Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Laurel Lawns Private Hospital

Later that evening

Noel met Michael in the car park at Laurel Lawns. The man was in a shocking state. Michael had deteriorated so dramatically in the last forty-eight hours he had to be helped out of the passenger seat by both Noel and the younger man he’d arrived with. Tottering like an old man of ninety, he clung onto two walking sticks with bony claw-hands as he tap-tap-tapped his way across the tarmac on match stick legs, which frequently buckled from under him. It was clear to Noel that he’d said his good-byes. This would be his last act of goodwill.

The younger man, dressed in a long overcoat, which gaped at the neck to show a clerical collar, introduced himself as ‘Harry Tate.’ He had a firm handshake and an arresting persona. Over six feet tall with a large frame, he possessed solid shoulders and a direct blue stare. “I’ve been given the lowdown,” he said as they walked. “Obviously this is all totally under the radar. To be honest I’ve only agreed because Michael asked me to.” He indicated his friend’s health, “Well…let’s just get it done, shall we? I have to warn you, though, Noel, these things can and do sometimes go wrong. Do you know anything about exorcisms?”

Propped up by the two younger men, Michael had to stop frequently in order to recover his breath. Every step was a huge effort, his bones as fragile as a bird’s. He exhaled through dry lips in little whistles, focusing determinedly on the doorway to the hospital while Harry quickly brought Noel up to speed. He explained that he’d studied demonic possessions and the rites of exorcism. However, he had never performed one alone before and never in this country. It was supposed to be sanctioned at a high level and they really should have a doctor and a legal representative present, plus a member of the patient’s family.

“We don’t—”

Harry nodded. “I know. Like I said, let’s just get this over with and pray to God it goes to plan.”

Michael stopped, shaking his head. “Have…faith…”

“You’re right,” said Harry. “But Noel here needs to know how traumatic this is going to be and—”

“I saw
The Exorcist
,” said Noel, “and if it’s going to be anything like that I’m not looking forward to this one bit.”

Harry grimaced. “It won’t be, don’t worry. But my concern is that it’s without the church’s sanction and we don’t have medical consent and—”

Michael stopped him again. “Stop…wittering…”

Harry nodded. “Fair enough, my friend.”

On arrival at the main door Harry turned to face Noel, “Okay, well here’s what you need to know because I’m going to be relying on you now. First of all please don’t underestimate the power of the demonic. If you do they will attack you and you will know about it and could even be physically harmed. You will need to pray hard throughout and never ever engage with the patient even if it looks like she’s appealing to you, calling your name or whatever. Do not interrupt me and do not deviate from your prayers. When I tell you to do something you do it. And you must repeat ‘The Litany of Saints’ as I read through it. Also, the demons will look for weaknesses and directly attack them so do not be put off – do not respond or show dismay or shame or anger. Do not respond in any way. Hold fast. Finally it’s going to take at least two hours and we may have to come back and do it all again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

The other two looked at him searchingly.

“Yes,” he said again, with more conviction than he felt. Looking at Michael he asked, “Are you sure
you’re
up to this?”

“I’m well in spirit. And Harry needs me here.”

“Okay then,” Noel said. “Well, can I just ask one more question before we go in?”

“Of course,” said Harry.

“Am I in danger of being possessed? Will it get into me just from being present?”

Harry looked into his eyes. “I can’t say that won’t happen. It might. You need to have faith and pray hard.”

“I’m scared to death.”

“Don’t show it,” said Harry. “Come on – let’s do this.”

***

True to her word, Nora had informed them correctly: Crispin Morrow was off duty and the locum was not on the premises. The second she saw the three men she motioned them to come round the back way. “She’s a lot worse,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried down the corridor to the room furthest away from all the others.

The room people go to die in
.

As if reading his thoughts, Nora turned to look at Noel when they got to the door, and gave him a half smile. “I know you’ve seen some sights but you must prepare for a serious shock. I’m afraid there is nothing more we can do, though, except keep her restrained and sedated. Dr Morrow refused to allow a second opinion or to have her transferred to Intensive Care. And he wouldn’t allow the clergy in either, even though quite a few of us begged him to reconsider. She has no one, you see? Anyway, that apart, I’m really glad you came.” She turned to face Michael and Harry, “I hope you can help her die in peace.”

Harry nodded, and then Nora took out her keys and let them in.

She had not understated the situation.

Lying on the bed with her limbs in restraints, Kristy resembled a corpse following a car crash. Her eyes were staring at the ceiling unblinkingly; her skin mottled purple, and her swollen tongue lolled to the side. Plastered back from an oily forehead her blonde hair had been pulled out in clumps, and the dishevelled sheets revealed a body covered in gouges – the deepest of which were on the insides of her arms from repeatedly yanking out her intravenous infusions. Blood spattered the bed and there was an unmistakeable odour of sulphur in the air.

Calmly thanking Nora, Harry walked towards the bed and made the sign of the cross on his own brow, lips and breast before taking out a bottle of holy water from his coat pocket and sprinkling it around the room. Michael sat down by the window and quietly began to pray; and Noel, following his lead, did the same.
This couldn’t be happening. It didn’t really exist. It was surreal.

“Okay, now let’s begin,” said Harry softly.

“Hello Kristy. Let’s start with a bit of an introduction. Tell me how you grew up! Were you happy?”

She remained staring at the ceiling, her voice barely above a whisper. “Happy, yes.”

“Did you go to church?”

“Yes.”

“Were there any problems at home or any illnesses?”

