by Amy Cross
“What is this?” Doctor Carter asks, stepping up behind me. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Blood is running down Josh's face, from the skin around the two nails.
“Help me!” Josh screams, before lunging forward and putting his arms on my shoulders. “I saw her! I turned around and she was right behind me!”
“We're going to get help,” I stammer, as I realize that I have to do something. “We're going to get you to a hospital.”
“What did she do to my eyes?” he shouts, and suddenly he tries to open them both.
“Stop!” I yell, shocked by the sight of his eyelids starting to pull on the nails. After a moment, a torrent of blood rushes out from beneath each lid, while the skin stars tearing and stretching against the force of the nails.
“What did she do?” he sobs. “Why can't I see?”
“Keep your eyes closed!” I shout. “I'm going to call for help!”
“I need to see the -”
“Keep your eyes closed!” I yell again, before reaching out to force him to do what I say. At the last moment, however, I realize that I can't possibly touch the nails themselves. I'd only make the situation worse. It's hard to imagine that his sight hasn't been destroyed, but I guess there's still a chance.
“Where is she?” Doctor Carter asks, looking frantically around the room. “How did you let her sneak up on you like this? Weren't you using your sensors? This is totally unacceptable.”
Taking my phone from my pocket, I start calling for an ambulance.
“Wait!”
Before I can connect the call, Doctor Carter snatches the phone from my hands.
“He needs help!” I snap.
“Yes, but think for one moment,” Doctor Carter replies. “We're so close to a breakthrough, we can't do anything that'll risk the Lannister family shutting us down.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
He opens his mouth as if he means to argue with me, but then he hesitates for a moment.
“We'll take him ourselves,” he says finally, clearly shocked by what we're both seeing. “That way, we can perhaps keep the Lannisters out of the loop, at least for long enough to complete our work here. I'll get the van ready, we'll take him to the nearest town and...”
His voice trails off, and for a few seconds he simply stares at Josh as if he still can't comprehend what he's seeing. I wait a fraction of a second, and then I realize that he seems totally at a loss.
“Move!” I yell, before scrambling to my feet and pushing him toward the door. “There's no time to freak out! Get the van started and I'll bring Josh down!”
He mumbles something under his breath, and then he pushes past me and gathers Millicent Lannister's bones up in the sheet.
“What are you doing?” I shout.
“I need them,” he replies angrily. “I need to study them. After this farrago, it might be months before I can get back to Lannister Hall. My research takes priority!”
Clutching the sheet containing the bones, he turns and stumbles out into the corridor. I wait for a moment, just to be absolutely certain that he's not going to find some other excuse to come back, and then I turn back just in time to see that Josh is trying to pull one of the nails out of his eyes.
“Don't do that!” I gasp, rushing back over to him and pulling his hands away. “You might cause more damage!”
He tries for a moment to fight me off, but finally his hands fall down. Already, I can see that the damage beneath his eyelids is as bad as I'd feared; they look like pools of blood, and it's impossible to believe that his eyesight can ever be saved. His hands are trembling as I hold them down, and his lips are moving slightly as he whimpers. The pain must be unimaginable, and I think he's starting to go into shock.
“We're going to go downstairs,” I say finally. “Do you understand? Then we're going to take the van to the nearest hospital.” I wait, but he doesn't reply. “You understand, right?”
“She was right in front of me,” he stammers. “Her face...”
I hesitate, wanting to hear more, but after a moment I realize that there'll be time for that later.
“Come on,” I say, trying to help him up. “It's not far, and then we'll be at the van. You just have to trust me.”
He resists at first, but finally I'm able to get him up onto his feet. He's still trembling with shock, but I manage to guide him out into the corridor. We're moving painfully slowly, but in the circumstances I guess I can't ask for much more, and after a couple of minutes we reach the top of the stairs. I glance around, just in case there's any further sign of Catherine Lannister's ghost, and then I get ready to lead Josh down to the hallway.
“One step at a time, okay?” I say, trying to sound cool, calm and collected. “We're going down the stairs. Just take it steady.”
With that, we start making our way down. We move steadily, but after a few more minutes we actually make it all the way to the hallway. I lead him over to the door, and it takes me a moment to get the latch loose, but finally I manage to open the door and we step out together onto the top of the steps.
There's no sign of Doctor Carter and the van.
I look around, and after a moment I'm just about able to see the van. It's still in the spot where we left it, which means that Doctor Carter hasn't made it out here yet.
And he's the only one with the keys.
“Where is he?” I mutter under my breath, as I turn and look back into the house.
For a moment, I feel myself starting to fill with anger at the thought that he's allowed himself to get distracted. He's obsessed with his work, to the point that I have no doubt he'd be willing to delay helping Josh if he felt that he could actually make another breakthrough. For all I know, he's probably off in some other part of the house, grabbing something that he thinks he can use once he's back at the laboratory. I want to call out to him, but at the last moment I realize that I'd only end up panicking Josh.
