Maria explained about the creature at the window. Its hair, darkened by dried blood, but also wet blood, coloured black, pussing from lacerations in its dry skin. Its teeth, not fully housed within set gums. Its abnormally long arms.
“It has no legs that I could see below the knee stumps. Are you still going to call it a banshee?”
“I will call it something. It has a name, though it is a kind of banshee, a true original, from the first batch of its kind.”
“A banshee, you say?” said Mr Hurley ominously. “In our family, when one hears the banshee…dear God…a death soon follows. They wail, and then disappear. But the resonance of that Godawful sound stays with you, long after the demon has gone.”
“You’ve seen one, haven’t you sir?”
“Three times. I pray to God I don’t see a fourth.”
“Do you know where they go, once they disappear from the human range of vision?”
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.
“Your daughter knows.”
Maria turned to face her father. He could have sworn her brown eyes turned a luminous blue, just for a second, but it chilled him to his bones.
“Is my daughter in danger?”
The witch sat up and placed her hands on the table.
“Give me your hands, Maria.”
The young girl did as she was told. She was going to tell Lunabelle everything, the mirror, the gloves. Everything.
Lunabelle shook violently, before letting go of Maria’s hands.
“You won’t like what I’m going to tell you. But you have to hear it. Your life, and that of those around you, will depend on it. Even those who are not yet born will feel Diabhal’s wrath.”
“That is a terrible word to use,” said the man. “How can you say such things?”
“It is not easy to say anything about he who rules the black earth and the red sands, Mr Hurley. You saw the blue light in your daughter’s eyes, as I did. Do not deny what you saw.”
He did not deny it. Maria wanted to ask him about it, then refrained. Lunabelle stood up, walked over to the door on the western side of the room, checked it was shut, then turned the key in its lock. She returned to the table and sat down.
“Do you trust me, Maria?”
“No,” she replied with hesitation.
“You’re intelligent,” affirmed Lunabelle. “I wouldn’t trust me either. Here’s another piece of advice too. Trust only the one you truly believe you can trust. Everyone else is irrelevant. Now, do you have it? Do you have the Mirror?”
“I do,” said Maria. “If you really wanted it, I would give it to you. But after what happened to Dana, I don’t think it should go to anyone else. I’ll trade you for one of those pentacles of yours.”
“Maria!” exclaimed her father.
“It’s alright, Mr Hurley. I’ll give her one, a symbolic gesture. Now Maria, did you come here for the answer to immortality?”
“No, I did not.” Maria was speaking the truth. But as she was only eleven years old, her mortal state was last on the very long list within her mind. “I came here so I could find out what to do with it.”
“Do you want my advice? Or my permission?”
Maria was sure she needed advice, but as for permission; she had already considered smashing the mirror to smithereens.
“I suppose I need both.”
“Okay then,” said Lunabelle, sitting forward once more. “My advice is – sit tight. Don’t touch the Mirror, don’t use the Mirror, don’t let anyone else see the Mirror. When the time comes for you to do these things, you’ll know. It’s not really something I can tell you. It’s just something you will feel.”
Maria’s father found his voice again.
“You talk as if this Mirror is like a person, that it has sentience! It’s not alive!”
“No, it is not alive, yet it carries life all the same,” said Lunabelle.
“It carries death too,” Maria said simply.
“Maria, you will stop that kind of talk,” exclaimed her father.
“The child is right, Mr Hurley. You can deny things that are unpalatable to you, but one day, you will have to reckon with them.”
Whilst the witch spoke to her father, Maria could hear her thoughts in her head. ‘When you leave here, check your hand, you will have the pentacle as promised. Keep it safe, and when time comes for you to pass from this world, keep it even safer.’ The main instruction was that the Mirror could not be destroyed. It could only be kept from those who wanted it back. It kept demons in Diabhal’s realm far from the real world. It would have to stay that way.
Mr Hurley was left out of the following conversation.
“I could leave the Mirror here, if that’s the best thing to do,” offered Maria.
“It’s not that simple. First, you cannot leave it where my kind are. Not all of us can control ourselves. I am just about keeping it together. One day, I think my hands may be on it. But it is not today. You will not bring it here, understand?”
Maria nodded. “You said something about permission. What did you mean?”
“You gave me the impression you wanted my permission to destroy it. I cannot stop you from doing that, but I implore you not to do so. We simply do not know the consequences of such an act.”
She paused slightly before cupping Maria’s cheek with her hand. “That is all.”
Mr Hurley stood up, as did Maria. He patted her gently on the shoulder. “My daughter is an impressionable girl, but a smart one. What should we do if we see another banshee like this…the Zeryth, did you say?”
