“Don’t sit on it,” Mike yelled, as she was about to place her weary bottom onto it. She shot back to her feet, in case there was something on it.
“Why ever not,” she asked when she saw nothing there. He hurried up the steps to her, took her arm, and tried to pull her away.
“I’m not sure, but you shouldn’t sit on it.” She shrugged his hand off her arm.
“Mike, that’s just silly, I have sat on that throne a hundred times as a child.”
“Yes but you’re not a child now,” he retorted.
“I know I’m not,” she said, surprised by his attitude. He took a step back from her and ran his hand across his face.
“I don’t feel well, I need to get some air,” he muttered, as a sudden wave of nausea swept through him. He hurried back down the steps and without another word he shot out of the cavern, and disappeared. She stood in the darkness, wondering what had just happened.
“Mike, I can’t see a bloody thing, please come back, you’ve got the torch,” she yelled, but there was no reply. “Mike, this is not funny.” Sudden movement to her right made her heart stop dead.
“Mike, is that you?” she asked, staring into the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the dim outline of someone standing to the right.
“M – Mike is that you?” she stuttered. On getting no reply, she moved her feet slowly, feeling for the edge of the steps. On finding it and with her eyes still locked on the shadow she took a step down, and another, until she found herself standing on the cavern floor.
Light caught her eye, and she turned. Sat on the throne was an image of herself wearing a long, white dress and clutching a book made of tanned leather. Her heartbeat rose, and she looked to the entrance and then back at the figure. Matilda’s eyes widened, as red blood seeped across the white dress, and the hand holding the book slipped down the side of the stone throne. There was a flash of white light, the woman lifted her eyes towards her and screamed.
Matilda gasped, and spinning around she fled as fast as her legs would take her.
As she exited the cave, she stole a glance behind her, but the image was gone. Matilda searched for Mike, eventually finding him sitting on a rock, staring aimlessly into the trees, and Parker sitting like a guard dog by his side.
“Mike,” she yelled, “Mike, are you okay,” she asked running to him. Finally, he looked up turning his head towards her.
“Matilda,” he said, frowning. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. I suddenly felt so sick, and dizzy.”
“It’s okay, perhaps it was the musty air,” she said, as she was certainly not going to tell him what she had just seen. “We should head back,” she suggested, wanting to get away from here as quickly as possible.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he agreed, jumping off the rock.
They climbed back up the hill, and once out of the quarry Mike seemed back to his old self.
Unexpectedly the heavens opened, and rain fell in sheets soaking them.
Matilda squealed as lightning flashed and thunder shattered overhead.
“The summer-house is just the other side of that wall,” she said, pointing to the walled garden. “We can shelter in there.”
He replied with a nod, and they ran through the gate, and towards the summer-house.
Mike laughed as he looked at her.
“It’s not funny,” she complained, her hair was soaking and water dripped down her face. Taking off her jacket, she ran her hand over her wet face.
“It is a little,” he said, slipping off his coat. He checked the plans, and thankfully, they were still dry. He glanced to her as she bent over and rung the water out of the bottom of her dress. His eyes strayed down to her ample cleavage and the vision of her in that wet dress clinging tight to her body and showing her curves, sent a rush of arousal straight to his loins. He took a breath, looked away, and began to fiddle with the plans to distract himself.
“Parker!” they both screamed simultaneously as the dog shook water all over them. Parker collapsed to the floor, looked up at them with ‘what?” expression and panted. They both laughed.
“Stupid dog,” Mike jest as he laid the plans out on the table. “Okay, from memory we took forty-seven steps, heading east. That,” he said, running a finger across the plans. “Takes us to – oh – the base of the east wing tower,” he said, surprised.
“That must be why I feel so safe in there, it’s protected,” she said joining him. She placed both of her hands on the table and leaned over him for a better look.
“What with magic?” he said, looking at her. She caught his eyes, and he was not jeering her, he was genuinely interested.
