Army of Angels

by Marcus Brown

  “Stop who?” She was distracted by the constant tapping. “Please, Sand. Stop tapping. I can’t think straight.”

  “Juliet.” She stopped tapping. “It’s all going to start again. Let me in.”

  “You’re not making any sense.” Hilary shook her head frantically, as though trying to dislodge the image of what was standing before her, only separated by the glass. “No. I’m not letting you in. You’re not my Sandra.”

  “Open the door, please,” Sandra shouted. She sounded scared. “It really is me, Hilary.”

  “My Sandra never called me Hilary, so who are you really?”

  Sandra pressed her face up against the glass and began to lick her cracked and scabby lips. “Tick tock,” she whispered.

  Hilary shrieked and staggered backwards. She pushed her hand against her mouth and choked back vomit.

  “No, no, no,” she screamed through the glass. “Not you.”

  “You’re my best friend. I miss you and you’re the only one who can help me now.” Sandra smiled again, revealing her broken and rotted teeth. “I don’t have much time.”

  Hilary felt as though her heart had shattered into a million pieces and grabbed at the wall to steady herself, fearing she was going to collapse.

  Sandra squashed her face against the glass and began the incessant tapping again. Hilary stepped back further and steadied herself. Breathe.

  “Tick tock,” Sandra repeated.

  Sandra was still her best friend. Maybe the police were right, and she had suffered some sort of breakdown. She couldn’t turn her back on her.

  Drawn back to the glass, she approached cautiously.

  “Look at me, Sand and tell me what happened to you.”

  “I couldn’t get away. I tried, but she was too strong.”

  I need to see her eyes.

  “Move the hair away from your face. I want you to look at me, and then I’ll open the door.”

  “I don’t want you to see.”

  “Show me,” Hilary demanded. “You’re my best friend and I love you.”

  “You won’t love me if I show you.”

  Chills ran down Hilary’s spine.

  She shuddered as Sandra bowed her head, stepped backwards and retreated into the shadows.

  “Don’t go,” Hilary begged, her fingers brushing the lock. Don’t open the door, all her senses screamed.

  Sandra stopped.

  “Come back,” Hilary begged.

  Sandra turned around.

  “Are you ready?” Sandra asked, stepping quickly up to the glass. She watched as Sandra moved the hair out of her face and lifted her head slightly.

  “Yes, show me, and I’ll let you in.”

  Sandra began to giggle again, sending shivers down Hilary’s spine.

  She lifted her head up to the light. “Do you like what you see?”

  Hilary jumped back from the window and screamed, hiding her face in her hands. “You’re not real.”

  The light cast from the table lamp illuminated Sandra’s face.

  Sandra tapped the glass again. “Look at me, Hilary.”

  “No, no, I don’t wanna see.”

  “Look at me,” Sandra demanded, banging her hand against the glass. Hilary jumped again and shrieked. “Let me in.”

  Hilary approached the glass.

  “Now, do you see why I can’t look at you?” Sandra cackled like a witch, tapping the glass frantically.

  Hilary felt the floor rush up to meet her.

  Chapter Eight

  “For Christ’s sake, Tim, don’t tell me I’m imagining things or I’m going to scream.” Hilary was losing patience trying to convince her husband she hadn’t been dreaming. “I know it was her. We have to call the Police.”

  “Hilary, calm down and listen to me before you go and get yourself in trouble for wasting police time.” He grabbed hold of her hand to try and offer some comfort. “What you’re saying is crazy. Sandra’s been missing for six months. Why would she come back here and just vanish again? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know, but she was there. I swear it.” She shot him a look that required no warning.

  “I think you want to believe it was her and understand totally. I know how much you love and miss her, but it wasn’t Sandra and deep down you know that.”

  She could feel the anger building. “If there was nobody there, and I’m imagining it like you say, then explain that,” she said, striding towards the rear door and pointing to the hand marks on the outside of the glass. “Go on, smart arse. Explain that to me, or am I imagining those footprints in the soil too?”

  “Okay,” he replied, staring at the hand print on the door. “Saying I do believe you, and Sandra was here tonight. What do you think happened to her, and where’s she been?”

  “She said she was at the lane, waiting for me, but I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “And why didn’t you let her in?” He looked at her with a curious expression. “If she’d been outside, you’d have unlocked that door in a heartbeat. Come on, Hilary, I know you better than this. You’ve been so stressed since she went away. I get it – you want so badly for her to come home and...”

  “Don’t psychoanalyse me, Tim,” Hilary interrupted, furious he was trying to convince her she’d imagined it. “I can’t stand it.”

  “I’m not trying to.”

  “You make it sound like she took herself off for an extended holiday to the Caribbean or something. I know her better than I know myself, Tim, and she wouldn’t disappear and leave me worrying like this. Not her. I know something bad has happened and it’s got something to do with that house.”

  “Not this again,” Tim said, sounding frustrated. “Sandra was obsessed with that place until the day she disappeared and look how that turned out – nobody has seen her since. Listen to me, I’m begging you…” He paused, obviously choosing his words carefully. “…I love you more than life itself, you know that, right?” He tried to keep calm. “But I can’t ignore what’s happening here. You need help. You’re seeing things that can’t possibly be real.”

