Malevolent Hall 1666AD (9 page)

Four oranges fell from the fruit bowl, rolled across the worktop and dropped to the floor.

Matilda jumped up.

“Is someone there?” she asked holding her breath as she listened for a voice - nothing.

Movement caught her eye as something white shot past the kitchen door.  Matilda froze not certain if she had actually seen it or if it was just a trick of the light.  She hurried to the kitchen door and peered into the hallway.  Her eyes moved towards the stairs catching what looked like the silhouette of a woman in white glide up them.

“Shit,” she mumbled, hesitating for a moment before venturing after it.  She hit the upstairs landing light, waiting for the chandelier to illuminate before taking the first step.  Reaching the upper landing, she stood for a long moment, her eyes scanning the upper floor, her ears listening for the slightest sound, but she neither saw nor heard anything.  She waited for a minute to see if there were any more noises, but the hall and rooms on the second floor remained quiet.

Matilda went back downstairs.  If she had been a cat her heckles would have been up, and she gave another shiver as she entered the kitchen.  She picked up the oranges off the floor and put them back in the fruit bowl.

Grabbing her book of spells from the table, she decided her best bet was to practice her magic.  Flicking through the pages, she began to read.  On finding a particularly compelling spell, Matilda looked at the box of biscuits on the kitchen table.

“Hmm, I wonder,” she muttered, lifting a hand.

“Surgere meis,” she chanted, waving her hand in a sweeping motion.  She grinned as the biscuit tin rose off the table and hovered in the air.

“Moventur in ordine,” she continued, and holding her hand outstretched towards it, pointed her index finger and the tin spun around mid-air in time with her finger.  She opened her palm, and held her hand still; the box stopped moving and hovered above the table.  She swept her hand hard left, and the box shot left.

“Desine,” she ordered, and the box stopped abruptly and hovered.  She swept it fast right, and then stopped it again, leaving the box hovering back above the table.

Then it crashed to the table as an unexpected banging noise made her jump and lose concentration.  She froze, keeping her breath quiet as she listened. 

Rattle, rattle, bang, bang!

Matilda’s heartbeat rose, she stood and moved towards the kitchen door.

“Mike,” she called.  “Is that you?” No one replied.

Rattle, rattle, bang, bang!

Matilda stared horrified at the portraits of her ancestors hanging on the walls as they shook furiously, banging back and forth, back and forth against the wall.  Her eyes flicked from one portrait to another.  Unsure what it was or what to do her breathing quickened.  Maybe there was an earth tremor or the workmen were moving a lorry.  A heavy lorry - that would make sense; that could cause the walls to shake and the pictures to move.

The portraits suddenly stilled and just as she began to breathe easy once again, she heard something sounding like a growl.  Isolating the noise quickly, she crept across the hallway moving towards her father’s study.  Reaching for the door, her shaking hand touched the knob and turned it slowly.  Pushing the door open, she peered inside but heard and saw nothing.  Matilda’s hand felt around the wall for the light switch, and she flicked it on.

“Hello,” she called, venturing further into the room.  She walked to the window on the far side of the room and peered out into the darkness.  She could see the lights on in one of the caravans.  She knew Mike was going for dinner with some friends and not staying over tonight.

Bang!  The study door slammed shut behind her.  She screamed spinning around towards it.  The light went out, and she was plunged into darkness.

“Shit,” she muttered, lifting her hand.  “Lluminare,” she whispered, raising the orb of light in front of her, and glancing around the room.  “Who’s here, I’m not scared of you,” she lied.  A cold breeze rushed past her, whipping her viciously in its wake.  She spun to her left.  “Who are you, show yourself you coward,” she yelled, brazenly.

“He is coming,”
a woman’s harsh voice warned with menace.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, and the blood drained from her face.  She spun around to try to locate the source of the voice.  “Who’s coming?” she asked.

“Richard is coming for you,”
the eerie voice echoed around the room.

“Richard.  Who the fuck is Richard, is he the one who killed my family!” she screamed.

“We all died because of you,”
she scorned, and Matilda felt something tug at her hair.  She lurched away from the invisible hand.

“Who are you, show yourself?” Matilda yelled.  A phenomenal rush of wind hit her, and she flew backwards lifting up into the air.  She gasped as the air abruptly left her lungs, and her body slammed hard into her father’s desk.  Matilda collapsed to the floor, falling on top of a pile of her father’s papers.  Panic rose throughout her body.  She scrambled to her feet and stood in a defence stance.  Her orb had dropped to the floor, so she quickly reconnected with it and lifted it back up.  She watched in relief as it hovered in front of her.

