place,” the voice of the ghost said firmly, although this time Becky could just make out a mouth moving.
“We can’t,” Becky replied, trying not to let her voice tremble in fear. “We have to kill that thing, whatever it is.”
“You cannot kill her.”
“Why not?” Heath asked quickly. They needed all the information they could get.
“She is the house.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Peter demanded.
“She is what the family made of this house. She is evil.”
“I know this place has had a bit of a colourful history, but it’s just walls and a roof,” Becky pointed out logically.
The ghost finally manifested fully and Becky recognised her straight away. They were looking at what remained of Honoria Frippe. She seemed to be wearing the same dress she’d had on in the photo Becky had seen of her, its massive skirt billowing out and fading into nothing.
“As a child, she was an orphan. She was taken and made into something else. My father performed a ceremony to place all the evil that had been done here inside her body. He wanted to kill her and remove the evil. But she couldn’t be killed and was imprisoned in this room. She was not supposed to be found.”
“You could have told me that before we found her,” Becky muttered, realising it was ridiculous to be complaining to a ghost.
“I could not. You were not in love.”
“Huh?” Becky didn’t understand that.
“I can only be seen by those experiencing the heightened emotions of love.”
“Oh.” Did that mean she was in love with Heath? Becky glanced at him briefly and saw he looked astounded, as well he might. It wasn’t the time for analysing their feelings though.
“Who are you?” Father Egerton demanded, holding the crucifix hung round his neck out in front of him.
“Do not harm her!” the Wiccan woman who’d confirmed Honoria was a ghost told him urgently. “She does not mean any of us any harm.”
Honoria turned to look at the woman, frowning a bit. “You are right,” she responded. “You must leave for your own safety.”
“We’re not going to leave until that thing is destroyed,” Heath told the ghost.
“Then you rush to your own deaths,” Honoria told them and faded from sight.
Father Egerton and Reverend Wallis looked terrified, but the Wiccans were relatively unflustered. Maybe they were more used to the idea of spirits lurking around.
“Now what?” Peter asked worriedly. “If we can’t kill it, what are we meant to do?”
“Stick with the plan,” Becky replied. “I know she said we couldn’t destroy it, but I doubt her father had the same resources we do.”
“What resources?” Father Egerton asked uncertainly.
“All of us. We’ve got you and Reverend Wallis, but we also have a whole coven of Wiccans. That’s got to count for something. And we have a blessed sword in the hands of a man who knows how to use it.”
Peter nodded in agreement. “We go on the way we have been,” he said with determination, then grinned. “This is the only chance I’ll ever get to use this thing against someone in earnest.”
Reverend Wallis raised his eyebrows at that and Becky didn’t blame him. Peter Mullen obviously had a bit of a bloodthirsty side. That would probably stand them in good stead though. At least he wouldn’t be squeamish about the part he had to play.
Finishing off blessing the store rooms, the group moved back to the hall and looked up the stairs. There had been no sign of Miss Freaky, so in all likelihood, they were slowly closing in on her.
After the landing was blessed, they started on the first bedroom they reached. Nothing inside was out of the ordinary and the blessing went smoothly.
The door to the next bedroom, the one Becky’s mother had slept in, was opened, and they found what they had been looking for.
Miss Freaky was standing at the end of the bed, staring at the patch of wall where the Lucifer symbol had appeared and then vanished. She didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t alone.
With Peter in the front, the sword ready to strike, the others clustered in a worried huddle just inside the doorway. Then Father Egerton began to speak the Latin blessing.
The thing whipped round far too quickly and hissed at him. Fear swept through the group and Becky could feel those closest to her starting to back away.
“Don’t run!”
she told them frantically. She was terrified too, but didn’t have the option of running away.
It seemed her words were enough. Father Egerton began his blessing again and Reverend Wallis started his. The Wiccans moved into place to face the four points of the compass that seemed to be the basis of their ritual.