I put a hand into my right pocket, only to realize that Doctor Carter took my phone a few minutes ago. Either by accident or by design, he didn't give it back to me.
“Okay, Josh,” I say, trying to still sound calm, “let's sit you down for a moment.”
“Where is she?” he stammers.
“She's not here.”
“I saw her!”
“But she's not here right now,” I tell him, and I glance around just to make doubly sure.
“She wants me dead!” he sobs.
“Let's just get away from the house,” I reply, “and then we can figure things out. Do you still have your sensor?”
He hesitates, and then he shakes his head.
Reaching into my pocket, I take out my own scanner, which I press carefully into his hands. I set the volume up to maximum.
“You'll be able to hear if she comes close,” I tell him. “You know how this thing works. I've turned the volume all the way up to eleven. So long as the alarm doesn't sound, you know Catherine Lannister is nowhere nearby. You remember that, don't you?”
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I'll be a couple of minutes at most,” I tell him, as I realize that I don't know where to start looking for Doctor Carter. “Then we're going to get out of here, okay? I promise. We are going to leave.”
I wait for him to answer, but he's simply clutching the scanner, and I figure it's best just to get on with things.
Stepping away from him, I head toward the library, but at the last moment I hear a faint noise coming from the corridor that leads through to the other side of the house. I walk over and look through into the darkness, and then I freeze as soon as I see a silhouette against the far window.
It's her.
It's the ghost of Catherine Lannister.
She's come for us.
Part Seven
Catherine Lannister
I
“Mother?” Milly says cautiously, with fear in her voice. “What's wrong with Father?”
For a moment, I d
o not know what to tell her.
So far, I have managed to coax Jonathan out of the wardrobe. This in itself was hard enough, but now he is sitting on the end of the bed and he shows no sign of regaining his senses. Indeed, he seems to have been reduced to a gibbering wreck, and every few seconds he glances around with such a wild-eyed stare. Under his breath, he continues to mutter about a figure that he has seen in the room.
“Nothing is wrong, my darling,” I say finally, turning to Milly and forcing a smile that I hope will calm her at least a little. “Your father is merely...”
Words fail me, and for a moment I can only listen to the sound of Jonathan weeping behind me. I have wished so many times that this strong, stoic man would bend a little and show emotion. Now that he has become such a terrible mess, I find myself – hypocritically, I know – hoping that he might pull himself together.
“Did Father see the scary man?” Milly asks after a moment.
“There is no scary man,” I tell her, with tears in my eyes.
“There is,” she replies. “How have you not seen him?”
“Please, wait outside for a moment,” I say, ushering her to the door. “In a few minutes, I shall -”
“No!”
She grabs my arm, and I immediately realize that it would be wrong of me to ask her to stay alone out there. I peer out into the corridor, which is dark and suddenly rather foreboding, and then I pull Milly back and shut the door.
“I need you to do something for me,” I say to her. “I need you to put your fingers in your ears, so that you will not hear me talking to your father.”
“Why?”
“I cannot tell you. But you must trust, my darling, that I have my reasons. Can you do that?”
She hesitates, and then she slowly reaches up and puts her fingers in her ears.
Relieved that she is such an obedient girl, I turn and make my way back over to the bed, where Jonathan remains in a terrible state.
“You mustn't let him in again,” he stammers, his eyes filled with tears as he continues to look all around the room. “His face, Catherine, seemed to be staring down at me as if he had come straight from Hell!”
“Are you sure it wasn't just a shadow of some kind?” I ask.
“I saw him!” he gasps.
I glance at Milly and see that she still has her fingers in her ears.
“It's possible that you were mistaken,” I say to Jonathan, although I am very much aware of the irony of this situation. Twenty-four hours ago, our roles were reversed. Now I am the one who is trying to downplay the possibilities of unusual activity. “Did you perhaps suffer from a nightmare? That too is possible, especially after everything that has happened. Perhaps I caused you to have some kind of awful dream?”
“I know the difference between dream and reality,” he replies, as sweat runs down his face. “Catherine... I saw him. I saw the beast that has been tormenting Millicent.”
I glance again at our daughter.
She is obediently standing with her fingers in her ears.
“There is something in the house with us,” Jonathan continues as I turn back to him. “You were right all along.”
“Then we should leave,” I tell him. “If that is what you believe, we -”
“No!”
He grabs my hand and holds it tight, squeezing almost to the point of pain.
“If there is a threat,” I reply, “then -”
“If we run,” he continues, interrupting me, “then we yield the house to this monster. We must instead find a way to face it down.”
“We could call a priest,” I suggest. “If you recall, that is what I have been suggesting for some time now.”
“We can't do that,” he replies. “We can't bring shame upon the family.”
“Then I fail to understand what you want,” I tell him. “Jonathan, what is it that you would have us do?”
