Master of the Scrolls

by Benjamin Ford

  Susan continued her tale, and once she finished, such was the absolute silence, a pin could have been heard dropping on the floor.

  ‘So you actually saw it, this possession of your son?’ gasped Rachel when she finally found her voice.

  Susan nodded solemnly. ‘Until that point, I don’t think I ever believed in the spirit world. Allan was a mere child, yet under hypnosis he spoke in an adult voice, he said adult things that a child shouldn’t know, he told of a life long ago that wasn’t his. He said it was his destiny to be with his soul mate, and that he would know her when he met her again, and protect her from the evil that pursued her through the ages.’

  Rachel was confused. ‘Mother told me some of our horrible family curse recently. She said that in her book, Isabella wrote of an intended marriage between the woman of the future and the man who might ultimately destroy her. I assumed that man was Allan, and that he was the reincarnation of the warlock, Samuel Wylams!’

  Susan shook her head. ‘I think it’s clear that the spirit Allan carries within him is not Samuel Wylams!’

  ‘What about Isabella describing the groom as being the man who might ultimately destroy her?’

  Susan remained silent for a moment, but Jeremy answered her question. ‘If Gloria remains in this time and marries Allan then she won’t go back to 1860, will she, darling? You know she has no choice but to return to that time. In a way, Allan is the man who might ultimately destroy her… if she were to remain here and marry him!’

  ‘Oh!’ gasped Rachel. ‘I see what you mean.’

  ‘And now that the pair are on their way to Ravenscreag Hall, you think the time of their possible wedding is approaching?’

  ‘Yes, Susan. Mother told me the wedding would be this month, and that Allan planned to be married to Gloria at the church in Ravenscreag.’

  ‘Then why haven’t they announced it… or invited us?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘I’d say they’ve gone up for a completely different reason,’ said Rachel thoughtfully. ‘They probably want Mother to answer their questions about what’s going on. My guess is that they’ll decide to get married while they’re up there!’

  ‘Well I for one want to be there for Allan when his world falls apart.’ Susan sighed. ‘I suggest we take a trip up to this infamous house of yours, Rachel!’

  *

  Phil answered the impatient banging on the front door, intent on berating the person responsible. ‘I hear you, I hear you!’ he snapped as he ran into the hall from the kitchen where he had been thoroughly scrubbing the tiled floor. He yanked open the front door and his words froze on his lips when he saw Louise standing on the doorstep.

  ‘Hello,’ she said without smiling. ‘I’ve come to see Mrs Turner.’

  Phil could not help but laugh. ‘You say that as though you’ve just popped round the corner to see a neighbour!’

  ‘Well I have!’ chuckled Louise, glad of his kind reception. ‘After all, the nearest neighbours to this Godforsaken place might as well be miles away!’

  Phil stepped aside, allowing Louise into the house. She still remembered the last visit as though it were yesterday, and being back after so long, especially without Gloria for company, sent shivers of nervous anticipation down her spine. Why had she talked herself into coming? She could have spoken to Mary over the telephone.

  No, not with George breathing down my neck!

  He was the reason she was here – was he not?

  I misjudged George, or so I thought! Perhaps I have misjudged Phil too – maybe I should give him a chance.

  Away from Gloria’s side and free of the interference from the past, Phil suddenly seemed a very different person to Louise. Unlike George, who would have coldly demanded to know why she was going up to Scotland, Phil was warm and friendly as he asked what had brought her so far north. The constant changes in George’s manner had prevented Louise from telling him where she was going, and though he might guess, by then it would probably be too late. With any luck, she would have her answers as soon as Mary was able to see her.

  ‘I need to ask Mrs Turner a few things. Private things.’

  Phil sighed. ‘I hope you’re not still mad at me? What happened between me and Gloria really wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know it wasn’t, and nor was it Gloria’s fault. I don’t blame either of you for anything! It was Isabella and Peter, and he’s no longer with you, is he?’

  Phil shook his head. ‘I believe he and Isabella have completed their business in this time. They’ve moved on.’ He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I cannot say I’m sorry to see the back of them, either. They made both our lives hell!’

