Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror

by Sarah England

  “She’s possessed.”

  The vicar stared at him. “Ah now, come on—”

  “Didn’t Jesus cast out demons?”

  The vicar smiled tightly. “I think that was written before mental illness was understood.”

  “Hmm…you lot quote from the bible when it suits you though, don’t you?”

  There hadn’t been an intended insult but a cloud passed behind the other man’s eyes.

  “I will see this lady if you obtain her doctor’s permission as well as her next of kin’s, and then I will have to approach—”

  “Then if you’ll excuse my language – she’s fucked because that isn’t going to happen.” Noel stood up to leave. What was the point? No wonder that nasty little gang in Woodsend had got away with this for so long – everyone was letting them! He got as far as the porch door when the vicar’s voice called out behind him, “You could try St Mary’s in York Close.”

  Noel stood stock still for a second, then raised his hand in acknowledgement and carried on walking.

  ***

  By the time he bounded into work less than an hour later, he had a name and number in his back pocket. It would have to keep for a few hours yet, but how the hell was he going to get through today when the information was burning a hole in his head? Whatever had appeared in the graveyard a few hours ago, if it had been to frighten him off, had served only to heighten the urgency. Poor, poor Kristy. It could be himself next and he’d hope that someone would help him if that time came.

  Upstairs, next to the staff room there was a shower and he stripped off and stepped in, letting scalding water bring his mottled, cold skin back to life. What a weird twenty four hours it had been! Dog tired with scratchy eyes and a rumbling stomach – what a way to start the working day too. Still, his mind chattered like it would never stop and his nerves were jumping like they’d been electrocuted. He’d take Handover from the night staff and then try and make a call to this guy, Michael, and fix up an appointment. How brilliant he’d been able to track him down. Becky would be so relieved.

  The priest at St Mary’s had been pretty coy but when Noel described Michael in meticulous detail and related just what kind of trouble a lady doctor was in, he’d finally relented and given him Michael’s telephone number. Michael worked privately and was not part of any religious order. Now a retired professor in theology he lived alone on the outskirts of Leeds. Apparently he was not at all well – recently diagnosed with terminal cancer of the prostate – and would only see someone by appointment and if it was urgent. Noel had grimaced at the information, but time was of the essence and Michael was very likely Kristy’s only chance. It seemed odd though, when just a couple of weeks ago the man had been a tall, broad-shouldered picture of health.

  After showering he threw on yesterday’s clothes and used the emergency stopover supplies he kept in his locker to freshen up. It never felt good without the usual routine of scented soap, essential oils and good cologne, not to mention a good night’s sleep and clean underwear. Oh well, doubtless he wouldn’t be running into David Beckham today.

  Just as he was slamming the locker shut his mobile bleeped. Becky’s name flashed on the screen: ‘URGENT. CALL NOW!’

  He rang her back while running downstairs to the ward, “What is it Becks? Night staff are waiting to knock off.”

  “It’s Celeste. I needed to talk to her urgently because of something that happened about an hour ago. I kept calling and calling her room. In the end I asked the hotel staff to check on her… Noel, she’s dead!”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty

  Earlier that morning

  At seven o’clock Becky had finally reached DC Toby Harbour on his mobile.

  “Hi Toby! It’s Becky – Callum’s partner over at the DRI? I need to speak to you and it’s really important. Is there any chance you could call in?”

  He sounded as if he was running. “Where? Up at the hospital?”

  “Yes. I’ve been here all night. Look, I just need to quickly freshen up, so could we say half an hour from now in the canteen? I’ll buy you breakfast.”

  “Aye, alright.”

  “You okay – you sound out of breath?”

  “Just doing t’ morning run. Got football practice tonight and I’m well unfit. Anyway, yeah, I’ll be straight over. Can I ask what it’s about, though? I’ve got a right busy day on.”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes, but Toby, I need you to keep this one hundred percent to yourself – the whole thing! Please, please do not tell a single soul, especially not any of your colleagues or superiors – no-one. There is a little girl’s life at stake and there may be several other people’s too. I need you for half an hour at most while you have breakfast and I promise I’ll explain. But please promise me you won’t tell anyone you’re coming?”

