The Ghosts of RedRise House

by Caroline Clark

  Jesse kicked. Pure instinct took over and he reverted to some Tai-Kwan-Do lessons from his youth. His foot impacted with Rosie’s wrist, sending the knife spiraling into the air, landing on the floor near Amy with a dull clang.

  Still the spirit hardly stopped, flying toward Gail. As Gail moved, she was surrounded by darkness, and he could briefly see the spirit that was in control. She was old, wizened, and evil in appearance. Darkness draped over the woman as she grabbed hold of Gail. Part of him acknowledged what just happened. Maybe if he trusted enough in himself as his grandmother had suggested, then his gift would return. There was no time to think about this… He had to save his love.

  “No!” Jesse screamed, and surged toward them. It was too late.

  Rosie grabbed Gail and sank her teeth into his beloved’s neck. Blood gushed and splashed his face as his hands connected with Rosie’s shoulders.

  Grasping on, he could feel how skinny she was. Bones jutted through her skin, but he pulled with all his might. As Rosie started to move with him, he wondered if it was the right thing to do. What if her teeth were clasped around Gail’s jugular? What if pulling her away would rip open an artery?

  It didn’t matter, it was the only play he had so he hauled harder. As he felt her start to move, he twisted and then threw Rosie to the other side of the room. She was so light that it was easy, in his adrenaline-fueled state, to launch her through the air.

  Gail wavered and dropped to her knees.

  Jesse’s instinct was to grab her and pull her from the house... to slam the door and run, never to return. But he couldn’t. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to help Amy and Rosie… now! “I’m all right,” Gail said, as she clasped a hand to her neck.

  Jesse grabbed her and rushed her through to what he thought was a kitchen. Pulling her hand away, he stared at the wound. It was raw and angry, but the blood was slowing. Teeth marks were etched deep into her skin, looking like a bite from some rabid dog. They had torn away a small chunk of flesh, leaving behind exposed muscle which wept blood. It looked horrible but was mainly superficial. It could have been so much worse.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, he kissed her forehead and looked around for something to make a bandage with.

  Amy came from behind him and pointed to a cupboard.

  Jesse rushed to it. For a second he wondered if she had picked up the knife. He ignored the blank expression on Amy’s face. She was in shock, but there was no time to deal with that now. They would sort it once they were out of here… if they got out of here.

  In the cupboard he saw a first aid kit. Quickly, he cleaned the wound and applied some anti-bacterial, gauze and a bandage. It would hold for now, or at least he hoped it would.

  Where was the Old Hag, Rosie? After the initial attack, he had expected her to push her advantage. Turning, he could see her on the floor. Her hands were waving in front of her face as though she were a puppet controlled by some crazy master who wanted her to hand jive.

  “Gail, I want you to leave.” Jesse started to guide her the short distance toward the door. He hoped that he could get her out of there before the spirit took control again.

  “Why would I leave?” Gail turned toward him, her eyebrows pulled down with confusion.

  “You’re hurt. This spirit can’t be channeled.” He wanted to tell her there was nothing she could do. That she would be a liability, but he knew it was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Let me handle this. You need to lie down after that injury.” How he hoped that the concern he felt showed through his voice and that she would believe him.

  For a second she nodded her head and started toward the door. But as she passed closer to Rosie, she stopped. “I can’t leave. I can’t let these two women down. You need me. I know you don’t believe it. I know you think that you are keeping me safe, but I know you will need me and I won’t leave you.”

  “Gail, please.”

  “No, I feel it. Things are going to get bad... but we are in this together.” She turned to him and took his hands. “We’re stronger together.”

  The door slammed and the temperature dropped, plunging the room into a sub-zero gloom that filled him with a feeling of such despair and despondency that it almost dropped him to his knees. “No.” The word left his mouth without him even realizing it and filled his mind with anguish.