“Yes, if you believe in that sort of thing,” she whispered in a voice so gentle that set his soul on fire. His dark eyes danced in delight as he gazed at her, his pulse racing. He wanted to kiss her, now. His tongue edged his bottom lip as he contemplated it.
His phone went off, making them both jump.
“Hello,” he said sharply, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance. “What? Okay, I’ll be five minutes, thanks, Steve.” He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. “Sorry, I have to go something has happened.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked, watching as he rolled the plans back up and put them into the tube.
“Yeah, I think so. Are you coming?” he asked.
She looked at the rain, and shook her head.
“No, I think I’ll give it another ten minutes,” she replied.
“Okay.” He stared at her for a moment, and the intensity of her eyes made him hot and bothered. “I’ll see you later then. Come on dog,” he said, and he turned and walked out of the summer-house with Parker chasing at his heels.
She watched as the pair dashed through the rain towards the gate. She smiled, and her chest heaved, he was going to kiss her, she was sure. There was no denying the energy bouncing between the two of them, and it was becoming harder to resist. Matilda’s hand raised to the locket, she really needed to get it open so she could see if there was a picture of Matilda of the past inside.
“Aperi,” she chanted, casting a ray of magic over the locket, but still it would not open.
Chapter Ten
Carlos nudged Sam hard.
“What’s that, over there?” he asked. Sam removed the wrench from the bolt he was turning and looked to the trees. Something black suddenly darted in between them.
“Did you see it?” Carlos asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t know what it was,” Sam replied.
“Go and have a look,” Carlos said.
“You fucking go and have a look. I want to get this scaffolding up before it starts raining.”
Carlos scratched his beard a little worried. He had heard the stories about this hall, of the demon that was rumoured to have slaughtered all but Miss Rhiamon. If it were not for the fact that he needed the money, he would never have set foot in this place.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Sam, replied with a huff, slamming the wrench down onto the scaffolding plank. He could see Carlos was not going to finish the job unless they investigated. He climbed down the ladder and headed to the trees.
“Wait. I’ll come too,” Carlos, called, his Portuguese accent, becoming stronger in his heightened anxiety.
As they walked deeper into the wood, it got darker, and an eerie stillness overwhelmed them.
“Over there,” Carlos whispered, grabbing Sam’s arm. Sam’s eyes followed the line of his finger, and he caught a glimpse of someone in a black cloak with long red hair.
“It looks like a woman,” he replied, and he started to walk towards her.
“Wait, it’s no good, we should leave,” Carlos whispered his voice tense.
“You’re the one who wanted to look,” Sam replied.
“I know, but I’ve changed my mind, we should leave now,” Carlos insisted.
The woman laughed, the shrill of her voice filling the air around them.
“Hello,” Sam called.
“Sam, shush no, we should go,” Carlos begged grabbing him. Sam shrugged his hand off his arm, and as if captivated moved towards the sound of her voice.
Carlos stayed where he was his feet firmly anchored to the spot. She laughed again, and Sam quickened his pace.
“Hello, wait, who are you?” he called. Something smacked him in the face.
“Ouch, what the fuck,” he said, holding his hand to his cheek and looking to the ground. He bent down and picked up a stone. He turned it around in his hand and looked back to the trees ahead of him.
“Hey, who threw that!” he yelled, chucking it angrily to one side. As the hooded figure darted through the trees in front of him his heart rate surged, and he took a hasty step backwards.
“Shit,” Sam muttered as the woman was not looking so appealing now. “Carlos!” he yelled.
Carlos stood, still in the same spot. He muttered under his breath in his own language, quickly making the sign of the cross. Something was wrong, very wrong. He could feel evil drawing in all around them.
“Sam, we must go!” he yelled when he heard Sam calling his name.
“Carlos, help me!” Sam screeched from the darkness.
“Mary mother of God,” Carlos muttered, taking one anxious step forward, and then another.
