Magda: A Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Trilogy - Book 3

by Sarah England

  “That you are a witch and they will have you out for trial. Magda, you have to run.”

  “What do you care, Mother?”

  Her mother glared. “I lost my only daughter, Magda. Cicely was my own flesh and blood and you took her. But that doesn’t mean to say I don’t care, that I don’t have feelings. I brought you up from being a baby.”

  “You said there were things you hadn’t told me, that I needed to know. Is it just that this cottage is haunted by a witch so people are saying I must be one too? Is that it?”

  “She wasn’t a witch to start with.”

  “Who?”

  “The one afore you.” Her mother checked over her shoulder again and then again, listened for a moment, then said, “Look, there isn’t much time.” She grabbed Magda’s shoulders. “I used to come here, to the woman who lived here. I couldn’t conceive, hadn’t for years and feared I never would. I was desperate but she worked her magic – took locks of hair and mixed her potions, buried them over there by the oaks. When they were coming for her I still hadn’t conceived and so I took her child on – out of kindness for the poor babe, who was only a few months old and such a pretty thing. And because of all she’d done for me.”

  “The child was me, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes. Your mother’s name was Magda so I named you the same in her memory. Her spells had worked, you see? Because only a few weeks after she’d gone, I discovered I was with child. I gave birth to Cicely, and then had my five boys. The Dean family will live on now, and it’s all thanks to her.”

  “So who was my father?”

  “Him at the mill.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, that was the scandal you see, the one no one could know? William Miller had his own woman hanged, calling her a witch and a liar just like all the rest…but you could see – anyone could see…You’ve got those dark, slanted eyes of his–”

  “But, I don’t understand–”

  “Magda was one of the sisters at the abbey. It was a disgrace, so of course they couldn’t marry. And she was barely out of her teens. He ruined her; taking her to the mill like all those other poor children. Oh, he gets rich on those takings, you mark my word.”

  Magda sank against the wall, sliding down.

  Her mother crouched level with her, on her haunches. “Do you think we don’t know how well those nuns live? Do you think we don’t know how they’re paid and who by? It’s him and Ambrose. They take those children and use them for whatever depraved things they do down there in that basement. That’s another reason he wanted her hanged - once he found out some of us were going to her, befriending her… thinking she might tell one of us eventually, I suppose? He’d kept her quiet until then.” She nodded towards the sideboard and the gilt-framed mirror. “Gave her those from his place. Mind you, she never liked the damn things. Said the mirror gave her nightmares. God rest her soul.”

  Magda’s stomach churned with acid.

  “I don’t know how they live with themselves mind, those God-fearing women up at the abbey. They should be praying day and night for what they do.” She glanced at Magda’s bump. “It’ll be Ambrose’s I expect, that child, will it?”

  Magda stared back with hollow eyes.

  “You see now why I couldn’t tell a young girl this story? What goes on at Tanners Dell is evil, Magda. I had to make you go away once I knew what you were playing with. We can’t stop it, though – there’s not one of us in the village who could ever breathe a word. So much as catch William Miller’s eye and next thing you know you’ve got the devil himself to deal with.”

  Magda’s voice seemed to her own ears, to be very far away. She watched one of her small, pale hands reach out to take her mother’s rough, calloused one. “Why didn’t my mother like that mirror?”

  The older woman shrugged. “I’m not sure. I came to her one day and she’d changed, said she’d seen a face in it not her own. It was soon after that the folk in the village started gossiping about her. She told me the parson we had back then had been calling on her, that she’d given him short shrift after he’d come looking for what he shouldn’t, but they said she’d cursed him and a few days later he died and cries of witchcraft went up. I’m guessing William was too close to the flame and, well, it was him who led the mob.”

  A twig cracked nearby and they both swirled round, squinting into the glare of the low autumn sun.

  “Magda, I have to leave now. Take my advice and run. William Miller is a powerful man – a judge now in Doncaster – and he and Ambrose are stirring up a witch hunt so you need to go.”

