Magda: A Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Trilogy - Book 3

by Sarah England

  “Smell of booze? Well that’s an understatement if ever I heard one – you’re bloody saturated in it man, pickled. It oozes from your pores. Yours is a body that wouldn’t decompose in a heatwave, and the last time I saw eyes as red as that they were Dracula’s.”

  “Oh, don’t you start, I’ve already had Becky tell me I look like a zombie ready for its coffin.”

  “When did all this start? After Kristy’s exorcism?”

  “I wasn’t too good after what happened with Becky, to be honest – that’s when we first met Michael. I took her to church last Christmas when she was convinced there was a man trying to possess her. We all thought she’d had a bump on the head and was suffering from psychosis – even she thought that for a while. Well anyway, maybe it got to me a bit more than I thought?”

  Harry nodded.

  “We’d all seen what happened to Jack too, running around giggling, barricading himself into the office. And then there was Kristy – seeing her like that, the way she was, well it’s like… I don’t know how to explain it… I just haven’t been able to shake off this feeling of menace, like a malignant presence is following me around, watching me all the time even when I sleep. I keep checking over my shoulder because I think I hear something, or see dark shapes skitter across the floor. But there’s never anything there, you see? Of course, it could all be depression and psychosis, me just going mad–”

  “And do you think that’s what it is - that you’re going mad?”

  “I don’t know, Harry. All I’m sure of is that I haven’t slept in months, not properly, and the longer it goes on the weaker I’m getting, the less resistance I have and the more I need to sleep. Only I daren’t because that’s when it comes for me.”

  “Okay, now this is the difficult bit, but I need you to tell me if you can, what it is that ‘comes’ for you when you’re unconscious. Take it easy, top line is all I need.”

  Noel took a deep breath. “Harry, I have serious difficulty even talking about this because it conjures it up again, makes it real, like I’ve acknowledged it in some way; and then I see it all day long – in mirrors, in my mind’s eye, on other people’s faces instead of their own–”

  “Like it’s taking you over? Wearing you down? I should say at this stage, well done, because you haven’t given in, but I can see you’re getting physically and emotionally drained; and it’s time to do something because it’s my belief you’re definitely under psychic attack, and it will kill you rather than give up. It doesn’t matter anymore about rationalising this or trying to debate what can and can’t happen. I’m telling you straight that demonic possession does exist because I’ve seen it and it ruins people’s lives and everyone’s around them. So, tell me exactly what happens and what it looks like to you, then we’ll see what we can do.”

  Noel nodded miserably. “If I describe it this thing will be here in this room…I…”

  “Trust me,” said Harry. “Just trust me or I can’t help you.”

  “Sorry, okay – well, the second I fall asleep it happens. The mattress bounces slightly as if something has just landed on the bed, something light like a cat…but I’m only half aware of it. I want to stay asleep because I’m so tired, but then a bass, male voice whispers softly into my ear, ‘Hello, Noel. It’s show time again.’

  That’s how it starts. And I know that if I open my eyes it will be there – looking down at me from the ceiling - a girl with empty eye sockets and dripping black hair, only not a girl – more like a creature – skittering around on four legs with a head screwed on back to front, its movements crab-like and jerky, scuttling sideways… pitter-pattering round the ceiling… I can hear a rattling chest and a hideous squelching noise. And although my eyes are shut tightly I just know they’re going to snap open against my will. And that’s when it rushes at me – right into my face. I’m screaming but no sound comes out. And I still cannot wake up and I cannot move. It’s shaking the bed, jumping up and down on it, mocking me. And inside my head I’m shouting at myself to wake up, bloody wake up, that it’s just a dream, a nightmare. But it won’t stop, it goes on and on and on saying the same thing, ‘Let me in! Once you let me in I’ll stop…it will all stop. Let me in, let me in, let me in–’”

  Harry came over, stood behind his chair and rested his hands on Noel’s shoulders.