  ‘It’s funny, though not in a humorous way, why some spirits feel the need to cling on to this world.’ Phil regarded Louise sadly, fearing she had missed the point of the possessions, but when she continued, he knew she had a profound understanding of what had happened. ‘Isabella’s spirit was ripped from her resting place, and then banished by Samuel Wylams. She and Peter were Gloria’s protectors, and when their task was done, they returned to their resting place.’

  ‘Something like that,’ agreed Phil, closing the door behind her.

  ‘I fear that the danger Gloria has been in isn’t yet over, though. That’s why I need to see Mary.’

  ‘You believe your brother to be the reincarnation of Samuel Wylams?’

  Phil’s question took her by surprise. ‘Allan? My God, why would you think Allan is the reincarnation of that evil man?’

  ‘Did Gloria not tell you that Allan and Samuel are physically identical?’

  ‘No, I didn’t know that! Gloria never said, and now she’s lost her memory.’

  ‘I was going to ask if you knew how she is. So she’s awake again, but has no memory of where she disappeared to?’

  Louise shook her head. ‘No. No idea at all.’

  Phil looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘It’s possible that Isabella has been in control of her again, especially if, as you seem to fear, Samuel’s spirit has also returned.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s back then?’

  ‘Not if my sister was his reincarnation, no. But then, Wilma might just have been possessed by his spirit, in which case he might have somehow escaped her body and found his way into somebody else!’

  ‘That’s why I need to speak to Mary. I believe that’s what may have happened, but I’m positive it’s not my brother.’

  It was obvious that Louise was highly agitated, so Phil decided it would be unfair to make her wait. ‘I’ll go and tell Mrs Turner you’re here. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you.’

  Louise watched Phil climb the stairs, and as he dis-appeared from view she wandered across the hall to the immense dining room. The drapes were open, and she was pleasantly surprised to find the room spotlessly clean, with no dust or cobwebs anywhere. Even the windows sparkled. Phil had clearly been working like a slave since returning.

  Anything to take his mind off Gloria, probably, thought Louise with a wry smile.

  She turned as she heard footsteps out in the hall, and Phil appeared in the doorway. ‘Mrs Turner says you’re to go right on up. Do you know which one her room is?’

  Louise nodded. ‘It’s the first door at the top of the stairs on the second floor, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Louise smiled. ‘Cool, I get to see inside the locked room! Gloria has never seen inside her grandmother’s room, at least she hadn’t the time I was here before.’

  ‘Consider yourself privileged, Miss Barncroft. Few people have seen inside the room!’

  ‘Please, I think I’d prefer you to call me Louise. I feel we got off on the wrong foot before. ‘

  ‘As you wish, Louise, and perhaps when you’ve finished your chat with Mrs Turner you’d care to join me in the kitchen, then we can have a chat?’

  ‘I’d like that. Thanks!’

  Louise left the dining room, and as Phil went through the door that led to the kitchen, she gra
sped the banister and slowly started climbing the stairs. Flashes of memory from her teenage visit flooded through her mind as she paused on the first floor landing. She recalled how excited she had been to begin with, and how that excitement turned to disappointment when she finally saw the house for the first time, and how that disappointment turned to fear as she came to know the house more intimately.

  The fear still gnawed away inside her as she swung around the corner and saw the second floor landing rising up above her. It seemed to recede away before her, swallowed by shadows. She found herself clasping the banister with an ever-tightening grip, her knuckles shining white. Telling herself not to be ridiculous – after all, she was not going up to that room in the turret – she took a deep breath and slowly continued up the stairs. Each step she took was an effort, and by the time she reached the top landing she was profusely sweating as the paranoia she felt refused to release her.

  She faced the door immediately to the right of the stairs, unnerved that it meant she had to turn her back on the long dark passage that led to the spiral stairwell. She felt icy fingers of fear touching her neck, and scolded herself for being so cowardly. She had nothing to fear from this house any more.

