A Fire in the Shell: Circle of Nine Trilogy 3

by Josephine Pennicott

  Charmonzhla still visits me at night, but he no longer comes alone. He brings three or four friends with him. Monstrous, deformed, grotesque beings. They take their turns with me and do not care about my advancing age, the feathers that have sprouted over my back my mouth that juts outwards into a beak. I have to escape here somehow, warn Cael. My hair has begun to fall out. The house is filled with visible ghosts. I am lost, dying. Whatever is happening to me is taking over my mind, becoming me. I regret everything.

  I must warn Emma. It all seems so clear now. I have woven sunlight around my hands and made a basket for her. The house is restless, shadows whisper its secrets. The marks I make seem inadequate, but I have no other way to warn her. The doorway must be closed.

  The house has turned to ice. Even the mice are frozen where I have placed them ready to eat for my supper. I tried to clean the mural off tonight. My claws could barely hold the cloth as I scrubbed at it. I managed to destroy some of it but it kept returning. I hear the sound of the Wild Hunt outside. There will be a death tonight. I want to claw my own eyes out so I don’t have to see what I have become. None of us is safe while the doorway remains open. The house is shaking violently, there are many footsteps in the hall. I will leave here tonight.

  There were no more entries. Lazariel stood up, stretched and went to the window. Dawn was to be sensed in the lightening of the sky. A very light drizzle was falling.

  ‘She fell into madness,’ he said.

  Theresa nodded, still trying to make sense of the disjointed entries. ‘Like Minette and Sophie and the boys.’ She saw again the expression in Sophie’s eyes and she shuddered. Her heart was racing from the caffeine she had drunk and from fear.

  There was a discreet knock at the door. ‘We need your help,’ Phillip said.

  Inside Theresa’s womb, Rachel listened. Leave. She wanted to scream, to warn Theresa. But Rachel was too exhausted, worn out from fighting the demon child, the spawn of Beelzebub, that had fastened itself to the placenta, breeding tiny maggots. The foetus had already been an abnormal size, deformed and reeking. Once again, Rachel was convinced she had been correct not to listen to Charmonzhla, that she had obeyed her own instincts and sacrificed herself to enter Theresa. Without her interference, she could not imagine how Theresa would carry this child through a normal labour. She would die in birth, if not long before from the amount of maggots and parasites that had begun to thrive around the foetus.

  Rachel had been forced into dismantling the foetus with her bare hands, allowing as much of it as she dared to circulate through Theresa’s bloodstream. The rest she had consumed. She worked quickly, instinctively, knowing this grisly task was essential for her survival. It had taken her some time to make her new surroundings as comfortable as she dared, and now the man they called Phillip and his friends were going to undo her hard efforts. He will kill us! Her voicebox was not yet formed enough to scream the warning. The fly child had wanted to live so deeply that she was totally drained. Tiny remnants of the demon foetus still stank inside Theresa’s body. This stench concerned Rachel a great deal. She wanted her new host to be as healthy as possible to bring her human life. If the darkness continued to breed inside Theresa, then Rachel would be born diseased, imperfect. Theresa needed all her energy to balance her body, release the poisonous toxins circulating through her bloodstream. Not go racing after darkness! Evil she could not possibly imagine! Charmonzhla would not allow the doorway to be closed. The old one who had painted the mural had tried and had found herself shredded to pieces by the night, her soul body taken over by the owl woman.

  For so long, Rachel had been lonely. She had never known happiness, never known what it was like to feel loved and accepted. Only the most fleeting memories remained of the woman she had been born to in the lifetime in which she had been murdered by her father. A Looz Drem was a child of the shadows. There was little love and warmth in shadows. Now she had a chance of being born to normal parents who might love and appreciate her. But if Theresa went back to the house, she was putting both their lives in danger.

  No! She wanted to scream, but the cells of her throat were not yet developed enough. Don’t do it, mother!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Such is Life.

