The Horror of the Crowford Empire

by Amy Cross

  “They're going to do it again!” the woman in the reflection screamed.

  Grabbing the sides of the sink, Susan was powerless to pull away as her own reflection twisted and churned, and as her face became the face of some other, older woman with dark, hollowed-out eyes.

  “You have to stop them!” the woman shouted.

  Again, Susan tried to pull away, but after a moment she felt herself leaning forward toward the glass, as if some other force had control of her body.

  “I won't let them do it again,” she sneered, like a puppet being controlled by the woman in her own reflection. “If they haven't learned their lesson from last time, I'll make sure they learn it now!”

  As she tried to regain control of her body, Susan felt a great, shaking anger starting to tremble in her bones. The anger seemed to be bubbling up from some hidden part of her mind, and after a moment she realized that the woman in the mirror had a very familiar voice. It was the same voice she'd heard so many times before, including her time in London, and now it seemed to have burst out in all its fury.

  “They will learn,” Susan found herself sneering as blood began to dribble from one corner of her mouth. “They will pay!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I'm sorry I took a turn back there,” Susan said as she and Sam made their way to the front door of Angie's building. “I just felt very strange for a few minutes while I was in the bathroom.”

  “You've had a big day,” he suggested.

  “I'm fine now,” she told him, taking a deep breath and wiping the corner of her mouth again, just to make sure that there was no more blood. “Really, I am.”

  As those words left her lips, she knew that they were as much for her own sake as for his; the woman in the mirror had vanished as quickly as she'd appeared, but Susan felt that she was still lurking inside somewhere, threatening to burst back out at any moment. That prospect filled her with terror, and she simply wanted to get up into the flat so that there was no risk of Sam seeing her like that.

  “This is me,” she said, stopping at the door and turning to him. “Thank you again for walking me, you didn't have to.”

  “Call me old-fashioned,” he replied, and then an awkward silence fell between them.

  “I should go in now,” Susan said, worried that something bad might happen if they kissed. “It's late, and I have a lot to do tomorrow, and I'm sure you do too.”

  “Sure,” he stammered, before stepping closer, “but first -”

  “Goodnight,” she added, turning and unlocking the door. Her hand was shaking, but she managed to get the door open and she quickly stepped into the hallway before turning to him.

  She could instantly see that Sam was confused, but after a moment he took a step back.

  “Goodnight,” he said with a faint smile, before turning and starting to walk away.

  Although she desperately wanted to explain herself, Susan simply watched him disappearing into the night. She told herself that she'd done the right thing, that she couldn't possibly kiss someone while she wasn't even in full control of her own body. She still hadn't quite worked out what had happened to her earlier, or where the voice kept coming from, but she knew that somehow she had to deal with the situation.

  After shutting the door, she stood all alone in the dark hallway, and then she began to make her way up the stairs.

  ***

  “Yes!” Angie called out, bounding through from the living room as soon as Susan stepped through the flat's front door. “You're back! I need you to help me solve a crisis!”

  “Actually,” Susan said, “if you don't mind, I -”

  “Well, it's not actually my crisis,” Angie continued, “it's more Mrs. Chalfont's crisis, she's been on the phone just now begging me to go and work at the club tomorrow night. Apparently all the regular girls have refused to work at this month's big dinner because some of the members got a little too familiar last time, if you catch my drift. I suppose you could say that they're on strike. Anyway, she's offered me double pay if I work tomorrow night, and she also asked me if I know anyone who'd take the same deal.”

  Still a little dazed, Susan didn't immediately realize what her friend was suggesting.

  “I told her you'd do it,” Angie added finally, grabbing her by the arms and giving her a gentle shake. “If you add the rate we're being offered to the tips that'll inevitably flow, we're going to be stinking rich by the end of tomorrow evening. Well, not rich, but it's certainly too good an offer to pass up. You're in, aren't you? I already told her that I had someone, and I kinda like her to think that I'm reliable. That way she always calls me when she's in a bind, and I get that sweet bonus money.”

  “I don't know,” Susan replied cautiously, “I'm not feeling too -”

  “I know it's not exactly your kind of thing,” Angie said, “but it really wasn't that bad last time, was it?”

  Susan tried to think of a better way to politely decline, but a moment later Angie hurried back into the living room.

  “It's going to be so much fun working with you again, Susie,” she called back. “Don't worry we'll put those posh bastards in their place if they try anything.”

  “Actually,” Susan replied, her voice sounding a little weak, “I think I might be busy tomorrow evening. I was going to see if Sam needs any help at the cinema.”

  “He can manage without you for one night!”

  “I know, but I really think that I owe him.”

  “Please, Susie, I've already told Mrs. Chalfont that I've got her covered.”

  Susan hesitated, before turning to go into her room.

  “I'm sorry,” she murmured, “but -”

  “No!” the voice in her head shouted, and suddenly Susan fell back and slammed against the wall, knocking several coats off the rack.

