Book One : The Prophecy : XII : Valley of Shadows

XII

Valley of Shadows

What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?

Friedrich Nietzsche.

Mary awoke abruptly from her unconscious state of sleep as the loud noise shook the Georgian house. Sitting erect in her bed, she gasped as her door forced itself open, a cold and unyielding gust of air sweeping into her room. Freezing with fear, she brought her Egyptian sheets up to her shoulders and sat very still, listening intently with her eyes wide and her heart thudding violently within. Her eardrums rang out with the throbbing sound of her heart as the room began to fall prey to silence once more, the cold air still ventilating the air about her with malevolent intent. After several minutes she began to draw in deep breathes, feigning to calm her tense body, the hairs on her skin still standing tall and erect as though suspicious of foul play. As she fought against the fear that trickled up and down her fragile frame she found heat beginning to run through her veins, warming the tips of her fingers and toes. There was no light in which to bring comfort to the terror that still lingered. Mary closed her eyes tight and sought any streams of courage within before opening them once again and climbing out of her four poster bed, carefully tip toeing over to her chair in which to find her heavy nightgown, shrugging her body into it whilst also slipping her slight feet into their slippers.

A long breathe left her body as it sighed with comfort, her nightgown and slippers raising a flicker of hope within. She was abashed that no one had awoken like she and claimed terror as she had. Pensively she made her way over to the doorway and stood, observing the swaying door before dipping her head out into the dark corridor. Her room was on the second floor, the guests rooms located on the first floor. With shaking hands and a faint intake of breath she made her way down the corridor, lifting an oil lamp and turning it on. The corridor, its walls a soft cream came a live as the oil lamp filled it with reassurance. Her hands still shaking she picked up the oil lamp and made her way quietly towards the stairs. She stopped, her feet steadying themselves upon the top step. With caution she bent her body over the banister slightly and held out the lamp, looking downwards, her eyes scanning the winding stair case and resting upon the ground floor, filled with silvery light. With furrowed brows she began to descend the white marble steps slowly, the cold air biting at her face and eyes. As she came to the first floor she walked away from the stairs and held the lamp high, her gaze turning up and down the corridor in search of life. It was empty, the guests asleep and unaroused by the terrifying noise and gush of wind that had awoken her so suddenly. With another deep breathe she made her way back towards the stairs and once more descended the steps, her hair dancing amidst the swirling air. The sound of a door swinging against a wall filled Mary’s ears as she came to stand upon the first floor, her eyes wide with fear as they beheld the sight before her. The large black, Georgian front door had been flung open, now swinging hauntingly against the coat hanger as a cloud of snow filled the reception hall, lightly covering everything in its midst. Her body stood frozen as she digested the sight before her, acknowledging the increasingly possibility that someone had invaded her house. The cold air wound its way up her nightgown and strangled her internal organs, the pinch of coldness deep and inconsolable. With shivering contemplation she made her way to the door and set the oil lamp down on a nearby table. Cautiously she found the door handle and curled her fingers about it, forcing it over to meet with the door frame, quickly she locked the door and with an anxious sigh leaned her body against the large black door, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

The house remained quiet as Mary quietly, guided by her oil lamp searched the rooms of the ground floor. The doors had also been forced open, but she found no evidence of an invader. Instead the rooms had been subjected to the force of the gust of wind that had consumed the sleeping house, causing paper to fall to the ground, books to fall from their shelves, vases to crash onto the floors and blankets to be cast from the sofa’s, lying unceremoniously on the ground. Without a thought, Mary began to put things to right, starting in the dining room. Becoming active helped to take her mind off the fear that still caused shadow and doubt to linger ever so heavily in the back of her mind. In little time she entered the library and began to tidy its contents a little more calmly, she was adamant that if there was a burglar they would have shown themselves, but such an assumption did little to calm her nerves, how could she explain what had happened? As she closed the door of the library behind her she made her way to the stairs. As she ascended the marble steps once more she heard a door opening on the first floor and stopped, lowering her oil lamp and turning the light down, the house falling under darkness once more. Mary moulded her body to the wall as the sound of footsteps came from above. As she stood frozen, her eyes fell upon a black figure that came into view, stopping by the banister of the first floor and turning. Mary placed a hand over her mouth as the figure bent over the banister to get a better look. After what seemed to be eternity, the figure moved away from the banister and disappeared from view. Mary found herself the centre of a conundrum, what was she to do? Her mind began to hyperventilate as she searched for options. With a deafening thud in her ears, an answer sprung from within. The kitchen. Ada, Bram and Peter had decided to take refuge in the large kitchen below, having been too tired to return to their own lodgings so early in the morning. With a quick leap of her heart, Mary turned quickly and tip toed down the stairs, wounding her way round the bottom of the staircase and heading towards the servants stairs, which lay beyond the library. As she tip toed with quite some speed she heard the sound of footsteps once again, this time on the stairs and with haste made for the door of the servants stairs and opened it wide, marching with focus down the steps until she reached the kitchen, bathed in darkness. Three bodies lay slumped over the large, wooden table that was positioned in the centre of the large Georgian kitchen, filled with utensils and the smells of food, particularly baked bread.

The footsteps grew louder, causing Mary’s heart to start jumping with desperation.