The hands shot up from the ground and grabbed Sam’s ankles; he screamed as they began dragging him down into the earth.
“Help me, Carlos!” Sam screamed fighting against them. The hands unexpectedly stilled, but they held him firm. Sam looked up at the black, cloaked figure of a woman walking towards him.
“Who the hell, are you!” he yelled, “and what the fuck is going on!” he demanded. She stopped in front of him. Her dark, sullen eyes staring at him, her flesh drained of colour, her red, fiery hair billowing in a non-existent wind.
Sam was too terrified to do anything except gape at her.
Without warning, she lifted her hand and swiped her clawed fingernails across his face. He screamed his hand flying to his cheek as his flesh burned, and in a state of panic, he fought to free himself from the hands that held him.
Carlos ran as he heard Sam scream. Darting through the trees a clap of thunder shattered the silence, lightning tore across the sky illuminating the woods, allowing him to see the horrifying sight.
The woman looked past Sam to Carlos; her eyes widened and she lifted her hand. She swiped Sam’s throat with her clawed fingernails and slit it wide open. Sucking in her breath, she drew the blood that was spurting from his throat, through the air and into her mouth. Immediately she regurgitated the blood out with such force that it shot past Sam and hit Carlos across his face and chest. In the next instant, the hands that held Sam pulled him down at speed and he disappeared into the earth. The woman laughed. The heavens opened. Carlos screamed, turned, and ran.
***
“What’s up?” Mike asked approaching Steve. Steve pointed to the west wing.
“It’s Carlos he’s having some kind of episode. He shaking and yelling, like a crazy man.”
“What?” Mike replied, hurrying into the building.
“He’s possessed!” a man yelled and Mike’s crew began to back away.
“Guys come on you know what he’s been going through. His wife took his kids for fuck sake. He’s obviously just having some kind of breakdown,” Mike shouted at them.
“What’s all that shit his jabbering about? It’s fucking freaky,” Darren one of the workmen remarked.
“Yeah, his heads gonna start spinning next!” another yelled sarcastically from the back.
“He’s not possessed, Darren and his head is not going to start spinning. He’s Portuguese, maybe it’s Spanish or something. Any of you speak Spanish?” Mike asked, and a round of shaking heads replied.
“Mike, will you do something,” Steve urged, “before he scares off my entire workforce.”
Mike glanced at Steve and then back to Carlos. Dripping wet, the man sat blabbering and shaking his head in the middle of the floor inside the lounge of the west wing.
“Okay,” Mike replied nervously. “Parker, stay here,” he said to his dog, before walking into the room and towards Carlos.
“Shit,” he muttered when he saw Carlos’s face and t-shirt covered in blood. He looked back at Steve.
“Call an ambulance,” he said. Steve nodded and pulled out his mobile phone.
“Carlos, hey are you okay?” Mike asked drawing nearer to him. Carlos sat with his back to the door, and most of the men had retreated outside of the building.
“What the hell,” Mike muttered, as Carlos lifted his eyes towards him. They were rolling aimlessly in their sockets and he chanted incoherently. “Carlos, mate, erm what’s wrong?” Mike asked, cautiously kneeling in front of him. His trembling hand lifted to the man’s shoulder, and he touched him gently.
“Are you hurt, Carlos?” Mike asked staring at the blood splattered across his t-shirt and his face. At Mike’s touch, Carlos stopped chanting, and his eyes snapped to his.
“They took him,” he said. “The gateway is open; he’s coming,” he growled.
“Took who, what are you talking about?” Mike asked. Carlos unexpectedly threw himself backwards, causing Mike to jump startled, and as Carlos hit the floor, his body jerked a few times and then stilled.
“Shit, Carlos!” Mike yelled grabbing at the man just as Steve rushed to his side.
“Is he dead?” Steve asked. Mike shook his head.
“No, he’s just out cold. What the fuck happened to him?”
