The Demonologia Biblica

by Wilde, Barbie

  But because of their noise, I couldn’t quite hear the rest of Barclay and Eloise’s conversation, though I did manage to catch them wishing each other a goodnight. He closed his door, she crossed the hallway and came into my room.

  “Your best efforts didn’t scare him away then?”

  “I apologise if I offended, Madame, I suffered the vapours.”

  “Be more careful in future is all I request.”

  She began to unpack my clothes. “It is quite a co-incidence that he mentioned Qangiel Yah don’t you agree?”

  I thought carefully before replying. “I believe that’s all that it is, a mere co-incidence. Please, pass me my shawl.” I wasn’t going to admit to her the same question had been on my mind ever since those words had passed Barclay’s lips. I felt such a deep profound loss in my heart, what was left of it, but decided to stay silent.

  ***

  The screaming stirred me. I was paralysed with fear, reached out for something to protect me – my only saving grace: my walking cane.

  Some running on the stairs. Doors slamming. Muffled voices.

  My door was thrown open. “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” I demanded.

  “Apologies Madame, it is I, Querol.”

  I felt around me, the muslin curtain was drawn closed. I was not visible. He hadn’t seen anything, I could rest easy for the moment.

  Outside, another scream

  “What is happening out there?” I asked.

  A massive crash of thunder and lightning, the downpour began. Querol muttered under his breath, no doubt crossed himself several times too. Superstitious nonsense.

  “Eloise, she is not herself.”

  It had begun. Why was I not surprised? I knew after all, this day would come.

  I took a deep breath. “Barclay?”

  “Not in his room, Madame. We’re searching the grounds.”

  “Outside then, quickly! He needs our assistance.”

  “I don’t want to leave you, the spirits seem angry this evening. Something has them riled.”

  “I can look after myself.” I replied, cutting him off. Mumbo-jumbo clap-trap!

  “And Eloise?”

  “Has she been harmed in any way?”

  “I’m unsure, but she is restless, she cries out – a fever, I would wager.”

  “More than likely she’s just frightened herself that’s all. Waste no further time, search for the boy. He must be found and quickly.”

  “As you wish, Madame.”

  “And hark my words Querol, do not harm one hair on his head. He’s not guilty of any crime, understand me?”

  “Madame.”

  The door closed, accompanied by a second crash of thunder, of lightning.

  With great difficulty, I crawled to the edge of my bed, dragging back the curtain, reaching out for my chair. There, my gown lay. Dark velvet, as were the gloves, the hood. It took me several minutes but I managed eventually to wrap them about my frail body.

  I lowered myself into the chair and wheeled it to the door.

  I reached for the handle and breathed in.

  A familiar scent. Sulphur. Corruption. Smouldering ashes.

  “I know you are here. Your stench betrays you.” I whispered.

  The rain was pelting against the window, threatening to smash the glass. I tried to filter out the cacophony, the screaming of the butterflies as they crashed into the pane.

  “You have returned. After haunting me all these years.” I added.

  Whoever (or whatever) it was, didn’t answer, but something rushed towards me, the hot breath blew across me. It smashed hard into the door, the wood creaking under the strain. A thousand shrieks.

  I grabbed the handle. Immediately stifling the scream which was threatening to explode from inside me – the brass was so damned hot. Uncannily so. Even though I wore the gloves, the pain was intense, sweltering. I managed to yank the door open.

  Querol was in the hallway. I quickly gathered my wits. Had he been there the whole time? What had he heard?

  I held out my hand. “Take me to Eloise.”

  He whispered something: old French. I didn’t know what exactly but I grasped their meaning.

  “What’s the matter Querol?”

  “Your glove. It’s smouldering.”

  I tried to trivialise his comment by waving it away. “Please Querol, Eloise.”

  “Of course, Madame.”

  As he took my arm and led me away, I glanced back to my room. That stench of burning ashes lingered so.

  ***

  Eloise was panting.

  “Resume the search for Barclay, Querol.”

  The door closed. I moved to the bed. “My dear Eloise?”

  Short sharp breaths. Hearing my voice though, her breathing deepened, less pronounced, more controlled. “Would you like some water?”

  “My throat....”

  I touched her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

  “I’m so cold.” She started to sob. “I saw it, here in my room. How could that be? What does it want?”

  I grabbed her arm, more roughly than I planned, so released my grip. “You saw nothing Eloise, it was just a bad dream.” Hollow words I knew.

  She was a fragile, frightened girl, delirious, liable to say anything.

  I went to the dresser, poured her a small bowl of water. Found the flannel and returned to the bed. Sitting down, I dipped it in the bowl and gently patted the girl’s head.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Better.” She replied.

  “Are you able to sit up?”

  I did my best to plump up her pillows. “I could take a small drink.” She added.

  I turned. She repeated her request. Something had me distracted. “What was that?”

  “Some water, Madame, please. My throat...”

  I took the glass she always keep by her bed-side and placed it at her lips. “Don’t gulp it down, you’ll drown yourself if you’re not careful.”