I wait, but he seems lost for words. I cannot escape the feeling that – while he now recognizes the problem – Jonathan seems utterly unwilling to consider any of the solutions that I have suggested. I know that his family's honor is important, but there must surely come a point when our family's safety must be considered paramount.
“We shall stay another night,” he says finally, his voice trembling a little with fear, “and face this thing down.”
“Is that wise?”
He looks around the room for a moment, still vigilant in case the 'man' returns.
“It is all we can do,” he continues after a few seconds, turning to me. “I will not be run out of my own home, Catherine. Lannister Hall belongs to us, and the filthy creature that has moved in here will surely be forced to leave. I will have it no other way.”
“As you wish,” I reply, although deep down I am horrified by the idea.
“And we shall pray,” he says. “We shall ask for mercy from the Lord. He cannot possibly let us suffer at the hands of this demon.”
“It is to be hoped that he shows us mercy,” I say, before taking a step back.
For a moment, I am filled with a sudden urge to scream at Jonathan. Why did he not believe me? Why did he call me mad and lock me away? Why did he call a doctor to have me certified insane? And why, now, does he not acknowledge any of this? It is not that I seek an apology. He is my husband, and he had his reasons for the way he behaved. But he could at least tell me that he will listen in future.
And then the urge passes, and I realize that I must attend to Milly.
“We shall be downstairs,” I explain, as I take another step back. “Will you come down shortly?”
I wait, and he does not respond. It is as if the sight of the strange 'man' in the house has left him in a great deal of shock. I can only hope that he will soon recover.
II
“His eyes were filled with anger,” Milly says a while later, as I sit with her in the pantry, “and he had a terrible grimace on his face, as if he wanted to murder me.”
“That sounds awful,” I tell her. “You're very brave to have withstood such a thing.”
“I would have been even more scared if Father had not come to help me.”
I open my mouth to tell her again that she is good and strong, but then I hesitate.
“Your father came to help you?” I ask cautiously. “I thought you were alone when you saw the scary man?”
“I saw the man,” she replies, “and then he ran away. Then Father came and told me that everything would be alright. And then he left, and then the scary man came again, and then finally you arrived. Mother, it was so terrifying.”
“I'm sure,” I say, before pulling her close and embracing her.
I have so many questions about what happened tonight, but for now my mind is racing and I cannot quite put all the pieces together. I had supposed that Jonathan must have been cowering in the wardrobe for quite some time, but now it seems that he was in Milly's room at least once.
“Do you think the scary man means to harm us?” Milly asks.
“We are quite safe.”
“He was snarling and growling at me.”
“That must have been so distressing.”
“He wouldn't stop,” she continues. “He was the scariest man I've ever seen! I thought I was going to faint. I have no idea how I managed not to!”
“You're my brave little girl,” I tell her. “That's how.”
I pause for a moment, wondering how I might further reduce her fears, but then I hear a floorboard creaking. Looking up, I realize that Jonathan is up and about, which I suppose is a good thing. For a moment, earlier today, I wondered whether he might have entirely taken to his bed.
“Is Father also scared?”
“Your father?” I turn to her. “Heavens, of course not.”
“But -”
“You must not entertain such foolish notions,” I continue, forcing a smile. “Your father and I are both going to keep you safe, my darling. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
As I finish say
ing those words, however, I hear another creaking sound, this time coming – I believe – from the dressing room above us. I look up toward the ceiling again, just as a third creak rings out, and then the house once more falls silent.
“Now,” I continue, turning to Milly with another smile, “if you'll excuse me for just one moment, I must go and check on something.”
I get to my feet, but Milly instinctively reaches out and grabs my arm, as if she is scared to be left alone. I could take her upstairs with me, of course, but to do so might risk encouraging her fears and – besides – I feel the danger has passed now that morning has arrived.
“I shall be back shortly,” I tell her, as I carefully slip from her grasp. “Then we shall look at some of your books. Please, take these few minutes as an opportunity to think about your mathematics, and to make sure that you're ready to discuss a few simple arithmetic problems.”
I take a step back, and at least Milly seems fairly settled.
Once I am out in the hallway, however, I allow the smile to leave my face. I am being brave for Milly's sake, of course, but I am more certain than ever that Lannister Hall is becoming an unsafe environment for us all. It is only to be hoped that, following his experience in the night, Jonathan will finally come around to my way of thinking. Indeed, as I make my way up the stairs, I am resolved to press the matter harder and stronger until he has no option other than to capitulate.
As I reach the top of the stairs, I stop for a moment to listen, and then I hear Jonathan coughing in the bedroom. I head over to the doorway, and I see him still resting flat on his back.
“My dear,” I say calmly, “are you quite alright?”
He turns to me, still with that dreadful fright in his eyes.
“I heard you moving around,” I tell him. “If there's something you need, you must simply -”
“You heard it too?” he gasps.
“I beg your pardon?”
I stare at him for a moment, before turning and looking back out toward the landing.