“Chicken shit!” she yelled.  “You fucking coward is that the best you can do?” she tormented.  Matilda stumbled backwards as she saw the shadow of a woman in a long white robe and flowing locks dart across the room.  She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her speeding heart, lifting her hands, and uncertain of her strengths or abilities she drew on her power.

“He killed us all because of you!”
she screeched.  As the woman flew towards her, Matilda screamed, as skeletal in appearance, rotten, decaying flesh hung from the woman’s skull.

“Belcara,” Matilda screamed in defence sending out a force of energy directly towards her.  She hit the entity or whatever the hell it was, with white magic.  The woman screamed, writhing about in front of her for a few seconds before exploding into nothing.

“Ha!” Matilda yelled, lifting a hand triumphantly.  “You go to hell, bitch!”

Matilda made a dash for the door; she grabbed the handle, and pulled but it wouldn’t open.

“No, no come on open,” she yelled.  She heard something growl behind her.  Her head snapped up; eyes wide, her hand froze on the doorknob.  Matilda’s body lurched backwards as something grabbed her from behind and threw her up in the air.  Winded, her scream became stuck in her throat and never past her lips.  This time landing harder, the side of her head ricocheted off the corner of her father’s desk and Matilda’s body went limp.  Her eyes rolled as her vision spun, and she closed her eyes briefly, trying to gain control of herself.

Come on, she yelled inside her head. Now was not the time to panic, she could use magic she could protect herself, was this not the whole reason she had been practicing for all these years?

Matilda opened her eyes just as bright, white light shot past her. The creature growled at it. As her eyes refocused, she realized the bright white light was in the form of a man. He was wrestling against what she could have only had described as werewolf cross with a demon, and it was fucking scary.

Matilda made a dash for the door, but the handle still would not turn.

“Aperi,” she chanted shaking it furiously, but it refused to open, even with her magic.  Noticing the light fading, she spun around.  Whatever it was that had come to her aid, was struggling against this creature.  The power of its light was burning into the demon’s flesh as it was howling against the pain.  She scrunched her hands in a nervous panic; what other proof did she need that demons existed, and that one had killed her family?  Fury burned and coursed through her veins, the need for revenge pounding furiously in her heart.  She chanted, quiet and fast, and watched as her hands began to glow.

Screaming in fury, Matilda launched herself at the demon, placing her hands directly onto its hard, leathery skin.  She pushed every ounce of energy she had straight into it.  The glowing man, glanced at her, and she was almost able to make out his features, he was human in form.  His hand grabbed hers, and he held it.  Her body shook as his power joined with hers and shot through her and into the demon.  The demon howled, and in a powerful burst of light, it exploded.

Matilda flew back with the force, landing on her bottom, gasping with frantic breaths, her body shaking with the energy still pounding through her.  The light in the room came back on, her eyes searched, but both the demon and the glowing man were gone.

Matilda stood, and a little wobbly on her legs, she stumbled for the door.  Her hand grasped at the handle and she turned it.  A sigh of relief escaped her lips when it opened and she rushed outside, slamming the door closed behind her.

Her stomach turned, and pulling a hand to her mouth, Matilda ran across the hall to the downstairs cloakroom.  Dropping to her knees, her face over the toilet bowl she retched.  Holding her hair back with her hand, she threw up repeatedly, shaking so profoundly she was hardly able to stay on her knees.  When there was nothing left inside her stomach, she hit the flush, and forced herself to her feet.  Gripping the sink, she turned the tap on and threw the water over her face.  She gasped hardly able to breath, her throat burning with such intensity she was desperate for a drink.

Stumbling out of the toilet, Matilda hurried to the kitchen.  Grabbing a glass from the drainer, she turned on the tap and drank three glasses of water straight down.  Her hand threw to her mouth as she tried to keep it down.  She leaned an elbow on the sink for support, feeling drained, tired, and so confused.  She had just fought a demon, a real life - death demon.

What should she do now?  Run and get out that was what her logic was saying – but her heart felt compelled to be here and the demon was dead anyway wasn’t it, so she had nothing fear now.  This was her home, she belonged here, and she was closer now than ever before in finding out the truth.  This creature was not the demon that killed her family, meaning only two things, It was still out there somewhere and she could kill it.  Who was the glowing man?  Was he the man who had saved her eleven years ago, or was he the ghost she keeps seeing and hearing?

Matilda winced and put her hand on the side of her head.  It hurt like hell where she had hit her father’s desk, and the pain was so severe it felt as if she had been whacked around the head with a baseball bat.  Her fingers massaged her scalp in an attempt to soothe the pain, it felt wet, and she looked at her hand.

“Shit,” she mumbled staring at the blood coating her fingertips.  She grabbed a clean t-towel from the kitchen drawer and ran it under the tap.  Squeezing out the excess water, she held it to her throbbing head.

