“I’d be inclined to agree,” said Sammie, extremely calm for a child with a blade against his throat. “Such barbaric actions, Michael. I’m embarrassed for you.”
Mike grabbed Sammie by the scruff of his neck and got him in a classic hostage-taking chokehold. He held the malicious-looking combat knife beneath the boy’s left eyeball. “You just keep your goddamn mouth closed, you little shit. Maybe I should take your eye out like you tried to do to me.”
Jessica screamed at Mike not to. Angela wasn’t sure if he was bluffing or had totally lost it. From the look of his trembling hands and darting glances, it didn’t seem like Mike was in full control of himself. His usually cool demeanour had slipped, falling away like a satin sheet from an unveiled painting. All that was left was a frantic shell of a man.
“Let’s not do anything hasty,” Angela said. “We’re all on edge with what’s been happening around here. You must be even more upset about Graham’s death seeing as he was your colleague. Is that what this is about? Do you hold Sammie responsible?”
Mike laughed at them. “He is responsible. What the fuck do you think’s been going on around here? Open your eyes, idiots.”
“What do you mean?” Angela asked.
“Wake up,” Mike shouted at them. “This is all because of Sammie. He’s not a boy. He’s more than that – so much more. He is his father’s son, and his father was a great man.”
“You mean Joseph?” asked Tim.
Mike laughed. “No, I do not. Tell them, Jessica. Tell them what a whore you are.”
Jessica was distraught. Whether it was due to Mike’s accusations or because her son was in peril was unclear. Probably it was both. “How do you know?” she asked Mike in a voice that had become very submissive. “How do you know that?”
“Mommie? What is the nasty man talking about?”
“I’m sorry, Sammie.” Jessica looked at Angela and Tim and began to explain. “When I met Joseph I was just a young woman and he was always away at his father’s beck and call. I used to get lonely.”
“I think I see where this is going,” Tim commented.
“I used to go to bars,” Jessica admitted. “I used to…used to pick up men and bring them home.” Jessica wiped a tear from her eye. “But it was hardly ever. Once in a blue moon.”
“Well turns out it was often enough for you to get pregnant by another man,” said Mike spitefully.
“Who was it?” Angela asked. “Who is Sammie’s father?”
“A stranger. I…I met him only once. He was just some charmer with an Irish accent and I couldn’t resist. I fell pregnant and that was the last time I ever…you know, cheated on Joseph.”
Angela patted her on the back. “We all commit sin, Jessica. It’s whether or not we repent that truly matters.”
Mike sniggered. “Oh, I don’t think you’d be so forgiving if you knew the full story.”
“Let my son go!” said Jessica, managing to regain some of her resolve. She took a step forward and pointed her finger. “You’re finished, Mike. By the time I’m through with you, you won’t be able to show your face in public ever again. You’re lucky I don’t have you killed.”
Mike chuckled. “Now that sounds more like it, darling. Black Remedy would be ecstatic to hear you talking like that.”
Jessica stared daggers at him. “Those days are over. My husband was dedicated to cleaning the company up. I’m going to finish what he started.”
“Think you might find some opposition there; most notably from your precious son. The company will be his one day and you can trust me when I tell you his methods are going to differ from yours and Joseph’s.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mike, but you have three seconds to let go of my son before I come over there and rip you apart.”
Mike wrapped his arm tighter around Sammie’s neck and pointed the knife at Jessica. “You stay back, bitch!”
“What did you call me?”
“I called you a bitch. The only reason you’re anything is because you sucked off a rich guy good enough that he married you.”
“How dare you!” Jessica ran at Mike with her fingernails outstretched like claws.
Mike threw Sammie against the bar, his head cracking against the thick wooden surface. Then he readied himself for Jessica’s attack: legs apart, shoulders wide, knife pointed out in front of him. Their bodies collided in a flurry of limbs. Jessica’s nails swiped furiously at Mike’s face, drawing blood, but Mike just smiled.
