Haunted Lancashire (The Haunting Of Books 1-3)

by Jack Lewis

  The figure ahead of her took Ruby by the hand. It guided her in the direction of the pyre and pushed her toward it. Getting closer, Scarlett could see that her daughter’s hands were tied and that she was trying to squirm away. The figure shoved her.

  Panic shot through her body. Adrenaline surged in her veins, smothering the tiredness and forcing her to sprint on. When she was just ten feet away, the figure turned.

  It was the psychic. Scarlett saw her face clearly now, and she knew it was Rita Hildegast.

  Her face was pale and she was covered in wrinkles. Her eyes were vacant, as though she wasn’t aware of her own movements. She pulled something out of her pocket and held it up. A second later, a small flame shot out of it and then struggled to stay lit against the wind.

  Rita walked to the pyre and kneeled. She held the lighter against the base, and an orange flame engulfed the wood. It started at the bottom but took just seconds to ignite the rest of the timber. The pyre burned against the pitch black. Already, Scarlett could smell the smoke.

  She ran forward. Just as Rita went to push Ruby into the flames, Scarlett reached the woman and grabbed hold of her. She held her hair and yanked her back.

  Rita stumbled. She lashed out with an arm, scratching Scarlett’s cheek. The pain stung her, but she ignored it.

  Rita looked at her and smiled. Although it was the psychic’s face, Scarlett knew she was looking at someone else. It was as though something watched out from behind her eyes, a presence that was strong enough to control her.

  “You’re too late,” said Rita. Her voice was deep, masculine. The tones trembled with anger. “Like you were before.”

  Behind Rita, Ruby started to back away. She stared at Scarlett and opened her mouth, but it seemed that no words would come out.

  “It doesn’t matter where you go,” said Rita. “I’ll always follow.”

  It wasn’t her voice. It was a man’s voice. A rough roar that fought with the sound of the wind.

  The wood crackled as the flames leapt over them, engulfing the timber and sending smoke out into the air. The pyre was meant for Ruby.

  Scarlett knew now that she wasn’t looking at the psychic. It was Rita’s body, but someone else was there. A presence behind her eyes, guiding her, possessing her.

  “Just run,” Scarlett said, looking at Ruby.

  Rita laughed. “They all tried to run,” she said. “Every witch I ever caught. But I always found them. I always made them pay their debt.”

  So many thoughts hit her that she struggled to think. She was torn between leaping on the psychic and pushing her to the ground, or just darting by her and grabbing her daughter.

  “If this body doesn’t finish it,” said Rita, holding up her arm, “then another will. You can flee Gawthorpe. You can go miles away, but I’ll always come for her.”

  She knew she was talking to Thomas Glanville now. The witchfinder had fixed his sights on Ruby, and Scarlett knew that he’d never stop. He needed his witch, and he wouldn’t quit until he had her. He had killed Jane all those years ago, guiding her into the water, and now he wanted to take someone else.

  She had to do something, but what?

  “She isn’t a witch, Thomas. None of them were.”

  Suddenly, he roared. “They all were. Even the pathetic one - Jane. She thrashed in the water, but I held her under until the evil left her.”

  Scarlett choked. She felt like her throat was closing and she couldn’t breathe.

  “And when the evil left her, it found another. It found a home in this one,” said Thomas, pointing at Ruby.

  She had to think. Why did Glanville think Ruby was a witch? Why her? And why Jane, all those years ago?

  The necklace. It had to be something to do with the necklace. In the portrait in the metal door room, Cecilia Gawthorpe had been wearing the necklace.

  Scarlett realised that she was clutching it in her hand so hard that it was pressing into her skin. Just like it had all those years ago when her grandmother had given it to her. Grandma had been mute, but she had been trying to tell her something with her eyes as she passed her the trinket.

  And now Scarlett knew what her message was.

  She was begging her to destroy it. The necklace was what marked women as witches in Glanville’s diseased mind. It had to be. Scarlett had to destroy it. But wait – Ruby had never had the necklace, had she?

  What else could she do?

  This had to be it. She had to try something.

  Without another word, Rita turned around. She ran at Ruby, reaching the terrified child before she could move away. Scarlett ran after her but she knew she’d be too late.

  Rita grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and then, with one push, sent her into the fire.

  Ruby hit the burning wood and then fell. She screamed out, a horrible soul-wrenching scream. A feeling of utter panic shot through Scarlett. She felt like she was falling apart. As her daughter screamed in the pyre, she wanted to be sick. She wanted to die.

  She pushed past Rita and ran over to the fire. Up close, the flames were so hot she felt them scold her face. Ignoring the pain, she reached into the pyre. Sparks shot at her, and burning wood fell onto her skin and sent screams of agony through her.

  She grabbed Ruby by the collar and dragged her free.

  “Roll on the ground!” she grunted.