Bang! Bang!  She jumped out of her skin at the hammering on the front door.

“Miss Rhiamon, are you okay in there?” a man’s voice yelled.  Matilda took a relieved breath as it was just Steve, Mike’s foreman.  She put the t-towel on the worktop and ventured to the front door.  Unlocking it, she opened it to see his worried face staring back at her.

“Oh hi, Steve,” she said, trying to sound cool and collected.

“Are you okay, Miss, it’s just me and the guys saw some weird flashing lights coming from inside, and well what sounded like screaming?”

Matilda had to think fast, as the last thing she wanted was to scare away her workforce.  If anything were to get out about ghosts or demons lurking in Malevolent Hall, she would never get anyone in to do the renovations.

“Yeah, sorry, the light bulb went, you know it was flickering like crazy.”  His eyes focused on the blood that she could feel trickling slowly down the side of her face.

“Erm, you’re bleeding,” he pointed out with his index finger.  She lifted her hand to her head.

“I kind of slipped off the chair and hit my head on my father’s desk,” Matilda lied.

“I have a first aid kit in the mobile, do you want me to take a look at it, I am a qualified first aider?” he offered.  At first, she was going to say no, but as he stared at her with concern, she thought perhaps she should, as it really was hurting.

“If you don’t mind,” she replied.

“Of course not, come on,” he said, turning around to walk down the steps.  Matilda grabbed her coat off the rack in the hall and slipped it on.  The caravan was only a few hundred yards away, but it was raining, and the night air chilly.

As she entered the caravan, the scent of men wafted into her nostrils.  There were six of them staying in this three-bedroom mobile home.  Four of them sat around a small table playing a game of cards.

“Hi,” she said a little embarrassed by their stares.

“Are you okay?” one asked, obviously noticing the blood on the side of her face.

“Oh, yes thanks, I fell and hit my head,” Matilda replied, lifting her hand to it.

“I’m going to patch her up.  This is Darren,” Steve said, and with an open hand, he pointed to each one in turn, “Mark, Andy, and Zeb.”  They nodded in greeting.  “Come on shift up fellas and let the lady sit down,” he ordered, reaching for a first aid kit hanging on the wall next to a small fire extinguisher.  Immediately they shuffled to their left, and she sat down a little dubiously next to Darren.  He smiled at her, and she gave a twitch of one back.

Steve put the first aid box on the table and opened it.  He pulled out a pair of blue gloves and put them on.

“Now let’s have a look, lean your head slightly,” he asked, as his hands took hold of her head.  Steve was in his late forties, a tall, stocky man, with a balding head and dark eyebrows.  He tutted a few times and she winced as he prodded her wound.

“I think you may need stitches for this, Miss Rhiamon,” he said.

“Please, just called me Matilda,” she insisted, Miss Rhiamon made her sound like an old woman.  “Can’t you just patch it with something? I really don’t want to sit for hours up at A&E,” she asked.

“Well, I suppose I could use the steri-strips, but you really should get it looked at.  You must have bashed it quite hard.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I did,” Matilda replied, keeping still as he stuck her head back together.

“There you go,” he said, closing the first-aid kit and disposed of his gloves into a carrier bag they were using for a bin.  She lifted her hand and touched the wound.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully and she stood to leave.

“Are you sure you don’t feel sick or giddy?” he asked.  Matilda shook her head.

“No, I’ve just got a bit of a headache that’s all, I’ll take something for it in a minute,” she replied.  “Thank you for your help, and well, for coming to check on me.”

“That’s okay, but if you change your mind, I’m quite happy to run you up the hospital,” Steve offered.

“Thank you, but I’m sure I will be fine.”

Steve opened the caravan door for her, and watched as she walked back across the lawn to the Hall.  She turned and gave him a wave, to which he reciprocated, and went indoors.

The Hall seemed chillingly quiet as she walked back to the kitchen.  Matilda took a couple of painkillers, made a mug of tea, and grabbed her spell book before heading up to the tower.  She closed the door, drew the bolt, and gave a sigh.  For some reason she felt safe up here, the energy was good, and it calmed her soul.  She put her mug of tea and the book on the bedside table, grabbed her nightdress from under the pillow, and sat on the bed.  She pulled off her boots and discarded them across the bedroom floor.  She stood and wriggling the dress over her head, she flung it onto the floor and removed her bra.

“What the fuck is that?” she said, and her hand pawed at the sudden appearance of a scar on her stomach.  It was about an inch and a half wide.  She prodded it, but it didn’t hurt.  She closed her eyes and took a breath as she thought back to earlier that day, and the vision of the woman.  Her eyes flew open, and she looked back at the scar.  It was exactly the same spot on her stomach, where she felt the dagger go in.