“No,” she said, still in a dreamy whisper. “My mother was bipolar – she killed herself when I was six. Dad remarried but died last year from a heart attack.”

“You must have been very sad when your mum died?”

No reply.

“Did your dad bring you up?”

No reply.

“Kristy?”

“What made you decide to be a psychiatrist, Kristy? Was it your mum’s illness?”

Her body began to stiffen by degrees and her breathing was becoming agitated.

Harry stood up and opened the bottle of holy water, which he signed himself and then Kristy with. At the point where the water came into contact with her skin, it hissed as if splashed on a hot grill. After which everything changed. Within seconds her respiration count began to escalate.

Harry began to recite ‘The Litany of Saints.’ “Lord have mercy.”

Michael and Noel repeated as indicated, “Lord have mercy.”

“Christ have mercy.”

“Chris have mercy.”

Kristy continued to stare only at the ceiling, her chest wheezy and rattling as it battled for breath. Her fists began to clench and unclench, and blood trickled down her chin from a bitten tongue.

“Christ hear us.”

“Christ graciously hear us.”

The sound of rasping breathing filled the air: faster and faster and faster, to the point of hyperventilating.

Harry continued calmly even as her limbs jerked and twitched.

“Lord have mercy.”

“Lord have mercy.”

Then quite suddenly it was as if she’d had enough. A primeval roar emanated from her body. It arched back, then with full force began to throw itself around on the bed, violently yanking on the restraints. Then just as suddenly it stopped, and her head snapped round a full ninety degrees to stare directly at Harry.

He looked away, attempting to continue with the process, even as the creature peered intently into his face, a forked blackened tongue flicking in and out between filthy, slimy teeth. A nasty laugh echoed around the room in a chorus of voices and he was struggling to focus when a male voice that sounded like a slowed-down recording, emanated from deep within her chest. “Don’t even try, Father. Don’t touch her. She’s ours.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Harry said.

“You should be.”

Steeling his nerve he picked up the prayer book and resumed the ritual, moving onto the first Gospel reading, sprinkling more holy water and holding the crucifix up high.

Her fine boned face now began to contort into one bloated and twisted in pain, the forehead pulsating visibly as if something inside was going to burst through. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets and sulphur choked the air.

Both Michael and Noel’s prayers increased in vehemence and volume.

Another twenty minutes passed before Harry held his hands up to them to stop for a moment, before commanding,

“Lord send aid from your holy place.

And watch over her from Sion.

Lord hear my prayer.

And let my cry be heard by You.”

Once more he signed himself with holy water and did the same to Kristy, holding the crucifix up high. Then he signalled to the other two to recommence prayers before beginning the Rites of Exorcism.

“What is your name?”

A rush of babbled jargon erupted from her chest in a cacophony of indistinguishable voices.

“In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to answer me: what is your name?”

Again came a stream of language unbeknown to any of the men present. Harry shot a glance towards Michael, who shook his head. It wasn’t Latin or Hebrew or Aramaic or any language any had come across before.

Kristy’s body now started to thrash around so violently it rocked the bed on its castors, banging it down hard on the floor repeatedly. Something was going to break…Something had to break… Her screams of fury were enough to pierce eardrums, the light fitting swung from side to side smashing on the ceiling, and the air temperature plunged to below freezing. Again Harry repeated the command for a name; and again; and again, now walking determinedly forwards holding the crucifix up high. “In the name of Christ I command you…”

Suddenly the crucifix ignited and was swiped from his hands by an invisible force.

At that moment Noel faltered.
This was going wrong
…The cross lay in the corner of the room on the floor, exuding smoke. And the screaming ceased.

Kristy’s head now swivelled around to focus on Noel. Her lips curved into a salacious smile. “Arse loving queer boy… Likes to….suck…” The viper tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, the voices inside of her slurping and slithering.

All three closed their ears to the tirade of diabolical abuse that spewed forth, and Harry again made the sign of the cross, repeating his command for a name, now holding the crucifix he wore around his neck on a chain.

Then Kristy stopped again as if re-thinking her strategy. Her head waggled around on its stem before her eyes settled on the cleric.

“In the name of Christ, answer me – what is your name?”

Next second a series of names were projected at him like vomit, “One, two, three, four…Shroud, Lucifer, Cain, Nero…”

She slumped back onto the mattress, a sheen of sweat covering her skin, the chest wheezing and hissing, all traces of physical distortion rapidly subsiding, before her eyes snapped open again and a silky voice said, “Come on Reverend. Now wouldn’t you like to put your fingers inside me? You know you would. Wouldn’t you like to… finger me…? I’ve been such a good girl…” She licked her lips and arched her back like a porn star, writhing and moaning as if the throes of ecstasy.

Harry, who had hesitated only momentarily, continued ever more powerfully with the ritual. The demons had divulged their names and now were lost: he was winning. “I cast you out unclean spirits, along with every satanic power of the enemy, every spectre from hell, and all your fell companions; in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Kristy’s throat gurgled as if it was full of slime. “He will die in misery and loneliness,” she said, looking over at Michael. “He will ache from it. Hell will last for all his eternity. His mistake was to mess with his belief. Demons, say the professor, are merely a part of medieval theology. What a fool you have been, Michael.”

She lay on her back again, staring at the ceiling. “You are all blind and in darkness. You are paralysed. You should have played by the rules. You are fools.”

The lights flickered on and off, and the cross lying in the corner skittered across the floor as if pulled by a string. Still Harry shouted out the Rites, drowning out everything else, instructing the others, “Pray hard and don’t stop.”