  “Witch hunt? But they can’t do that. There’s no proof - nothing.”

  “Oh, my dear. ’Tis enough an area is cursed, that people die of hunger and the plague spreads. You have a mole on your thigh – the devil’s mark. And they’re saying you’ve been seen by the orphans in the abbey grounds. One of them, aged five, says he lies with fever because you looked up and gave him the evil eye. There’ve been a lot of deaths in that abbey, a lot of burials in the cemetery. The word of a small child is ample. These are extremely dangerous times, daughter. You have to run for your life.”

  “But where will I go?”

  “The sisters might hide you. They’re your only hope.”

  She hesitated. “But they would not protect me. They don’t protect the children.”

  “Only because he would hang every last one if they ever breathed a word of it.”

  “So why would they help me?”

  “Guilt. For what they let happen to your mother. The abbess…go to her. But go now. Quickly. She remembers. She will hide you.”

  “I–”

  Her mother stood up, her glance darting back to the window. “Go now Magda. If the mob find you they’ll hang you high.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jasmine Cottage.

  October, 2016

  The old couple in the end terrace had been having a bonfire, the acrid smoke from burning leaves still lingering in the foggy night air. It was not unpleasant. Becky sat downstairs with the kitchen window open, delaying bedtime and wondering if Louie would ever come back. Probably not now. Once again Callum had been called away and wouldn’t be home until morning, so here she was facing yet another night alone. A barn owl screeched close by, and she bent to turn down the range. Well, there was no putting it off; if she didn’t lie down soon she’d have to sleep where she fell.

  With considerable trepidation she climbed the stairs. Rarely a night went by now without a pulse-racing terror that woke her soaked in sweat. Every single damned night, and it was wearing her out. If it didn’t sound so silly and far-fetched she could swear the woman in the mirror had slipped into her mind and was haunting her from within. It happened the second she closed her eyes; at first just an awareness similar to that Noel had described, of a body staring down at her from the ceiling; followed swiftly by overwhelming panic, and an urgency to wake up because the white-eyed witch was sinking towards the bed. She could smell mould, decay, and unwashed skin; would move her head from side to side, away from the fetid breath exhaling in her face, the strands of hair swinging onto her forehead, the fingers touching the sheet, pulling it back…

  The entity, floating over her body like a cold mist would then begin to osmose into her body; a feeling of sour malice crawling under the skin with such evil intent it froze her to paralysis. Becoming progressively harder as the fatigue deepened with every passing nightmare, was the fight to surface, wake up, and reach for the light. It left her hyper-ventilating, with her heart racing to near fibrillation. And sure as hell it would happen again tonight.

  Exhausted, Becky reached the landing and peered into the moonlit bedroom. What if she didn’t wake up in time? If she hadn’t the strength left? What would happen then?

  Close to tears she admonished herself. Oh, for Christ’s sake, she could hardly go to a doctor with this. It would be her pregnancy, her hormones, depression and psychosis. Yes, psychotics
thought their demons were real when they weren’t… Yes doctor… three bags full, doctor… I’m taking the tablets you prescribed to knock me out, doctor, which means I won’t wake up in time to stop her possessing me and now I’m certified insane… Thank you, doctor…

  Ignoring the bathroom mirror, she brushed her teeth, cleansed and moisturised, all with her eyes tightly shut. No way was she going to see that woman in the mirror again. No freaking way. Oh dear God, would this ever end? And now Molly was at risk too according to Celeste. Imagine telling the doctor that! Yes, a deceased woman told my mentally ill patient that my child would be attacked by a mythical demon. Wouldn’t they just have the baby off her within hours of being born? A single tear dripped down her cheek and she swiped it away. What in heaven’s name had she ever done to deserve this? But of course the answer to that was clear as day, wasn’t it? Whatever had been sent to attack her had waited patiently, and now Molly’s birth was imminent. Her heart skittered in her chest as the full impact hit her… Wouldn’t that be the ultimate revenge?