  “Okay, that’s enough. It’s enough for anyone. And we can put a stop to it right now, starting today, but you have to trust me one hundred percent and do exactly as I say.”

  “Anything.”

  “I’d like to say a prayer first and then we’ll talk.”

  Noel’s shoulders sagged under the other man’s hands while the prayer was said, after which Harry crossed himself and then Noel.

  “Okay,” said Harry, pulling out a chair. “You alright now?”

  Noel nodded. This was his nadir; the outside world now utterly irrelevant; the moment right here and right now, pivotal.

  “Good. Now, we must work together and we must work quickly. I need to cover two things with you. First of all, I need to know more about the events up at Drummersgate that started all of this, and then I need to know more about you yourself. I can and will administer deliverance but there’s no point if we don’t deal with these issues first. You have to be very, very strong inside because what’s attacking you now is powerful and without mercy.”

  “Well, I can tell you about Ruby Dean and where it all started, how it affected the whole team; and I can tell you about the satanic sect in Woodsend, but I’m not sure my own history is anything to write home about – it’s pretty boring.”

  “Let’s start with what’s easiest for you. Let’s begin with Ruby.”

  While Noel brought him up to speed, Harry made more coffee and periodically asked some questions, nodding to himself. “Yes, I’d read a lot in the papers and of course Michael filled me in as best he could.”

  “Michael said he’d helped you once?”

  “Yes, yes that’s true. I’ll tell you the story because I’m going to need you to level with me in a moment, so if I disclose this, which is very difficult for me personally, I’ll need you to do the same in return, okay?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Michael and I met on a Christian deliverance course in Rome. Michael was in a bad place emotionally because one of his closest friends had recently committed suicide and it had made him extremely vulnerable doing exorcisms. Dangerously so. Not only was he bereaved he was also riddled with guilt – there was a lot of negativity there. I think your friend, Becky, was one of the last people he helped, actually.”

  “And look what that did to him.”

  “Yes, I know. And I’m not sure I’ll ever fully get over it, but that’s what they do, you see? It’s not just about upside down crosses and orgies; not even the repulsive abuse of children or live sacrifices, which is something we know is real and the police can act on. I’m afraid it is the darker world we have to worry about now – the one most people won’t even acknowledge as existing let alone do anything about - because they can’t see it. Try getting people to believe an inhuman force is attacking us and see what reaction you get. We’re bonkers, deluded, religious freaks…and while we’re arguing amongst ourselves, demonic desecration with all its vile perversions is busy deconstructing our very humanity. Which is why I have to ask you to simply trust me.”

  Harry got up to switch the kettle on again. “You know Michael told me as much as he could when we were driving to the hospital to see Kristy that night. He was convinced those idiot Satanists in Woodsend had opened a floodgate, you know?”

  Noel shook his head. “Floodgate?”

  Harry suddenly spun round, his eyes alight. “Oh my word, of course – why didn’t I think?” He put his hands to his face.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Oh dear Lord, a few things might be clicking into place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Harry poured the coffee out. “I’ll come back to it�
� Oh, now that has given me a turn.” He sat down again, putting two mugs of coffee on the table. “Let me just finish what I was telling you though, because it’s relevant and then we can get on and help you quickly.” He glanced at the clock. “Time’s pushing on. Right, where was I? Yes, when I met Michael I’d been a priest for a while but it would be fair to say my faith had never truly been tested, and I guess, in the end, that it just wasn’t strong enough. I performed an exorcism, albeit supervised during the course, and it went badly wrong. If you don’t do these things correctly, you see, to the letter, and you leave a door open then the demons will just keep coming back. Anyway, the woman I tried to help ended up in an asylum. Before slitting her own throat.”

  “Oh man, that’s terrible.”

  “Noel, it was worse than that: she was a woman of God and what happened was a violation of everything she stood for, had worked for and held precious. I will carry the burden on my conscience for the rest of my life.”