  Raising her hand to knock on the door, she was pre-empted by a voice from within. ‘Come in my dear, the door isn’t locked.’

  Grasping the doorknob firmly, as she had almost done fourteen years earlier, Louise took one final deep steadying breath and twisted her hand, pushing the door open before her as she walked into the domain of Mary Turner.

  *

  When they arrived at Euston to catch the overnight train to Kingussie, Allan and Gloria found they had half an hour to spare before the departure, so they found their reserved compartment and settled down for the long journey. They were deep in thought as they struggled with the first clue of the crossword in that day’s Times, when they heard unmistakably familiar voices from outside wrangling over which platform and arguing about what time.

  Gloria pressed her nose to the window and sure enough, there were her parents hurrying towards the train, closely followed by Allan’s parents. Daniel spotted her face at the window, pointing to her. They all waved at each other, and the foursome scrambled onto the train with barely enough time to close the door behind them before the irritated guard blew his whistle, and the train pulled away with a lurch.

  Gloria and Allan burst into the narrow passageway as their parents hurried towards them. ‘What are you doing here?’ Gloria cried as she hugged and kissed her mother.

  ‘We might ask you the same question, young lady!’ smiled Jeremy, relieved to see that his daughter was recovering from her head wound quite well.

  ‘Obviously we’re all on our way up to Ravenscreag!’ Allan said as he hugged his own parents, before they swapped and hugged each other’s parents.

  ‘We’re all a bit further up the carriage,’ sighed Rachel, checking compartment numbers. ‘I must admit, I have never taken a train up to Ravenscreag before.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ smiled Gloria.

  ‘Well, we’ve never been up to this place at all!’ chimed in Susan.

  Feeling left out, Allan revealed that he had not only been up to Ravenscreag before, but had also gone by train.

  Susan patted his cheek. ‘You always have to have the last word, don’t you?’

  ‘Why don’t you get yourselves settled in your compartments, and we’ll meet in the restaurant car for dinner?’ suggested Gloria, her spirits lifting slightly at the thought of the extra company. ‘Shall we say eight o’clock?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ agreed Rachel. ‘Come on, you lot.’

  After their parents had disappeared, Gloria and Allan returned to their compartment, closing the door behind them. ‘Why do you think they’re on their way to Ravens-creag?’ Allan wondered.

  ‘I have no idea. Did you notice the odd way they were all looking at us both?’

  Allan chuckled. ‘You’re imagining things, darling!’

  ‘No I’m not!’ Gloria shook her head violently. ‘They know something we don’t. I’m sure of it!’

  ‘Well then, we’ll tackle them over dinner!’

  *

  Louise was not entirely sure what to expect from Mary’s room, but once past the large ensuite bathroom to her left, the understated creams and restful lilacs that gave the huge triple-aspect room a genuinely peaceful sense of tranquillity impressed her. Pale wooden furniture abounded within the room – a couple of large wardrobes and several chests of drawers along three walls, with a dressing table in front of one of the three windows, a chaise-lounge before one of the others. The huge four-poster bed, ornately carved from the same pale wood at the rest of the furniture, dominated the internal wall to her right. Bare floorboards might have been draughty in the winter, but they were merely cool underfoot. The summer breeze that blew in through the open windows billowed the curtains, which cast shadows over the two cream rugs on either side of the large bed.

  Mary reclined on the chaise-lounge, looking tired, frail and oddly bereft of the vitality that Louise remembered so well. Oddly unafraid now that she was in the presence of the woman who had once scared the life out of her, Louise stepped forward into the shifting pool of light that drifted in lazily here and there with the wafting of the curtains.

  ‘Hello my dear. How was your trip?’

  ‘It was all right thank you, Mrs Turner.’

  Mary indicated that Louise should sit on the bed, and as she sat down, Louise became further relaxed, more than comfortable in Mary’s presence – or perhaps the relaxing calm of the room had stilled her frantically beating heart?

  ‘And please, I’d like it if you called me Mary!’

  Louise beamed broadly. ‘Thank you, I think I will, Mary!’