  As Ruby rolled on the grass to extinguish the flames on her clothes, Scarlett felt a hand on her shoulder.

  She turned, every movement sending pain through her. Rita held her with more strength than should have been possible. Summoning all her energy, Scarlett pushed her away.

  She pinched the necklace by the chain and held it aloft. The flames of the fire glinted on it.

  “This is the end,” she said.

  And with that, she threw the necklace toward the fire. It spun in the air, seeming to arc for minutes, though in reality, it was just seconds before it landed in the flame. The fire lapped over it, devouring it.

  Scarlett’s breath left her. She waited for something. She didn’t know what.

  She expected the psychic to collapse onto the floor. For the hateful expression to leave her face as the flames burned the necklace.

  Nothing happened. Thomas Glanville stared back at her through the psychic’s face. Eyes small, burning, oozing with malice. Why had nothing happened?

  “I’ll always come back,” said Rita.

  She knew it was true. Whatever happened now, Thomas Glanville would always come for her daughter. It didn’t matter where they went, how far they travelled. He had killed her sister, and he’d keep coming for her daughter.

  The necklace wasn’t the answer. Something else was – the psychic had told her as much during their reading. And now Scarlett knew what it was.

  A life for a life.

  The words spoken by Rita during the séance.

  Written on the floor in the metal room.

  The only bargain Glanville would accept. He would have his witch, and nothing would stop him.

  Even if they managed to get away now, the demented witch hunter would pursue them forever. He’d follow them everywhere. The diary she’d found had told her as much – he’d pursue his target until he had his witch. Without something final, Ruby would never be free.

  She’d failed once. She’d let Jane die. But she wouldn’t fail again. She would do anything to stop it.

  “It’s me,” she said, looking at Rita. “I’m the witch. You can take my life if you leave her alone.”

  Rita took a step closer.

  Scarlett backed away toward the pyre. “I’m the one. It’s always been me.” She didn’t know what she was saying, only that the words were right, and that it was the only thing she could do.

  She edged nearer to the flames.

  “Take me,” she said. “Leave the girl. She’s nothing. I’m the witch. And I’m tired, Thomas. I want to end it. You’ve won.”

  Rita stopped. Her face twisted as she thought. Finally, she spoke.
r />   “Then end it,” she said.

  And Scarlett knew then what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do to save Ruby. To make up for the guilt of what happened to her sister. And to free her family from its tormenter.

  As Ruby rolled on the ground, she heard Trev yell out, and she saw him sprinting toward her. But she couldn’t stop. She knew what came next.

  “This will be the end, Thomas,” she said. “After this, I won’t come back. And you’ll leave this family alone.”

  “End it,” said Rita.

  “Do you agree?”

  “I agree, witch. End this.”

  She needed something stronger. A pact that she knew he would keep. “A life for a life,” she said, knowing the words would bind him. “My life for hers.”

  Scarlett turned. The fire burned her cheeks. The flames spat and crackled, and a piece of burning wood slogged and fell into the middle.

  She turned her head and looked at Ruby. “I love you,” she said. Nothing more. There were no more words.

  Just one final act.

  She heard Ruby sob. Deep, stomach-churning sobs. The smell of the burning wood crept into her nostrils and suffocated her.

  From somewhere beyond, she heard Trev shout. His voice almost dragged her back, but she shut it out.

  This had to be done. It was the only way. A life for a life.

  And with that, she stepped into the flames.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  As she walked into the pyre and the flames latched onto her clothes, she expected to feel agony. Instead, she was numb. She watched as it spread up her legs, onto her arms, and covered her chest.

  As it did, Rita collapsed to the ground.

  Scarlett turned and saw Trev running over to her. He looked on, eyes wide in horror, unable to believe what he was seeing. Scarlett saw his mouth open, but she didn’t hear the words.

  The world became faint. She felt herself dislodged from her body, as if she were freed from it.

  Was this death?

  Rita’s face changed. It was as though something left her. She looked around her, staring at Trev and Ruby, and then finally at Scarlett. And then she shut her eyes.

  Something changed in the air.

  It was as though Gawthorpe House was lightened, unburdened from something that had rested heavily on it for centuries.

  Trev sprinted toward the flames.

  She tried to tell him not to worry. To stay where he was. Don’t try to help her.

  No words came out. Her arms felt light. She wasn’t in her body now, but outside of it, mingling with the air.

  It would carry her away soon. She would leave Gawthorpe for a final time.

  Beyond Trev and Ruby, and toward the manor, she saw figures outside the door. A tall man with his arms around a woman. A little girl next to them, a necklace in her hand.

  Dad, Mum and Jane. Waiting for her.

  And all she felt was sorrow. Thomas was gone, and Ruby was safe. Scarlett would forgive her parents for their abandonment. Her hurt could begin to heal.