  — LAST WORDS OF NED KELLY, DIED 1880

  The executioner is, I believe, an expert, and my neck is very slender. Oh, God, have pity on my soul, oh God, have pity on my soul . . .

  — ANNE BOLEYN’S LAST WORDS, DIED 1536

  Dawn was just breaking when the witches left the hotel and walked up the main street of Katoomba. Despite the early hour there were a couple of lights on inside a few houses and Theresa wondered at the sight. Had the occupants of the houses left them on when they departed — and not returned? Were they early risers? Had they tossed and turned all night in their beds unable to sleep, sensing the restless secrets of the departing night? There was a story behind each individual light and Theresa ached to know each one. She who had always been so self-absorbed, now found the lives of strangers fascinating. Life itself seemed so precious, to be valued and honoured.

  Mist clung to the street, there was little hint of the weather conditions for this day. The witches walked together in formation, perfect step and timing with each other as if this moment had been long rehearsed. Phillip, Faline and Lucius led the way, with Theresa and Lazariel in the middle, flanked by Agatha, Odolf and Leonora. A cat paused, caught in the act of scavenging from an upturned rubbish bin outside one of the many street cafes. Theresa flinched when she saw it, but it bore no resemblance to the cat from The Silver Hen.

  Theresa kept glancing at Lazariel as they walked in silence. His cooperation with the witches was one of the many surprises of the night. He had listened quietly to everything they said, allowing them to tell their story in their different voices, and then, when she had expected him to start laughing, to hurry her out of the hotel, he had meekly agreed to follow them.

  ‘Why?’ she had said to him. ‘Why should we get involved? I don’t want to go back there. We don’t know that what these people say is the truth!’ An image of the madness in Sophie’s eyes came to her, her red lips, white teeth when she said ‘sneaky, sneak’. Alan and Daniel sitting on the steps with antlers on their heads staring into space. She knew she was terrified of re-entering that ravening house. She had believed they had escaped the darkness, but now the darkness held an arm around her and was drawing them back. But this time they would be trapped inside the house with its ghosts and its secrets. An image came to her of herself, turning slowly in a room, thousands of golden-brown owl feathers raining down upon her.

  ‘It’s all right, Theresa,’ Faline had said. ‘We will be with you. Together we are strong. You don’t have to do anything, you just have to be there.’ She’s afraid. The thought came into her mind, but spoken by whom? Theresa had glanced around, breathing quickly, looking from one concerned face to another. Suddenly she felt intensely paranoid, not knowing whom she could trust. Her eyes had connected with Dea Dreamer’s and she recognised the same fear in her.

  ‘Lazariel?’ Why wouldn’t he speak? All of her nerves had screamed for reason, for normality.

  ‘I am going back,’ he had said. ‘What they say is true, Theresa. You know it is. You’ve seen the things coming through the mural, you’ve heard them thumping on the floor in the middle of the night. I’ve wanted to close it myself at times. I’ve stood in front of it thinking I was losing my mind. I can’t just walk away and leave it. I’ve walked away from everything else in my life and it never leaves you. The guilt follows you.’

  Meaning your wife Kath, in India, Theresa had thought, jealousy twisting in her heart.

  ‘Besides,’ he said, his face contorting in misery. ‘Where am I to go with wings growing out of my back? What am I to do? Hide in darkened rooms forever and only go out at night? What is there left for me?’

  ‘Me,’ Theresa had whispered, but she knew once again that she wouldn’t be enough and pain had hugged her
fear.

  ‘I am not running from it,’ he had said. ‘Not because I don’t love you, because I do. As much as I am capable of loving anything in this world, I love you. I just know I have to do this.’

  ‘We have little time I’m afraid,’ Phillip interjected. ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t stand around discussing this. We have to move quickly. Johanna is aware we are here.’

  ‘Not Johanna,’ Leonora corrected in her mild manner. ‘The spirit that’s taken on the form of her body. It uses her soul essence, but it’s never fully Johanna. She fought them at the end, remember?’