  “Yeah okay, I’m on me way, Becky.”

  She clicked off the phone. Please God he could be trusted.

  Last night had been one of the worst nights she could ever remember. After Celeste and Noel had left she’d returned to the ward, still with the memory fresh in her mind of the dying man in the bed opposite Callum. Frankly it had been something of a selfish relief to find the curtains had been drawn around the old man’s bed, and with some trepidation she sat down next to Callum and took hold of his hand, her focus firmly fixed on the man she loved. The night would be a long one.

  From within the curtained area came the distinctive Cheyne-stokes respirations of a human being about to die, with the gap between each rattling lunge for breath often as long as several minutes. The stench of fear and death hung in the air, and she thought about the other patients who might wake up listening to a life slipping away in the bed next to theirs. How many people had died in the bed they were now sleeping in? Whose turn would it be next? As a nurse who had often worked a night shift, she knew it was usual for a dying patient to be removed to a side ward and wondered why that was not the case here.

  Aged eighteen, one of her first tasks on nights had been to lay out a dead body. It had been during the grey hours of pre-dawn; and she had been left alone in a side ward with a fresh corpse. No matter how many times she told herself the man was now an empty vessel and the soul had departed, it had still spooked her beyond measure: the orifices had to be plugged and the body washed, which involved turning it on its side. Invariably an audible sigh would escape during the process as air was forced from the deepest part of the lungs, but she hadn’t been prepared for that and so when it happened she dropped the dead weight on its face. After standing by the far wall whimpering for a while, it had then taken a superhuman effort of mind over matter to persuade herself to heave the poor deceased person back around and put on the shroud. Up to that point she’d though of herself as a pretty practical kind of girl, and the episode had shocked her. Just what was it about corpses that freaked us out so much, she wondered?

  Another desperate, rasping inhalation emanated from behind the curtain and Becky forced herself to think about other things. Being awake all night could really get you down, she thought, gripping Callum’s hand. Leaning in close to him, she whispered, “What did you see, Callum? What do you know? Something’s stopping you from waking up and I honestly believe it’s black magic! How crazy is that?” She bowed her forehead to his. “Oh please, please wake up. I’m so alone.”

  A tremendous fatigue overcame her, dragging her like a weighted body further and further down into the depths of what rapidly became a highly disturbing dream; one in which she was still very much awake. Initially it was akin to having had too much to drink and being unable to stay awake for another second: the ceiling was spinning and the floor started to roll queasily, but then the edges of the ward began to blur and Callum’s bed was swaying like a boat on the swell. Holding on to the metal frame her face burned hotly and nausea lurched greasily from the pit of her stomach. Oh God, I’m going to be sick… right here on the floor…

  Briefly she blacked out, before emerging into a
dreamlike state where the air had turned strangely blue as if lit by an electric storm and all the other beds had vanished, revealing a different kind of room altogether – a pre-war hospital ward which stretched at least three times the length of this one. But empty. Entirely empty. It was then that a line of figures shrouded in domino robes and masks began to file in through the double doors at the far end, silently gliding into the middle of the room.

  It’s just a dream. Just a damn dream. It’s your subconscious playing tricks. Wake up…wake up…

  She tried to stand, shouting for help while repeatedly pressing the emergency buzzer, but nothing happened and no sounds came.

  After that she must have lost consciousness again because when she came to, she was frozen to the bone, lying on the floor next to the hydraulics underneath Callum’s bed. The back of her skull was sore to the touch and her lungs were rigid making it difficult to inhale. Clutching at the bedclothes they slipped onto the floor and she flopped down again.

  How long had she been here?