“You’re one of God’s believers, aren’t you?” Lunabelle touched her pentacle, and the door behind them opened. “Pray to all the Gods that you never see one.”
Demon Amongst Us
My Nan journeyed home with my great-grandfather in silence. They did not speak, but both of them knew what the other person was thinking. They were thinking Are we really supposed to believe everything the woman said? What a witch said? Or should we stay true to our Catholic beliefs?
Of course she could believe. She felt a weight in her hand, a circular shape. A pentacle in red with a sky blue rim. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen was ironically something she could not let others see.
They knew what my great grandmother would say. She wasn’t over the top in her belief in Christ, but she refused any real challenge to it. Perhaps that’s why I tuned out of Mass when I was brought to church as a youngster. I would pretend to be asleep so that Mum would leave me at home, and whilst I would achieve my goal sometimes, my Nan would have no such luck.
There was a light on in the house. Warren Hurley smiled and wrapped an arm around Nan’s shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled back.
“Do you want to tell Mum about the witch, or shall I?”
“If you want to live as long as your Mum, perhaps we best keep this to ourselves.”
But my Nan knew that their visit to the witch would be discovered. Still, there was someone else in the house. Perhaps she wouldn’t be asked about the witch, the Circle, and especially the Mirror.
On opening the door, Mr Hurley was ushered towards the man in black.
His wife smiled. No, beamed was more like it. She loved having priests visit.
“This…is Father Loftus,” she said happily. “He’s a young priest just starting out at St Joseph’s.”
She looked at my Nan, and smiled back at the young priest. “This is our daughter, Maria. She goes to Mass every week. She’ll be seeing you for confession soon enough, Father.”
Finally, the priest spoke. My Nan observed him. He had fair hair that was combed to one side, no wrinkles to speak of, and his clothes were absolutely pristine.
“I’m sure Maria has few things to confess, Mrs Hurley. But all of you are welcome at the church. Most welcome.”
“Isn’t that nice of Father, Maria?”
My Nan nodded.
“Father Loftus may be able to help you with that M
irror of yours, Maria. Did you hear about it, Father, what happened to that poor girl, Dana Cullen?”
He shifted in his seat a little. The mention of Dana’s name had unsettled him somewhat, and he disturbed his tea cup and saucer, with some of the liquid spilling on to the lace tablespread. If it had not been a man of the cloth, Mrs Hurley would have been livid.
“I-I’m sorry, Mrs Hurley. Very clumsy of me. Yes, I heard about the poor girl’s demise.”
“You see, Maria? The young priest knows everything. So you can tell him. You can tell him about that mirror of yours."
I knew my Nan well enough to know she would not have liked the priest being involved in this way. He seemed nice enough, but if Lunabelle was anything to go by, he would not be able to deal with the devilry that was to come.
“Your mother is being far too generous,” he said.
“Not at all!” she exclaimed. “Mari, the priest is a demonist.”
My Nan could not help but giggle. When this act of defiance was met with a stern look, the priest saved her by also laughing. Suddenly all of us were chuckling away.
“A demonologist,” corrected the priest. “I have some experience in this area, though we don’t see much cause for this expertise of late.”
“Thanks be to God,” came the over the top statement. “So you see, Mari, you can get rid of that horrid mirror now. You’ll take it away, won’t you Father?”
“Why don’t I have a look at this mirror of yours, Maria?”
“It’s in my room,” my Nan offered. “But no-one goes in my room.”
“Maria Hurley do not be so rude. We can all go up to your precious room, and I’ll hear no more about it.”
That was pretty much settled then. The priest was ushered up the stairs, but his breath quickly became more hoarse with each step that he climbed.
“Father!” shouted Mrs Hurley. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” he said. “Just maybe not as fit as I thought. Obviously no longer in my prime.” Letting out a nervous chuckle, he looked at my Nan, who looked at him with great concern on her face. He wasn’t fooling her for a minute either. A man of God he might be, but he was a scared man of God. Another nervous laugh. “How many more stairs are there?”
He stood outside of Maria’s room. There was a blue glow from underneath her door. She knew the Mirror had activated itself. But there was more to it than that. The priest looked like he was going to be sick. His face had turned into a terrible shade of green. There was a low moan on the other side of the door.
“What in the name of all that is good and pure was that?” came the holy question.
“It doesn’t want Father Loftus to go inside,” said Maria.