  “Can I ask how it went wrong?”

  “The demonic force possessing her wouldn’t go. I was there for three days to the point of exhaustion. And then on the fourth day she persuaded me it had gone and threw her arms around me. I hugged her back, too slow to realise she was attempting to seduce me. And–” Now it was Harry’s turn to look away. “I am ashamed to say my body betrayed me.”

  “You didn’t actually do anything?”

  “No, I didn’t act on it, but the demon inside her knew I had physically responded, and the horrible laughter still haunts me. She, or should I say the demon, then delighted in telling her family, all the medical people, and my colleagues about the incident and I was suspended for a while, told to take a holiday. Michael was the one who took time out to explain deliverance to me a little better. You have to prepare people, you see, including yourself. Man alone cannot drive out demons from a person’s soul – that can only be done by God. Satan wants man to believe he is as powerful as God, which, if we believe that, leaves us defenceless – we are subsequently weakened because the reality is the only power that can ever drive out Satan is God himself, and the devil knows it. I don’t do this for you, you see, God does. But if you have barriers up against Him it may not work.”

  Noel shook his head. “But what have I done wrong? I’m just an ordinary guy who works hard and does a job he believes in, trying to help the most vulnerable people on earth – those who’ve lost their minds. What have I done to deserve this? Don’t tell me it’s because I’m homosexual so the church won’t help me?”

  Harry held his hands up. “Wait, no, no, no! First things first. I am part of the Catholic Church but I am now part of a national Christian deliverance group too. I’m up all hours of the day and night and you may not believe it but we’ve never been busier. We rely on charity and I’ve sold almost all I had to do this. It’s my calling, if you like. So none of this is judgemental, Noel. There is no hidden agenda. My job is to alleviate your suffering as you have asked, and in order to do that I need to prepare you for deliverance to the Lord. If you want me to. If you wish to fully open up. And then I can help you.”

  “What do I tell you?”

  “Tell me about you, your parents, your home, why you’re alone, if you harbour any thoughts that are depressive or angry or rebellious or resentful. These are the negative energies the demonic entity will feed off to grow stronger, you understand.”

  “Okay, I get it, I think. Actually, I had a great childhood – middle class home in a nice area, good school, loads of friends. Then aged about thirteen, maybe fourteen I realised I didn’t fancy girls and went through a bit of a difficult time–” He stopped mid-sentence.

  “Did something happen around that time, Noel? Something significant?”

  “Yes. It’s just come rushing back to me… Oh God, I thought I’d successfully forgotten about this. Oh man, this is hard.”

  “Take your time.”

  “I’m gonna have to just blurt this out because it’s awful…embarrassing… I suppose I had a crush on a particular boy in the sixth form. He was well-built, stocky really, a bit rakish – funny and stunningly good-looking. Well, one day he caught me eyeing him in the changing rooms and the next thing he got me by the hair, dragged me into the showers and beat me to a pulp, stripped me. All the lads were laughing and shouting like it was a fucking gladiator ring, calling me a shirt-lifter, a dirty faggot… Shit, I’ve never told anyone this.” The colour rose in his neck, spreading hotly up to his hairline. “I got moved to another school and my parents started being – how can I describe it – slightly less physical with me.”

  “You felt rejected?”

  “Christ, yes. And certain church-going members of the family told me in no uncertain terms that homosexuality was a sin. I suppose I rejected a church that didn’t want someone like me in it.”

  “And that left you with a legacy of anger and pain?”

  “God, I’m so tired, it’s like all the energy drained out of me just this very second…Um…yes, I suppose it did. Although I have to say I think those people are bigots and I feel sorry for them. I have forgiven and moved on though, I really have.”

  “But you still carry the pain and rejection?”

  Noel’s bloodshot eyes met Harry’s focused, blue stare. “I guess.”

  “Thank you for telling me. That took guts. Now, will you let me help you?”

  “Yes, yes I will.”

