“Look at the glass,” Tim told her.
Angela looked down at the littered shards of the television screen. The moonlight caught their edges and made them glow. They were moving.
“Be careful,” Angela said. “They might fly up at us or something.”
Tim shook his head. “No.”
Angela looked down at the vibrating splinters and watched them totter across the carpet fibres. They were slowly assembling themselves into separate piles. Those separate piles were beginning to resemble…letters?
Angela glanced at Tim and then back at the glass. “What’s it trying to spell out?”
The glass kept moving. Eventually the letters formed words.
Help me.
Save me.
Kill the night. Bring the day.
Angela looked down at the words and spoke to them as if in conversation. “Sammie, is that you? Who is it inside of you? Is it Charles Crippley?”
The glass shards reshuffled. No.
“Then who is it? Chamuel?”
Yes.
“How does Chamuel know me?” Angela asked. “Jessica sent for me specifically because my name was written in a journal. Does Chamuel know me?”
Yes.
“How?”
Helped you.
Angela didn’t understand. “What? Chamuel helped me? How?”
Charles Crippley.
“I don’t understand.”
Help me.
Angela shook her head desperately. “I…I don’t know how.”
Stop the darkness. Bring back the light.
There was a shriek from outside and the glass shards suddenly scattered in all directions. The messenger was gone. Angela still understood nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Tim raced out into the hallway to see what the commotion was. He knew enough by now to expect nothing but the worst. This was a house where bad things happened.
“No way this can be happening,” Tim said, as he tried to make sense of what he saw. Jessica was on her rump, shuffling backwards while Mike was trying to drag her back up onto her feet. Pursuing them was an abomination – that was the only way Tim could describe it as.
A sick, inhuman abomination.
Graham stumbled down the corridor, colliding off the walls and lumbering towards them. In the dim light of the moon, the bloody streaks Graham’s hands left on the wallpaper appeared as black smudges. The fact that the man was stalking them down the hallway was beyond impossible.
Graham is dead. I saw it with my own eyes.
Graham’s neck twisted around and facing the wrong way, was proof that the man had met a gruesome end – yet his body defied the laws of natural order as it shambled along the carpet.
Graham came towards them, his body facing backwards while his head pointed forwards. His clumsy, backwards steps thudded on the carpet while a river of blood pooled behind him. The wound on his genitals was gaping open like a wet mouth.
“We’re in hell,” gasped Jessica.
Mike dragged her up off the ground and ushered her away. They passed by Angela and Tim, leaving them directly in Graham’s way. Tim shook his head in despair, and pursed his lips. For the first time in his life, his anger was greater than his fear.
I’m starting to get pretty pissed off with this place. First it was House On Haunted Hill – with a little bit of The Exorcist thrown in – and now it’s the goddamn Evil Dead.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing a hold of Angela and hurrying them both down the corridor.
Jessica and Mike were up ahead. Jessica was screaming and was once again the emotional mess she’d been when Tim had first arrived at the house. Even Mike had fear in his eyes. It was as though nothing had surprised the guy up until this point, but seeing his ex-partner, Graham, stumbling down the corridor like a zombie, was too much for the guy to take.
“What happened to him?” Jessica cried. “You all told me Graham was dead!”
“I still think he is,” Tim said bluntly. “In fact, I’m pretty certain he is.”
“Then how is he walking around?” Angela asked, huffing and puffing as the group scurried down the dark hallway. Graham moaned and hissed from the shadows behind them.
“I have no freaking idea,” said Tim. “But I’m guessing he came back even more unfriendly than before."
Angela skidded to a stop on her heels. “Tim, did you find any basil earlier in the kitchen?”
“What?”
“The basil? I sent you to the kitchen to find some.”
“I totally forgot about it,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a spice jar full of basil. He held it out. “But, yeah, I found some.”
Angela took the jar.
Mike scoffed. “Can we think about the ratatouille later, please? Right now, we have more important things to worry about.”
Angela sprinkled the basil flakes across the carpet in a line from wall to wall. There was just enough inside the jar to complete the full length.
“What is that supposed to do?” Mike asked in a tone so mocking that Tim felt like punching him. Perhaps he would have if not for the fact Mike could likely take him apart in three-seconds flat.
Angela seemed to ignore the man’s ignorant tone. “Basil has been used for centuries to ward off evil spirits – even the church itself uses it. If it works, Graham will not be able to pass.”
“You hear that, Balrog?” Tim shouted into the darkness. “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”
Angela edged everyone back and stood in front of them, facing down the dark hallway like a sentinel. Everybody waited behind her in silence. Tim could hear his own heart beating.
Graham’s moans continued in the shadows. The noise got louder, closer.
Eventually the shadows parted and Graham appeared. His head was still twisted around the wrong way but had started to go limp as the cartilage in his spine weakened. A viscous meld of fluids dripped from his nose and swung in front of him like a sickening bungee cord.
Angela stood her ground, but Tim couldn’t help but shrink back. The sight of Graham made his stomach clench in revulsion. He could feel his heat beat faster as absolute terror finally took a familiar hold; it was an old friend he knew would never be rid of.
