by Helen Phifer
‘What are you going to be doing – keeping her bed warm?’
Jack appeared next to Ethan with a huge grin on his face.
‘Shh have some respect, will you. Did you hear what I just told Ethan?’
‘Yes, boss, we’ll get on with the painting.’
‘Good, I’m going to check the camera footage from last night. See if it captured anything.’
He turned and walked towards the room next to Kate’s where they’d installed the monitors and hard drive. He wasn’t very good with technology, but he didn’t think he could go wrong. They’d only started recording from around six last night, so there wouldn’t be hours of footage to go through. He sat down on the small stool and began to press the buttons on the hard drive.
Eventually he got it to the part where Martin had come to visit. He didn’t want to pry, but he was interested to see how it had ended. He watched it slightly speeded up until it came to the point where a shirtless Martin had run for his car, and then he played it in real time. The grin that spread across Ollie’s face as Kate threw something at Martin was huge. He didn’t know what it was. The man spent a few minutes scrabbling around in the dark, searching for it. He must have found it because he stood up and got inside his car, driving off at speed.
Ollie switched to the internal camera and felt his heart break in two to see Kate in a heap on the floor, crying. The anger with Martin that filled his chest was so hot and intense he thought that he was going to kill him with his bare hands. He was glad that the sound wasn’t working because he didn’t want to hear her sobbing, all alone. Her heartbreak was so raw it unsettled him. She was so much like him it was scary.
This was wrong. He was prying on her most private moments, but he needed to see if there was anyone in the house with her – so it was for her own safety. A dark shadow passed the camera on the landing and he switched to that one. It was hard to see what it had been because it had happened so fast. He rewound it again and again but couldn’t make much out apart from a black shape moving fast. He couldn’t say it was an actual person. What it did look like wasn’t human. It was see-through like a dark cloud or shadow – that much he knew. He continued watching. It had to be Kate’s ghost.
The camera below in the front hallway showed Kate walking towards the kitchen. He lost sight of her as she pushed the door open and stepped inside. They hadn’t put a camera in there, which was both a relief and also a pain because as much as he didn’t want to watch a live replay of the woman he was falling madly in love with trying to kill herself, he would have liked to have made sure that no one had waited to do it to her once she was drunk enough. A short time later she came out of the kitchen, crossing the hall to her room. She didn’t look drunk or too upset. After a minute she appeared again with the bottle of whisky and went back into the kitchen.
‘Fuck my fucking life. What the fuck?’
The shout was so loud that Ollie almost fell off the stool he was perched on. He ran towards the front door where Ethan and Jack were standing, looking horrified at something in the wall.
‘What the hell’s the matter with you? I told you to be quiet.’
‘Boss, you are not going to believe what we’ve just found. Take a look for yourself – it’s fucking gross. It can’t be real. Who the hell put it there and why?’
He crossed the hall towards them and looked at the oak-panelled wall that Jack was pointing to. There was a panel missing. Somehow they had triggered a secret opening. As he stared down into the dark space he couldn’t register what it was he was looking at. He looked at both men then back at the life-sized, shrivelled, mummified head of a nun with a crucifix wrapped around the frayed off-white band of what was once a headpiece.
‘You fucking tossers. I don’t know which one of you thinks this is joke, but take that thing and get it out of here now. It’s not even remotely funny.’
‘We didn’t put it there. We didn’t even know about it until Ethan pressed something behind that panel and it opened. Where would we get something like that from?’
‘I mean it, I don’t think it’s at all funny and I told you to be quiet. Pick it up and take it out of here now before Kate comes to see what’s happening.’
‘No offence, Ollie, and I know you’re the boss man, but you can piss off. I’m not touching that for a million quid. What if it’s a real head? It bloody well looks real; I think you better call the cops.’
Ollie looked at them. They were both staring in horror at their find and he felt a wave of sickness move through his body. It hadn’t been them. They would have started to laugh by now.
‘Go get me a torch from the kitchen drawer, please.’
Ethan ran to the kitchen. Seconds later he was passing a torch to Ollie. Ollie bent down, switching it on. The head looked even more horrific with the light shining on it. The skin was wrinkled and leathery. It looked like one of those Halloween masks you could buy in the fancy dress shop. The mouth was open and the eyes were staring in horror at something. Ollie was glad he couldn’t see what.
‘It looks real. Jesus why would someone chop off a nun’s head and stick it there? That is seriously fucked up.’
‘I don’t know. I better go and get Kate and see what she wants us to do.’
‘I think you better phone the police, Ollie. You can’t just sweep that into a bin bag and chuck in the skip. And where’s the rest of the body? What if that’s still in here somewhere? This place is freaking me out.’
Ollie couldn’t think straight. Jack was right. Something was wrong and they would need to ring the police.
‘You two go and get your dinner. There’s nothing we can do now until the police arrive.’
‘Cheers, as if we feel like eating after looking at that. I feel sick. My hands are shaking like I was out on the lash last night. No thanks, we’ll wait out in the van for you. I need a smoke.’