  Eternity was the only way she could describe it later. Eternity and yet perhaps only a few hours because outside it was still dark, although the bed opposite was now a scrubbed, shiny mattress smelling of disinfectant.

  “Goodness,” said one of the nurses. “What on earth are you doing down there?”

  Her neck and limbs were stiff, her skin icily numb as she struggled to sit up. “I fell. I must have fallen.”

  “You’ve been here every night since he came in, haven’t you? You know you really ought to go home and get some sleep. We can take care of Callum.”

  The clock showed it was just after six and the first medicines were being given out with cups of tea. “I don’t suppose I could have some hot tea, could I please? I just…” She rubbed the back of her neck and wrapped one of Callum’s blankets round her shoulders. It would be ridiculous to cry.

  “Of course,” said the kindly nurse, reaching over to the tea trolley. “Here you go, love. Oh you poor thing – are you sure you’re alright?”

  She nodded, gulping the hot liquid down her parched throat. “Oh God, that’s good.”

  With one last look at Callum, she finally agreed to go and lie down in one of the visitors’ rooms that had become available, and on the way, before she could rest, decided to call Celeste in order to help her understand what the hell was going on.

  But Celeste, it transpired, was dead.

  ***

  Toby was already halfway through a cooked breakfast by the time Becky burst into the canteen. Signalling to him she’d be two minutes, she joined the queue for tea and toast, relieved to have a couple of minutes to compose herself.

  Celeste is dead. OhmyGod… OhmyGod… And then there were two…

  Toby Harbour was fresh faced and clean-shaven – an overgrown teenager wolfing down bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes and mushrooms like his life depended on it. A tiny part of her regretted involving him, but what choice was there? If she went to the police desk she could be routed through to someone who’d report straight to Ernest Scutts and that was far too much of a risk. Toby was the only person she knew on Callum’s team who might be able to discretely do some fact-finding. That was all she’d ask for – just some fact-finding to see where it led.

  He stared at his empty plate as if he couldn’t believe it had all gone.

  “I wish I could eat like that and not put weight on,” Becky said.

  “There’s nowt to you.”

  No one had said that in a long while, Becky thought, although to be fair her clothes did hang off her these days. When this was all over – if it ever was – she’d buy herself a whole new wardrobe; see what was in fashion these days for a girl at least two sizes smaller than she had been. And when the divorce was through and the house sold, she’d buy a little one-bedroom flat in Leeds Docklands like Noel had, with polished floorboards and high white ceilings and sash windows. Everyone needed a dream and that would be hers. Unless Callum…Well, best not think about that.

  “I have lost a bit recently,” she said, taking a gulp of tea. “Do you want anything else to eat?”

  “Are you not eating that toast?”

  She pushed it over to him. “Toby, you remember that odd incident the night Callum was brought in – you know when…?”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, well I’m hardly gonna bloody forget, am I? Spooky or what?”

  “Hmm. Well, I hope you’ve got an open mind.”

  “Oh God, what’s coming?”

  She grimaced. “Okay, look, I have to tell you some stuff and I need you to listen. And then I’m going to ask for a bit of help, that’s all.”

  “Shoot.”

  She shot. And when she was done she passed him Linda Hedges’ diary, which he scanned through.

  “And on top of all that, Celeste passed away a few hours ago in her hotel room.”

  “You’re joking? What did she die of?”

  Becky shrugged. “I don’t know but it was sure as hell sudden. So do you see – there’s something extremely frightening going on that no one believes unless it happens to them, by which time it’s far too late. And I think, well my theory is, that it stems from a satanic coven in Woodsend.” She held up her hands. “Yes I know, a lot of these things have been proved rubbish over the years and they don’t exist and if they do it’s a bunch of mad people or a paedophile ring that needs to be infiltrated… but …”

  Toby nodded.