  ***

  Keeping all the lights on, Becky got into bed and propped herself against a stack of pillows. It had been a very difficult day and her mind was still whirring. After the contretemps with the deeply unpleasant Leslie Mullins, the first thing she’d done on getting home was call Judy to relate what had happened.

  “I’m not far away, actually,” Judy said from her mobile. “I drove down to Sheffield to see my solicitor and I haven’t set back yet. Well, to be honest I’d like to have a proper chat. I don’t want to drag you out again so how about I come over just for a–”

  “Yes, please,” said Becky. “I think that’d be a great idea.”

  In the end, Judy had stayed for hours, the two women thrashing out their suspicions over countless cups of tea followed by one of Becky’s signature risottos, after which a picture of the situation emerged that neither had expected, and which shook them both to the point of disbelief.

  “If that is the case and our hypothesis is correct,” Becky said, “then as the only member of the original team to survive Ruby’s exorcism, I’m seriously unlikely to come out of this alive, and nor is Molly.”

  Judy’s frown deepened as Becky told her what had happened that afternoon. “And his daughter’s seeing Toby,” she said. “She behaved quite oddly when she was here, as well. And now Toby’s refusing to take my calls. No, something isn’t right – it isn’t adding up. There’s something we’re missing but I just don’t know what.”

  Judy nodded. “Well, I’m determined Alice will not be left alone with Leslie Mullins. Actually, I had my suspicions from the start – not I might add that he was involved in Satanism – just that I didn’t feel he was either competent or caring enough. Anyway, as you can imagine I’m taking legal action concerning his wholly false allegations. I have not practised hypnosis. Nor have I asked her leading questions: Alice drew and re-enacted what happened to her totally voluntarily, and was only just beginning to open up.”

  Becky nodded. “His accusations are without foundation. But why would he do that? I hope to God he isn’t in on this sect. Jesus Christ. Do you think he could be?”

  Judy blanched visibly. “Alice’s programming seems to be more sophisticated than Ruby’s, doesn’t it?”

  Becky nodded. “So as the organisation grew in size they recruited more knowledgeable members? Maybe Crispin Morrow knew enough but people like Mullins specialise in this stuff. He knows exactly how to treat Alice, which is why he’s doing the opposite.”

  “That would be my guess. I think the paedophile ring attracted people involved in various professions, and with the aid of the internet started to include some serious players. So yes, someone knew that children protect themselves with disassociation, and they also knew exactly how to manipulate that. For example, they encourage the child to tell a person dressed up as a nurse or a policeman. That person would have said things like, ‘You’re safe now. You can tell me everything, I want to help you.’ The trusting child would tearfully spill the beans and subsequently be punished unimaginably for the betrayal. We would be talking about having to kill another child; or be locked in a coffin full of spiders and snakes for hours. Maybe days.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “So the lesson is learned and learned well: you must never ever trust anyone, especially in a uniform. There are eyes everywhere. We see you. We read your thoughts. We have a micro-chip in your brain that will relay all your thoughts to the Fathers. This is further complicated by implanting codes that will make the victim return home and ‘tell’ – such as a certain set of numbers or a set day. And this is what got me fired I think. I couldn’t say over the phone but I saw a drawing on the wall at the same time Alice saw it. It was a rose on a stem with one leaf. I also saw the girl who did it. Someone must have let her in.”

  “Was it the same one as before? Did you recognise her?”

  “Yes. I’d put my life on it.”

  “Young. Dark hair. Skinny?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever go into Mullins’ office on the ground floor and see his family photos?”

  “Once but I can’t say I looked at the photos.”

  “Because that does sound like his daughter, Amy.”

  “She’s probably a victim too, you know? Or a programmer. All of which explains that once I saw what triggered Alice’s meltdown and who did it, they would want me the hell out of there.”