  She mumbled something but I wasn’t listening. There was a commotion outside.

  A gunshot.

  ***

  “Lay him on the table.” Querol ordered.

  “Who else is here?” I enquired, out of breath myself as I had rushed down the stairs.

  “Gide, Madame. From the village. I was walking my dogs when I heard the gunshot.”

  “Who fired?” I asked.

  “I saw something in the trees...it was...well...I...”

  I banged my cane on the floor. “What did you see Berling?”

  “An animal of some-kind, I believe. The gun went off and it scampered into the woods.”

  “Is the boy badly hurt?”

  “I’ll go for Doctor LeFranc. I can be there and back within the hour.”

  “Thank you Gide.” There was an apprehension his voice, not of course, to be unexpected. “Take a rifle, keep your wits about you.”

  “I will, Madame.”

  I turned back to the others. “Make sure he is covered, he’ll be cold. There are some blankets in the hallway crate.”

  “Let me.” Berling stated.

  “Querol, describe what you see.”

  A moment’s silence before he begun. “There is a pulse.”

  “And the wounds?”

  “To his face, his throat, across his chest, his stomach, his legs. There is blood under his nails. A broken finger or two.”

  “Where are those blankets?” I called.

  “Coming Madame, I had to break the crate open.”

  “Are any of the wounds deep?”

  “They appear to be only flesh wounds, as if the beast had scratched him only superficially. There is some blood loss about the throat. However...” Querol paused.

  “Yes, Querol, yes?!”

  “There are burns Madame, on his chest, his stomach, his arms.”

  So it was true. No point in denial and an interesting turn of phrase that the old man had used: beast.

  On the table, Barclay began to stir, murmurin
g to himself. I tried to take it in, but whatever he said was almost inaudible.

  Almost.

  “He seems to be saying the same thing over and over again.” Querol stated.

  I didn’t bother to comment, if there is one I still have, it’s excellent hearing.

  “Put some water on the stove, the Doctor will require it when he arrives.”

  “Of course.”

  “Berling, wait by the back door, let him straight in. Barclay will need to be attended too immediately.”

  I moved into the downstairs sitting-room, closing the door behind me. My heart was in my mouth. I was losing control, something I was uncomfortable with.

  It seemed history was about to repeat itself and I didn’t like it.

  Qangiel Yah.

  ***

  “Madame?”

  I must have dozed off.

  “Doctor LeFranc.” He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “How is the boy?”

  “He’ll live. He’s very lucky.”

  “What did this to him?”

  “I don’t recognise the wounds. An animal I would wager, but those burns are most intriguing. A shame almost that Berling’s gunshot disturbed it – it might be a very interested specimen. I know one or two museums that may be...”

  Uneasy thoughts raced through my mind. “Where is Barclay now?”

  “I put him to bed. He was exhausted. I have tended to his wounds. He needs to rest. I’ll return and check on him in the morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Madame?” He said slowly. Something was wrong.

  “Yes?”

  “Your maidservant.”

  “What about her?”

  “I took the liberty to examine her also.”

  “The girl had a bad dream, she’s overreacting, that’s all.”

  “It was more than that.” He paused. “I shall put this as delicately as I can.”

  “Please do, Doctor.” I was severely irritated but also a frisson of fear chilled me to the bone.

  “It seems that she has been...interfered with.”

  I stood up slowly, walked to the window. There, on the wall, was a small silver picture frame. I hadn’t seen it for a long, long time. But the image contained therein would be forever scorched into my brain. I took it down, clutched it to my heart. “How so?”

  LeFranc coughed. “Well...”

  “I am a woman of the world, put aside your embarrassment.”

  “There are bruises on her legs, inside her thighs.”

  “Had intercourse taken place?”

  “I am unsure at this juncture. She refused to answer certain questions.”

  “But in your opinion?”

  “It is more than likely.”

  I put the frame back. “Barclay?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

  “I don’t believe so. Interestingly, there are one or two bruises on her skin, burns actually, which appear to match those on the boy.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t dare say any more.

  “I’d stake my reputation that whoever did this is not a man of this house.”

  “Thank you for your honesty and candour. Now, I’ve kept you from your wife and children for far too long. I bid you goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Madame.”

  He went to leave.

  “Oh,” I called. “Would you like one of the household to walk with you? Whatever attacked young Barclay could still be out there in the forest.”

  “Thank you, but I believe it will be long gone by now.”

  The door opened and closed. Muffled voices in the kitchen, then footsteps down the path.

  I stood there listening to the old houses make, the horses in the stables, the ticking of the clock, the creaking of the floorboards.

  The laughter.

  “I can hear you. You don’t frighten me, whoever or whatever you may be.”

  But no sooner had it begun, it ceased. It had not been my imagination. I opened the door, stood there for several moments before whispering. “You had your opportunity, now leave me in peace. At least for one more night.”

  Knowing that I wouldn’t receive any answer, I made my way up the stairs, into my bedroom where I attempted to get some sleep.