  Against the wall, Rosie’s hands stopped in mid-air. For a moment, they hovered in front of her like two broken birds hoping they could still fly. Behind them, her face morphed and mutated, changing from the sweet scarred girl to the old hag and back again. Sometimes they could see the skull of the spirit through the pink of Rosie’s skin and at others, there was a darkness. A shadow was surrounding her and shielding the real person beneath.

  As they stared, she rose from the ground like a puppet hauled to its feet. Her arms were still hanging in front of her, and Jesse saw the pendant around her neck. He understood.

  It was a pentagram, very old, probably pewter, and it would be part of her power. Rosie was fighting. She was fighting Matron, preventing her from touching it and maybe, if he could rip it from her neck, then he could send this bitch back to the hell hole from where she came.

  Filled with new hope, he surged forward, reaching out to grab the necklace.

  Rosie’s face mirrored his hope and then filled with triumph. Jesse smiled. She understood and believed that he could make it happen. She would help him. Then he saw the malice in that triumphant smile and realized that the spirit was back.

  Hand outstretched, he lunged for the necklace — he was so close. The world slowed down as he watched Rosie’s arms start to move. She reaching for the necklace at the same time as he was. It was a race, and his life, Gail’s life depended on the outcome.

  Almost flying now, he stretched just a little more, almost feeling the cold, weighty metal in his fingers.

  Rosie stepped back and he crash-landed on the floor at her feet. Looking up, he saw the gleam of victory in her eyes as her hands both clasped onto the necklace. She made a batting motion in the air.

  Jesse was picked up and thrown across the room. The air was knocked from his lungs as he hit the wall, and was then sent flying again, only to hit the wall in the living room, sliding down to the floor behind the sofa.

  Gasping for breath, he tried to move, but found the air was thick and heavy, like a weight was pressing him into the floor.

  Darkness settled over the room and prevented him from seeing Gail. Where was she? Was she safe? He had to get her out of here. Things had gone too far. They were losing the battle. Now all he could focus on was escape. Maybe they could regroup; maybe they should simply burn this house to the ground and salt the ashes, but first they had to escape.

  “Gail!” he shouted.

  “She’s okay.” Amy sidled over to him, remaining on the floor.

  “And you?”

  “I’m good, but I think Rosie has gone.” Tears formed in her eyes and shone in the darkness.

  “We will save her, but maybe not today.” Jessie wanted to rescue her, but he didn’t know if it was possible. He didn’t want to admit that it could be too late for Rosie. Maybe they would have to kill her to get rid of this spirit, but how? “For now, we have to get out of here.”

  The darkness lifted and a mist swirled around the door. Through it he could see Gail. She was frightened. Close to the door. For a moment, her eyes flicked to the escape route and he willed her to take it. Then she saw him and a smile lit up her face. Turning away from the door, she started walking toward him.

  He wanted to scream at her to run, to go, but he couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t form the words.

  In between them was Rosie.

  Gail didn’t hesitate. She pulled the Holy water from her pocket and splashed it on the woman.

  Rosie sneered and pulled back.

  “I call on you, my chosen ones. My acolytes appear now and give me your strength.” Rosie held one hand on the necklace, and with her right hand stretched ou
t, making a fist, she challenged the air.

  The darkness appeared again and swirled around her, forming and coalescing into silhouettes.

  For long seconds, the mist twisted into three shapes and then snapped back into a mist. The shadow was fighting. Mary’s face emerged from the darkness. Her mouth contorted into a scream, her eyes hollow and dark. Then the mist was back, more transparent.

  “I invite the Forces of Darkness to bestow their infernal might upon me. Open the Gates of Hell, give me your power and come forth to obey me, Old Hag – Matron, the one who controls you through all eternity.”

  So he had been right, she was the Old Hag. They knew the name she used. Jesse exalted in gaining that one piece of the puzzle. Could it help them? He didn’t know, but it was something… it was a start.

