Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (18 page)

“Can’t
say I saw any cowering,” Tim commented.

“That’s
my point.  What went wrong?  What did I misjudge?”

“Maybe
it’s not a demon.  Maybe there could be something else inside of him: a ghost
or spirit, perhaps?”

Angela
shook her head.  “It would make no difference.  They should react in the same
way as a demon.  Anything that does not belong here can be compelled by the
power of Christ.  I just can’t figure it out.”

“What
about Charles Crippley?”

Angela
shuddered and wondered if it was the cold or the man’s name.  “What about him?”

Tim
shrugged.  “Just spitballing, but Sammie seemed to know you, so perhaps it’s
Charles Crippley inside of him.”

“I
won’t lie, I’ve worried about the very same thing, but once again, an evil
spirit would be as susceptible to exorcism as any demon.  There’s something I’m
not getting here.  I think I need to go back to my books.  I just wish I could
get the name of Sammie’s ‘friend’.”

“Why
don’t you go straight to the source?”

Angela
frowned at Tim.  “What do you mean?”  A sudden gust of wind caused the candle
to flicker out, but the flame barely hung on and came back to life a few
seconds later.

Tim
sniffed and then looked at her.  “Sammie won’t tell us the name of his friend,
right? So why don’t we ask the friend directly?  We could use a Ouija board.”

Angela
huffed.  “I have absolutely no experience of those…
toys
.”

“I
do,” said Tim.  “To be honest with you, the last time I used one I promised to
never use one ever again. But I think now might be the time to break that
promise.”

“Do
they really work?”

“Yes,”
Tim said, but didn’t add anything more.

Angela
thought about it for a little while.  Eventually she said, “Okay, I’m up for
it.  When do you want to do it?”

Tim
smiled.  “No time like the present.  I have everything I need in my van.  We’ll
do it there.”

“In
your van?  Seriously?”

Tim
nodded.  “Worst thing that could happy is we get interrupted by someone.  My
van is perfect for it – nice and private.  Plus, I can get my ass out of here
if things go bad.  I feel trapped inside that house.”

Angela
shook her head and sighed.  “Doing a Ouija board in the back of some guy’s
van.  Feel like I’m in college all over again.”

“You’re
not wrong,” said Tim.  “Tonight you might just get an education.  I don’t think
you’re going to like it, though.”

***

Tim’s
van was cramped, but clean.  It was obvious he lived here and treated it like
his home.  Soft cushions scattered the piny-fresh interior and there was not a
thing out of place.  The rain on the vehicle’s metal roof sounded like a drum
roll – perhaps it was in honour of what they were about to do.

Tim
reached up and pulled an antique-looking box from a storage net which lined one
side of the van’s interior.  He set the box on the floor between them and
unhooked a brass catch on the side.  The box then opened up into a small, flat
board.  It was finely painted with letters and numbers.  YES and NO were printed
in opposite corners of the board and the word, GOODBYE, was set between them. 
One side of the board lifted up to reveal a hollow, and inside that space was a
finely-carved, heart-shaped planchette.

Angela
couldn’t believe what she was about to do.  She held no stock in such things as
voodoo and witchcraft – it was nothing but ill-natured superstition.  While she
had beliefs of her own, she flat out denied the validity of those primitive faiths.

“So
how does this go, then?” she asked Tim.

“Pretty
much like you’d expect.  We light a few candles – sandalwood works well – sprinkle
a bit of copal shavings into the flame and then try our best to concentrate.”

“What
on Earth is copal?”

“It’s
a resin imported from Mexico, a bit like amber.  The ancient Mayans used it to
contact the underworld – that’s pretty much what we’re planning on doing; or
we’re trying to contact one of its inhabitants at least.  Simple sage works
just as well, but I’m always tempted to cook with it.”

Angela
waited patiently while Tim rummaged around the van.  From various compartments,
he procured a candle and a small, plastic baggie filled with golden flecks.  Finally,
he produced a pair of necklaces.  They were comprised of a simple loop of
string, threaded through the centre of an acorn. 

“Wear
this,” he said, handing her one of the necklaces.

Angela
took the looped acorn and examined it questioningly.  “Why?”

“Druids
used acorns for protection,” Tim told her.  “I never perform a spell without an
acorn around my neck.  Place it under your shirt against your skin.”

Angela
did as he asked her, but felt ridiculous while doing it.  In fact she felt more
than ridiculous, she felt blasphemous.  The Church had taught her to forsake
anything that even bordered on witchcraft.

But
I stopped caring about what the Church said a long time ago.

Tim
lit the candle and sprinkled some of the golden flecks in it, then sat
crossed-legged opposite Angela and positioned the Ouija board on the floor
between them.  He shuffled forward a little so that their knees were touching. 
Then he reached up and switched off the van’s rear interior light from a panel
on the ceiling.  They were now lit only by the flickering candle.  Shadows
shifted against the side panels of the van.

“You
ready?” Tim asked.

“As
ready as I’m gonna be.”

“Okay
then, here we go.”  Tim placed his index and middle fingers on the board’s
planchette and motioned for her to do the same.  Once she did, he closed his
eyes and raised his chin to the roof.  “Spirits of old, evil and wicked, I
forbid you from doing harm.  You are permitted to communicate through us and do
no more.  I command you to remain in your own plane.  We are not portals.  If
you circle the planchette we will withdraw and you may be trapped between
worlds.”

Angela
giggled.  “Circle the planchette.”

Tim
scowled at her.  “It signifies a spirit trying to force itself into our world. 
This won’t work if you’re against it.  You need to be quiet and open your
mind.”

“I’m
sorry,” said Angela wiping the smile from her face.  “Please continue.”