  “But why are they coming for Alice? I mean, what can she possibly do to them?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering. They certainly want her back in their clutches, which is why of course, she was fostered out. It’s obviously a lot harder to get her out of a secure unit swarming with nurses and security cameras. I really must have put a spanner in the works. I still don’t see why they would want her back, though? They’ve made it so she can’t talk and put one of their own in to guard her, so as you say she’s hardly likely to tell her story.”

  “I suppose a lot of work was put into her. If she’s like Ruby she’s a medium too – a channel for all those dark spirits they want to invoke?”

  “Hmmm… Becky, I’ve only skimmed the surface telling you about the work I did with Alice. Don’t be… Oh God I’m not even sure… Well yes, yes, I have to. Look, nearly all of what she drew and re-enacted was to do with dolls, hangings, beheadings and blood-letting. I am pretty sure that children kill other children in that sect – that’s what binds them into believing they are just as evil as their captors. And I’m also sure they’re forced to torture each other. Stay with me on this. Alice’s baptism, which you say was foiled mostly by you and Toby, would have been planned for her thirteenth year, and that, I’m afraid, might well include the murder and cannibalism of a new-born. They use them all the time.”

  The colour drained from Becky’s face.

  “The thing is, Alice repeatedly drew a picture of a demonic looking woman with bulbous, white eyes; supposedly a demon woman from biblical times who brings death to pregnant women and the new-born. I never believed in all that tommyrot but these people do and that’s what’s worrying. Anyway, it’s just occurring to me that part of Alice is programmed to get out of there for a certain date and she knows where to go and why. A part of her is going to do it and she will be helped. I know she’s been told that when she receives a rose it is her call to go.”

  “Does she have to physically receive one?”

  “I’ve told Isobel not to pass it on if one comes for her. Issy knows how serious this is.”

  Becky sat in shocked silence, digesting the implications.

  Judy squeezed her hand. “I can only guess it’s revenge for exposing the cult in Tanners Dell. Maybe the blood of an enemy’s child would enhance their black magic?”

  Becky’s hands were shaking so badly now that Judy clasped them in her own. “I’ve been successfully stopped from helping Alice. My only hope is that Isobel and her team keep her safe while you and I figure out what to do next. And t
his is all supposition, of course. You have every right to tell me to leave if I’ve scared you half to death.”

  Becky almost laughed. The flesh and blood threats she could cope with. “No. No, stay. There’s a whole lot of stuff I think you ought to know, anyway.”

  After another strong cup of tea – how she’d longed to open a bottle of merlot – she made the risotto and told Judy just what had happened to the team following Ruby’s hypnosis at the tail end of last year. “So you see why I don’t take any of this lightly.”

  “All those coincidences people just write off…I can’t tell you how many accidents I’ve had recently , how many calls I’ve had taking me away from Alice on false pretences, and how many illnesses and bad dreams left me so I couldn’t function properly.”

  “Bad dreams?”

  “Nightmares, to be more precise – that there’s someone in the room watching me while I sleep. I can smell them. It’s like cauterised flesh or extremely strong tobacco smoke, or a filthy public toilet. Honestly, I sometimes think I’m going mad.

  “You’re not. Judy. Do you want to stay here tonight? I’d be ever so grateful if you were in the next room.”

  “No, love. But thank you, it’s really kind.”

  “No, it’s utterly selfish actually, but I know what you mean – it’s nice to wake up in your own bed.”

  “Becky, all I can do is my level best to get reinstated and offer you my listening ear at all times – any time of the day or night. If you need me, I’m there. It’s going to be difficult getting to Alice now, but Isobel’s agreed to meet me after work so I’ll keep tabs on her that way. What about you? When are you due?”

  “Not for ages. November.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Doncaster. I was only going to take the minimum time off but it’s been harder, physically, than I thought, so I’ve booked annual leave to run into it. I’ve finished now. Bit of a concern because Noel’s not well, but I’ve hired an agency nurse, Sandi, who seems efficient enough; and our psychologist, Amanda, is back so at least Ruby’s got someone she can relate to. Frankly, it’s a godsend Amanda turned up like she did.”