“Ada!” she whispered loudly, roughly thumping the sleeping man on the back, her eyes on the door of the kitchen. Ada didn’t move no matter how hard she thumped him. Fear beckoning her onwards, she moved to Peter, her most favoured guest with whom she had spent quite a bit of time with in the last two weeks, both sharing a love of ancient civilisations. “Peter, please wake up!” she cried with no success. Peter’s body merely shook at her touch. Mary looked at the men with confusion, why where they not waking up for her? Turning to the door, the footsteps drew closer, now upon the servant’s stairs. Quickly she turned out the lamp and scurried under the large kitchen table, crawling to the centre where she set down the lamp and curled her legs up to her chin, lowering her mouth to her hands as the unidentified person entered the kitchen. Mary felt an odd sensation run through her as the person entered, their feet stopping before the table, bare and still. Silence ensued the kitchen like a knife to the heart. With a shiver, Mary watched on in horror as the bare feet began to make their way around the table, moving away towards the worktops. Mary’s eyes rested upon the feet, taking in the bare legs and hem of a nightdress. Just as she began to recognise the person, her ears quipped as the sound of a knife grazing the wooden worktop. Mary bite down on her hand as the person turned and made their way back towards the table, coming to stand behind Bram. The quiet and shaking kitchen now filled with a high pitched voice, unlike any voice Mary had heard before. The sound of the voice coursed through Mary as though she had been internally inflicted with fire. Mary bent her head in agony as the voice began to utter words she could not understand. With her hands she roughly placed them over her ears for protection. Then she heard the swing of the knife carve through the air and stab through the body of Bram. Mary shocked began to crawl backwards as the voice reverberated about her and within her, a flow of heavy blood now beginning to journey its way down from Bram’s back to his legs, where large blobs of red blood began to dot the tiled floor beneath him. Mary listened, her stomach churning with nausea as the person took out the knife and stepped where Peter sat, motionless, swinging the blade through the air again and bringing to down, plunging it into the depth of the man’s back, his body clearly shaking with the attack, as blood sprung high into the air. Mary let out a gasp which prompted the person to stop what they were doing. Mary shuffled backwards into a chair, which squeaked loudly against the tiled floor.

With trembling lips and shaking hands she squirmed as the person bent down before her, piercing red eyes penetrating her soul. Mary let out another cry as the being let out a low laugh, the knife within its hands, blood dripping down the point of the blade.

“Don’t be frightened,” the person said with menacing eyes. Mary let out a breath.

“Eveline? Is that…is that you?” Mary whispered with alarm.

“Come out Mary, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Eveline said darkly. “I was just attending to some business.”

“What…what business?” Mary whispered, unable to move from her spot under the table.

“Getting rid of unwanted persons,” Eveline shrugged, moving backwards and rising to her full height once again. Mary became riddled with confusion and angst as she tried to process her current predicament. Eveline was unlike her usual self, and those eyes, so red and so very piercing had caused Mary’s soul to burn wildly. Mary felt tears spring to her eyes as Eveline stabbed the unconscious Ada. As blood began to pool around the lifeless bodies, Mary forced herself to think, she needed to alert the rest of her guests and to do this she would need to create a diversion. Eveline pulled out a chair and took a seat, near to the door, wiping the blood stained knife on her white linen nightdress. “You can’t hide under the table forever Mary, but it angers me not, I have…,” she spun the knife about in the air. “All night in which to wait, although to be perfectly honest my master may not be as patient as I.” Mary, hiding in the shadows found the oil lamp and turned it on. The kitchen now was bathed in a golden light, light that illuminated the dark figure of Eveline. Mary bite down on her lip as she took in the young guest, so very unlike herself. Blood was splattered across her nightdress, but what was more shocking to Mary, was Eveline’s body and face. Her veins where black and her eyes red, her thick wild hair fell about her thin body, glimmering in the light. As she observed Eveline with terror she took in a deep breathe, the only way she could get out of this kitchen was by hurling the oil lamp at Eveline, praying that the flame would create a diversion. As though reading her mind, Eveline smiled lazily. “You don’t seriously think that fire can kill me do you?” Mary forced her mouth to stay shut, whatever had happened to Eveline, Mary knew this was not her, she seemed almost possessed.

Possessed.

Mary shivered at the thought, she had known that something serious had been going on under her roof these last few days, but had been kept at a distance. Had something happened to make Eveline turn into a possessed creature?

“Do you like riddles Mary?” Eveline asked with a curious expression upon her face. “How quiet you are. I shall give you a riddle and you shall try to answer,” Eveline threatened as she sat back against her chair with a malevolent look upon her face. Mary shuffled herself away from the table as Eveline crossed her legs and mused. “Alone I roam, seeking out my prey. Alone I stalk, under shadow of night and day. Ageless runs my overflowing cup of morality. Your end is my eternity.” Mary’s chest rose and fell abruptly as she took in the words, trying to make sense of the riddle. Eveline sat forward, her head bent in Mary’s direction, a smile upon her lips. “Well?”

“I…I don’t know,” Mary muffled pathetically, her wides wide with terror, her face drained of colour.

“Think,” Eveline said darkly. Mary dropped her gaze from Eveline and shook her head. She couldn’t think, couldn’t think beyond the darkness that gripped her.

“I shall let you off this once,” Eveline sneered. “Would you like to know the answer Mary?”

“Yes…, please.”

“Why death of course!” Eveline laughed, pointing the blade in Mary’s direction. “Now, one last riddle and this time you shall answer as my patience is starting to dwindle.” Mary clutched at her oil lamp, her fingers trembling and cold. “With wings of darkness I fly. With a venomous sting you cry. Between life and death, cling.  Devour all but that which I depend. Until grown my offspring have fed.” Mary curled her toes within the comfort of her slippers as she tried to take apart the riddle, unable to source the answer. “Would you like a clue?” Mary shook her head vigorously. “It is a type of wasp.”