  She froze, shocked by the voice's return, and a moment later she spotted her own face reflected in a mirror next to the door. She waited, terrified in case she saw the other woman again. She knew she might be imagining things, but somehow she could feel that other face starting to rise once more through her body, threatening to emerge.

  “So you'll do it, right?” Angie yelled. “Come on through and hang out with me for a few minutes, Susie. I promise no-one's coming to visit tonight. It'll be just you and me.”

  “I can't,” Susan whispered, but she immediately knew that those words were a mistake.

  She took a couple of deep breaths, and she was already starting to understand that she had no choice. The other woman, the one who'd appeared in the mirror at the pub, wanted her to go and work at the golf club, and Susan was afraid of what might happen if she tried to disobey. She felt trapped in her own body, but already – as she realized that she had to take up Angie's offer – she could tell that the woman's presence was starting to subside a little.

  “I have to,” she said quietly.

  “Is that a yes?” Angie called out.

  Susan swallowed hard, before stepping over to the door and looking through to see Angie sitting on the sofa.

  “I don't seem to have a choice.”

  “That's the spirit,” Angie said, before patting one of the cushions. “Come on, keep me company, I'm bored.” She paused for a moment. “Don't take this the wrong way, Susie,” she added cautiously, “but you don't look...”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “I'm fine,” Susan replied, although she was aware that she sounded very stiff. Hoping to prove that nothing was wrong, she made her way over and sat down, but now she was worried that some hint of that other voice might be mixed in with her own.

  She glanced over at Angie.

  “I'm here,” Angie said, “if you want to talk about anything.”

  “Honestly, I'm fine.”

  “Are you...”

  Again, Angie paused.

  “Are you sure about that, Susie? 'Cause if you want, I can totally find someone else to work with me at the club tomorrow night. I don't want you to feel like I'm absolutely
forcing you.”

  “No,” Susan replied, even though nothing would have given her greater pleasure than ducking out of the job, “it's alright, I'll come with you.”

  Even as she felt a sense of dread at those words, she realized that the other presence in her soul seemed satisfied.

  “I need a drink,” Angie said, getting to her feet and heading across the room. “What do you think of my fancy booze cabinet, huh? I'm a real classy lady. Can I get you something?”

  “No, thank you,” Susan told her.

  As Angie grabbed a bottle, Susan sat rigidly on the sofa and tried to tell herself that everything would be alright. She had no idea what the woman in the mirror wanted, but she managed to cling to the hope that if she just gave in this time, she might be able to make the woman happy. Whoever she was, the woman seemed to have been responsible for guiding Susan all the way back to Crowford, and Susan realized that this might have worked out in her favor; after all, without the woman's influence, she might well have died in the city. She could only hope that soon she'd be able to figure out exactly what was happening, and that she'd be able to give the woman what she wanted, and that then she might finally be free again.

  “The future's looking bright,” Angie said as she flopped down onto the sofa with a glass. “I can feel it in my gut. Things are looking up, Susie. Cheers! To the future!”

  “Cheers,” Susan replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “To the future.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You can do this,” Susan whispered the following evening, staring at her own eyes in the mirror, watching for any hint of someone else staring back at her. “You really don't have a choice.”

  ***

  “Ah!” the man with the big mustache roared, as light from the chandelier reflected in his glasses. “Here come the ladies now!”

  Balancing a tray of drinks, wearing the club's usual skimpy pink uniform and cat ears, Susan made her way across the room and stopped at the head of the table. She was fully aware that everyone was staring at her, but she managed to keep a smile on her face as she began to place the drinks in front of the various members. She'd found that she was very good at remembering each person's order, and that for the most part she was able to perform her duties in a somewhat robotic manner. She was pushing on through the evening, and all she could hope was that the dinner would pass without any kind of disturbance.

  “You must tell us all your name,” Roger Bell – one of the key hosts for the evening – said as he watched Susan work.

  “Susan, Sir,” she replied.

  “Susan what?”

  “Susan Jones, Sir.”

  “Susan Jones? I don't think I know your family. Are you a Crowford girl, Susan Jones?”

  “I am, Sir.”

  “Through and through, eh?”

  She glanced at him as she set his drink down.

  “You're very polite, Susan Jones,” he continued, “but I think I detect a little spark in you. A little get-up-and-go that's sorely lacking in this town. I'm rarely wrong about such things.”

  “I really don't know what you mean, Sir,” she said, before stepping around him so that she could put out the last few drinks. All she wanted was to get back to the bar for a brief respite before attending to one of the other tables.

  “We're going to be retiring to the drawing room shortly,” Mr. Bell continued, watching Susan carefully. “I think I'd like you to work our table in there, Susan Jones. I've taken rather a shine to you.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment he placed a hand on her arm. Feeling a shiver pass through her chest, she instinctively pulled away, almost dropping the tray in the process.

  “No need to fret, dear,” he told her with a grin. “You're among friends here. And you really don't need to be so formal with me. Please, call me Roger.”

  “I should get to the next table,” she replied.

