McCann's Manor
Page 19
Liz opened the volume which had first caught her attention to the first page, held it up to Joel's view, “Is this written in anything you can understand?"
Joel scanned the page, turned to the next page, scanned again, then looked at her in mixed surprise and disbelief, “These are the writings of one Peaitarrh McCann,” he announced.
Liz stepped closer as Joel pointed to the name, looked at it with interest. She studied the scrawled hand across the page, “Peaitarrh Mc—Ptarmigan?"
"Beg your pardon?” Joel asked.
"Peaitarrh—the way you said it made me think of a name I have heard before—Ptar McCann, although the way I heard it was more slurred together and it sounds like Ptarmigan,” Liz explained.
"Do you think they are one and the same?” Joel asked.
"My feeling is that they may be. So, what is in this book?"
Joel ran his hand over the page, read a few more entries, “This is a book of spells and incantations; instructions on how to summon spirits."
"Magic?” Kim asked.
"Black magic,” he answered as he closed the book and placed it again in its place on the shelf.
"You're kidding!” Kim said.
"I would never kid about black magic. I won't be translating them for anyone; not from the looks of what I just read. If I were in possession of these books, I would create a very large bonfire of them—and soon. There is a world of evil in them,” Joel said, a bit shaken.
"You mean to say you would destroy all of them?” Liz asked.
"I would recommend they all be destroyed at once, yes. Even though there is no certainty they are all foul without reading all of them, I would have to say it is likely they all have much to do with black magic and that may be why they were amassed here in this one spot. They are very old and many of these titles are suggestive of black magic. The very act of reading them, even silently, could be enough to open doors better left unopened,” he advised.
"I don't understand. I have no working knowledge of black magic—I never wanted to go there. Suppose someone had already read enough of them to open some doors—how would one go about closing them again?” Liz asked.
Joel sighed, “That is a good question. The three of us could attempt to close the doors, but if specific texts from these books was used to open—or invoke certain spirits—it would take a knowledge of the same texts to assure those spirits were permanently locked on the other side."
"So you're saying we could probably close the door, but we couldn't lock it?” Kim asked.
"In essence, that is true. It might keep the portal closed for a very long time, or it might last a mere few days. Tarrh McCann must have had a vast knowledge of Tir nan Og, the Celtic otherworld, or world of the spirit. Many believe it is possible to cross back into the world of the physical at will if the spirit involved knows how to do it or is strong enough,” Joel explained.
"You think Tarrh McCann may have known the secret?” Kim asked.
"It appears from what I have read here, he did—that, and many other diabolical bits of knowledge,” he said.
Liz nodded thoughtfully. “If this Tarrh McCann and Ptarmigan are one and the same, he is strong. And, judging by what I know so far about Ptarmigan and the impression I'm getting, I would say it's likely they are the same. Is there any date on these writings?"
"They seem to range from mid-sixteen-fifties to the end of the seventeenth century,” Joel answered.
"Hmm—that would predate Benjamin by about a century.” Kim mused. “Tarrh would have been Benjamin's great-great-grandfather, perhaps?"
"Maybe even add a great.” Liz agreed. “What reason do you think he might have had to want to come back here at will, Joel?"
Joel deliberated a few moments on Liz's question. “You can wager it wasn't so he could have a kind look in on his heirs and gauge their progress through time. This man had a self-serving purpose, one that was strong enough to keep him bound to this plane."
"Sounds serious,” Liz surmised.
"Yes, I think it is quite serious,” he agreed.
"Well, if you won't translate these texts for us, I guess you're going to have to teach us how to read them, Joel,” Liz said.
Joel stared at her in disbelief. “Haven't you heard a word I said? These texts should be destroyed. We aren't talking about just any troublesome spirit like the ones you have dealt with in the past—this one is strong and a demonic phantasm, versed in black magic—a monster."
Yes, that description fit Ptarmigan pretty well, according to Missy. “I have been listening and I couldn't agree with you more—after we find out how to send him back to this Tir nan Og to stay, that is. We can't risk having anyone turning him loose again. This house will never know peace until he is gone for good,” Liz said.
"What makes you think we will find out how to do that in these writings?” Kim asked.
"If one could travel back here at will from information in these texts, the knowledge on how to keep a troublesome spirit on the other side must lie in them as well,” Liz said.
Joel rubbed his forehead, shuffled about, then sighed, “I suppose you are right—but teaching you will take time, and I have the feeling I might live to regret it. I'll help you to translate as well, but it will take all three of us working together to learn the answer you seek. In the meantime, we have to purge the house of Tarrh's spirit for the time being. We may have to do that a number of times before we can put him back to stay."
"What should we do?” Kim asked.
"We should start by blessing the house, as you wanted. Next, we will call on God and his angels to help us bind this being for a time. Then we have to get started as soon as possible with these texts. Do either of you read or understand French, Latin or German?” Joel asked.
"I took some French in college,” Kim volunteered, “but I'm pretty rusty at it now."
"I have played with Latin from time to time; nothing to write home about,” Liz added.