Ethan, who had recovered from his shock slightly better than Jack, had his phone out and was now taking photos of their grotesque find to show his mates later.
‘Don’t show anyone those until the police have been. No Snapchatting your mates or whatever it is you do.’
They both walked towards the front door, leaving Ollie standing there not wanting to have to break the bad news to Kate and not quite believing what it was he was looking at in the first place. He walked towards her room and was about to knock when the door opened. A bleary-eyed Kate looked at him.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘I don’t know how to say this, but yes. Something is terribly wrong. You need to take a look at what the lads have found in a secret cupboard in the hallway.’
His eyes slid down to the small white vest and shorter than short pyjama pants she was wearing and he looked away. The burning sensation in his cheeks made him feel like some dirty old man. He snapped his head up, but didn’t miss the amusement on her face as she turned to pull some clothes on. Dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and pyjama pants, she still looked sexy to him.
‘So what is it that’s so bad you can’t tell me?’
Ollie led her down the corridor. ‘I honestly don’t know how to describe it. You have to see it for yourself.’
He stopped in front of the space and pointed. Kate looked down at the mummified head and gasped. ‘Jesus what the hell is that thing?’
‘It’s not a joke; well it’s not one that any of us thought was funny enough to play. Judging by the state of that head, if it’s a real one it’s been there a lot of years.’
He held the torch out and she took it from him. Squatting down, she surprised him once more by being the bravest out of all four of them. He’d been expecting her to start screaming. She was in front of it, shining the torch at it. He watched as a violent shudder made her entire body tremble; still, she didn’t scream. She turned to look at him and her face was even paler than before. She leant in to pick something up and he flinched, wondering what on earth it could be. She turned to him again with a small, dusty, black leather-bound Bible
in her fingers. It had a gold crucifix on the front of it and it smelt musty. She blew some of the thick dust from it before opening it.
***
Inside in small, neat handwriting it said the name Sister Agnes Nicholas. She felt a strange sensation inside her chest and head as the name rang a bell. She thought again of her great, great-aunt called Agnes Nicholas. The only photograph she’d ever seen of her had been in her nun’s habit. No one really talked about her. She knew that the woman had been a nun a long time ago. Could this be her? She didn’t even know how she’d died. What if Agnes was her relation and she was the one who was haunting the house? It would make a lot of sense. If that were the case, if they’d found her head, she’d be able to move on and not have to haunt here anymore.
Kate’s mind was swimming with so many possibilities and she had no one she could ask because her mum had Alzheimer’s and she didn’t get on with her dad. She wondered if she should tell Ollie this – only she didn’t want him thinking she was completely mad because it sounded mad to her. What if there was a reason she had been compelled to buy this house? She’d fallen in love with it at first sight. Maybe Agnes had wanted her to be the one to buy it and find her head? There were so many questions that needed answers and she had no idea how she was going to find them. She stood up.
‘I think we better phone the police. I can’t say for sure, but I think that’s actually someone’s head. The teeth don’t look rubbery; they look real and whoever it is was a nun. A religious woman. Who would want to keep her head hidden behind this panel for years – and where’s the rest of her body?’
‘That’s what Jack said. I don’t know why it’s there and yes we should call the police, but I wanted to make sure that was okay with you.’
Kate took a step back so she was standing next to Ollie. She reached her fingers out for his and he clasped them. She was so cold and worn out. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear – not wanting the house or anyone who might be listening to hear.
‘I’m scared. I don’t know what to do any more.’
‘I know you are.’
He wound his arms around her, pulling her towards him. He hugged her close. She paused for a moment then her arms wrapped around his waist and she hugged him back. After a minute she went back to her room and tucked the Bible into the bedside drawer next to the diary she had been too afraid to read. A Sister Agnes had written the diary, so they must both belong to the same woman. Kate knew that she had no choice now. She would have to finish reading the diary to find out what had happened in this house. She wanted to read it herself before she showed it to anyone else. Then she picked up her phone. It was time to ring the police.
6 January 1933
Agnes and Patrick sat at the kitchen table whilst the house was being searched from top to bottom by the police. Neither of them could speak. The horror was too much to think about. Agnes was aware that the police could be thinking that Father Patrick might have something to do with it all, but she knew that was rubbish. Yes he’d been here tonight, but he wasn’t the sort of man who would want to tie a naked woman to a bed and strangle her. He was a good man. They might even think that she was responsible and if she had been younger they definitely would, but at her age that was ridiculous.
And where was Lilith? The woman was nowhere to be seen and as far as Agnes was concerned that proved her to be guilty. The only problem with that was the fact that Lilith was such a petite woman. She wasn’t big and certainly didn’t look like a strong woman, but somehow this was all linked to her. She hoped Crosby would find her hiding away in the attic and take her away from here so they could return to normal – as normal as things could be after these traumatic events.
Agnes knew that she’d never picture Sisters Edith or Mary the same way ever again. Instead of the warm, happy, smiling faces all she could see was the blood, depravity and horror of their deaths. They could hear the thunder of feet running up and down the stairs. Doors were opened then slammed shut. Agnes had told them to check every dark corner of the attic and the cellars.
