by Amy Cross
I glance back at him, but there is no point explaining anything to the ruffians in this place. Instead, I simply make my way toward a door at the far end of the room, and then I step through and see a set of narrow, twisting stairs. I start walking up, while still fighting against the desire to turn around and run. By the time I get to the top of the stairs, I feel as if my gut has been tied into knots, but I know that I must do this. Rather than give myself any more time to deliberate, I walk to the first door and knock.
“Come in,” Prue calls out.
I take a deep breath, and then I push the door open and see that she is sitting at a desk by the window, writing in what looks like some kind of journal.
“Judith,” she says after a moment, without looking at me, “what a pleasant surprise. I wasn't sure that you'd come.”
I pause, before stepping into the room and shutting the door.
“I called round to the church this morning,” she continues. “I hoped you might be there, but apparently you were late. What's wrong? Did you oversleep?” Finally she looks at me. “Bad dreams?”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“That's a rather broad question, Judith.”
“Why are you here?” I ask. “What do you want with me?”
She stares at me for a moment, before setting her pen down. I wait, but now she's simply watching me, and I am starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
“You hear her, don't you?” she says finally. “I know you do. You hear her too.”
“What do you -”
“Shaltak.”
I flinch at the sound of that name.
“Something changed on that hot day,” she continues. “I don't know what happened, not exactly, but I haven't been the same since and I think you haven't either. And then, recently, I began to hear this voice. I thought I was going mad at first, but the voice kept speaking and over time it proved itself to me. I asked it what it wanted, and it was a little cryptic for a while. Eventually, however, it started asking me if I remembered you.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I tell her.
“I think you do.”
I shake my head.
“She didn't tell me to come back to Briarwych,” she explains, “not in so many words, but the implication was there. I didn't understand at first, but when I saw you in your kitchen, I spotted something familiar in your eyes. I spotted the same fear I've seen in my own features, and in that instant I knew – I absolutely knew for certain – that you too have been hearing Shaltak's voice.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, turning and reaching out to open the door again. “Whatever you think is happening here, you're quite mistaken.”
“You have such a lovely daughter.”
I hesitate, with my hand on the doorknob.
“Lovely, but troubled,” Prue continues. “It's the eyes, again. I know this is a cliche, but the eyes really are a way to see into the soul. Your daughter looks troubled by something and I think this something is fairly new. What happened to her?”
“Nothing,” I reply. “She's -”
“What's in the bottom drawer of your dresser, Judith?”
I turn to her.
“Don't ask how I know that there's something there,” she says. “You know how. Shaltak told me. She also told me that you're too scared to look.”
“This is none of your business,” I reply.
“We're two peas in the same pod right now, Judith,” she continues, keeping her gaze fixed on me with uncommon intensity. “We have to work together to figure this out, or I'm scared we'll end up losing our minds. I'm so glad that you hear the voice too, because it means I'm not crazy, but we have to work out what it wants.”
She gets to her feet and starts coming toward me.
“What did we do on that day, to attract its attention?” she asks. “What does it want from us?”
“I don't know what you mean,” I say firmly.
“The voice is -”
“I have heard no voice,” I tell her. “None of what you're saying makes sense.”
“Deny it all you want,” she replies, “but I know the truth. The voice is talking to both of us, I think it wants us to work together. I think we have to talk to it as one.”
I shake my head.
“I can't do this alone,” she continues, with a hint of desperation in her voice now. “I'm not asking you, Judith. I'm begging you. I think this voice is going to destroy us both unless we find a way to stand up to it. It's been watching us, Judith, and studying us ever since that baking hot day. Bad things have happened in my life, and I'm starting to wonder whether those bad things were caused by this voice, whether it somehow -”
“That's impossible,” I reply, interrupting her.
“Is it? What if this thing has been manipulating us all along? What if it has been guiding us to this moment? We can't let it divide us, Judith. We have to take a stand. We're not strong enough unless we do this together.”
Staring at her, I realize I can see true madness in her eyes. She's on the verge of breaking down, and I am shocked by the realization that she has allowed to get herself to such a state. At the same time, this realization serves to make me feel stronger, for I know that I cannot allow myself to do the same thing.
“I should not have come here tonight,” I tell her finally. “I'm sorry, Prue, but I can't help you. I hear no voice. And now, I would be grateful if you would leave me alone. Do not come to my home again, do not come to the church, do not spread rumors about me. You are wrong and -”
“Judith, please...”
“You are wrong!” I snap. “Can you get that through your thick head? Whatever is happening to you, it is most certainly not happening to me! I wish I could help you, but I can't.”
I open the door and step out onto the landing, and now I can see sheer desperation in her eyes.
“I think you should leave Briarwych,” I tell her. “There's nothing for you here. If you try to contact me again, I shall have to consider going to the police. Whatever you want, you will not get it by harassing me. I bid you goodbye, Prue, and it pains me to say that I hope very much that I shall never see your face again.”