"That's better than nothing; it comes easier the second time, you know. I know quite a bit of all three of those languages and I will give you some reminders on French and Latin; I will teach you both all the Celtic I know—which isn't as much as it needs to be, I fear, but it will have to do. Past what combined academic knowledge we can bring to bear on it, we will have to rely on our psychic senses and perhaps even blind luck. If it can be done, I believe the three of us can do it,” Joel said.
"When do you want to start?” Kim asked.
"We will bless the house right now, then we will have a meditation and prayer session to bind Tarrh. I can work on this project on Monday mornings and Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, and I will commit to coming at those times. Will that work for you?” he asked.
"We should be able to arrange our schedules to accommodate that, right, Kim?” Liz asked.
"Sure, I think that will work fine. I will just reschedule whatever I need to at the bookstore and most of the other commitments we have are in the evening,” Kim told them.
"Bookstore?” Joel asked.
"Yes, we have part ownership in a new age bookstore in Austin, and Kim goes in and does readings and consultations from time to time, but there is nothing we can't schedule so it doesn't conflict with our language lessons—they will be very important,” Liz explained.
"Oh, I see,” Joel said. “Well, let's get busy; I have several commitments this evening myself, but I want to accomplish as much as we can to alleviate the problem before I have to leave, even if it is temporary."
"What about language translator programs for the computer? We should be able to feed much of this information into the computer and have a program help us translate it,” Kim suggested.
"Why, yes, we might be able to translate much of it that way, but there will be some data the programs won't be able to handle. It's worth a try,” Joel said.
"Maybe we can coax John into helping as well; I'm sure he knows more about Latin than I do, at least—don't lawyers and doctors both hav
e to study Latin, like priests do?” Liz asked.
"Good idea, but his Latin may be as rusty as my French,” Kim agreed. “So, let's get busy so Joel can get on with his other business."
Chapter 18
Mid-October rolled around without any further encounters with spirits after the blessing and cleansing of the house and their attempt to bind Tarrh. Liz and Kim moved their two computers into the library and John brought his laptop so the machines were in close proximity to the texts. They scanned as much of the information from the tomes as they could into the computer and were able to accomplish a great deal with Joel and John supplementing on the terms the software was unable to identify.
Joel began giving the others lessons in the Celtic language as it was used in Tarrh's manuscripts. They made a pact none of them would work over any of the texts alone, but would pore over the information only when all of them could be present. Though this agreement made the rendering go more slowly, they all concurred it would be safer to work as a team.
The women also took on the project of cleaning the hidden second level of the house. The furniture there was austere and uncomfortable compared to the furnishings in the rest of the house, so the girls brought in plush cushions, pretty pictures, pastel flowers and accessories from their storage unit to soften the atmosphere and make the place more inviting. Liz suggested putting in some fluorescent stick lighting behind valances with lightweight drapes to give the illusion of windows. They purchased decorative, reflective metal ceiling tiles, replicas of some they had seen in old buildings, and placed them in varying patterns on the low ceiling, which further made the level appear more open and light.
Liz had chosen the conservatory on the third floor as her beading studio. It was a spacious room on the east end of the house above Kim's bedroom, which possessed the same large bay window as the ones on the first two floors. Though it was a much bigger space than Liz needed, she enjoyed working there in front of the huge bay window that looked out over the forest and afforded a view of the river, as well as the gazebo and McCann's final resting place.
As the weeks passed, Kim and Liz began to think of the house more and more as their home. They made plans to do some redecorating as well and added some screened-in areas to the first and second floor decks to allow the animals to spend more time in the fresh air without worry they would fall over the cliff and into the river or wander off into the forest. John helped them to install a couple of pet doors that led to the screened-in rooms. He designed and built a run from the first floor deck to the herb garden so Ghost could let himself out into a fenced-in area.
Spooky was content with spending much of his time in the screened-in area on the second floor deck where Kim had located a deluxe cat tree and a litter box for his comfort. The animals were satisfied with their new expansive surroundings, as were the two women. Everything seemed to be settling into a comfortable routine as Halloween approached and they made plans to entertain several psychics from the APG. Their quest to find all the hidden passages tabled in lieu of all their studies as well as readying the house for its first public visit in almost thirty years, they busied themselves with getting their things from storage all unpacked and integrated into the household.
Kim spent many of her evenings poring over Missy's records and researching the various aspects of multiple personality disorder. Missy's account of her father's death was recorded more than a dozen times in her records. Each time, she told the story of watching her father argue with Ptarmigan who snatched the gun and shot the older man in the face then cleaned the weapon and placed it again in Leonard's hand.
Each time, Missy concluded her story by going upstairs to wake her mother. No one ever asked her why her mother didn't hear the shot, so it might have been common knowledge Betty slept in earplugs. There was never any mention of the secret passage, nor was there ever any sufficient explanation given for Missy's being there to witness the murder at such a late hour. Perhaps, the girl had inherited her father's penchant for insomnia. Each time anyone said or did anything to indicate they doubted her story, she became agitated and had to be sedated, though this response could be understood whether or not her account was true.