“I…,” Mary whispered with faint breath. She was no scientist and had no idea what kind of wasp Eveline was talking off, but she knew her life depended upon her answer and so muttered, “Yellow jacket?” Eveline looked at Mary briefly before erupting into an episode of laughter, her high pitched laugh causing Mary’s mind to erupt with wild pain. After several minutes, Eveline stopped laughing and rose from her seat, bending down under the table.

“Malum,” she whispered perversely as she crawled towards Mary with dangerous eyes. “Faux. Falsch. Incorreto. Sbaglito.”

“Please,” Mary cried out as Eveline came close to Mary.

“Please,” Eveline said with bitterness. Mary felt an ice cold hand clasp at her ankle and cried out. “The wasp is known as Ichneumonidae, a favourite of my masters.”

“Eveline please, I mean you no harm,” Mary cried out as the hand about her ankle tightened.

“I’m not Eveline you bitch! Well,” Eveline laughed aloud. “I suppose I am Eveline.”

“What…I don’t understand?” Mary pleaded as she tried to move out of the reach of Eveline, bringing the lamp with her.

“Oh don’t doubt that Eveline is in here somewhere,” Eveline smirked, using her free hand and running it up and down her body. “You should hear her screaming out to you, touching really. No I have another name, would you care to guess?” Mary shook her head as she gulped. “I am Nathaniel.” Mary looked into the pair of red eyes. “Demon captor and servant of the great Lagar or known to you by the names of Lucifer and Satan.”

“No,” Mary whispered as she readied herself, distracting Eveline with conversation. Finding that the moment was right, she lifted the oil lamp and slammed it against Eveline’s head, throwing her to the ground and knocking her mortal body out of consciousness. The lamp burst upon the floor, the flame flickering and dying as the pool of blood drowned out its fire. Quickly, Mary crawled out from under the table and without looking backwards, ran from the kitchen and up the flight of stairs to the ground floor, closing the door behind her. Summoning all of her strength she made for the stairs and with haste made her way up to the first floor. Upon finding herself in the dark corridor of the first floor, she made her way down the corridor towards Eveline’s room. Beneath her she could hear the door of the kitchen open.

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” came the lyrical song from below. “With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.” Mary forced the door of Eveline’s room open and entered. Her eyes fell to the large four poster bed, which was empty. With shock she ran to the bed and pulled back the sheets. “Theodore?” she whispered desperately. She turned from the bed and looked about the dark room, Theodore was nowhere to be found. The sounds of Eveline’s footsteps drew closer as Mary ran out of her room and down the corridor to Galean’s room, opening the door quickly and scanning the room. He was nowhere to be found either. As she stood in the doorway, the song stopped and the air in the corridor stood still. She could feel Eveline’s gaze upon her. “Time is running out.” Mary turned slowly until she found herself facing Eveline, who stood perfectly tall with her right hand outstretched, clasping the hilt of the bloodied knife. Mary knew in that moment what would happen next, she knew that she should have run, should have fought for her life but her body wasn’t so accommodating to her wishes. Instead her body froze, her feet refusing to budge. Any lingering traces of warmth drained itself from Mary’s body as she watched Eveline swing back her arm and throw the knife through the dark corridor. At first she didn’t feel a thing, only that the force of the blade piercing her heart forced her backwards, her body falling to the ground, heavy and unyielding. She felt her head hit the carpeted ground roughly and cried out. As she found focus, a sudden stab pierced her chest, the pain coursing its way around her body. She tried to sit up but failed, tried to lift her hand in order to take out the knife and failed. A solemn tear fled her eye and fell upon her cold cheek as the body of Eveline came into sight. Mary tried to crawl backwards but found she couldn’t, her body becoming unresponsive to her thoughts. Eveline said nothing, she simply bent down and tugged the knife free from Mary’s heart, a painful cry swallowing up the air around them as Mary tried to keep herself awake.

*

Nathaniel looked down at the corpse of Mary last time before striding away, making for Estelle’s room which lay at the far end of the corridor. Within Eveline’s mind he could hear her cry out, pleading with him to stop. With an iron fist and strength greater than Eveline’s, Nathaniel forced his host to shut up.

“Please, not my mother!” Eveline tried to cry out as she felt the force of the creature within her hurt her mind, which grew smaller and tighter with each passing minute. At first she had been unaware of what was occurring, herself feeling disorientated and sedated within. When Nathaniel had forced her to stab her first victim in the back she felt the true nature of the creature, which was not only speaking through her but forcing her to use her body for his own purposes and intent, which seemed to be murdering those within the Georgian house. She could feel every vein, muscle and nerve in her body as the demon wielded her like a helpless lamb being brought forward for slaughter. She felt the same emotions as the demon, herself falling victim to the surge of happiness and maliciousness that the demon forced upon her. She swayed between a drowning sensation and a hyperventilate state of extreme happiness. She could smell the blood upon her skin and dress, smell the stench of death that filled the house and worse yet smell the stench of the demon within. When she had awoken from her sleep she found her bed empty, now it had dawned on her that certain guests who should have been in the beds sleeping where missing, including her husband.

Eveline felt herself open the door to her mother’s room, felt her feet enter the gently lit room, its walls a warm marigold and her mother happily asleep, her face at peace as her chest rose gently. Eveline tried to stop her body from moving but could not, she tried to shut her mind to the demon but could not. Nathaniel growled deeply as they stood over Estelle, whose eyes stopped moving as though aware of their presence. Eveline looked on as her mother opened her eyes.