Turning, I head to the stairs. I half-expect her to come rushing after me, but thankfully she leaves me alone as I start making my way down to the ground floor. I think I hear her starting to sob in her room, but I force myself to keep going and I am actually rather relieved as I find myself back in the main room of the public house, where everybody seems rather merry and carefree.
For a moment, I stand and watch the drunkards, and I actually find myself admiring their ability to lose themselves so easily. Then, realizing that this is no time for such foolish thoughts, I make my way to the door. I ignore the few people who attempt to lure me into conversation, and I go outside into the dark street. Stopping, I look up at the windows and I see the there is still a light in Prue's room. Perhaps she is still sobbing up there, or perhaps she has pulled herself together. One thing is certain, however; I refuse to admit to her that I heard the voice.
The sooner Prue leaves me alone, the sooner things can start getting back to normal.
Chapter Thirteen
Standing alone in the kitchen once I am home, I tell myself that this madness is finally starting to make sense. On the way home, I began to think about everything that has happened, and it occurred to me that perhaps I have missed one obvious explanation.
Prudence Williams has been setting me up.
The voice in the church did not sound particularly like her, but then again I suppose she might be capable of distorting her voice in some manner. The things she told me were striking, but – again – it is not impossible that she could have learned of certain matters. If she had been watching me, she would have easily noticed that I found Violet Durridge irritating. I am not quite ready to believe that she could have killed Violet, but she might have made an ill-time comment that happened to coincide with the terr
ible fire. And perhaps she was watching Elizabeth for a while, which is how she learned of her extra-curricular activities. And the voice...
I pause as I try to work out how she could have achieved the voice. Finally I realize that she must just be very good at secreting herself out of sight. Certainly I look around to see if anybody was nearby at the time, but I did not conduct an exhaustive search of every nook and cranny. The more I think of it, the more I am sure that I have been the victim of a madwoman. I can only hope that tonight I made her understand why this must all end, and now she will leave me alone.
Otherwise, I suppose I shall have to involve the police.
Realizing that I am utterly exhausted, I turn and make my way through to the hallway. I need to sleep, but as I reach the bottom of the stairs I realize I can hear a faint sobbing sound coming from up in Elizabeth's room. My first thought is incredulity and sorrow, at the thought that my dear daughter is still in such a terrible state, but then I realize that there is another sound as well. While the sobs continue, I can hear a faint thudding sound as well, and I listen for a moment as I try to discern what could possibly be causing this sound.
Finally, slowly, I start making my way very quietly up the stairs.
As I reach the top, I hear another thud, except this time it sounds quicker and sharper somehow. Elizabeth is still sobbing, and I have to force myself to refrain from rushing into her room to find out whatever is the matter. I tell myself that I need to be cautious here, that I have to get to the root of whatever's happening, so I creep to the door and then stop again to listen.
Between the sobs, Elizabeth is whispering.
I feel an immediate rush of fear, at the thought that perhaps she too is hearing some kind of voice. After a few seconds, however, I realize that she seems to be apologizing for something, whimpering the word 'Sorry' over and over again. Then I hear her mention me, as if she's apologizing for something that has made me angry. And then, suddenly, I flinch as I hear a particularly loud thud and Elizabeth lets out a pained cry.
I can hold back no longer.
Opening the door, I hurry into her room, and then I scream as I see that she is kneeling on the floor with cuts and splits running all across her bloodied back.
“Elizabeth!” I gasp. “What -”
Before I can finish, she strikes herself again, flaying her own skin with strings of knotted cord tied to some kind of handle.
“No!” I shout, hurrying over and pulling the cat o' nine tails from her hand.
She screams and lunges at me, desperately trying to grab the weapon back, but then she looks into my eyes and I see a moment of recognition. She hesitates, and then she pulls back and grabs her bed-sheets, pulling them down to cover her wounds as she retreats into the far corner of the room.
“What are you doing?” I ask, holding the cat o' nine tails in my trembling hand. Looking down at the knotted cords, I see that they are dripping blood.
“I'm bad!” she sobs. “What I did was bad!”
“No!” I stammer, before throwing the whip out of the room and then hurrying over to kneel next to Elizabeth. “My darling, I -”
“Don't touch me!” she screams, turning away. Blood is already soaking through the bed-sheets. “Don't look at me!”
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I ask, with tears in my eyes. “Elizabeth, whatever has possessed you?”
I pause for a moment, staring at her horrified face. At first I tell myself that I have never seen her look quite this upset before, but then I realize that I have seen her sobbing and wailing in my nightmares. She is my darling girl, and at this moment she looks like a terrified animal.
“You told me,” she whimpers. “I did a bad thing and I have to pay. You punished me in the forest, but then I kept catching myself having bad thoughts so I decide to punish myself some more.”
“I didn't do this to you,” I tell her, and now the tears are running down my face. “I would never do this to you, Elizabeth.”
“I'm a coward,” she sobs. “I made the whip myself. I should have done what you did to me, but I didn't dare. I tried and tried, but I just...”
