Spirits

Chapter Fouteen

Farrell shivered. His clothes were soaked all the way through and it felt as though his boots were full of water. He reached for the heater and then remembered it didn't work, it had never worked. He looked across at Alex, he was equally as wet and, like everything else in the car, was covered in a thin layer of dust.

A shell shocked silence filled the car, no one in the mood to talk about what just happened. Alex opened his mouth, as if to ask Farrell a question, but then closed it without saying a word, returning his focus to the road. Farrell knew the questions he wanted to ask, but if he was honest with himself he wasn't entirely sure.

"Creatures fused of dust and fire," his father's voice rang in his ears from a long forgotten childhood lesson. He tried to remember what the lesson had been about. Summonings? Apparitions? He wished he'd paid more attention.

"So," said Alex, "ghosts, possession spirits, demonic dogs. Is there anything else we need to look out for?"

Farrell smiled. "I'm not sure you want to know," he said, although he was only half joking. Sometimes even he didn't want to know the things that were out there.

A wave of dizziness hit him, his eyelids felt unbearably heavy. He looked down at his jeans, a blossom of crimson blood radiated from his ankle. He closed his eyes. Somewhere, vaguely, he remembered the dog's teeth sinking into his ankle, but the memory seemed so far away. He tried to open his eyes, but they were weighed shut. It felt like his was falling backwards into a pit of darkness as eventually exhaustion overwhelmed him.

   *          *          *

Farrell found himself standing at the base of a snow covered hill. He knew the nightmare immediately and didn't even bother trying to resist as he walked up the hill to the church. The two boys played in amongst the tombstones and turned as he approached, but instead of the usual stomach lurching dread, Farrell only felt surprise. The swirling flesh-coloured mist that normally marred their faces was gone and the young faces of both Chris and Alex stared back at him. He questioned if he'd just replaced their missing faces with people from his life, but he knew that wasn't right. Somehow he'd always known they were Alex and Chris, but until now he hadn't been allowed to remember.

They walked over to him, standing in front of him.

"I'll get the doors," said Alex. It took Farrell by surprise, normally they just stared at him blankly. It had never occurred to him that they were supposed to be talking.

"I don't know," Chris said uncertainly, looking uneasily at the locked church doors, "what if your father catches us again?"

"He won't," said Farrell, "he's away." Chris looked at Alex, then Alex at Farrell. They all silently agreed that the risk was worth it.  Alex ran off to the side of the church and the dream played out in exactly the same, but somehow Farrell knew where Alex was going.  Alex was the only one able to climb up the bell tower to the window with the broken latch. It was the only way they could get into the church after his father had caught them and locked it.  After a few minutes Alex unlocked the church doors from the inside and he and Chris ran off to explore the bell tower.  Farrell was struck by a number of other memories.  Images of running through the church on other occasions, exploring every recess and alcove.  He also remembered the look of anger on his father's face when he'd found Farrell, Alex and Chris playing in the crypt. They'd all received a lecture about respect for the dead and were told to never play there again. But the church offered a sense of exploration and adventure that was too hard to resist.

Farrell went to follow Alex and Chris up the stairs when the saw movement from near the altar. He bent down to find the little girl crouched beneath it, her face was also devoid of mist and stared back at him with the same big brown eyes of the girl he'd seen in the middle of the road.  She turned and walked to the back of the church, disappearing behind one of the sentinel knight columns.  Farrell suddenly remembered a secret set of stairs hidden behind the column that he and Alex had discovered in a previous visit.  He found it strange that he could have forgotten such a significant memory.  The stairs had been so drenched in darkness the first time they'd found it that they'd run immediately home to grab flashlights. At the base of the stairs they'd found a wooden door that had taken their breath away. It had no discernible handle or hinges, but was covered in delicate wrought iron filigree. The black metal against the wood formed an unbroken image of six birds in a wide circle, swirls and scrolls snaking their way around the door connecting them all. They'd tried for hours to get the door opened, but what lay behind it remained one of the many mysteries of the church. He walked over to the column and looked into the darkness, there seemed to be light coming from the bottom of the spiral stairs.

Bells started to toll from somewhere above him and without warning Farrell was running back down the hill again.  It took him a moment to realise he wasn't running at all, instead he was being carried under the arm of a man. He tried to turn to see who it was, but was unable to move, all he could see was a tattoo of a blue dragon that spiralled around the man's arm.  The sun was lower in the sky, almost dusk, the air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke.

*          *          *

Marvin walked silently through Marcus's house.  An unnatural stillness permeated every room, but Marvin never let such things bother him. A stack of unread letters lay piled by the door, although Marcus was often away from home, so it wasn't that unusual. He walked through the kitchen, the fridge door lay wide open, a pool of stagnant water had formed underneath it and the food inside had begun to grow mould. Marvin furrowed his brow, both Josephine and Rowan's houses were similarly empty, and neither showed signs of being lived in recently, but Marcus's house was different. Something had happened here.

He walked up the stairs into Marcus's bedroom. A half packed suitcase lay abandoned on the bed, clothes that had been torn from the cupboard were strewn across the floor. In the hall Marvin found the rug crumpled against the wall and a lamp shattered on the ground. Circular burn marks blemished the wall paper all the way along the hall. Marvin followed them to the window at the end. It had been smashed outward, dried blood covered the jagged fragments of glass that remained in the frame. Marvin peered out the window then floated through the wall, hovering in the air outside the house. Several large bushes would have cushioned the two storey drop, however he couldn't imagine whoever jumped from the window landed entirely unscathed.

Less than a month, Marvin guessed, since whatever happened here had occurred. He couldn't make sense of it, but one thing was clear. No one would be coming to help Farrell.