  ***

  “Madame?! Madame?!”

  I lifted my head. “What are you doing up? Don’t you remember last night?”

  “I’d rather try and forget.” Eloise replied. “I have your breakfast.”

  “Indeed and I thank you for it. However, I’d rather you were in your room, resting.”

  “It was nothing but a bad dream. I’d prefer to be up and about. I’m a little sore but...”

  “Fine. Please put the tray down on the table.”

  She did as instructed. “Should I help you dress?”

  “No. I would like someone to check in on Barclay if they would be so kind. He too had a fright last night. The Doctor will be calling sometime this morning, in fact, I’d like him to take a look at you also.”

  Eloise didn’t reply. An awkward silence between us. “Something the matter?” I asked.

  “There is Madame.” She came close to the bed. “Barclay...there’ something strange about him...something odd...I can’t quite put my finger on it but, I’m sorry, he makes me feel uncomfortable.”

  “I thought the two of you were getting on so well. He appears to be an intelligent, mannered young man.”

  “Yes, we were...but don’t...and forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn Madame, but isn’t that the whole point? How do we know anything about him, about his soul I mean? How did he know about Qangiel Yah? Isn’t it slightly creepy that he should end up in your household of all places? After all, especially after his father...”

  “My father didn’t kill anyone. Why won’t you believe me?!”

  Eloise screamed and banged into the table, knocking a china cup to the floor, where it smashed. I was slightly taken aback also, I hadn’t heard him enter.

  “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten anyone. Your voices roused me.”

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. You gave us both a scare!” Eloise snapped.

  I attempted to calm the situation. “He did apologise Eloise, and Barclay, we shouldn’t have been talking about your father in such a way. We have no reason to disbelieve what you have told us, I suspect that we are all feeling the after affects of last night.”

  “It was about those events that I’d like to speak, Madame.”

  “Come in, close the door behind you.”

  Barclay pulled up a chair.

  “Do you remember what happened?” I enquired.

  He groaned as he sat down. “It started with a bad dream, a nightmare. I can’t remember exactly what it was about but it caused me to wake with a start. I was sweating, shaking. My shirt soaked to the skin. Sometimes a glass of milk can calm me, so I went down to the kitchen. I remember pouring a glass then happened to look up at the window. Something was there, outside, staring back at me.”

  “What was it?” Eloise asked.

  “At first I thought it was a man. Medium height, pale complexion, blonde hair...but...”

  He fell silent, obviously gathering his thoughts, trying to make sense of those spaces between fact and fiction.

  “But what?” Eloise prompted.

  “I wasn’t sure whether he could see me. He made no movement to suggest he did. As I stared back at him, he stared back at me. There was something about his eyes. So cold. They seemed to grow with every passing second. That probably sounds incredible but it’s the truth, I swear. And the colour! They were the brightest of blue at the outset – I could tell that even though it was pitch black outside. However, within moments they became red, a deep illuminated red.”

  Barclay coughed. “The being’s face appeared to take on an animal-like appearance. I believed that someone was trying to play a trick on me, Berling, old Querol perhaps – maybe even someone from the village – but no, this was someone, something els
e. I’m not scared easily so I rushed to the door, grabbed the handle, then screamed out in anguish.”

  “Why was that?” I asked, though of course, I already knew the answer.

  “The handle was scorching as if it had been cast from the furnace of hell itself.”

  I knew full well that agony.

  “Though the pain was searing I did manage to pull the door open. A rush of hit air slapped me across the face. The sweat was pouring but it was freezing outside and then...”

  ***

  “...who’s there? Who is playing tricks on me?” Barclay called, wiping the sweat from his face.

  A crash of thunder and lightning. The heavens opened. The downpour began.

  Something was watching from the bushes. Barclay looked down, the flowers, the fauna had been trampled down, but that wasn’t all. Wisps of smoke headed heavenwards, fiery embers floating in the air, evidence of burning. He breathed in: sulphur.

  “I know you are there.” He called. “I saw you through the window.”

  The reply was strange. Eerie. Shrill-like. A shriek which sent a shiver down the young man’s spine.

  A second crash of thunder, of lightning – the firmament alight.

  Barclay’s heart was in his mouth.

  That someone, that something moved.

  “Jesus Christ!” He screamed as the something launched itself from the bushes and towards him. It was as bright as the sun, a burning ball of fire with something dark as pitch in its centre.

  A clawed fist smashed the young man across the throat and Barclay was sent flying into the trees...

  ***

  “...and that’s all I remember, until I woke half an hour or so.” Barclay stated.

  Eloise’s heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. “What’s the matter girl?” I asked.

  “I...I....” She spluttered, pacing backwards and forwards. “Something about his story rings true.”

  “What have I got to gain by lying?” He said.

  “I also remember something like that...in my dream...I can’t quite grasp the full image but I know there’s something, out there, just beyond the reach of my mind’s eye. A fire. Burning heat. The furnace.”

  “Are you positive it’s not your imagination girl?” I was failing to hide my anger.