“Eveline?” she said sheepishly as she rubbed her eyes with her arm and yawned aloud. “What is it?” she asked gently, her eyes now opened wide. Eveline looked down through her eyes and screamed out within.

“Run! Run!” she cried out much to the joy of the demon who hurt her once again, her mind attacked as though by ice. Estelle looked up into her daughters face and frowned.

“Eveline you don’t look well,” she said kindly, pushing herself up so that her back found itself against the headboard of her bed. The room stood still as Estelle’s eyes fell from her daughter’s face, to her right hand, in which was a bloodied knife. “Why do you have a knife?”

“Tell me have you read little red riding hood?” Eveline said with a deep voice. Estelle looked concerned.

“Of course I have, why do you ask?” she replied with suspicious eyes. “And why are you talking with such a…, strange voice?”

“Can you quickly surmise the story for me?” Eveline asked with menacing eyes that flashed red.

“Your eyes,” Estelle whispered, suddenly realising with a terrifying shiver that her daughter was not herself at all, that she had changed.

“The story if you please,” Eveline urged, sitting herself down on the edge of the bed as Estelle moulded her body into the headboard of the bed, her fingers gathering the sheets for comfort. Had her daughter succumbed to the poison? Had Theodore forgotten to immunise her?

“I don’t know where to begin,” Estelle stammered haughtily.

“Preferably at the beginning if you please,” Eveline said, wavering her hands with impatience. Estelle blinked as she gulped, clearing her throat and wetting her lips.

“Little red riding hood walks through the woods with a basket of food for her sickly grandmother,” Estelle began, her shoulders tense and her heart rushing wildly beneath her ribs.

“What was in the basket?”

“Wine and cake I think,” Estelle answered with a confused glance.

“Go on.”

“On her way to her grandmother’s house, a wolf stalks the girl wanting to devour not just her basket but the child as well,” Estelle said with a sickly feeling in her stomach as Eveline licked her lips. “He approaches the child and asks her where she is going and she tells him. The wolf then goes on to encourage the child to pick some wild flowers for her grandmother to which the child obeys. As the little girl picks flowers, the wolf goes to the grandmother’s house and enters pretending to be the child and proceeds to devour her grandmother, quickly changing into her clothes and jumping into the bed.”

“Is it perverse that I find this story enchanting?” Eveline asked with innocent eyes, eyes that could betray the evil within their red glare. Estelle refused to answer. “Proceed.”

“Little red riding hood when finished picking flowers made her way back to the path and journeyed to her grandmother’s cottage at which the door was ajar. When she entered the cottage and room a strange feeling ran over her and called out to her grandmother, “Good morning”. No answer came from her grandmother and so she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. Her grandmother lay facing her, with her cap pulled over her face, and looking very suspicious.” As Estelle was about to finish the story, Eveline raised a hand to silence her.

“What did she say?” Eveline whispered darkly, using the point of the blade and running it over the bed sheets.

“Grandmother, what big ears you have!” Estelle muttered quickly, her skin crawling with horror as her daughter smirked, her eyes protruding and dangerous.

“All the better to hear you with, my child,” she returned, prompting Estelle to go on.

“But grandmother, what big eyes you have!”

“All the better to see you with, my dear,” Eveline said with a sinister glare as she ran the blade up Estelle’s body, settling up over her heart.

“And…,” Eveline stuttered. “What big hands you have!”

“All the better to hug you with,” Eveline said, her free hand suddenly grabbing at Estelle’s throat. Estelle cried out as the hand tightened about her throat.

“Eveline! Let me go!” she struggled to say as she gasped for air. Eveline leaned forward, until their noses touched.

“Finish the story, mother,” she hissed into her mother’s ear. Within her, Eveline could feel what was to come, could feel the murderous intent that the creature radiated. She cried out pathetically, unable to use her mouth as means of trying to warn her mother, trying to apologise, to make her understand that she was not the one with the ill intent, that she had been possessed, that she had not strength over this dark and vile demon that had taken her body and mind and consumed it, violating her every being.

“Oh but grandmother what a big mouth you have!” Estelle managed to say as she coughed violently, her throat and lungs burning as though consumed with fire.

“All the better to eat you with!” Eveline said aloud, her voice now high pitched as she flung Estelle from the bed and got up onto her feet. Estelle cried out, clutching her throat with her hands as Eveline stood over her. “Do you know who I am, Mother?”

“You are Eveline!” Estelle rang out with anger forcing herself onto her feet, her eyes scanning the room for anything that could be of use to her.

“Wrong!” Eveline laughed as she prowled after Estelle who now fled to the other side of the room, near to her dressing table. “I am the wolf!”

“You are Eveline do you hear me!” Estelle yelled, picking up her letter opener and thrust it before her daughter, who stood arrogantly before her, licking her lips.

“I won’t eat you,” she hissed. “I’ll leave that for the filthy rats!”

Estelle used all her strength and found the vase of roses with her free hand and swung it round and for the second time in that hour, Eveline was struck on the side of her head. Estelle watched on in horror as her daughter fell and hit her head of the dressing table. Without thinking Estelle fled from the room and made her way down the corridor to her son’s bedroom, coming to an abrupt halt before the lifeless body of Mary, now immersed in a pool of her own dark blood.