  ‘That’s so much better. You should smile more often my dear, it suits your face.’

  ‘And what about my hair?’ asked Louise with a wicked grin, remembering Mary’s cold comments about her lacquered teenage beehive.

  Mary chortled. ‘My, you have an excellent memory! Your hair is loose, so naturally I like it!’

  They laughed together for a few minutes, exchanging further pleasantries, but then Mary asked Louise what had brought her up to Ravenscreag Hall.

  ‘George Palmer, amongst other things. Mary, I know you know everything that has been going on. You’ve known about so many of the mysteries for such a long time, and I don’t know how.’

  ‘You would like to know my secrets?’

  Louise nodded, then shook her head, and finally shrugged. ‘To be honest, I don’t know if I can take that much information. With everything I have seen and heard, I reckon it has something to do with Isabella’s book, but probably also has some kind of witchcraft attached!’

  Mary laughed. ‘You think I am a witch my dear? How kind!’

  ‘I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant – not in a bad way, anyway,’ Louise blustered, blushing.

  Mary held up her hand. ‘It doesn’t matter. I am two weeks short of my ninety-seventh birthday, much too old to care what people think of me any more! But I know you meant nothing bad by it.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Louise was appalled to find herself asking.

  Again Mary laughed. ‘Not really, though in a way you are right. True, I read Isabella’s manuscript as a young woman, just as my grandmother asked me to. Back then, I could not fully understand everything I read, but then a spirit came to me one night, a month after my grandmother passed away.’

  ‘Victoria’s spirit?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘No, it was not my grandmother’s spirit. It was the spirit of a woman called Thaumaturgia Anathemas.’

  ‘What kind of name is that?’ snorted Louise.

  A sudden blast of wind whipped the drapes into a frenzy, and the sudden influx of sunshine wreathed Mary in an ethereal glow, and just for a moment Louise swore she saw a different person sit bolt upright on the chaise-lounge, fixing her with pink eyes that radiated fury at her words.r />
  The name be mine, young lady, and thou wouldst do well to show respect!

  The voice that echoed around the room did not come from Mary’s mouth. It was the voice of a young girl, yet curiously filled with the pain and anguish of one who has lived several lifetimes of misery, someone borne witness to untold horrors, and perhaps not lived to tell the tale.

  Then the curtains fell back as the wind dissipated, leaving Mary enshrouded in cool shadow once more, and as quickly as it had appeared, the apparition surrounding Mary, once more reclining in a relaxed manner, vanished.

  ‘What the devil was that?’ gasped Louise, choking back her fear, which had made a rapid and unwelcome return.

  ‘Pay her no heed, my dear,’ said Mary softly, sitting up as she sensed Louise’s unease. ‘She does it for effect sometimes, usually when I’m looking in the mirror. She scares the Bejesus out of me too, but she won’t harm you. That was Thaumaturgia Anathemas. She was the Seer James Trevayne went to, the one who conjured up Isabella’s spirit. For some reason she has grown attached to me as I have grown older. She has been my constant companion since Victoria passed away, and is the one thing that has kept me sane, oddly enough. You would think having a spirit flit in and out of your life might make you feel you’re going mad, but she helped me understand what needs to be done.’

  ‘And what does need to be done, Mary? Does George Palmer play a part in things?’

  Mary rose to her feet and hobbled over to the bed. Settling beside Louise, she took hold of the young woman’s hand and looked her in the eye. ‘You believe him to be Samuel Wylams, don’t you?’

  Louise nodded. ‘I have that feeling, yes, though I don’t know why. His personality just seems to keep changing recently.’

  ‘Well I can tell you, my dear, your George Palmer does have a part to play in the grand scheme of things. But don’t worry yourself; he is not under the influence of Sawyl Gwilym.’ She noted Louise’s confusion. ‘Sawyl Gwilym is the original Welsh name of Samuel Wylams. I won’t bore you with all the details of that right now. All you need know about that vile man is that he can no longer hurt anyone here and now.’