“Angela, come on,” he urged. “Let’s just get away from here.”
Angela ignored him. She held up a crucifix around her neck and began quoting the Bible – several passages over and over – so fast that she was almost speaking in tongues.
Graham kept coming. His blood covered everything. His smell filled the air.
“I sentence you to Hell,” Angela growled. “You will approach no further.”
To Tim’s surprise, Graham stopped at the line of basil on the carpet. It was almost as if there was a string attached to his waist that had just reached its maximum slack.
Angela’s plan actually worked.
Then Graham reached across the line and grabbed Angela’s throat.
Maybe not.
Angela squirmed and tried to break free, but she was caught in a vice. Graham’s arms had dislocated from their sockets and rose up behind his back at an unnatural angle. His bleeding face grinned.
“Help her,” said Jessica.
Tim didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
He stood and watched as Angela struggled with Graham; watched as her face went red, her eyes began to bulge. Then Tim saw his brother, the old woman, the hotel room. His heart froze in his ribcage. His knees turned to cement.
“I said, somebody help her,” Jessica demanded. “Now!”
Reluctantly, Mike ran forward. He barrelled, shoulder-first, into Graham and managed to knock his former colleague back down the corridor. The fact that Graham’s body was facing the wrong way meant that his legs tangled up and he tumbled to the floor. Angela was dragged to the floor with him.
Mike raised his boot, brought it down on Graham’s head. There was a vile crack! as boot met skull and, thankfully, it was enough to make Graham release his grip on A
ngela. Angela scurried away, choking and spluttering.
Mike brought his boot up again and again, stamping on his former colleague until there was barely anything left of his head but pulp.
Angela clambered to her feet. Her cassock was twisted and dishevelled. Tim could see the anger in her eyes as she stared at him. “Got my back, huh?” she said.
Tim averted his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Angela sighed. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done.”
“No harm done?” Jessica echoed. “A member of my staff is dead.”
“I had no choice,” said Mike.
“I know,” said Jessica. “But that doesn’t make the situation any better. We need to call the police, or go for help, or…something! I feel like I’m going insane. I need a drink.”
“I don’t think that will help,” said Angela.
“Right now, it’s the only thing that will help. Mike, try the phones again.”
“Sure thing.” Mike took off down the hallway and disappeared. Tim was uncomfortable to see him go. He didn’t trust the guy, didn’t like the thought of him sneaking around, but also Tim didn’t want Mike to leave in case there was another situation in which he froze.
If Mike hadn’t been here to deal with Graham, Angela would be dead now. Even after all these years I’m still nothing but a coward.
Angela rubbed at her throat. “The dead are walking, the night is eternal; I don’t like what’s happening here.”
“No shit,” said Tim.
“No,” said Angela. “I mean that this is more than just possession. No demon has this kind of power.”
“No poltergeist either,” Tim added. “So what the hell are we dealing with here?”
“I don’t know. The Devil? Or one of the other fallen angels? Only the princes of Hell themselves could affect the world in this way.”
“You sound like a mad woman,” said Jessica. “You’re talking utter nonsense.”
“I think the time for scepticism is over,” said Angela. “It is clear that we are dealing with an ancient evil here.”
“Ancient evil, the Devil, poltergeists – I’m stuck in a nightmare.” Jessica rubbed her palms against her eyes and then looked at Tim and Angela. “So what do we do?” Despite her scepticism it seemed she was onboard with whatever plan they came up with.
Angela smiled at Jessica reassuringly. “We find Sammie, and then you let me perform another exorcism, but this time we go all the way.”
Jessica swallowed audibly. “What do you mean: all the way?”
“I mean whatever it takes to end this. We cannot let this evil remain.”
“I won’t let you hurt Sammie.”
Angela shook her head. “Jessica, sweetheart, your son has already been hurt. The only chance he has left of living a normal life again is for me to take this as far as I need to.”
Tears fell from Jessica’s eyes, but she nodded.
Angela patted the woman on the arm. “There’s one thing we need to do first.”
Jessica wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “What?”
“We need to find out what Mike is hiding from us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sitting in the piano lounge, Mike didn’t intend on trying the phones (he knew they wouldn’t be working for one thing) but he wouldn’t have used them even if they were. Mike’s function at the house was as a recruiter. That meant staying around to ensure that his employer’s predictions were correct, that Sammie really was who they were relying on him to be. Sammie was changing, and it was Mike’s job to make sure that the boy knew where his destiny lay.
So why the hell am I being hit in the face by exploding television screens? I’m here to help the little brat.
The wound to his eye hurt, but Mike tolerated it. He’d been cleansed by pain as part of his initiation into the Black Strand – a secret, off-the-books organisation including all of the most powerful individuals from Black Remedy’s numerous sub-divisions. Mike was just a cog in a very large machine, but he took his membership seriously – it was a rare honour bestowed on very few. Even Joseph Raymeady had known nothing of the Black Strand. His father and grandfather had been key figures, but they saw the weaknesses in Joseph and kept him in the dark. Joseph’s morals would have only caused problems. Which is why it had posed such problems when Joseph’s father passed away.