  Three figures appeared out of the darkness, all wearing long black cloaks, the hoods flat upon their backs. On the left was an old lady. Her birdlike features drawn down in anguish. Long gray hair framed her face and made her look so very fragile, but there was strength there too and resolve in her eyes. Thin eyebrows knitted together, lips were drawn into a thin line, jaw tensed, and thin, wizened fingers clenched into fists. She was fighting.

  Next to her was a scruffy looking man with a scar over his right eye. There was a smug, satisfied smile on his face. Thick lips like twin slugs curled into a smile, and as he looked at Matron, adoration appeared on his face.

  On the right was a bemused young man. Shoulder length, impossibly black hair flopped over his eyes. It gave him the look of a puppy trying to please its master. His face wore the expression of one who had imbibed too much and didn’t quite know where he was. It said that, I will wake up soon and joke about this night for a long time to come.

  Jesse knew that if these acolytes joined with Matron, they had lost. They would multiply her power and make it even harder to send her away. What could he do?

  Closing his eyes, he focused his mind on the problem and waited for his instincts to kick in. Trust your instincts and reach for your power, was what Sylvia had told him. So he reached and tried to trust. Doubt was like a weight on his shoulders, but he shook it off and trusted.

  The answer came to him. There would be an altar, somewhere she would have a place where she goes to connect with the underworld. If he can’t get to the necklace, then maybe he could get to that. To the place where she recharged her darkness. If he could get rid of that, it would lessen her power over the spirits that she was controlling. If he could also remove her necklace, they would have a real chance.

  So, not much to do.

  At that thought, he felt a presence… just for the briefest of moments, his spirit guides had connected with him. He was left with the feeling of love and also laughter. The old man, the one of whose motives he was not sure, he always seemed to be laughing.

  Knowing that he was not entirely alone gave him strength. “You know what to do!” he shouted at Gail and saw her nod her head.

  She turned from him and began to chant. He knew that her exorcism would be from the heart. The words would be her own, but the feeling in delivery was what counted and she had the heart of an angel, the courage of a lion, and the strength of an elephant. She would do what needed to be done.

  Matron stood, surrounded by her acolytes, her eyes closed as she built up her power. The battle was about to begin and he prayed they had the courage and the fortitude to see it through.

  “If you get the chance, get out of here,” he said to Amy. “This is going to be long, scary, and dangerous. I don’t know if any of us will survive. If we don’t make it out by morning, burn this house to the ground and never come back.”

  Amy’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. It stayed there for a second or two and then she closed it and nodded.

  47

  “LORD, bless Gail, the righteous; surround her with Your favor as with a shield.” Jesse moved toward the apparitions. His first instinct was to lend Gail some help while he circled around them to get to the stairs. Then he would try to free the spirits. For now they were tethered here by Matron, so if he could free them, maybe they would leave. The boy would probably hang around… he didn’t understand where he was, what he was doing. Jesse could help him once the battle was over. For now freeing him would be enough. The man, even when free, would rally with Matron, and the woman, she looked frightened. Hopefully, at least she would go.

  He recited an exorcism as he splashed them with Holy water, but it felt like an uphill struggle, a losing battle. The spirit was filling his mind with despair and he had to fight against it.

  Gail was closest to Rosie. She held her Holy water in her right hand and stepped toward the woman trying, her hardest to remember the exorcism.

  "God's Word is made flesh; I command you, be gone. Be gone, Satan, master of all deceit, the enemy of man. Unclean and evil beast, hear the Lord’s words and be gone from this place. I command you, be gone." Gail splashed Rosie with her Holy water.

  At first the spirit withered inside the woman. It was like a darkness falling from her, but it didn’t go far and rose to the surface, darkening her features like blight as the water sizzled from her skin.

  “Geoffrey, oh loyalist of my acolytes. I command thee, destroy this woman.” Matron turned toward Gail and sneered.

  Jesse ran between Gail and the spirit. He expected the man to pass straight through him. Expected to feel the bone-chilling cold as the ghost dematerialized inside him, but Geoffrey stopped.

  Anger crossed the spirit’s bitter face and he raised his arm as if to strike out.