“No!” she cried allowed, falling beside her friend and pulling her lifeless body up into her arms, hugging Mary to her body. Gently she laid her friends body back down, realising she had little time to spare and quickly pulled her friends body into the room, closing the door behind her and locking it. With a heavy breathe she looked around. “Theodore? Where are you?” As she came to the bed she realised it was empty and dread filled her body. Had her possessed daughter killed her husband? Killed her son? With a ragged breath she shook her head and regained focus. Turning she ran to the dressing table where the small medical box lay and opened it quickly. Inside was the last bottle of antivenin and a syringe. Quickly with steady hands, she opened the bottle and placed the syringe inside, sucking up the antivenin until the bottle had been emptied. Estelle dropped the bottle and made for the door, placing her ear against the wood. There was no noise or movement outside and so carefully she unlocked the door and cautiously prised the door open, peeking out of the small gap. The corridor was clear. With the letter opener in her nightdress pocket she opened the door and stepped around the body of Mary before stepping out onto the hallway. Quietly she tip toed down the side of the corridor, keeping her eyes and ears open for any sign of movement. It wasn’t long before she reached the doorway of her room and with pensive eyes she leaned round the doorway. Eveline was still lying on the floor, lifeless. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Estelle entered the room carefully and bent down beside Eveline, taking the syringe out. She had never injected a person before but had watched with curious fascination as Theodore has injected her daughter, using the basillic vein. With focus, she took Eveline’s arm and looked for the vein. It was easy to find, as the area around the vein was heavily bruised. She took the syringe and held it upwards to get rid of any air. As she had her eyes on the syringe a strong hand met with her face and knocked it out of her hand, forcing her body to fly through the air, crashing against the frame of the doorway, her spine cracking loudly. Estelle cried out in agony, her lungs winded and her spine broken. Eveline turned over and slowly rose to her feet.

“Bitch!” she said aloud, her voice alike a man’s. Within Eveline tried to summon power to keep the creature at bay, seeing the syringe of antivenin on the ground near to her mother.

“You will not kill my mother!” she screamed inwardly, feeling something akin to strength reverberate throughout her body as though she was gaining control of her mind and physical being.

“Soles occidere et eris! (I won’t kill her, but you will!)” Nathaniel cried out, a sudden rush of power encasing Eveline, forcing her to surrender to the demon. As she came before her mother, wrapping her hand about her mother’s throat and raising her from the ground, to hover before her, Eveline could feel the blade in her hand.

“I dixerunt non! (I said no!)” Eveline yelled, feeling fire within her body, touching the tips of her toes and fingers. The blade fell from her hand and with her other hand she released her mother, hearing her body fall to the ground with a loud thump.

“Creaturam esse Lucem! (Be quiet creature of light!)” the demon cried aloud, mentally wounding his host. Eveline felt the force of the demon, pull her downwards, felt herself losing the power she had so briefly conjured. “Cum quo loquuntur scire! (Know with whom you speak!)”

Estelle groaned as she listened to her daughter cry out as though in conflict with herself. She understood the conversation being fluent in Latin and realised quickly that her daughter, who lingered deep within the confines of her body and mind was trying to give her time and a distraction. With feigning energy she crawled towards the syringe and grabbed it as her daughter fought against the inner beast. With animal like cry she forced herself to her feet, her back cracking loudly. She was unable to straighten herself as she stood.

“Vos potest currere a me! (You cannot run from me!)” The demon announced loudly as he forced Eveline to pick up the knife and turn.

“Eveline you can overcome the darkness!” Estelle pleaded as she backed away from her daughter, whose eyes shifted from red to gold, reverting back to red.

“I am darkness! I am the wolf that preys on the creatures of light! I am your executioner!”

“You are greater than any beast of darkness!” Estelle hollered desperately as she felt herself being backed into the corner of her room, Eveline preying on her with thunderous eyes, the knife within her hand, held high, ready to pounce. “Eveline remember who you are!” Estelle felt her eyes flood with hot tears.

“Mother! Mother!” Eveline cried out within, trying with all of her strength to stop herself from killing her mother. “I love you!”

“I love you Eveline!” Estelle said in unison, her eyes penetrating her daughters violated gaze.

“Love cannot save you woman!”

“Love will always overcome darkness you vile creature!” Estelle said with bright eyes as she plunged the syringe into her daughter’s chest roughly. At the same time she grabbed the hand of her daughter and held onto the hilt of the knife.

“No don’t!” Eveline wept as she looked into her mother’s desperate eyes. A warm smile spread over her mother’s face as the demon fought against her strength.

“It’s alright,” Estelle soothed quietly as the blade of the knife edged ever closer to her heart. “Know that I love you and that there is nothing to forgive. Promise me you will find your way back. Promise.” Without another word she forced the knife into the centre of her heart and let out a faint gasp as her head fell forward, her eyes closing in pain, as tears fell. Eveline watched on as her mother fell to the ground, the knife still within her heart. All at once the antivenin began to course through her and she felt herself coming back to life.

“I love you!” she cried out for the first time as the creature within began to falter to the medicine. She fought the demon and felt herself strengthening as the demon tried to bury her deep within her mind. Eveline fell beside her mother and bent over her dying body. Estelle raised a hand and lay it upon her daughter’s cheek.

“I knew you would come back to me,” she whispered before closing her eyes to deaths call. Estelle bent her head to her mothers and cried aloud, grasping the hilt of the knife and freeing her heart of the cold blade. As she lay bent over the lifeless form of her mother she could feel the demon fighting her.

