Mandy turned and walked off, her hair was now black, her cloths ragged. She walked towards the wall and said as she vanished into it. ‘I will be back, you made me a promise.’
Nightingale sat on the edge of the bed wondering how he had got into this situation.
‘Proserpine’ Nightingale shouted. He waited a few moments, nothing.
Nightingale dressed, went down the creaky stairs to a hallway. There was a desk with an old fashioned bell on it, he pushed it. It sounded like a rusty old foghorn. An old lady tottered out from a back room.
‘I’ve come to pay my bill,’ he said.
The old lady smiled at Nightingale with a toothless grin. ‘It has been paid,’ she said.
Nightingale turned and headed for the front door thinking, what a great start to the day and it was barely 8.15am.
Nightingale felt great as he stepped out into the fresh air and sunshine. He looked around and he didn’t recognise the road or where he was, he decided to turn left. He walked slowly as he did he so he got a whiff of bacon. He followed his nose and came across a café. He went in and ordered a full English and coffee. He sat by the window while it was being cooked.
Nightingale started questioning himself mentally. Did I dream what happened? No It was too clear. When am I going to be free of this horror bequeathed to me by my father, surely it could not go on forever. Nightingale hated this warped life, living between two worlds. He wanted to help people, be nice, kind, after all he was an ex-cop with a lot of skills. He decided to contact Proserpine, he mentally called out and was trying so hard he gave himself a headache. Nightingale was just about to give up when he heard a voice.
‘Jack you are not finished yet. Mandy told you what she wanted. You cannot escape, you know that.’ Proserpine laughed, ‘She certainly sucked you in, I was impressed’
‘Well I’m not. This is going to be the end. I’m going to finish this once and for all. I’ve had enough of you and your silly bloody games. Making my life hell.’
‘Not my doing Jack, blame your father.’
‘If I could get hold of him, I’d do more than blame him.’
‘He’s dead, not much you can do.’
‘There must be a way and I’m going to find it.’
‘This I must see.’
Then her presence was gone.
* * *
Somehow Nightingale found his way home and flopped into an armchair. There has got to be a way to stop this, he thought. He got up and began searching through the books on the bookshelves. He felt sure the answers must be in them somewhere. He selected what he thought were the best books that might give the answers he wanted. Pen and paper to hand he started trawling through the books and making notes of important words – circles, pentagrams, mirrors, prayers, salt and garlic. He had read about some of these things before but this time it was with much more determination to find answers. Shadows seemed to be dancing around the room There were banging and clinking noises, and cold breezes. He felt afraid and vulnerable he needed protection. Nightingale searched book after book. Nothing. But there must be something. He settled on one book. It didn’t even have a title just a cloudy looking cover. Paging through he came across Protection, reading on he found page after page of how to protect your self from all things evil. Why had he not seen this book before? It was almost as though it was writing itself as he was reading it. He had not seen this book before. It started by saying – Get yourself in a comfortable position in the centre of a sparsely decorated and furnished room. Make a circle of salt. In that circle draw a out a pentagram then in the centre put a chair. Get a blade of steel and go around the whole room and nothing but good can enter. Once this has been done sit in the chair in the centre of the circle and pentagram. Look above your head and pull down a bright white light through the top of your head, down through your whole body and surround yourself in a pure white bubble. This is your protection and nothing can penetrate it. You must not go outside the circle until the work is done.
The phone rang interrupting his thoughts. It was Jenny Maclean.
‘Hi Jenny, what can I do for you?’
‘Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours.’
Nightingale glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that half a day had gone by.
Jenny continued, ‘ Jack you are needed, there has been a murder in a basement room attached to Victoria Station, a derelict unused part that is used by homeless people. Apparently it’s a really, horrid, rank place, the smell is indescribable. The poor people have nowhere else to go, disease is rife, its like going back to the dark ages.’
‘Why do they need me?’ After all nobody cares about them, most of them won’t have families. Jenny are you sure?’
‘Jack I would not be asking if you were not wanted, so please can you get down there and have a look.’
‘Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.’
‘Why do you need me there?’
‘Oh I don’t know, take notes, photos etc. I just want you there.’
Nightingale picked up his two packs of Marlboro, lighter, wallet and notebook. He was just about to turn and leave when he had a thought that he would take the book he had been reading. He picked it up and it fitted into his pocket nicely.
* * *
Nightingale arrived at Victoria Station, parked, got out of his car and looked around. He spotted Jenny who was waving frantically at him. He strode over to Jenny. She was standing by a small alleyway, ‘What’s up with you, you looked like a windmill?’
‘Jack, it’s not funny. It’s terrible in there, I can’t bear to look.’
‘That bad, well let’s look together. Come on.’
They went down the short dark alleyway Nightingale got his pen torch out of his top pocket and switched it on, the little light it put out showed up a gap in the wall to the right it looked like a doorway. As they drew level the torch illuminated five stone steps, followed by a landing. They began to go down and Nightingale was almost knocked back by the hot, fetid stench coming up the stairwell. Nightingale braced himself and continued down to the landing with Jenny. The torchlight showed that there were three more steps to the right that opened into a dark dank room. They stepped down and the torch showed a shadowy group of people wearing ripped and torn clothing The stench was overwhelming now and Nightingale and Jenny both retched they took a few moments to control themselves. All the people were facing away from them, looking towards the back corner. Nightingale moved forward and shone his torch towards the corner. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. It was not a stabbing or a shooting, but a complete bloodbath consisting of two bodies hacked to pieces. There was blood everywhere, up the walls, on the ceiling and pools of it on the floor.