  ‘With all respect, perhaps that’s what you want to believe,’ Lucius said. ‘It’s easier to believe Johanna was possessed than that she betrayed us, that she murdered Cael in cold blood and countless others.’

  Leonora bowed her head, but not before Theresa saw the fury in her eyes.

  As they passed The Silver Hen Theresa looked for the cat, but there was no sign of it. The shop was as empty and inconspicuous as every other shop in the street. A neat sign was taped to the front door with a list of opening times. Already the cosy visions Theresa had enjoyed of working in The Silver Hen, acting like a normal person and enjoying conversation with Emily had begun to evaporate. All the time she had believed she would be free to choose her own destiny, yet all the time this thing was waiting for her — the responsibility of closing a doorway to another world she hadn’t even opened. Two people at least had already lost their lives attempting to close the portal. How was she to trust that these witches knew what they were doing?

  She sensed a movement on one of the housetops and froze. An impression came to her of a large scaled beast, a thing with razor-sharp talons and the stench of the grave.

  ‘Erinnyes,’ Lazariel said. ‘Keep moving. We’re in a group, so we’re probably safe from it. The snatchers only like to carry off the living when they’re on their own.’

  Theresa had no time to ask him where he had acquired his knowledge of Erinnyes. The group swept quickly past the putrid smell.

  The walk to the house was only a short one. Once, Theresa walking quickly had done it in ten minutes, a personal record. This morning, however, it seemed endless, for she was filled with fear over what she would find when they arrived. Just when it seemed her life was finally beginning to go right, now she was being asked to risk it, and forced to put her unborn child’s life in danger. Resentment simmered within her.

  The group walked up the laneway that led to Light Vision. There it was, looming out of the early morning mist. The faint smell of roses. Theresa relaxed slightly, taking the scent as confirmation she was meant to be here. There was a wild fluttering sensation from inside her stomach, as if something was trying to break free. She paused, sweat breaking out on her face.

  ‘Theresa?’ Lazariel looked at her with concern.

  ‘It’s the baby,’ she said. ‘I don’t think she wants us to go inside.’ She. Joy flooded through her at this sudden knowledge. Their baby was a girl.

  ‘Do you want to wait out here?’ he began, but was interrupted by Phillip.

  ‘She can’t. It’s all of us or nothing. I need the power of nine present to close the portal.’

  This is a mistake! Theresa wanted to scream. We don’t belong here. I don’t care what comes through the stupid portal as long as it leaves me alone. But the warmth and tenderness with which Lazariel looked at her made her forget her resistance.

  The front door opened slowly by itself, and Faline shrank back.

  ‘Steady,’ Phillip said.

  For a moment they all paused in front of the open door, peering down the cool length of corridor. They are afraid to enter, Theresa thought. The smell of beeswax and honey drifted to her. The interior of the house felt cold, alien, the shadows making it seem even gloomier in contrast to the bright day outside. The house was still, unnaturally silent.

  ‘Shouldn’t we knock?’ Lucius said. ‘We can’t just barge in. People live here, after all. We’ll be up for trespass.’

  ‘Not from what Theresa has told us about them,’ Leonora said. ‘I think they’re people with everything to hide.’

  ‘Hello?’ Phillip called out, startling them all. He grabbed the dragon’s head doorknocker and banged it loudly. ‘Anyone home?’

  There was a scuttling sound from upstairs, like a rat running across floorboards, and then a low giggle. Theresa listened, her hands unconsciously across her stomach.

  ‘Hello?’ Phillip called again.

  The door opened further as if inviting them in. This can’t be happening to me, Theresa thought. I can’t have returned to this horrible nightmare. The witches glanced at each other, and then reading their silent cue, they moved forward into the dim corridor.

  Lazariel frowned, head darting in all directions. There was a faint crackling in the air, like electricity.