With Joseph inheriting controlling interest of Black Remedy, he’d quickly begun an ethical crusade, turning over every one of the company’s rocks to see what lay beneath. It would have only been a matter of time before Joseph discovered the existence of the Black Strand and their purpose – and the true purpose of Black Remedy Corporation itself.
Joseph had never seen it coming when Mike strung a rope around his neck and hoisted him over the balcony.
But where has that gotten me? I’m beginning to feel like a lamb at the slaughter. Sammie was never meant to be any danger to me, but nearly being blinded disproves that. Not to mention the never-ending night and Graham getting up and walking like a member of the living dead club. None of this was supposed to happen. There’s something I don’t understand.
Mike poured himself a drink from the nearest bottle, which turned out to be rum. He filled up a low-baller glass halfway and then downed the contents immediately, enjoying the pleasant burn at the back of his throat.
“Drinking is bad for you, Michael. The body is a temple and it is a sin to defile it.”
Mike jolted, dropped the glass. It smashed on the floor. “Sammie, shit, where did you come from?”
Sammie stepped out of the shadows and grinned. His teeth seemed even more crooked than usual. “I’ve always been here, Michael. What are you doing here? Little early for a drink isn’t it.”
“Usually, yeah, but in case you haven’t noticed the night’s gone on a little longer than usual.”
“Yes, I did notice that. Beautiful, isn’t it? Everything seems so much more…intimate… in the dark, don’t you think?”
“If you say so.”
“What’s the matter? You seem irritated, Michael.”
“Are you surprised? You almost blinded me earlier.”
Sammie giggled. “Not me. My friend.”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Michael, making himself another drink. “You know I’m here to help you, right?”
Sammie tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Help me with what?”
“Help you realise who you are – what you are.”
Sammie stepped closer. The shadows seemed to flee from his presence. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just a boy, nothing else.”
Mike downed a gin from a new glass and slammed it down on the bar. Then he laughed bitterly. “Oh, you are far more than that, and you know it. A harmless little boy doesn’t have the power to raise the dead like you.”
One side of Sammie mouth slid up in a smirk. “Ssshhh, Michael, it’s a secret.”
“Not from everyone. There are those – a select few – that know exactly what you are. They welcome you with open arms.”
“My father’s company?”
Mike shook his head. “No, Sammie, your company. Tonight you must kill your mother, the Jezebel. Bathing in her blood will be the mortal sin that truly awakens your destiny.”
Sammie spoke like an innocent child. “But if I kill my mommy, who will look after me?”
“Your late father’s business partner, Vincent Black, will adopt you. Together you will change the world. You were born to be great, Sammie. You just have to accept our help.”
Sammie looked upwards as if to think about it. Then he looked back at Michael and said, “No, thanks.”
Mike spluttered. “What?”
“I’m thinking I’ll just take control of the company myself. I don’t see what Mr Black could offer me that I can’t do for myself. Perhaps I should kill him instead? Then I would own the entire company.”
Mike shook his head and approached Sammie from behind the bar. “No, you don’t understa
nd. You won’t be in charge until you are eighteen years of age. In the meantime, Mr Black will teach you about the business and about your destiny while you mature. You’ll be lost without him.”
Sammie put a fingertip against his chin. “Perhaps you’re right. I still have one question though.” Sammie stepped closer to Mike, only a few feet away now. Mike could feel his skin prickling. “What exactly do I need you for?”
Mike didn’t like where this was going. The ungrateful little shit was turning on him. “I have been helping you from the beginning, Sammie. Watching you and keeping you safe. I deserve your loyalty.”
“I disagree. I think Frank is the one who has been keeping me safe since your murdered my father. Not that he ever really was my father. Still, I loved the man all the same; he used to make me smile. I think I owe him more loyalty than I do you, wouldn’t you agree? And what better way to show that loyalty than to avenge his death, by gutting his killer like a sickly little pig?”
Mike had heard enough. The fear was so thick in his veins now that his heart was threatening to burst. He was trapped inside the house and now Sammie wanted to kill him. There was no choice but to act.
Mike slipped his blade from the holster beneath his belt and placed it to Sammie’s throat. The boy stayed calm, but one false move and Mike was ready to slice his fucking throat out.
If it’s between you and me, oh great Messiah, then I choose me to live.
Sammie started laughing.
Jessica and the others entered the room, surprised by what they saw. Mike didn’t blame them. The game was finally up.
Sammie laughed even harder.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Mike, what the hell are you doing?” Jessica shouted.
Angela’s stomach acids crashed against the rocks of her abdomen, making her want to vomit. The sight of a knife against flesh had always set her teeth on edge, ever since Jersey. Seeing a blade against the throat of a child was even worse. But she knew there would be two sides of the story that was unfolding in front of her.
“Hey, man,” Tim said, raising up his open palm. “Maybe we should just put the knives away. Things never end well when people start brandishing weapons.”
Sam: A Novel Of Suspense Page 18