None of the down-and-outs had noticed Nightingale and Jenny they all stood there like statutes, glued to the spot, eyes bulging, mouths open staring into the corner.
Nightingale broke their trance-like state by using his most assertive voice he could muster, ‘Someone please tell me what happened. How did this start? I can see how it finished.’
No one responded. They were all in shock.
‘Come on guys I need answers. We have to get this sorted as soon as possible before it stinks even worse than it does already.’
There was a small voice from somewhere behind him. ‘It was so sudden.’
Nightingale turned and saw an old stick-like man with long, greasy, matted grey hair and a beard to match. He was wearing an old raincoat that was once presumably beige but was now more like a camouflage coat having been stained with various bits of suspect matter from years on the road. The old man continued. ‘A man rushed in with a butcher’s knife. He was shouting, really shouting at Billy. How dare you take my woman, he said, and then started hacking at him. Going berserk he was, swinging his blade as hard as he could. Billy reached into his coat and pulled out a bloody great knife and fought back with all his might.’
Jenny tur
ned and spoke quietly in Nightingale’s ear, ‘My god, what woman would sleep with any of these filthy dirty men? She had to have been desperate or as filthy as them.’
‘I don’t think I have ever seen such a mess,’ said Nightingale. ‘However from what the old man has said it seems to be a straightforward case of two men fighting to the death, cutting each other to bits as they did so. Jenny can you call Sergeant Blackwell and tell him that there is not really anything for me to investigate here and that we need some heavy duty cleaning equipment once someone has removed what’s left of the bodies.’
Jenny moved off back up the stairs just then Nightingale heard a cackling woman’s laughter. It was Mandy. He looked around and couldn’t see anything. ‘You bitch Mandy, why?’
‘Billy was the one you were supposed to kill for me. There are other ways, Jack, but I wanted you to see what happens if you don’t do what I ask.’
Suddenly there was silence and Nightingale spotted something sunk into the ground. He focused his torch beam on it. He could not believe his eyes, it appeared to be a large square bath full of blood. Nightingale verbalised his thoughts, ‘What was this place and what is that doing here?’
The old man explained. ‘This was once an abattoir, it was cold here and they could slaughter the animals and get them on the train. So the meat would be fresh, never been changed. Billy used to sleep in there.
‘Well I’ll leave it up to the powers that be to sort this out. It may even be a better place for you after it’s been cleaned up. I’m sorry for your loss mate. Best of luck for the future.’
Nightingale climbed the stairs back out of the basement and he met up with Jenny outside.
‘Jenny, see if you can find some blankets, cloths and food for the guys in there once the place is cleaned up and if you can hang around and chase up the relevant people to get it cleaned and sorted as soon as possible.’
‘ I’ll do my best Jack. Where are you off to?
‘Me? I’ve got some things I must do, but first shopping. Yes! You heard right.’
Nightingale called into a supermarket on his way home and bought four bags of salt, and a packet of white chalk. As he was about to go to the till he decided he could do with a bottle of whiskey and a six-pack of beer for when he was in the circle. Nightingale paid for his shopping and picked up the carrier bags and was pleased he had not parked too far away as it was heavy.
Sitting in his car Nightingale relaxed and lit up a cigarette and retrieved the cloudy-covered book from his pocket. He checked through to make sure he had bought all that he needed. Satisfied that he had got everything Nightingale finished his cigarette, drove home and parked up.
* * *
After getting his shopping in, Nightingale started thinking about what the book said about selecting a sparsely furnished and decorated room. He remembered that the back room which was rarely used did not have much furniture and should be ideal. He headed towards it, opened the door and yes, it was virtually empty. It also felt warm, bright and airy, a feeling he had not noticed before. Nightingale went into the kitchen and found a steel bladed knife, he put the salt and chalk beside it. He made some sandwiches. He was feeling peckish and he didn’t know how long this was going to take. He hoped it wouldn’t be long but this was just something he had to see through. He was determined to do this, he was fed up with what life had thrown at him with his father having traded his soul and the constant other worldly interruptions in his life and the carnage that seemed to follow him around. It was going to stop and what he was about to do should do it but he had to be prepared.
He went into the back room. There was nice soft comfortable chair in there he moved it to the centre of the room. There was hardwood flooring so he didn’t have to bother moving any carpets, just a small rug which he rolled up and stood in the corner. He put the small coffee table beside the chair. The other pieces of furniture were shunted up against the walls. All done.
Nightingale got the chalk and some string from the kitchen and returned to the back room. He drew a circle by tying the string to the leg of the chair pulling it out to where he thought the circle should be and tied a piece of chalk to that end and keeping it taut he walked round with the string and chalk drawing on the floor. Perfect. A good even circle and now for the pentagram. The book mentioned the need to organise it so that the chair needed to be facing the two points. He drew the pentagram. What next?