She breaks into a series of wailing cries. I instinctively rush forward to console her, but she screams and rushes away, scrambling across the room and then clambering onto the bed. She leaves smeared blood in her wake, and I'm horrified to see that there's more blood all over her pajama bottoms. As she cowers next to the pillows and stares at me with terrified eyes, I feel my heart shatter into a thousand pieces.
“It's going to be alright,” I tell her, my voice trembling with shock. “I will fix this. I don't know how, not yet, but I will fix everything.”
Slowly, I reach a hand toward her.
She immediately flinches and pulls back.
I hesitate, before lowering my hand and then getting to my feet. I feel utterly horrified, and my mind is racing as I try to work out how I'm going to make everything okay again. My knees are trembling and I have to stop for a moment in the doorway to steady myself, and I stand for a moment listening to the sound of Elizabeth still sobbing on the bed.
I don't know how I'm going to fix this.
No.
Wait.
I do.
I take a deep breath as my chest tightens with fear. I want there to be another way, any other way, but time is running out and I'll do anything to calm my dear daughter down.
“Wait here,” I say calmly, as Elizabeth continues to sob. “I have to go out for a few minutes. When I get back, everything will be alright again. I promise.”
I start turning to look at her, but at the last moment I stop myself. I know what I'll see; I'll see my terrified, weeping, bleeding daughter again. The next time I see her, I want her to look happy and carefree, and she will be that way, I'm certain. First, though, I must strike a deal.
“You're real, aren't you?” I whisper.
I wait.
“Come to the church,” the voice replies.
A shudder runs through my body. I had managed to convince myself that the voice was all Prue's doing, but now I know that I was wrong. The voice is real, and it is waiting for me. The voice will help Elizabeth, and in return I shall give it anything it wants. Even my life.
“I'll be back soon,” I tell Elizabeth, before making my way down the stairs and then out of the house.
Outside, a full moon casts eerie blue light across the village. I walk along the lane, heading up the gentle slope that leads higher and higher up into the night. Finally, ahead against the dark sky, I spot the silhouette of Briarwych Church.
Chapter Fourteen
The gate creaks slightly as I swing it open. I can see my own breath in the cold night air as I hurry along the path that leads to the church. All the lights are off, and I know Father Perkins will be asleep by now. I don't know how I am going to speak to the voice without Father Perkins hearing, but I shall have to find a way. All that matters is reaching the altar and begging the voice for help.
“Hello, Judith,” Prue says suddenly, stepping out from behind one of the trees and stopping in my path, “fancy seeing you here.”
“I don't have time for -”
“I know, I know,” she says, blocking me as I try to step past her, “you've come to ask the voice for help. It's about your daughter, isn't it?”
She grabs my right wrist, as if to hold me here.
“Shaltak already told me everything. She told me you'd be here soon. She even told me about that afternoon in the forest with your daughter. Tell me, Judith, have you looked in your bottom dresser drawer yet?”
“I have no time for this,” I tell her firmly, as I try to pull free of her grip. “Get out of my way or I'll -”
“Or you'll what?” she snaps. “Scream? Attract attention? Make people start gossiping about you again?”
“I'm going into that church,” I reply, “and you can't stop me.”
“Judith, you -”
“Get out of my way!” I hiss, pulling free and
storming past her. “I'm not -”
Before I can finish, she clamps a hand over my mouth from behind and pulls me down onto my knees. I try to twist free, but suddenly I feel something sharp pressing against my throat and I realize that she's holding a knife.
“I tried to play nice with you tonight,” she whispers, her hot breath rushing into my ear, “but you turned me down. And after that is when I realized the truth. Shaltak didn't pick both of us that day. She decided to play us off against one another, to see who's stronger.” She presses the blade more firmly against my throat. “But here's the thing, Judith. She always knew that I'd turn out to be the strongest. She gave you a chance, but it was always going to be me. It took a while, but I finally came for you, and now I'm going to finish this.”
I try again to pull away, but she's holding me too tight. I try to scream, but her hand remains clamped firmly over my mouth.
“The best part,” she continues, “is that there's already a grave dug here, so I can just toss you in and cover you with some dirt. Do you think anyone's going to miss you, Judith? I doubt they'll bother to search too long. Even your daughter will probably be glad to see the back of you.”
She runs the blade against my throat, but I don't think she's cut me just yet. I don't feel any blood.
“Goodbye, Judith,” she sneers. “Your death will prove to Shaltak that I'm her only true -”
Slamming my head back, I manage to hit her in the face. We both fall back and, somehow, the knife fails to cut my throat. I push her arm away and try to grab the knife, but she's holding it too tight and after a moment she lunges at me and bites hard on the side of my neck. I let out a pained cry as I continue to try wrestling the knife from her grip, but I can already feel blood running down to my collarbone. I start scratching her wrist, hoping that the pain will make her let go of the knife's handle, but suddenly she pushes me aside and rolls onto me, while freeing her hand and raising the knife high against the night sky.
Without saying another word, she slams the knife down toward my face. I manage to slip a hand free and grab her wrist, stopping her just as the blade is about to reach my left eye. I struggle for a moment to keep the knife away, and then I start slowing twisting the blade around so that it's no longer aimed at my face.