  “I know she was here, and I mistakenly thought if anybody would believe me, it’d be you.”

  “But it’s not real and deep down you know that. Sandra’s gone and the sooner you accept it the better off we’ll both be. The police have searched for her and she doesn’t want to be found. She hasn’t used any of her credit cards and her bank account hasn’t been accessed, not once. I’m not saying something bad has happened, but she wasn’t thinking straight, you told me that yourself. All that business with her sister affected her more than she ever admitted. Maybe she just needs some time out to get her head together. When she does, she’ll come back.”

  “Sandra came to terms with Sarah’s disappearance a long time ago, trust me,” Hilary replied.

  “I didn’t know Sarah, but I know Sandra and really believe she’s just trying to get herself together.” Tim sounded resolute in his opinion.

  “She wouldn’t stay away. Especially not after the accident. She may have hated him at the end, but she would have been at his funeral.”

  “What makes you think she even knows what happened to Nathan?”

  “It was all over the news for weeks after. The Curse of Promised Land Lane… don’t you remember that stupid headline?” Hilary paused for a few seconds, seemingly lost in her memories. “Of course, she’d have seen it, everybody did. First that kid is found dead, Rachel goes missing as well, just like Sarah did all those years ago, and then Sandra’s nowhere to be seen. The only thing left was her phone. A month later her husband is killed in a so-called car accident. It’s that house, Tim. I know it.”

  “Hilary, please. You’re being irrational…”

  “Sandra was right,” Hilary interjected. “Something weird is going on there, and she got too close to whatever it was, and they had to silence her somehow. I need to find out what’s going on.”

  “Who are you talking about? It’s not some
vast conspiracy against Sandra Miller, the glorious prizewinning reporter. This is pure madness. You can’t go back there, Hilary. I absolutely forbid it! Look what happened the last time you went there and caused trouble.”

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “You were arrested for trespassing, breaching the peace and assaulting a police officer. You were forced to step down as Brown Owl because of it.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, in defence of her actions. “The stuck-up bitch overreacted.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t press charges and you weren’t thrown in jail.”

  “It was a lot of fuss over nothing,” Hilary said, still embarrassed about being dragged away in handcuffs.

  “You assaulted a police officer for God’s sake. That wasn’t nothing Hilary. It’s only the fact he thought you were round the twist that you weren’t charged.”

  “I didn’t mean to hit him. He grabbed me from behind and frightened me, and I lashed out, that’s all. Why are you trying to make it out to be more than it was?”

  Tim held her gently by the shoulders. “That’s exactly it. Don't you see? This isn't like you. You’ve lost your best friend, but all this is just your conscience playing tricks–you feel guilty for not going back to the lane with her and your mind has concocted this visit, or whatever it is you wish to call it, to ease how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m warning you,” she replied. “Don’t you dare.” Her voice rose several octaves. “I’m not fucking crazy and know full well who was stood on the other side of that glass.”

  “All right then, if you’re not seeing things, explain it to me.”

  “Explain what?”

  “Why you’d leave your best friend outside in a thunder storm–tapping on that glass, begging to come in, yet you refused. Come on Hilary, do you really expect me to believe that? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “But…”

  “But, nothing Hilary. You’re telling me Sandra was stood a few feet away from you, literally on the other side of that glass,” he said pointing to the doors, “covered in dirt, with no…”

  “Eyes.” Hilary interrupted. “She had no eyes.”

  “Is that really what you’re telling me?”

  “You’re making me sound crazy,” Hilary protested.

  “You’re making yourself sound crazy and I’m scared for you.”

  “She was there, Tim, I swear it.”

  “Listen to yourself, please. If she had no eyes, how the bloody hell did she find her way here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Perhaps she left her guide dog in the front garden,” he stated sardonically. “Did she have a white stick?”

  “Don’t be so fucking facetious.”

  “I’m being realistic,” he roared, stepping back, looking surprised to have lost his temper.

  She glared at him.

  “One of us has to be. I’m just trying to make you see sense.” He lowered his voice. “There’s no way you’d have left your best friend outside if she looked as bad as you say she did. No way, and nothing you say will convince me of that.”

  Hilary blinked back another bout of tears as Tim moved away and sat on the sofa on the other side of the room.

  He held his head in his hands. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I love you with all my heart, but this is crazy. I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

  “Well, if that’s how you feel, why don’t you go stay with your parents for a few days. Give us both a break.”

  “You’re not serious?” He seemed dazed by her reaction.

  “Deadly serious,” she barked. “Go and pack your bags.” Her voice cracked as she marched out of the room. “I want you out.”

  Chapter Nine

  Juliet Oswell watched the delivery driver struggle to haul the large crate into the sunlit hallway.

  She smiled upon seeing the postmark–the label clearly showing it had been flown in from Mexico City.

  “This should have been a two-man job love,” he huffed, trying to catch his breath.

  “Logistics has never held much interest for me,” she said brushing off his remark. Juliet faked a yawn, hoping he would notice she was bored of his inane chatter and leave.