“Be gone!” she said with anger, a white light suddenly erupting from the core of her body and filling the room. She heard a piercing high pitched cry within her as the creature was forced from her body and mind. “Ego sum lux! Non fecisset domino vestro creaturae noctis! (I am light! I do not kneel to your master, creature of the night!)” A loud growl pierced the room and was suddenly gone, the white light fading away, leaving her alone in darkness with her mother. Eveline couldn’t determine how long she lay with her mother, but as she held her mother close to her she realised that the night was not over yet. She didn’t want to leave her mother’s body but knew she had little time in which to piece everything together. Theodore was missing but there was hope that Belle and Jophiel could still be asleep, unaware of the night’s events. Gently she laid her mother’s body down and rose from the small pool of blood. Wiping her eyes she turned to the bed and lifted a heavy blanket, settling it upon her mother’s body.

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” she whispered quietly, brushing away a lock of her mother’s hair from her face. “But I have to find Theodore before it’s too late.” With a swift kiss she rose to her feet and left the room, closing the door behind. Belle’s room was next to Estelle. Quietly she opened the door and stepped inside. With a wave of her hand she turned on the oil lamp. Belle’s bed was empty and the dread already simmering within her newly acclaimed body and mind now began to boil. Where was she? Was she with Theodore? Eveline couldn’t make head or tail of what was happening. Jophiels room was next to Belles and when she entered she found that her bed was also empty. Eveline let her head fall into her hands as she let the anxiety seep over her. Where was everyone? Where had they gone too? Without hesitation she left Jophiels room and made for her own, quickly over stepping Mary’s body with a shudder and opening her drawers. She picked out a jumper and flung it over her before searching for her shoes. With shaking hands she managed to slip her feet into her leather patent shoes, lacing them up quickly. When she got to her feet she lifted the blanket from her own bed and laid it over Mary before stepping out of her room. With diligence and purpose she almost ran down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to catch her breathe. Inside her nightdress pocket was the letter opener her mother had carried. With a deep intake of breathe she made her way towards the heavy Georgian door and unlocked it, opening it and stepping out into the darkness.

With shocked eyes she was met with a firm blow to the head.

“When plan A goes aground one must look to plan B,” Nathaniel smiled as Eveline fell into his arms. He gathered her up and turned to face the rest of his followers, quiet and unmoving. “Let us see if she can outsmart our master.” His followers sniggered as Nathaniel brought Eveline down the steps and bundled her into the back of his car.

*

“I thought I would find you here,” Jophiel said quietly as she took a seat beside the pensive Galean.

“Jophiel what are you doing here? It is nearly five in the morning,” Galean sighed, his eyes on the altar before him, surrounded with lit candles.

“I know,” Jophiel said gently as she made herself comfortable. “I rarely am able to sleep these days and after witnessing you’re rather touching moment with Eveline this evening, I thought it best to come and find you when the party was over.” Galean turned to her with a fearful look.

“Did he see?”

“Yes.”

Galean bent his head into his hands.

“I’ve made such a mess,” he whispered gravely.

“As much as you are slightly to blame, I cannot lay all of the blame at your feet,” Jophiel replied, laying a hand upon his knee kindly. “I will divulge something to you, if only to make you see that I am right.”

“What do you wish to divulge?”

“When Cael and myself were returning from Oxford, we kissed.”

“You what?” Galean whispered in disbelief.

“It isn’t what you think, it occurred during a moment of passion and grief,” Jophiel admitted with a weak smile. “Do not worry, it was one kiss. I am fully aware of the consequences.”

“I would be a contradiction if I were to lecture you on principles,” Galean joked sarcastically.

“You love her and she quite clearly loves you too, despite being married to another man,” Jophiel shook her head with confusion. “And trust me I know how messed up that is because that said man seems to also still have feelings for me. The whole situation is a mess from beginning to end and nothing can set it to rights.”

“My leaving can,” Galean said seriously as he dropped his hands from his head and gazed down into Jophiels anxious face.

“That’s why I am here,” Jophiel answered clearly. “Forget the feelings that lie between you and Eveline, she needs you by her side until she is safe.”

“She is safe without me,” Galean argued lightly. “My staying will only make things worse. She is confused as it is, to confuse her more, to cause her to doubt herself, to hate herself for the feelings she has for me would be wrong. No, it is best I return home and you should think about returning to London when Eveline is in the safety of Gabriel.”

“I have a nudging feeling deep within that something isn’t right,” Jophiel said quietly with angst filled eyes. “I cannot explain it, but when I left the house I felt something strange run over me.”

“It may well be stress,” Galean said with quipped brows.

“No it’s something else,” Jophiel interceded. “When I left the house, I couldn’t find any of our friends, they had all retired to their beds early.”

“And Eveline?” Galean asked with concern, wondering if Jophiels suspicious feelings should be listened too.

“Estelle said that Mary saw her ascending the stairs after she entered the house,” Jophiel shrugged. “But it wasn’t that, well I mean of course I am worried about her but I just had the oddest sensation when I was making my way through the house. Cael, Ada, Bram and Peter almost in unison fell prey to sleep, immediately after they had downed a glass of champagne which I refrained from.”

“And Estelle?”

“Well now that you come to it, she too felt very tired and soon excused herself from the party,” Jophiel said, her eyes upon the floor. “Odd don’t you think?”

“Did you see anyone unusual at the party?” Galean interrogated his friend, his mind now consumed with worry. It was very strange that his friends should suddenly fall privy to sleep after drinking champagne considering the rage Theodore must have felt after witnessing the kiss he had shared with his friend’s wife.

“If I am being honest I wasn’t really looking, I was taken up with…, well events of the evening,” Jophiel replied with knowing eyes. “But now that I think about it, it was quite odd don’t you think? Or am I just being paranoid?”

“No you’re not being paranoid,” Galean murmured. “Maybe you should go back and check that all is well.”