Becky watched the thing as the blessings gathered pace. Its eyes were fixed firmly on Father Egerton, making her think the thing feared the Catholic blessing the most.
“It’s Catholic,” she whispered. “Father Egerton, do you know any sort of exorcism?”
Without stopping his blessing, he shook his head. That wasn’t the news Becky had wanted. She started to rummage in the priest’s pockets and found a small bible and his rosary. She wasn’t sure what she would do with them, but they were all she had.
“Peter, I’m going to distract it,” she whispered urgently. “Once I’ve got its attention, you do your thing.”
He nodded once.
Becky lifted the rosary in her hand and the things eyes zeroed in on the object. Heath snatched the bible from her other hand and quickly whipped through the pages. He found what he was after and started to read.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” The words spilled out of him in a rush.
The thing turned all its attention on him. With a flick of its hand, Heath was thrown up and hit the ceiling hard. He fell in a heap in the middle of the group.
Becky wanted to check he was okay, but Miss Freaky was now looking squarely at her. She glared back. This thing had made the last few days the most difficult of Becky’s life. Getting a divorce had been a picnic in comparison.
With her free hand, Becky took hold of Peter’s arm and moved him aside. She gave him a quick squeeze before she let go, hoping it was enough to tell him to be ready.
Moving very slowly, Becky circled round between the thing and the wall it had been staring at when they had entered. The thing kept its eyes on her, turning as slowly as Becky moved. When she was stood with her back to the wall, Becky flicked a glance at Peter.
He rushed forward, swinging the sword back. Then he flew back against the others, crumpling in a heap on the floor at their feet.
Becky was stuck. She had the thing’s attention, but it seemed any help anyone tried to give her was rebuffed all too easily.
Then something occurred to her. “You can’t hurt me, can you?” she said quietly.
The thing’s head tipped to the side a fraction, as if it was listening to her.
“You’re made from the evil of my family, so hurting me will hurt you.”
The thing didn’t respond, but Becky was sure she was on the right track. There was only one way to test her theory.
She threw her arm back hard against the wall. “Ow!”
The thing clutched its arm as Becky wanted to clutch hers. That had really hurt. At least she knew she was on the right track though. Wondering how far it extended, Becky wound the rosary around her fist and punched herself in the side of the head.
Dazed, she just made out the thing reeling. Becky had no intention of going any further, but she could see the Wiccans glancing at each other out of the corner of her eye. All she could do was hope they were coming up with something useful.
Peter was just about back on his feet, but there wasn’t any sign of Heath. Maybe he had been knocked out when he hit the ceiling. She desperately wanted to ask if he was okay, but didn’t dare when Miss Freaky was focussed on her so intently.
As the thing seemed to need its hands to throw someone around, Becky knew she needed to get them occupied with something else. For the want of a better idea, she wound the rosary around her own throat and started to tighten it.
The thing just watched her. Becky pulled a bit harder. Her eyesight was starting to get a bit fuzzy and her lungs were struggling to fill. The beads of the rosary cut into her flesh, almost feeling like they burned her.
Suddenly, the thing’s hands flew to its own throat. As soon as they did, Peter bounded forward, raised the sword, and swung it at the thing.
The sword sliced rapidly through the old flesh and Becky heard a scream, though it seemed to be all around her, as if it emanated from the walls themselves. She released the rosary enough to breathe and waited to see Miss Freaky fall to the floor dead.
A fraction of a second later, the thing’s head left its neck.
Becky had expected it to drop, but it kept standing. On the floor, the head looked up at her accusingly.
Then the thing’s arms raised and it staggered forward.
Barely recovered from trying to throttle herself, Becky only just dodged it grabbing her and fell on the floor. She grabbed the head by its hair and scrabbled to the window, throwing it open and lobbing the head outside.
The thing went nuts. Its arms flailed manically and it lunged for Becky again. She scrabbled back, thinking something had gone wrong with it not being able to hurt her. Maybe cutting its head off had caused some sort of internal short circuit?