  Harry looked at his watch. “Blimey, lunch time already.” Outside the promise of sun had clouded over and light rain spattered against the window. “I’ve got some calls to make but how about you – can you stay here today? Do you have to go to work tonight?”

  “Yes, I can stay if that’s ok – I’m not working tonight.”

  “Good. I’ll put the fire on in the front room and you can lie on the sofa, try to get some rest and think about the things we’ve talked about. Be absolutely clear in your heart and soul about your feelings, Noel. Face up to them and be honest so there’s no negative energy to block your healing. And then we can start giving you that help you need as soon as possible.”

  Noel stood up. “I feel absolutely exhausted. I can hardly walk.”

  Harry had started clearing up, busying himself with checking messages and filling the sink with hot, soapy water. “Get some rest. Shout if you need me.”

  “Thanks, mate. Can I ask you one thing though?”

  Harry looked over his shoulder. “Sure.”

  “What was that you said you’d come back to, about Woodsend having opened a floodgate?”

  Harry resumed washing out cups. “I’m not sure – just that we may have a problem in the church. It may be nothing, but I don’t think so. I really should have put two and two together before now.”

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen

  Drummersgate

  After Noel had gone, Becky flew around the unit picking up the pieces from the night before. It was so unlike Noel to leave handover notes unwritten, drug charts unsigned, and phone messages unreturned; not to mention a ward full of patients kicking off. The list was endless.

  It was almost time for the afternoon shift to take over before she had time to shut the office door and grab a sandwich in peace. What a nightmare. Anyone else and they’d get it in the neck, but Noel…well, if he was going through anything like her own experiences last year he had her full support and more. Massaging her lower back, she grimaced. Hopefully it wasn’t anything like as bad as that; and with Harry’s help he’d soon be fine and could confidently be left in charge while she took maternity leave. Sooner rather than later though, please God, because this was stressful - really physically and mentally tough.

  Cramming the sandwich into her mouth, she quickly tidied the desk and set about filling in the patients’ notes; after which she called in one of the students to double check the drug cupboard with her.

  “It doesn’t add up,” said the student, a male nurse with a goatee, who slopped around with his hands in his pockets.


  Becky frowned. There was indeed a mistake. They went through it all again. Pharmacy would go ballistic. “I think it’s probably a case of someone needing a tramadol and whoever it was forgetting to sign for it.”

  “Haloperidol, as well.”

  “Yes.”

  “Someone’s had too much.”

  “Indeed. Right. Well, if you’d just witness my signature, Ewan, I’ll report it this afternoon.”

  He stared at her for a moment too long, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly, then scrawled his spidery autograph with a flourish and sauntered out again.

  Becky slammed shut the cupboard door. Little prick, looking at her like that.

  Outside it was the kind of golden September afternoon the great romantic poets had eulogised about. She should be relaxing on the terrace back home, drifting off with nothing to do but flick through a magazine and let warm sunshine melt into her skin.

  She began to wash out cups, and when one of the buzzers sounded yet again, this time from the dayroom, she opened the door and yelled for that lazy article with the goatee to go and answer it.

  “Ewan!”

  He was leaning over the reception desk chatting to Security, deliberately ignoring her. She made a hand gesture through the glass pane, along with the mouthed words, “Get that, please.” He took his time, finishing the conversation before ambling over to the day room.

  Becky closed the office door, exhaling slowly through flared nostrils. “Count to ten, Becky, count to ten… Nope can’t do it…Just too sodding tired.”

  After Toby’s call in the early hours of this morning – four o’clock to be precise - she’d fallen into a comatose sleep, the kind she would have killed for seven hours previously, only to be woken again an hour later when the alarm clock shrilled into her brain. Dazed and muggy-headed, she showered and dressed, made breakfast, then walked to the bus stop for the hour long trek to work. Tired didn’t begin to describe it; this was chronic insomnia with a jet lag level of fatigue.