Suddenly Jessica’s ferocity diminished. Her flailing arms weakened, eventually falling to her sides.
Angela’s breath caught in her chest when Jessica turned around to face her. Blood mushroomed through the woman’s blouse, its central point emanating from a spot inches above her heart.
Mike still clutched the combat knife in his hands, but now it was dripping red – soaked with Jessica’s blood.
Jessica reached out a hand to Angela despite being several feet away. She didn’t know why, but Angela couldn’t help herself from reaching back with her own hand, as if she could somehow stretch her limbs and pull the woman over to her. Instead, Jessica fell to her knees before slumping onto her side and bleeding out on the floor.
Angela looked down at Jessica’s body and then stared at Mike in disbelief. “What have you done?”
Mike huffed. “What I needed to. Now I’m going to end this whole fucking thing. Screw the Black Strand, screw this house, and most of all, screw this kid.” Mike wiped the combat knife off on his clothing and then looked down at Sammie who was unconscious against the bar. Mike strolled over to him and held the knife with the tip pointing downwards towards his body. “Time to die, you little bastard.”
Angela screamed out, “No!” But it was too late. She would never make it over to Mike in time to keep him from delving the knife into Sammie’s soft torso. He was going to kill the boy.
Mike rose the knife up above his head and brought it down hard.
An explosion rang out behind Angela that funnelled in through her ears and filled her skull. It left her unable to hear anything but ringing.
The knife fell to the ground, skittering across the tiles. Thankfully it never reached its target.
The look on Mike’s face was one of stunned surprise. There was a small well of blood forming in the very centre of his chest. Then another explosion sounded and his head tore apart. Mike’s limp body fell to the floor.
Frank pushed past Angela and made his way across the piano lounge until he was standing right over Mike’s body. He fired the gun one more time. The bullet finished off what was left of Mike’s head.
After a few seconds had passed, during which Frank stared silently at the remains of the man he’d just killed, he finally turned around then slumped against the nearest table. It was clear Frank was hurt but before he collapsed completely, he was still able to say one last thing: “Can’t leave you people alone for a minute, can I?”
CHAPTER THRTY-SIX
Angela and Tim managed to prop Frank up on a chair. He was woozy but still conscious.
Angela put a hand against his cheek; it was like a block of ice. “Frank, what happened to you?”
Frank’s eyes fluttered and then focused. “Car crash. I flipped into a ditch. Just got out before the whole thing went up in flames.”
Angela poured him a scotch from a bottle on the table. “It’s a miracle you’re alive. How did you get back here?”
“Walked.”
“You walked?” Tim asked incredulously. “You got up and walked home after flipping your car into a ditch?”
Frank nodded weakly. “I was…seeing things. I just started walking. I didn’t even know where I was going, but somehow I ended up back here.”
“Good thing too,” Tim said, looking down at Mike’s bloodied corpse. “You saved the day.”
Frank creased his brow as if he had a headache. “What the hell was Mike doing anyway? Why was he trying to hurt Sammie?”
“I don’t know,” Angela admitted truthfully. “He just lost it. Stabbed Jessica and was going to do the same to her son.”
Frank’s bloodshot eyes went wide. “He stabbed Jessica?” He leapt up from the chair and searched the darkened room, shoving aside tables as he checked each shadowy corner. When his gaze fell upon Jessica’s body beside the bar, he flung himself down beside her. He cradled her limp form in his arms. “Jessica! Jessica, wake up.”
Angela stepped over Mike’s body and crouched down beside Frank. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”
“No, she’s not,” Frank growled. “We just need to get help.”
Angela put a hand on Frank’s shoulder and tried to ease him away, but he was having none of it; he ignored her as if she were a pestering fly. Tenderly, he placed his hand against Jessica’s cheek.
Jessica’s eyes opened.
She coughed, spluttered. Flecks of blood spewed out of her mouth.