He went to the kitchen gathered up the whiskey, beer, cigarettes and the knife and put them on the table next to the chair. He paused thinking that it would be a good idea to get some food. He looked through the cupboards, found some packets of crisps, two packets of biscuits and bar of chocolate, right at the back he spotted a bag of peanuts, bonus. He took his stash and put it on the table beside the drink. Nightingale went back into the kitchen and got two glasses, a very large ashtray and a waste bin. He looked around but couldn’t think of anything else. He had another look in the book just to make sure he had not forgotten anything and was pleased to see that he had everything. He read that all he had to do now was go over the circle and pentagram with the salt and stay put. On no account was he to move out of the circle and that he would be told when he could move out of it. Nightingale looked puzzled, who was going to tell him when he could come out of the circle? He read on. The book told him that everyone had a guardian angel and to call upon this angel to help and guide him through. This really was a leap of faith. He muttered under his breath. ‘Come on angel, I need your help.’ He suddenly felt cold air around him, yet at the same time he felt an inner glow. Nightingale had never felt this before so he decided to ask ‘Are you my angel?’ he asked.
Nightingale was shocked to hear a faint voice, ‘Yes, I have been waiting for you to ask me for help. I could do nothing until you asked.’
‘Do you have a name?’
‘ Yes my name is Molly. I will be with you all the time and together we are going to get through this and your life will be trouble free. It is going to be hard work but we will win.’
Nightingale got the bags of salt and drew over the outline of the circle. He suddenly had a thought. He had forgotten the blade, now what? He felt slightly panicked. He looked over at the table and there it was, Thank god for that. Nightingale carried on pouring salt over the chalk drawn outline of the circle. That was the circle done. Now for the pentagram. When he had finished Nightingale checked to make sure there were no gaps. Nightingale was happy with what he had done and sat in the chair and was just getting comfortable when he leapt to his feet as he remembered from the book that he must use the blade to add an extra layer of protection. Nightingale gabbed the knife, holding it firmly by the handle he pointed it at the wall in front of him. His hand was shaking, it took all his will power to concentrate.
He slowly turned and began repeating ‘Protect me’ until he had completed a full circle. Nightingale put the knife back on the table and sat down. Now what? He waited and then called Molly. ‘What now?’
‘You need to pull down the bright white light.’
Nightingale put his hand above his head and visualised a bright white light and pulled it down through his body and until he had surrounded himself in what the book called a bubble. He felt very peaceful, though he suspected that this was the calm before the storm. Molly appeared, Nightingale was surprised at how old and frail she looked. Molly knew what he was thinking, ‘Don’t worry Jack, this vision of me is merely an appearance. Together we are going to get through this.’
* * *
Nightingale was suddenly aware of shadowy figures: they were dark and there was a sense of evil with them. Horrendous screams filled the air. Devil-like shadows moved forward on all sides, their eyes focussed on him. They were obviously after him and when they got to the circle the screams got louder and more infuriated as they tried to get through. Then he saw Proserpine with her dog. Mandy and Lucifuge Rofocale were also there. Then he spotted his father who pleaded, ‘Let me in and I’ll explain.’
&nb
sp; Molly cut in. ‘ Ignore him, Nightingale, and the others, they will try anything to get at you.’
Nightingale was feeling stressed. He lit a cigarette in an attempt to relax and wondered whether this was going to work. His head started pounding. It felt as if it was going to burst. He clung to the arms of the chair, his knuckles white, his heart was almost beating out of his chest. Nightingale decided this was the most frightening thing he had experienced in his whole life.
Molly tried to calm him she put a hand on his shoulder. ‘This is quite normal, Jack, and in fact it could get much worse,’ she said.
Nightingale felt a cozy warmth emanate from her hand on his shoulder ‘Oh, thanks for that,’ he replied sarcastically.
The noises in the room were horrific and grew in intensity; there were faces coming at him that were pure evil and yet they could not penetrate the circle.
Molly shouted at him. ‘Mirrors, Jack, surround yourself with mirrors and face them outwards so that the evil see themselves and that whatever they throw at you they get bounced back at themselves.’
Nightingale mustered up all of his strength and put the imaginary mirrors around himself. This all sounded bit far fetched he hoped it was going to work.
The noises seemed to grow louder again, the faces seemed bigger. There was a wind blowing around the room like a hurricane with things crashing and banging and breaking. Nightingale vaguely wondered how long he had been in his circle. It was daylight when he started, darkness had fallen and it was now getting light again. He must have been there for hours. Doubt and panic started creeping into mind.
‘Molly, Molly, where are you?’ he called.
‘I’m here Jack. I’m not going anywhere, now calm down. We will get through this.’
‘How much longer is this going on for, I can’t stand much more of this.’
Suddenly Nightingale saw that Proserpine and Lucifuge Rofocale were revving up for a determined attempt to break through. Nightingale’s father was also walking very determinedly towards him with a sadistic smile on his face.
‘Mirrors’ shouted Molly
Blood Bath (Seven Free Jack Nightingale Short Stories) Page 14