“Not without you,” Jophiel argued firmly. “Listen we can both go back and check that everything is alright and if it is then you can leave without disturbing Eveline or Cael, yes?”

Galean played with his bowler hat as he thought about Jophiels proposition carefully.

“You promise to let me go if we find that all is okay?”

“I promise despite my thinking that you should stay a little longer,” Jophiel said with great fondness for Galean. Galean lifted his hat and placed it on his head.

“I will return with you, just to ensure that everyone is alright,” he said, rising to his feet and holding out a hand for his friend who took it kindly bringing herself to her feet.

“I warn you it is freezing outside,” she smiled, lifting the collar of her coat and tucking her scarf around her throat.

“It couldn’t be any colder than inside this abbey,” Galean smiled slightly as he picked up his case and made his way out of the pew, letting Jophiel wrap her arm within his own as they made their way down the nave of the abbey. Outside the world was a swirl with snow, which danced about beautifully with grace and poise. There walk through the quite town was itself just as quiet, both filled with agonising anticipation for what lay ahead. As they walked through the park, Jophiel felt herself cling to Galean, every step taken only heightening the feeling that something was amiss.

“Something nefarious fills the air,” she whispered quietly, her eyes alert and wide.

“Yes, I can feel it too,” Galean murmured into her hat.

“It almost feels as though we are being watched, wouldn’t you agree?”

“The park is isolated Jophiel, your letting your imagination run away,” Galean said kindly, laying a hand upon her own for comfort.

“I’m not usually wrong about these things Galean and with Eveline being poisoned by Nagtium, I wouldn’t be surprised if something was amiss.”

“Lagmar wouldn’t dare enter the house, not when it is filled with angels,” Galean tried to tell himself.

“That isn’t what frightens me,” Jophiel replied as they turned a corner, their feet slugging through thick snow.

“What frightens you?”

“I’m frightened that the poison will consume Eveline, she did almost kill Estelle two nights ago,” Jophiel said with trembling lips.

“Theodore will have given her her medication before going to bed,” Galean said with certainty. “She has been much more like herself since being injected with the antivenin.”

“But there is only one vial left.”

“She should have enough in her system to make it to London on time,” Galean soothed as they rounded another corner.

“I hope so.”

It didn’t take Galean and Jophiel long to reach the gate of the park, but as they came to stand on Cavendish road they stopped.

“Why is the door open?” Jophiel whispered anxiously. Galean scanned the road, his grip tightening around Jophiels hand.

“I don’t know but something is wrong, I can feel it.”

“I’ve felt it for quite some time.”

“Come.”

Galean guided Jophiel across the empty road until they stood before the steps, peering up into the darkness of the house, the heavy door gently rocking against the inner wall of the reception area.

“Galean I’m scared, something dark lingers within,” Jophiel said with wary eyes, her fingers biting into Galean’s coat sleeve.

“Do you have your dagger?” Galean whispered as they made their way up the steps.

“Yes,” Jophiel whispered, her cheek brushing off his coat.

“Take it out,” Galean ordered, releasing his friend. “Now is the time for courage Jophiel, do not let me down.” Jophiel nodded taking a gulp as she opened her coat and found her dagger within, taking it out and holding it at arm’s length as they entered the house. Galean took out his own dagger and let it fall to his side as they came to stand in the centre of the reception area. Snow covered the marble floor and first dozen steps of the stairs. Closing his eyes he lifted his nose and began to smell. “Blood,” he whispered aloud, opening his eyes and finding Jophiels gaze.

“Look there are footprints in blood,” she said pointing the tip of her dagger to the ground. Galean bent down to the ground and assessed the footprints.

“They lead from the servants stairs and make their way up the stairs,” he said quietly. The footprints were slight, they were not the imprint of a man’s foot but a woman’s. Galean dipped the tip of his index finger into the blood and brought it up to his nose, smelling it deeply. “This is not human blood,” he whispered darkly. “This is the blood of our brothers.” As he spoke a heavy gust of wind entered the house through the open door and startled Jophiel.

“Galean this house reeks of death, can you not smell and feel its icy breathe upon your skin?”

“Yes,” Galean said aloud as he drew himself up from the ground, turning his bright eyes to the pale and frightened Jophiel. “Remember who you were Jophiel. I need you to be strong.” Jophiel simply nodded as Galean turned and strode with intent towards the servants stairs, Jophiel following close behind him with renewed focus. As they descended the stairs the smell of death caused Galean to wretch, his free hand clutching at his stomach tightly. It was not long before they entered the kitchens and came face to face with the lifeless bodies of their friends, strewn across the table and floor, a large pool of blood surrounding them. Jophiel ran over to Ada and placed two fingers upon her throat, feeling for a pulse.

“Dead,” she cried quietly, unable to control her grief.  Galean was scanning the kitchen with concentrated attention whilst Jophiel checked the other angels for signs of life, shaking her head with sadness. His blue eyes scanned the floor and stopped, their gaze fixed upon a broken and discarded oil lamp, lying upon the floor close to the door of the kitchen, surrounded by shards of glass. Slowly he made his way towards the door and stopped, frowning as his mind tried to piece the clues together. Someone had used the lamp as a means of distraction from the attacker he concluded, kneeling down to touch a shard of glass.

“What is it?” Jophiel whispered as she walked round the table.

“Someone escaped, using this lamp,” Galean answered quietly, turning his head so that his gaze was directed towards the table, observing a discarded and turned chair close to where Jophiel stood. “Someone was hiding under the table as the attacker killed our friends.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but I have seen oil lamps like these upstairs in my room and along the corridors.”