Before Becky could get out of its way, Heath bowled through from the group and knocked the body out the window.
He fell with it.
“Heath!” Becky rushed to the window and saw him lying on the ground. The thing was recovering already and started to wrap its hands around Heath’s throat.
“No!” Becky screamed.
The Wiccan woman appeared at her side and looked down. “Get outside and burn it!” she yelled at the rest of her coven. Then she stood straight, closed her eyes, and began to chant.
Without waiting to see if the chanting would do anything, Becky ran from the room, grabbing Father Egerton’s sleeve as she went. She dragged him down the stairs and out the front door. Heath couldn’t be dead. She hadn’t even had the chance to kiss him yet, let alone anything else. If the thing killed him, she would never be able to forgive herself.
“Come on!” she shouted at the priest when he lagged behind her.
By the time she got to Heath, he was lying on the ground, not showing any signs of life. The thing had retrieved its head and now stood looking at Becky with it in its hands.
Someone brought the petrol can and Becky grabbed it, scrambling to unscrew the lid so she could douse the thing in fuel. One of the Wiccan’s produced a lighter and managed to set light to spilled petrol.
The flame licked along the fuel on the ground and engulfed Miss Freaky in a thick column of flames.
Becky rushed over to Heath, checking his pulse quickly. He was unconscious, not dead. After getting him quickly into the recovery position, Becky turned her attention back to the thing. “Call an ambulance!” she shouted. Heath was bound to have a concussion, and it could be a lot worse than that. Becky hadn’t even checked if his neck was okay after the fall from the upstairs window. But for now, she had to make sure Miss Freaky was never coming back.
“Bless it,” she shouted at Father Egerton, dragging the priest towards the figure of flames.
His voice quivering, he started the words of his blessing.
Finally, the thing dropped to the ground. Becky stood and watched it burn, not moving until it was nothing but a dirty stain on the ground hours later.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ARRIVING AT POOLE General Hospital later that evening, Becky wondered if Heath would even want to see her. He might have asked her on a date, but that was before he had been almost killed by the accumulated evil of her ancestors.
Carrying the bunch of flowers and a bar of chocolate she’d grabbed from a pet
rol station on the way in, Becky eventually found which ward he was in and made her way there. Having worked in large hospitals almost all her adult life, there was something almost comforting about the smell of them.
Heath wasn’t alone when she reached him. Becky recognised the Chief Inspector, although he was out of uniform. They were talking urgently in whispers.
“Ms Frippe!” Chief Inspector Budden said in surprise when he spotted her.
“Hi,” she responded awkwardly. To all intents and purposes, she had committed murder earlier in the day, so a policeman made her rather nervous.
“Heath has just told me as much as he knows.”
Becky nodded and chewed her top lip. Heath looked at her a little expectantly, but she wasn’t sure what to do next. The last couple of hours had been taken up with assuring her family she was fine and thanking everyone who had helped her get rid of Miss Freaky. Before leaving, Becky had got the ashes blessed by the vicar, the priest and the Wiccans, then scooped them up, including all the gravel cover in them, and put them in a bag to go out with the bins. Muss Freaky would finally be off the property when the bin men next came.
Sitting in her car and talking to her mum, Dan and Imy one after the other hadn’t been easy. They were all upset when they found out what had happened. Becky assured them time and time again she was okay, but they didn’t seem convinced. Dan had told her they would all be down as soon as possible, but she had put them off until the morning; she had to visit Heath before anything else. She owed him a lot. Actually, she had no idea how she could ever repay any of those who had tried to help her in the last few days.
“Well, um . . . I’ll make myself scarce,” the Chief Inspector mumbled after an agonisingly awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever.
When he had left, Becky sat down beside the bed and laid her meagre offerings on Heath’s legs.
“The others will be fine,” he started. “Dave Hardy is still unconscious, but he’s stable.”