Father Loftus was in total agreement with my Nan. “I am a demonologist, but first I am a man of God. I can say, that what ever is in that room does not want me here. I will not mess with that unholy and unclean spirit. Can we go downstairs please? Right now.”
My great grandmother looked confused, but adhered to the priest’s request. “Of course Father, whatever you say. Hurry on down now, everyone.”
Fully expecting the priest to stay for just one more cup of tea, instead of returning to the main living room, he stood at the front door, and asked for it to be unlocked.
“Father,” she said, “What ever is the matter? Please stay awhile.”
My Nan looked at them both, a terrified expression on her face. “Please Mama, let the man go. It’s not safe for him here.”
Then she turned into her father’s arms, which were open and waiting to comfort her. She had been fully expecting a scolding, but none came.
“Father, don’t mind the child. She doesn’t know what she is saying.”
“No, she does know. She knows more than you think,” replied Father Loftus.
He turned to look at my Nan.
“Your friend died because she took something belonging to the Devil,” he said sternly. “But you cannot journey to return it. Not in this life. But maybe you can give it to someone who can.”
All the adults wore a confused expression on their faces. But not my Nan. She knew what to do. She knew the demon could be contained, and perhaps destroyed, if only the power to keep such evil at bay could be trusted to someone.
When I was growing up, I had my life all planned out. Get married, have kids, live happily ever after.
That all changed when without telling a single soul, Nan decided that someone would be me.
The Haunting of Annelise
37 years ago.
The grounds of central Gorswood Forest were home to a clearing, a great expanse where nothing grew. No trees, no bushes or seedlings. The ground was so dry that it displayed cracks in it that looked like the earth had been scorched by the sun. Surrounding it were too many trees to count, so the sun had to go somewhere.
A place for the mentally disturbed had to go somewhere too, and the powers that be decided that the town of Gorswood, which was an increasingly affluent area of mainly middle class people, could not have a mental hospital in its midst.
So into the grey expanse of the forest it went.
Originally intending to house no more than eighty patients at any one time, it was now home to one hundred and thirty seven. The inmates, patients, or whatever you would like to call them, outnumbered the staff by around four to one.
Whilst patience was stretched, and tempers often frayed, the staff somehow found it within themselves to cope. Then one day, patient one hundred and thirty eight arrived.
The newest arrival to the hospital was often the highlight of the patients day. They would want to make the new man welcome. They would want to make him as crazy as they were.
Usually, the vehicle that brought them would house up to ten new additions. On a cold day in November, the heavily guarded vehicle housed just one. They unloaded him, and patients saw a man, at least they thought it was a man, being led on the approach to the hospital gates.
His legs were bound by chains and shackles. He wore handcuffs that bit into the skin on his wrists. This was standard practise. The hood he wore on his face was not.
The voices raised to excitable levels within the compound. They were all thinking the same thing. Why would a man have to be brought in with a metal hood around his face?
***
Five security officers brought the man inside. Even when shackled, he walked with the air of someone who had his freedom, or soon would have.
He was led inside to be processed. The administrator at the desk was shocked at the man’s appearance.
“Why is this man chained like this? You know the rules.”
One of the security officers handed a file to the clerk. “There’s a slew of information on this guy in there, if you want to read it. But there’s a summary on top telling you all you need to know.”
The administrator looked at the file, which was label FILE 1.
“Are you bringing in anyone else?”
“No,” came the reply. “We needed room for the rest of the files.”
“That many? What exactly has this man done?”
A mocking laugh came from underneath the hood.
“Be silent,” commanded the officer. When the laughing continued, he nodded to one of the men standing behind the hooded figure. The officer removed his truncheon, striking the man at the back of his legs. He crumpled to the floor, but the laughing continued.
When the officer raised the truncheon over the man’s stricken body, the administrator slammed the file on the desk, and stood up sharp, shouting orders at the officer.
“What are you doing? This man is not a prisoner, he is a patient. Now stand down.”
“Look at the file,” said the officer, the anger in his eyes never leaving him. His breath was hoarse, and he panted heavily. “After you read that, you won’t want to let him go.”
“He believes you have power over me,” said the hooded figure, the mocking laugh replaced by a sinister but commanding tone. �
�But you have power over him, Administrator. I cede any power I have, to you.”
“Read the file!” urged the officer. “Believe you me, when you do, you’ll want him thrown in a hole he can’t climb out of.”
The Administrator flipped open the file and looked at the summary sheet, before closing it a few moments later. Gesturing to the officer with the truncheon, he told him to put the weapon away.
“Get this man to his feet. There will be no violence on my watch.”
Dark Winter: Trilogy Page 65