  “Well, I'll see you in the drawing room soon,” he chuckled, making no attempt to disguise the fact that he was looking her up and down, almost as if he was assessing her for some purpose. “Yes, I very much look forward to that.”

  Turning, she began to carry the tray back over to the bar.

  “He's one of them,” the woman's voice said in her head, filled with pent-up rage. “Look how fat and bloated he's become. Look how happy he is with his lot in life. He won't be so happy soon.”

  “What do you want?” Susan whispered, stopping at the bar and putting the tray down.

  “I want them to pay for what they did to me,” the voice replied, “and I want to make sure that they can never do it to anyone else ever again.”

  “But what do you need me for?”

  She waited, but now the voice had fallen silent again. Although she desperately wanted to understand the voice's motivation, and how it had ended up in her head, she told herself that she simply had to stay strong. She couldn't be seen talking to herself, or struggling in any way, so she took a moment to pull herself together and then she glanced at herself in the mirror behind the bar. All she saw was her own, somewhat frightened, face staring back.

  “Susan?” Mrs. Chalfont called out from one of the other rooms. “Can you come and help me in the kitchen for a moment?”

  ***

  “They all have very healthy appetites tonight, that's for sure,” Mrs. Chalfont muttered as she placed some more biscuits on the plates in the kitchen. “They've usually retired for their discussions by this point in the evening. I can tell that tonight's going to be a late one.”

  “We can stay on for as long as you need us,” Angie told her.

  “You'll be compensated accordingly.”

  “We know,” Angie said brightly, winking at Susan before taking an overflowing plate and carrying it back across the kitchen. “We're always happy to help out, Mrs. Chalfont.”

  “I wasn't sure about that girl at first,” Mrs. Chalfont muttered, as Angie left the room, “but to be honest she's turned out to be very dependable.” She glanced at Susan. “I hope the members aren't causing you any discomfort, dear. A little horseplay is to be expected, but if any of them overstep the mark, you must be sure to tell me. Contrary to what some of them might wish to believe, we have rules around here and I make no apology for enforcing them.”

  “It's fine,” Susan replied, glancing over at the counter and seeing assorted knives laid out. For a few seconds, she felt unable to look away.

  “Let's hope that this is enough for them tonight,” Mrs. Chalfont continued as she began to swap a few items from one plate to the next. “Be a dear and start putting them out while I go and see what else we've got in the pantry.”

  Muttering to herself, Mrs. Chalfont hurried off to the far end of the kitchen and disappeared through into another room, leaving Susan standing all alone.

  Reaching out to take two of the plates, Susan suddenly hesitated as she realized she could feel the strange voice scratching at the back of her mind.

  “You know I need you to do this for me,” the voice whispered. “I've waited too long to let them get away with their crimes.”

  “Who are you?” Susan whispered. “Are you...”

  She paused for a moment, almost too afraid to say the name.

  “Are you Winifred Thorpe? Are you the woman I saw at the Empire?”

  “There isn't much time,” the voice continued. “I know they're planning to do it soon, I can feel the evil approaching.”

  “I'm not -”

  “Don't argue with me!” the voice snapped angrily, and Susan winced as she felt a flicker of pain in the side of her head. “You stupid girl, you don't need to understand, you simply need to obey. I should like to think that I've shown that I have your best interests at heart. After all, I stopped you leaping to your death in the Thames, didn't I?”

  “That was me,” Susan replied. “I stopped myself.”

  “Oh please,” the voice said, “you haven't done much yourself for a very long time.”

  “Why are
you in my head?” Susan asked. “You can't be, not really. I must be imagining you.”

  “I can force you to cooperate,” the voice told her. “Is that what you want? I've been kind to you so far, but I can be harsher if necessary.”

  Before Susan was able to answer, she felt the pain bursting through her head. As her vision became patchy, she stumbled forward and dropped to her knees, and she clung desperately to the side of the counter in an attempt to keep from toppling all the way over. The pain was getting stronger and stronger, and she felt as if her skull might be about to crack open; at the same time she could sense the woman's presence churning through her mind.

  “Stop!” she gasped. “Please, I'll do anything, just stop it hurting!”

  Tasting blood in the back of her throat now, she reached around and tried to grab the other counter. She had no idea where to go, but she told herself that she needed help from someone. She'd tried to deal with the presence herself, she'd tried pushing it away and she'd also tried living with it, but now she realized that her only hope was to find someone – a doctor, perhaps – who might know what was happening, and who might be able to work out how to set her free. As the pain twisted and grew, she began to worry that it was never going to leave her alone.

  “Just stop!” she continued, with tears streaming down her face. “I'll give you anything you want, just -”

  Suddenly the pain vanished, and Susan let out an agonized gasp as her vision returned. She waited, breathless, for a few seconds before getting to her feet. All she wanted to do was run away, but as she looked down at the knives she realized that she had no choice but to obey the voice and hope that eventually she'd be set free.

  Reaching out, she took one of the larger knives and set it on the tray, and then she picked up the plates.

  “That's better,” the voice purred. “You know where to find them. It's time to end their evil once and for all.”