  “…but in this case there really is something horrific going on, and people are dying and getting hurt. There have been way too many for it to be a string of coincidences, and now only me and my colleague, Noel, are left. But who’s going to believe us without evidence? And what about our own safety? There was an attempt to drive Noel off the road yesterday, for example. We’re both in danger and time is of the essence before we’re stopped from exposing this. Long story short, Toby, we need enough proof to take to another police force outside the area: so we have to find Ruby’s boyfriend, Jes, and we need to speak to Cora Dean. With Callum spark out and Kristy sectioned under the mental health act, there is no other testimony apart from Ruby’s. And Ruby is, of course, clinically insane.”

  Indecision hovered in the young officer’s eyes. Gung-ho combined with the desire to help clearly jostled with a deeper level of caution and disbelief. Fear, Becky thought, governed us all.

  “Alice is twelve!” she re-iterated.

  Finally he levelled with her. “I work really closely with Sid Hall, Becky. He’d know if I were up to summat. But I’m off duty later so I’ll try and track down this Jes for you. I used to work in the Chapeltown area and I’ve an idea where I might find him. With regard to the woman, Cora, I’m a lot more cautious – if she hot-wired it back to her son you’d been asking questions they could come looking for you. And if Scutts hears about it when the case is officially closed he’ll have my balls tied round a lamp post. I’ve not crossed him but I’ve ’eard he’s a nasty bastard. One or two officers have disappeared off the force under his watch, but I always thought it was for a good reason. Anyhow, not to digress, I’ll have to think on that one.”

  He stood up.

  “So, what? You’ll try to find Jes tonight?”

  Toby nodded, reaching for his parka. “Yes, it’ll have to be later on, though. I’ll ring you on your mobile, shall I?”

  “Yes please. Look, if for any reason you can’t get hold of me then here’s Noel’s number.” She scribbled it down and handed it over. “Or I’ll be here on the ward with Callum.”

  He smiled tightly as he transferred the number into his phone. “Yeah, well Callum was always good to me – kept me protected from the politics. I owe him a lot. I can’t say I believe any of this stuff about dark forces, Becky, but I’ll keep an open mind, and I get that a lot of people are getting hurt whenever they get close to that place. I hope Callum picks up soon, I really do. For what it’s worth, neither me nor Sid think it was a car crash, and the photos on his mobile were all deleted by some
one. That phone’s empty now – Sid told me. Odd that, innit?”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Be careful, Toby,” she said as he walked away.

  She watched him wind his way in between tables full of nursing staff hungry after an early start. The day was brightening with all the immediacy of blinds being shot up, and she pictured a white ball of light around him. He was sure going to need it.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drummersgate Forensic Unit

  Understaffed as they were, Noel had to take paracetamol and lie down on the staff room sofa. It was like having the flu and a hangover combined – impossible to think straight let alone take care of patients and give out medication.

  Celeste was supposed to have been coming in later to see Ruby, and Ruby was looking forward to it. She wanted to know more, she said, about her clairvoyance and what it all meant. Apparently, last night she’d tried talking to the ghost drummer boy and helped him pass over. It was exciting but also scary because other spirits had started shouting in her ear – always the left one – and some of them were angry because they said she’d promised them things she couldn’t remember and were going to ‘get’ her. Not all of the spirits, she said, were dead people from the prison, either – some were demons.

  He rubbed his hand over and over his face as if that would breathe life into it, but his reflection still stared back at him from the blank TV screen like an exhausted Bassett Hound. No, there really was little choice because he was neither use nor ornament today, as his mother used to say – shameful seeing as how it was his own fault – but he’d have to pull a sicky. Ruby didn’t need to be told about Celeste’s death just yet – only that she was unable to come in today. God only knew how the poor girl was going to react, and Emily couldn’t be expected to cope with the aftermath.

  It was never a nice job ringing management to say you were too ill to work, but they’d have to lump it. Anyway he’d been working flat out for months now without a break, and covering extra shifts; he was bloody exhausted. You could only run on empty for so long, but with constant fear draining your system as well, the body simply wasn’t designed to cope and this old engine, he thought dryly, was stalling.