  ‘Sophie? Minette? Are you here?’ Theresa called. She crossed into the kitchen where she had left them chopping vegetables the day before, then stopped, confused. The kitchen was in disarray. Knives, spoons and pots hung from the roof like bizarre mobiles. The vegetables the girls had been cutting up lay scattered over the floor with flies buzzing over them. A kitchen knife was next to them, covered in blood. She’s done it. It occurred to Theresa that she had always thought Sophie might eventually tip over the edge and kill everyone in the house. She saw her stabbing them with that stupid manic grin on her face as she did so. But where were the bodies? She went into the pantry, prepared to see anything, but she was relieved to find only the normal canisters of rice, pulses and cereal packets.

  ‘Come here for a moment,’ she heard Lazariel call from the lounge room. She walked quickly through and found the witches standing in front of the mural. They all looked shaken. At first Theresa thought the new colour on the wall was part of the mural, but then she realised it was blood. There were dark hairs caught in the blood.

  ‘Something has come through, and had trouble coming through by the look of it,’ Odolf said.

  ‘Or else something went through from this end,’ Phillip replied.

  ‘This room is so different, yet still the same,’ Leonora said, puzzled. ‘There’s so much blood in this house.’

  Theresa could feel it too; the secrets that the house held within its foundations, its walls. She could even see the blood for a second, lying thick over the floor and walls, and see two tiny white skeletons hidden beneath the floorboards.

  ‘Be careful,’ Phillip warned Leonora. ‘Don’t open yourself too quickly.’

  ‘But it’s so strong, Phillip,’ Leonora said, smiling slightly. ‘It’s always been strong, this house. It controls people, manipulates events even from afar.’

  Theresa frowned, not liking the tone in her voice. She noticed Faline stare at Leonora.

  ‘We have to check upstairs before we start,’ Phillip said. ‘We don’t know how dangerous the people are who live here. They could be hiding upstairs, waiting to disrupt the ritual.’

  ‘They’ve gone insane, I think,’ Theresa said. ‘They’re capable of anything. There’s a bloodstained knife in the kitchen. I think Sophie might have killed them all.’

  Agatha gave a cry and moved closer to Odolf. Dea Dreamer shot a look at Phillip as if to say, You brought me to this? Theresa pictured a giggling Sophie, closeted away in one of the bedrooms, ready to plunge a knife into the heart of the first person who walked through the door.

  ‘I can’t feel them here anymore,’ Lazariel said, looking frail and disturbed.

  They went upstairs as a group and began searching the bedrooms, opening doors and checking behind each one before they stepped into the room, their nerves stretched tightly, expecting a screaming woman to burst out at them at any moment. There was no sign of life, only clumps of dying flies and bees gathered in the corners of the rooms and on the dusty windowpanes. There were few places to hide, and after they had searched every room it appeared Lazariel’s statement was undeniable. There was no trace of his five colleagues to be fo
und.

  ‘There has been violence here,’ Leonora said, and looked at Theresa with one of her knowing sly little girl looks. ‘Recent violence. I can feel it most strongly.’

  So could Theresa. The walls echoed with screams. Something terrible had happened here, but what was it? And where were the bodies?

  They went downstairs to stand in front of the mural again. Theresa looked closer at the dark blood staining the mural. There was something disturbing about the stain, although she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  ‘Is it possible they would have gone through the portal?’ Agatha asked.

  ‘Anything is possible,’ Phillip said. ‘Let’s hope not, because I have to close it today.’

  ‘We have to close it,’ Theresa heard Lucius correct him. There was a brief silence as they examined the mural. Shocked, Theresa noticed a new addition to the work. Three small figures with elongated necks, their hair drawn up in buns, and carrying straw baskets between them. The three old women were ancient looking. When she saw them, Theresa felt her bowel clench in terror.

  ‘Someone has been painting on the mural,’ she said. Phillip came over to study where her outstretched finger was pointing. The figures were so small they could have been easily missed. Despite their diminutive size, the details on their faces was extraordinary, catching their blazing eyes and every wrinkle and shadow. They seemed so lifelike Theresa was afraid they would walk out of the mural at any moment, and the thought of that possibility made her heart bump loudly in her chest.