There were a number of other explanations of various events in Missy's life that were documented numerous times, though these were less meticulous in the telling and sometimes had vague or different endings from the other times they were recorded. It was as though Missy had memorized the story of her father's death; the words she used and her manner of speaking was almost identical each time. None of the stories of other events shared this anomaly, and while one might argue none of the other episodes were as disturbing as her father's death, her inconsistency with the telling of the other incidents was still puzzling. Other factors such as the amount and type of medication she had been given prior to any session, which could have accounted for a lack of clarity on her part at one time or another, were constant in all instances.
Though Kim found nothing as conclusive as she had hoped to find in the documents, she was certain Missy had been a disturbed young woman. Dr. Winter took a personal interest in Missy and her condition, but there was nothing to implicate him in anything maleficent. The glaring questions remained as to the causes of Missy's problems. Kim found no clear indication as to whether Missy had indeed been a multiple. In fact, the documentation had the effect of convincing Kim that Missy was indeed plagued by multiple personality disorder as diagnosed—and yet—something told her the problems were not that simple to label. There was some sinister force at work, and Missy herself was just not that kind of girl.
Kim heard boards creak overhead and knew Liz was still up and working upstairs in the conservatory. She put away her papers, went up the stairs and into Liz's inner sanctum.
"Knock, knock?” she said as she tapped on the door, opened it.
Liz jumped at the intrusion, “Oh, it was so quiet—you startled me! What time is it, anyway?"
Kim walked into the room, peered over Liz's shoulder. “It's almost one-thirty in the morning. What are you working on?"
Liz shrugged, “I've been trying to do some drawings of some of the things on Missy's mind. They aren't all that pretty. The impression I keep having of Ptarmigan is that he is—was—older than Missy thought. And the whole blackmail thing—that doesn't work for me."
Kim nodded. “I agree. And what of Tarrh? Have you had any impressions you have put onto paper of him? Suppose Ptarmigan was Tarrh, as we have surmised before. He might be able to appear to be almost any age."
"That's a possibility, I suppose,” Liz agreed. “Here are the drawings that say Ptarmigan to me—none of them look like a monster, but she was petrified of him. I haven't tried to hone in on Tarrh, though, because I didn't want my thoughts to do anything to bring him back here."
"Yes, I know—maybe tomorrow afternoon while the others are here you can focus on him a bit. You know, if he is a dominating spirit, it would stand to reason that she would have been afraid of him, don't you think?” Kim asked.
"Logical, I suppose—but what could his motivation be?"
"I'm not sure he even has a motivation, other than the control and destruction of others,” Kim said as she sat on the corner of the big desk where Liz was working. “What is this?"
"Oh. I'll bet I have drawn that picture a dozen or more times. I keep discarding it, but then I sit down and draw it all over again. It is Missy standing over her father's body."
Kim stared at the sketch, felt her hackles rise. “Missy is holding the gun—what does it mean?"
Liz took a deep breath, hugged herself to ward off the shiver that was creeping up her spine. “See the shadow there, around her?” Kim nodded. “That is Ptarmigan—controlling Missy as she shoots her father."
Kim grimaced. “Are you saying Missy killed her father? Was she capable of that? Everything I've read says she adored him."
Liz nodded, looked at the picture and said, “Missy didn't kill him—not in and of herself, no."
"Sound too far-fetched?"
"I don't know—but it sounds almost too weird—where is the logic in it? I find it more reasonable at this point to think Ptarmigan was in control of Leonard and made him shoot himself,” Kim said.
Liz walked around the room, returned to peer again at the sketch. “I know. Somehow, I believe the answer lies somewhere in the passage to the library—all those very old books and manuscripts—something in there tells why he would want to control and kill people. He must have a black soul, but even assuming that, why would he do all these things?"
"Have you seen something in there, Liz?"
"No. I haven't been back in there alone since I showed it to you and John. I have to believe when the translations are done, we will know all the whys and wherefores of everything—or at least enough of them to piece things together. I somehow keep coming back to the idea that Missy summoned the writer of those texts—Tarrh McCann—and he is Ptarmigan and that is how he came to control her. Everything I think and sense tells me this Ptarmigan is Tarrh and he is the problem and we have to deal with him to put Missy and all the others to rest.” Liz said.
Kim paced. “We don't know how to deal with him. He is a strong spirit, Liz. Maybe we aren't equal to the task. Maybe we are better off to let him be."
"It isn't like he is dormant now or that we aren't in danger from him, you know. I can feel him nearby all the time—even think I almost see him sometimes, but he's always just behind me or out of my line of sight. How long do you think it will be before he makes a move to control one or both of us? What makes you think he isn't already doing it?"
Kim eyed Liz for a few moments. Liz met her eyes with a steady gaze. “Are you out of control, Liz?"
Liz shook her head. “I don't know—there are thoughts in my mind that aren't mine—nothing dangerous, I don't think, but they are there—I find myself wanting to confront this spirit and face him down, despite the edge he has over me. I have thoughts of summoning him without having you there to protect me; so far nothing has come of any of these thoughts, but they are still there. I don't know if I'm strong enough to continue to resist them or not."