Frank shuddered visibly with relief. “Jessica! Thank God. We’re going to get you help. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”
Jessica’s eyes were dilated and it was hard to tell exactly what she was seeing – if she was seeing anything at all. “Frank,” she muttered. “Is that you?”
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s me.”
“I can’t feel anything. I-I…”
“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get help. Try not to talk.”
Angela knew that no help would get there quick enough. Jessica might be alive right now, but it was temporary. Angela could already hear the chain stoking of her lungs. The woman would be dead within minutes.
Jessica’s pupils were like pinpricks as they looked up at Frank. “F-Frank…listen to me.”
Frank finally seemed to realise that their time together was short. He stayed quiet as Jessica spoke her final words.
“Promise me that…you will look after Sammie. Promise me…
Frank blinked away tears, wept. The emotion seemed foreign on his strong, angular face. “I promise you, Jessica,” he vowed. “I swear to you that I will always keep him safe.”
There was silence as they all waited for Jessica’s next words, but she was gone.
Angela placed her hand on Frank’s shoulder again and this time he allowed her to pull him away. “I’m sorry, Frank. She’s in a better place now.”
Frank said nothing.
Angela looked down at Jessica and thought that the woman finally seemed at peace. Since she’d arrived at the house, Jessica had appeared to be a highly-strung, deeply-troubled person. At least now her troubles were over.
“Hey,” said Tim, breaking the silence. “How did you get inside the house, Frank?”
Frank shrugged, as if the question was stupid. “How do you think? I came in through the front door.”
Angela and Tim looked at each other. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. This was their chance to escape. As much as Angela wanted to stay and help Sammie, right now they needed to reach the authorities. They couldn’t fail to report the presence of three dead bodies.
“Come on,” said Tim. “We can finally get out of here.”
Angela didn’t argue. She and Tim hurried out of the piano lounge and back into the foyer. Frank stayed behind with Jessica, cradling her in his arms and whispering things that were known only to him.
In the foyer, Angela faced an amazing sight: the front door hanging wide open. They were finally free of the infernal house.
We can finally get out of here before anybody else is hurt.
Tim grabbed Angela’s arm. “Come on,” he said.
They sprinted towards the door, the fresh air outside a simple yet irresistible goal.
Angela hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted out of the house until now. The thought of hurtling down the front steps and onto the driveway felt like a veil of malignant oppression lifting from her face. She would return to help Sammie, but right now she needed to get the hell out of Raymeady Manor. They needed to regroup.
Angela picked up speed, her feet cracking down on the marble floor, each step taking her agonisingly closer to freedom. In only a few seconds she would be outside, breathing fresh air away from the house.
Just a few more steps.
Angela reached out for the door just as it slammed shut. Angela couldn’t stop her sprint and went hurtling into it, bashing one elbow and both her knees against the thick wood. She bounced back and skidded along the marble on her back. Tim went over the top of her and ended up on the floor as well. For a moment the two of them just lay there, stunned.
“What the fuck?” Tim shouted angrily as he struggled back to his feet. He extended a hand to Angela and helped her back to her feet. Then he went over to the door.
“It’s sealed again, isn’t it?” Angela said, already knowing the answer.
Tim tried the door handle, rattled it, shook it. Kicked it. He turned around and looked at her, his skin ghostly pale in the moonlight. “Yeah, it’s locked. Looks like we’re still stuck here.”
“Too bad Mike is dead. If there was one person that knew what was going on here it was him.”
Tim nodded. “He was pretty convinced that Sammie was involved, too, but I guess we’ve already come to that conclusion.”
“He mentioned Joseph not being Sammie’s real father. You think maybe it has something to do with Black Remedy? Maybe they killed Joseph and had Mike kill Jessica so that Sammie would inherit the company. Then they could prove he was illegitimate and take the shares away from him.”
Tim frowned. “You think this whole thing is just some sort of power play?”