  It would be replaced soon though, she knew. A heavy feeling would take over it; the knowledge that she would never see Trev and Ruby again. Not yet, at least.

  And then the wood crashed down and the flames on the fire whipped and spread into an inferno. The orange glow shone out onto the lake and illuminated its waters as they lapped back and forth.

  Scarlett felt herself float, and she knew she could do nothing to stop it. She looked at her husband and daughter for a final time, and hoped she’d see them again. Not here, perhaps, but somewhere.

  And then it came to her. A realisation.

  Thomas was gone now. But if she let herself die, he had still won.

  Trev sprinted toward the flames.

  I won’t let him deprive Ruby of a mother. I won’t let that bastard tear my family apart again.

  With the resolution filling her with strength, Scarlett stepped out of the flames.

  “Scarlett!” shouted Trev.

  She felt herself being pushed onto the ground and rolled along the grass until the flames died on her clothes.

  A coat sodden with water was wrapped around her, and Trev kneeled in front of her face, his expression terrified. He shook her, spoke to her, but she didn’t hear his words.

  All she could do was stare at Rita on the ground, and Gawthorpe lurking way beyond her. She waited, trying to sense Thomas’ dark presence in the air. Waited for him to realise that she hadn’t seen the deal through.

  But there was nothing. He was gone.

  When she had made the deal, she had been truly willing to die for Ruby, and that had been enough to deceive him.

  Thomas Glanville was finally gone, and Gawthorpe House was free from his hate.

  This time, Scarlett had won.

  The End

  The Haunting of Harrow Hall

  Out in the forest,

  There sits a forgotten house,

  Lost and alone,

  Where the old things dwell.

  Chapter One

  What do you say to siblings who don’t even know you exist, on the day of your father’s funeral, when you never even met the guy, and you’re already running late for the event?

  Loe had turned the question over in her head for the whole fifteen-hour drive toward Harrow Hall, her estranged father’s home. Apparently, they planned to bury him on the estate like a deceased family pet. At least, that was what the funeral announcement in the newspaper said. Minus the pet part.

  The funeral was at two o’clock in the afternoon. It was already half-past one, and she still had thirty miles of woodland to drive through. The maths didn’t add up to her making it on time, not even if she wasn’t driving a clapped-out old banger. Damn it.

  Just as she put her foot down on the accelerator, her engine gave a chut-chut-chut like a thirty-a-day smoker coughing up a blackened lung, and her car jerked to a stop. There she was, stranded in the middle of Harrow Forest, adorned in a black dress appropriate for both funerals and cocktail parties. No mobile phone reception, a piece of crap car, and a rumbling stomach. She stopped short of thinking that things couldn’t get much worse, knowing full well that the universe had an unshakeable love for irony.

  Opening her car door, three beer cans fell out of it. She tossed them onto the backseat. She might have been a lot of things, but nobody could say she was a litterer. Then, gulping the fresh forest air and stretching her legs, she felt a wave of gratitude toward her car for even getting her this far in the first place. She knew she’d been pushing it, driving it so fast and for so long.

  Kneeling close, Loe whispered to it. “Thank you so much. You did us both proud, almost getting us all the way there. Now, if you can get your shit together and keep going a little while longer, I’ll get you valeted.

  I’ll do it as soon as we’re back in the city, I promise. You don’t believe me? Okay, so I forgot last time! Don’t be so stubborn. Come on. I really, really promise you.”

  That was their deal. She was nice to her car, and in return, it wouldn't break down in the middle of nowhere. It had worked so far, but maybe she’d broken the terms of the deal or something, and her car had waited for just the right place to take a nap. That was a lesson to her; always keep your promises.

  Around her, the forest went about its life as though it hadn’t even noticed her plight. Birds sang melodies to each other that only they knew the words to. A chill breeze teased between the trunks of the leafless trees. She smelled pinecones, mud, a faint whiff of exhaust fumes.

  The worst thing to do would be to do exactly what Loe did right then; she remembered the stories she’d heard about the forest surrounding Harrow Hall.

  Two little girls who wandered deep inside it. Neither of them came back.

  A woodcutter who strode in on a winter night, axe over his shoulder, to chop down a tree for his wood burner. All they found was a bloodied patch of his shirt.

  A dog walker who lost his dog in the forest, and the
n became lost himself.

  “What a load of shit,” said Loe, speaking it out loud as though it was a magic phrase that would break a spell.

  She was almost certainly going to miss the funeral now, which would leave a great impression on the brothers and sister she had never met. Worse, the road through the forest was ill-used and even iller-maintained, so the chance of someone driving by were slim. Worse still, a black dress was bad attire for messing around in the woods.

  Things didn’t look great, and she could already feel her heart pounding. This gave her a flicker of fear, like a short, sharp, dagger in the chest.