  “Where do you want me to put it?”

  “Just leave it there.” She pointed to the floor then waved her hand dismissively.

  He left the box outside the living room door and pulled the electronic POD machine from his back pocket. “Sign here, Miss…”

  “Oswell.” She squiggled an unrecognizable signature onto the green screen with her claw like crimson red finger nail.

  “Thank you, Miss Oswell. Have a good day.”

  “Goodbye.”

  He’d barely walked out of the front door when she slammed it behind him.

  “Imbecile,” she said out loud and eyed the crate, eager to tear it open and finally get her hands on the contents within.

  She ripped the nailed down lid from the crate with her bare hands and smiled, clutching the inverted cross she wore on a chain around her neck.

  “Now, I will avenge you, my sister,” she said triumphantly. Reaching in, she pulled out a smaller package covered in bubblewrap.

  Tearing at the plastic, she smiled as a partially covered blue eye opened and stared back at her.

  “There you are, my beautiful one,” she said, joyously, tearing the rest of the wrapping from the doll, admiring its beauty. “You’re just as I remembered.”

  The doll whispered back to her. “You didn’t forget me.”

  “I had to have you,” Juliet whispered as she hugged the doll close to her chest. “What would you like me to call you?” she asked.

  “My name is Mabel,” the doll whispered back.

  “That’s a pretty name,” she said. “Mabel. Yes, that'll do quite nicely. I’ve always liked that name.”

  “Thank you, mistress,” Mabel whispered.

  She kissed the doll on its cold forehead and listened as whispers shattered the silence. The other dolls begging for freedom, tired of being locked inside their plastic wrapped prisons.

  “SILENCE,” she roared. “Your time will come.”

  The whispering ceased instantly.

  Juliet headed towards the stairs carrying Mabel close to her breast. She reached the summit of steps, turned and surveyed her surroundings from the landing. She’d always loved this house and wished her sister, Samantha, was beside her. Soon, she thought.

  She forced open the doorway that led to the attic, the reek of damp air offending her nostrils. Anxious to get to work, she stomped up the stairs and through the attic door, heading for the built-in cupboard at the far end of the room. It had been freshly plastered when Dianne Gallagher had bought the property many years before, but work had been abandoned when she fled to Ireland after Maisie attacked her. The secret room had never been discovered.

  She sniffed the air, picking up the faint scent of Samantha, and grinned, silently applauding her sisters’ genius in turning her sniveling daughter into a creature of the dark. It was a shame Maisie’s reign of terror was cut cruelly short before she had chance to break the bonds that bound her to this house. Sadly, her weak-willed father had come back from the heavens to claim her, taking David Price with them.

  “I’ll finish what you started, my dear sister,” she said, as the words echoed around the empty room. “Then, I’ll bring you back, and together, we’ll destroy this world and our kind will reign once more.”

  Juliet pulled a lever hidden inside the cupboard and waited as the false wall slowly moved back, allowing her to enter.

  She spied the woman cowering in the corner of the room. Her knees pulled up to her chest and her dirty hair hung limp and covered her face.

  Juliet grinned as the smell filled her nostrils. She caught a whiff of the rank air, relishing the stench of the slowly decomposing human body before her,

  She walked over to the corner of the room.

  “
Let me see your pretty face,” she ordered.

  “Why? So, you can mock me?” She lifted her face as ordered.

  Juliet laughed. “Because I like to admire my handiwork.” She knelt and moved the dirty hair from Sandra’s face. Caressing her cold dead cheek, she smiled.

  The skin around the dark cavities where Sandra’s eyes once sat looked angry and bloody.

  “Why won’t you release me?” Sandra asked.

  “Because I haven’t finished with you yet, and very soon, there’s somebody I wish you to meet,” Juliet replied.

  “I won’t help you anymore.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, reaching for a jar filled with a cloudy liquid. She swirled it around and chuckled as two eyes bounced off the side of the glass jar. “An eye for an eye.” Juliet giggled girlishly. “I always liked that part of the Bible.”

  Juliet cast her mind back six months. It was the first time she’d come face to face with Sandra Miller.

  Orgasmic shivers sailed through her.

  She watched, cloaked by powerful magic, as Mark Whitmore appeared and battled for his beloved child’s soul, before taking her with him into the light.

  Juliet’s instincts told her to reveal herself and attack, but Mark was too strong, and she knew he was protected by higher powers. Instead she focused her rage on the future. Mark, Maisie and David may have escaped her wrath but the simpering woman wandering aimlessly through the house would pay dearly.

  Juliet was still cloaked by magic and crept up on Sandra.

  “You frightened me,” Sandra said, sounding alarmed.

  “Did I? Oh good, I’m so pleased! That was my intention after all,” Juliet replied. She recalled bending down and picking up the familiar doll and brushing her finger against its cold cheek. She was amazed it had survived throughout the years. It had been a long time since she had taken it from the little girl on the island all those years earlier.

  “Who are you?” Sandra quizzed. “And what are you doing in this house?”

  “I have every right to be in this house. I think you’ll find it is you who shouldn’t be here.”