She didn’t know if Lilith was afraid of the dark. Somehow she very much doubted that she was afraid of anything. Didn’t vampires live in cold, damp, dark cellars? Wasn’t that why they hated the light and come out at night? Agnes wanted to tell her fears to Crosby and to Patrick – only she was afraid they would think she was mad and take her away to Hellshall Mental Asylum, which was in the next town. A breathless Crosby came into the kitchen and sat down opposite her.
‘The house is empty, apart from us. We’ve searched every room, nook and cranny. The attic, cellars, cupboards, wardrobes, underneath beds, behind curtains. I just don’t know what to say, Agnes.’
‘Did you not find the woman?’
‘What woman?’
‘Lilith Ardat. She has something to do with all of this – you mark my words – and if she’s left then surely that is a sign of her guilt. It has to be and you know what woman. She was here yesterday when you found poor Mary.’
Crosby looked confused. Agnes realised that he didn’t remember her, or maybe she had somehow cast a spell so that he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t put it past Lilith at all. If she was a vampire she would be able to come and go as she pleased, with no one being any the wiser. She wanted to tell herself to stop being ridiculous, but how could she? The proof was there for everyone to see. She had the marks on her neck.
‘Crosby, what I’m going to tell you will make you think I’m mad, but I’m not. I may be old and my bones ache an awful lot more than they used to, but my mind is still as fresh today as it was when I was twenty. Patrick, you too, this involves us all. I don’t know if she has her sights set on you yet. She certainly has a thing for the women in this house.’
***
Patrick nodded. He had been questioning himself for the last thirty minutes about whether or not the door had been locked. He knew that it had been. Agnes had tried the handle; he’d rattled and twisted it several times and it hadn’t moved.
‘Agnes, I’m listening. I’m sitting here in agony from trying to break that door down. Yet when he tried it opened straight away. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but how long has Edith been dead? Could she have opened the door and then killed herself?’
Crosby shook his head.
‘That would be impossible, Father. She has signs of rigor mortis setting in and she’s cold to the touch. If she had only just died her body would still be warm. It takes a while for it to cool down once the heart has stopped pumping the blood around the body.’
‘So we may have to consider that whatever Agnes is going to tell us might be the truth – no matter how hard we find it to believe.’
‘I suppose we might.’
Both men looked at Agnes. Her face was pale and her hands were clasped together as if she’d been praying.
‘I don’t know how or why or if this is even possible. I’ve done nothing except think about it since yesterday after we found Mary. We let Lilith Ardat into the house two nights ago. It was late, dark and snow was falling, yet she wasn’t dressed for the weather and didn’t even seem cold. She told us that she’d escaped from her violent husband, who had crashed his car, and she’d left him unconscious, as it was her chance to get away from him before he killed her. Crosby, have you ever heard of her or her husband? I don’t know what his first name was but Ardat isn’t a common name around here.’
Crosby closed his eyes as if trying to reach deep down into the dark depths of his mind. ‘I have to say it’s not a name I’ve ever come across. If he was a violent man I’m sure the police would have some prior knowledge of him.’
Patrick pushed his chair back, standing up. ‘Wait a moment, that name is familiar. Ever since I’ve heard it I knew that it was something I’d read about a long time ago. Off the top of my head – and this might not be accurate – but from what I remember reading in scripture class there is a female demon called Ardat Lili. According to the book, she is a night demon who can arrive in a storm. Sh
e likes to wed men and wreak havoc, but there’s nothing to say that she wouldn’t get any less pleasure from terrorising women. Lilith means spirit of the night, so this could be who we’re dealing with.’
***
Agnes felt as if her heart was about to burst from her chest it was racing so hard. Crosby seemed to be trying his best to let what he’d heard sink in.
‘So you think that this woman – Lilith – who you let in isn’t a woman but a demon in disguise? You think that she’s the one who has killed Mary and Edith and now she’s disappeared? If that’s so how come you haven’t been touched, Agnes?’
Crosby was probably thinking that he’d just walked through the doors of the insane asylum and not a house of God. Agnes knew there was no way on this earth he would accept what they were saying to him.
‘Well that’s the thing: I have been. I woke up in the night and saw her downstairs around three. When I looked into the mirror she had no reflection. Whenever I get too close to her I can smell something like spoiled, rotting meat. It’s very unpleasant and turns my stomach. I went back to bed last night and fell into a deep sleep. This morning I felt so tired. More tired than I’ve ever been in my life, and when I looked in the mirror I had two puncture marks on my neck, which were crusted with dried blood. Are you familiar with the story Dracula?’
‘So last night this demon turned into a vampire and sucked your blood before killing Edith and now we can’t find her anywhere. Is that what you’re telling me?’
Agnes looked at Patrick to see if he thought she was mad. He was listening to her and nodded at her to continue.
‘Yes I believe that she did.’
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this with my own ears. If you two weren’t such respected members of the church I’d be carting you off to Hellshall. Why would she do any of this?’