  “In the Name of Jesus, I rebuke the spirit of Geoffrey,” Jesse said, turning toward the man and staring right into his eyes. He willed him to be gone, pouring all his power, all his hopes into the words he was using. “I command you, leave this place, without manifestation and without harm to me or anyone, so that He can dispose of you according to His Holy Will.”

  Matron roared and shot forward.

  Geoffrey, spluttered and faded for a moment as if he had been powered down. But, then he was back.

  Rosie lagged behind and streaked across the room, her body blurred as the spirit raced for Jesse. Rosie was snapped back, and when they struck him, they were both together. One force, one solid weapon, and it knocked him off his feet.

  Matron never faltered, but kept going and ran for her knife. She snatched it from the floor. Then she turned to Amy, raising it above the woman’s head, smiling as she began to plunge it down toward her throat.

  Amy shrank back as fear widened her eyes and froze her to the spot.

  Jesse sprawled on the floor, winded once more and too far away to do anything. Why had he let Amy come? He knew it was a recipe for disaster. He knew that it was dangerous and foolish, but he had been weak. He had let Gail persuade him. When would he learn to trust his own instincts?

  The knife arched through the air.

  Geoffrey looked on, glee glowing in his dark eyes.

  Gail stepped toward Matron, but she was too far away. The knife was falling fast, so very fast.

  A shadow formed behind Matron. It was just a smudge across the room. It was only then that Jesse realized the old woman had gone.

  The shadow deepened until he could see a thin figure in a dark cloak: Mary. Would she help Matron? Would she lend her power to the Old Hag’s? It didn’t matter. Though he tried to move, tried to travel the distance, there wasn’t time. Before he had crossed even halfway, the knife would fall and Amy would be dead.

  Desolation washed over him, but he pushed through it and moved as fast as he could.

  A pink blur came out of the cloaked figure and passed through Rosie.

  The knife halted… it stopped in mid-air, just inches from Amy’s face. They could see Rosie fighting, and the knife wavering.

  “Amy, move!” Jesse yelled, and covered the ground between them. This time he pushed Rosie as hard as he could. Though it felt wrong to hit a woman so hard, he knew it was for the best.

  She st
arted to fall and he kicked her in the back. Gail was by his side.

  “I cast you out, unclean spirit; in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ, be gone from this place. Leave us alone, leave these creatures of God.” Gail rushed to where Rosie had fallen and pried the knife from her hand.

  They were winning. Jesse looked at Mary and nodded his thanks. The spirit was translucent, but she became a touch clearer and the smile she gave him was one of joy.

  Rosie lay sprawled on the floor, her face a jumble of emotions. It looked like Rosie was fighting.

  Gail held on to the knife, staring at it as if she didn’t quite know what to do.

  Jesse knew that it was now or never. They had a reprieve, but it wouldn’t last. Matron was disorientated. He had to find the altar…had to destroy it, but if he left the room then he left Gail and Amy vulnerable to the power of the spirit.

  Looking down at Rosie, he tried to see through her, to work out if she was beaten. There was nothing… no expression. That was a bad sign, but instinct told him to go now.

  “Mary, where is her seat of power, her altar?”

  Mary formed before him and opened her mouth. No words came out and she shook her head sadly. Then she pointed and started to move toward the stairs. Jesse understood. It would be in one of the bedrooms. If the house had a cellar it would have been there, but the spare room would be the next most logical place, somewhere quiet and out of the way.

  “Can you show me?” he asked, knowing that the time it took for him to search the house could be too much. It could be the difference between victory and failure, between life and death.

  Mary nodded and floated toward the stairs. She was weaker now, fading fast, but the smile on her face was genuine enough.

  Jesse followed as quickly as he could. As he moved onto the stairs and when he lost sight of Gail, he so wanted to look back. To hesitate, to check out what was happening, but every instinct told him that time was of the essence.

  Trust your instincts.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he followed the ghost, watching as she became more and more translucent until she was just a mist before him.