“Yes, so have I,” Jophiel said with a thoughtful expression. “Do you think that maybe someone had arisen and come downstairs?”

“Possibly,” Galean answered with a lingering sigh as he swept his eyes over his friends, a deftly ache consuming his heart. They were among the few, light hearted, loyal and filled with optimism, qualities he respected. The death of an angel was pivotal, such was the length of their lives that to lose one angel would cause a catastrophic tsunami of grief among those of their kind, to lose three in one night would harbour their race numb with shock. There was no afterlife for angels unlike humans, they simply became the beacons of light within the night sky.

“Galean?”

Jophiel brought Galean back from his stricken thoughts, forcing him to turn from his lifeless friends.

“Come,” he said with a stricken voice a voice that pained Jophiel as much as the eyes of the man that spoke. Without much thought he took her free hand and guided her out of the kitchen and up the stairs until they came upon the ground floor. Snow still swirled about as they followed the footprints through the reception and up the marble stairs. The sounds of their clad feet echoed about them until finally they came to stand on the first floor.

“Is it possible that this floor feels even more disturbed?” Jophiel whispered into Galean’s ear.

“It shouldn’t be but I understand what it is you feel right now in this moment,” Galean muttered taking her down to the hall towards Eveline’s room.

“Oh my God!” Jophiel exclaimed loudly as they came to stand before a figure covered in a rug. Jophiels hand squeezed Galean’s as the fear that Theodore lay under the rug spread through her. “I can’t,” she cried. Galean lifted the rug away to reveal Mary’s white face, her eyes wide open and filled with terror. Overwhelmed she fell to the ground and covered her face with her hands and wept as her body shivered with grief and shock. Meanwhile Galean examined the body with tear filled eyes. There was one stab wound to the heart, where warm blood still poured out upon her nightdress, flooding it with wetness and red blood, which gathered in a pool about her body. With shaking fingers, he closed the lids of her eyes and covered her body once again with the rug.

“Stay here,” he ordered Jophiel, walking out of the room. Jophiel watched as he checked the rooms, coming to stand before the opening of Estelle’s room. “Galean?” she called out. Galean stood still and did not reply, walking into the room and disappearing from sight. Jophiel arose and followed suite, entering the room as she wiped her face.

“Belle and Theodore have been taken,” Galean said as he unveiled the body of Estelle, her eyelids already closed. Jophiel entered the darkened room and scanned the area. Coming to the end of the bed she saw something glimmer on the floor near to the door.

“A syringe,” she said aloud, picking up the discarded syringe. “Antivenin.”

“She knew the face of her killer,” Galean said aloud as he studied Estelle’s expression, a slight smile upon her lips, a smile that spoke a thousand words. “Someone she loved.” Jophiel came to his side, holding out the syringe for him to take. Galean studied the syringe in his free hand and turned to Jophiel. “Eveline.”

“Why would she kill her own mother?” Jophiel whispered with frightening stillness in her voice.

“She wouldn’t,” Galean murmured looking down at the lifeless face. “Estelle must have known that Eveline had forgotten to take her medication.”

“And without it she would find herself prey to the poison,” Jophiel added with a concerned expression.

“She has not just been poisoned,” Galean said with dark eyes. “She has been possessed.”

“But how?”

“The bite of Nagtium renders anyone’s mind vulnerable to countless vile things, including possession,” Galean whispered through gritted teeth. “I should have seen it, should have detected its traces within her behaviour but I was too caught up in my own selfish emotions.”

“This is no time to start blaming yourself Galean,” Jophiel said as she touched Estelle’s hand with gentleness.

“Lagar uses a particular demon when possessing his enemies,” Galean said, raising his eyes to Jophiel. “Nathaniel.”

“The syringe, it’s empty,” Jophiel said with raised brows. “Is it possible that Estelle managed to inject Eveline?”

“Yes, that would explain the smile,” Galean said with a nod, his eyes lightening.

“So it is possible that the antivenin could deter the demon? Sedate him even?”

“Yes…,” Galean whispered, hope arising within like the flicker of a flame filling a darkened chamber with light. “Yes.”

“Then there is hope,” Jophiel said with a slight smile, resting her free hand upon his own. Galean got up and walked about the room heavy with thought. Looking down once again he suddenly found footprints, leaving the room and began to follow. Jophiel stayed put, covering Estelle with the blanket once again. As she rose to leave Galean re-entered.

“She went back to her room, her shoes are missing.”

“Is it possible that she has gone after Theodore and Belle wherever they are?” Jophiel asked as she and Galean left Estelle’s room and made for the stairs.

“Yes. Look these footprints are different, they are the prints of shoes. She must have stepped through the puddle of blood when leaving the room.”

“But how does she know where they are?” Jophiel asked as they descended the steps and followed the footprints to the door, stopping where the trail ended on the top step of the porch.

“She doesn’t,” Galean said as he bent down and examined the footprints.

“Why do they stop here?” Jophiel asked, her eyes assessing the area about them, dark and still with no sigh of movement. Galean rose and looked down the steps with terrified eyes.

“She reached the door and was met by a shadow,” Galean muttered, descending the steps and standing upon the path, turning his head and gaze left and right. “She has been abducted.” Jophiel followed Galean down the steps.

“Where have they taken her?”

“Somewhere shadows congregate.”

“But they can meet anywhere,” Jophiel argued, snow falling onto her raven black hair.

“But there preferred meeting place is?” Galean looked down into her face. Jophiels brows relaxed as she suddenly realised where Eveline had been taken.

“Graveyards.”


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