“Maybe. The whole house could be rigged. Mike could have been controlling everything that’s happened. There might not be anything unnatural going on at all. Maybe we’ve been played.”
Tim seemed to like the idea. It was no doubt within his usual realms of being a ghost hunter/debunker. He latched onto the idea and ran with it. “Yeah, and the front door could be on electronically controlled hinges. It’s being held shut mechanically. After what we’ve seen here, I have to admit that the supernatural is a possibility, but I’m still always happier to look for the rational explanation and this seems like it. I bet that arsehole, Graham, was in on the whole thing, too, as Mike’s partner. Don’t ask me where he got the whole backwards man costume from, but enough money can get you anything.”
“That doesn’t explain the Ouija board or the glass shards making messages in the TV room. Also, what part are we supposed to play in all this? Why do we need to be here if the plan was just to eliminate Sammie’s parents?”
“That wasn’t part of the plan. Jessica called us because she didn’t know what was going on, and now we’re just stuck in the middle.”
“Or,” Angela said, “we’re here as witnesses; a cover story.”
“So you think this Chamuel is just a fabrication?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t know what crap you two are talking about,” said Frank as he entered the foyer, “but you’re forgetting one thing.”
“Oh,” said Tim. “What is that?
“What’s wrong with Sammie? If you’re suggesting that a ten year old boy is part of a conspiracy to kill his parents then you’re both crazier than I thought. I know this family. Joseph offered me a job when I was at a low point, just about ready to throw in the towel. I have dedicated my life to them since then; I know them. Whatever made Sammie ill, made him change like he has, is not down to a conspiracy. You were brought here to help Jessica’s son, and that is exactly what you are going to do. I promised I would look after him, to keep him safe. I intend to do just that.”
Angela was as confused as she’d ever been. Is there evil in this house, or is it just the machinations of evil men? The only thing Angela had confidence in was that Sammie was just an innocent boy.
An innocent boy that needs rescuing.
“Okay,” said Angela, adjusting her collar. “Let’s figure this thing out, once and for all. It’s time for an
other exorcism.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“What exactly are you intending to do?” Frank asked Angela in the piano room. Tim had carried Sammie out into the foyer while they talked. “Haven’t you already tried this?”
“No,” said Angela. “In fact I have never tried this. A blood exorcism is very dangerous, but it’s the only option left. If we are all in agreement that Sammie is…I’m just going to say the word, possessed…then this is what I have to do. The entity inside of him – this Chamuel – was too powerful to expel with the normal Rite of Exorcism. We have to go deeper.”
Frank crossed his arms. “Deeper? I don’t like the sound of that. I won’t allow you to harm Sammie.”
“Please, understand,” said Angela, “that my only intention is to help Sammie. I am not in the business of hurting people unnecessarily.”
“It’s when it is necessary that worries me,” said Frank.
Angela looked at the man and actually felt sorry for him. Despite his strength and abilities, his job to protect the Raymeady family had been a complete failure. It was obvious that the burden weighed heavy on his soul. “Look, Frank,” she said. “I want to see Sammie healthy again, a normal little boy. I want exactly the same as you. Let me do what I need to do, okay?”
Frank swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down at the floor. “Fine. Just help him. I can’t take any more of this.”
Angela went over to Frank and took his hand in hers. She looked him in the eye. “We’re going to sort this, Frank, I promise you. Let’s get Sammie back to his room and we’ll get set up.”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Angela left the piano bar and the dead bodies of Mike and Jessica, and re-joined Tim in the foyer. He had taken Sammie out with him, away from the bloodshed. It was clear, though, that he was uncomfortable being alone with the child. He seemed relieved to see Angela and Frank return.
“Everything okay out here?” she asked him.
Tim shot a sideways glance at Sammie, who was awake again and stood staring out of a nearby window, humming a quiet tune. “Yeah, as well as can be expected. Kid’s just been standing there, staring out at the moon. Hasn’t said a single word; just humming that creepy song.”
Sam Page 19