“Maybe he’s had some kind of breakdown, like you said,” Steve replied.
“But where’s all the blood come from?” Mike asked, his shaking hand venturing to pull up Carlos’s t-shirt. On finding no injury, he glanced up at him. Steve merely shrugged in reply. Mike felt the eyes of his workforce on him, and he looked at them.
“He’s okay, just out for the count. Can someone go down the drive and watch out for the ambulance.” A few of the men disbanded and started towards the drive.
“Is he going to be okay?” Darren asked, standing beside him. Mike shrugged.
“I don’t know. Who was he working with?” Mike asked. Darren glanced around.
“Sam, I think, but I don’t know where he is. He may have already left. I know he was itching to get home early,” Darren replied.
“Okay, can you ask about and see if anyone saw when Carlos started acting weird? Maybe someone said something and it upset him.”
“Sure, Mike,” Darren said, with a nod. He glanced down at Carlos.
“Is he hurt?” Darren asked.
“No,” Mike replied.
“What’s all that blood then?”
“I don’t know,” Mike replied in a quiet whisper, and he looked back at Carlos. A bad vibe shuddered through his body, and he took a breath as he glanced around the room. The memories of what happened to him here were still so vague. With all the weird things that were going on, he knew he was going to have to approach Matilda about it sooner rather than later.
***
As the rain eased off, Matilda began to wander back to the Hall. On hearing the sound of a siren, she ran. By the time she got back to the Hall, someone was being stretchered out of the west wing.
“Mike!” she yelled, her heart shaking in panic as she searched for him. She weaved her way through the crowd of men, and when she spotted him, she gave an audible sigh.
She stopped next to him and looked at Carlos as he lay on the stretcher. “Oh, my God, what happened to him?” she asked. Mike lifted his hand and rubbed her arm.
“We don’t know. We think he has had some kind of break down.”
“The poor man, he looks awful,” she said, watching as the crew put him in the ambulance.
“I’m going to go to the hospital and make sure he’s okay,” Mike said. “Steve,” he called, and he turned to look at him. “You’re in charge. Can you try and get hold of Sam, no one seems to know where he is, and he might be abl
e to shed some light on all of this?”
“Sure, Mike,” he replied.
“Can you watch Parker for me?” he asked Matilda.
“Of course,” she replied.
“I’ll pop by and pick him up when I get back, if it’s not too late that is,” he promised. Matilda watched him as he jogged over to his van and then drove off after the ambulance.
“We’ll be finishing now, Miss Rhiamon,” Steve said. “It’ll be getting dark soon, and well with everything that’s happened I think the men have had enough for today.”
“Of course, I hope Carlos is okay,” she said.
“I’m sure he will be. If you need anything Miss, I will be staying in the caravan tonight. Just pop by,” he offered.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a grim smile.
Matilda shuddered, and turned back towards the hall.
“Come on, Parker,” she said. He followed her as she climbed the six stone steps towards the front door. She entered, and closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath, before heading into the kitchen. Walking to the sink, she spotted four oranges on the floor; she bent down, picked them up, and put them back in the fruit bowl on the worktop.
She fixed herself something to eat, and gave Parker a few biscuits. After pouring herself a glass of wine, she put them on the kitchen table. It was getting chilly, so she decided to light a fire. The heat soon filled the kitchen. Matilda settled down at the table, and Parker fell asleep in front of the fire.
In front of her, she had her witch’s spell book and her book of shadows, along with various other books of the occult that she had taken from her father’s book collection. The corners frayed as if they had seen many years of reading, she flicked through the pages of her spell book, looking to see if she could find anything on the two pentagrams. Three hours past, and Parker suddenly sat up, and started barking. Matilda looked at him.
“What’s up boy?” she asked.
“Tilly,” he called. Matilda glanced over her shoulder.
“Eric!” she replied startled. Throwing her book on the sofa, she stood and faced him. Parker barked.
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