“We
wish to speak to the one who claims to be the friend of Samuel Raymeady.  We
wish to speak with the one who has descended upon this dwelling.  Come to us,
explain yourself.  Name yourself.”

Nothing
happened.  Tim sat with his eyes closed so tight that he looked like his lids
might bleed.  Angela watched him and tried not to laugh.  The whole thing was
ludicrous.  She felt ashamed of herself for even allowing herself to take part
in such a chara-

The
planchette twitched.

A
jolt of adrenaline shot through Angela’s nerve endings, seeming to bunch up in
her elbows.  Tim opened his eyes and smiled.  She knew then that there had
never been any doubt in his mind that it would work.  Tim had faith in voodoo
as much as she did in God.

The
planchette moved an inch.  It hovered between C and D, before finally flinching
left and resting on the C.

Tim
spoke out the following letters, one after another, as the sliding planchette
settled on each one.  “C…H…A…M…U…E…L…”

Then
the planchette stopped. Angela thought hard about the spelled-out word. 
“Chamuel?” she said out loud.  “Why does that word ring a bell?”

Tim
shrugged, being sure to keep his fingertips on the planchette.  “Doesn’t mean a
thing to me.  Do you think you know what it means?”

“I
don’t know.  I…I can’t quite remember, but it’s there.”

Tim
cleared his throat and spoke into the empty air.  “Hello, Chamuel.  Can you
tell me why you’re here, what you want?”

This
time Angela spoke out the letters as they came up.  “D…E…A…T…H…”

Tim
let out a breath in a short huff.  “That’s jovial.”

“We
want you to leave,”
A
ngela
commanded.  “Leave Sammie alone.”

N…O… 
The planchette moved quicker.  E-S-C-A-P-E…D-A-R-K-N-E-S-S…

Tim
frowned.  “Is that a threat, Chamuel?”

The
planchette did not move.

“I
said is that a threat?  Are we in danger?”

Y-E-S…D-A-N-G-E-R…B-L-O-O-D…P-A-I-N…

“Are
you going to hurt Sammie?” Angela asked.

The
planchette did not move.  Angela made eye contact with Tim who had gone a
little pale.  There was resolve in her colleague’s eyes however and she knew
that he would continue on with the séance for at least a while longer.

The
planchette moved again, quicker than before – frantic.

Y-O-U…W-I-L-L…D-I-E…

H-E-L-L…W-I-L-L…T-A-K-E…Y-O-U…

R-U-N…

W-E…A-R-E…O-U-T-S-I-D-E…

Something
struck the back of the van, rocking it on its wheels.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“What
is
that?”  Angela shifted towards the front of the van, away from the
rear doors.  The thud had been so forceful that the steel had buckled inwards.

“Felt
like we were hit by a bloody rhino.”

“Should
we open the doors?”

“I…I
don’t know.”

They
waited in silence.  The darkness was cut only by the light of the single lit candle;
miraculously it had remained standing in its holder. No more impacts struck the
van and whatever had done so the first time was a mystery.

“I’m
going to open up the doors,” said Angela, inching towards the back of the van
slowly.

“Be
careful,” said Tim.  “If you get eaten by something then I’m not cleaning up
the mess.  In fact, I’m out of here at the first sign of anything bitey.”

Angela
placed a hand against the door’s release-trigger. She took a breath, held it. 
Then opened the door.

Shadows
met her.

There
was nothing outside.  The house and its grounds were shrouded in darkness.
Thin, infinite streams of moonstruck raindrops cut through the velvet backdrop
of the night.  A gust of wind blew in and filled the van with its cold touch.

“There’s
nothing out here,” Angela said, sliding a leg across the van’s floor and down
towards the pebbled driveway.  She planted both her feet and pushed herself up
out of the van.  Her skin tightened and she shivered as the temperature outside
fought against the warmth of her blood.  The feeling of loneliness was suddenly
all consuming – the world felt empty.

“Oh,
thank heavens,” came a voice in the shadows.  “I thought I’d been abandoned.”

Angela
leapt back up into the van’s cargo bay, pulling her feet up of the ground as if
she’d seen a mouse. 

Sammie
stood in front of her.  He was wearing only underpants and seemed unaffected by
the cold rain glistening against his pale skin.  His flesh shone in the
darkness like a spectre.

“S-Sammie,
what are you doing out here?”

Sammie
grinned, his teeth more crooked than ever under the colourless glow of the moonlight. 
“I was wondering where everybody was.  I’ve been alone in my room for hours
now.  To tell you the truth, I was beginning to get quite stir crazy.”

Angela’s
skin crawled; flesh buzzing like it was covered by a thousand ants.  “Okay,” she
said, scratching at her arms.  “Let’s get you back inside, Sammie, before you
freeze to death.”

Sammie
grinned wider.  “Oh, the cold doesn’t bother me, but your concern is
heartening.  Is Frank back yet?”

Tim
slid out of the van behind Angela and asked his own question: “How did you know
he was even gone?”

Sammie
shrugged.  “I heard him leave in the car.  Sounded like he was in a hurry.  I
do hope he doesn’t have an accident.  That man has become like a father to me
lately.  Perhaps he feels guilty about my father’s death.”

“Do
you feel guilty about it?” Angela asked.

Sammie
wore a look of confusion.  “Me?  Why would I feel guilty about it?  Unless you’re
trying to imply I was in some way responsible.  I must say, that’s very unkind
of you, Miss Murs.”

“I…I
apologise.  You’re right.  Come on, let’s go inside.”

Tim
locked up the van and he and Angela ushered Sammie back towards the house. 
They kept a distance of a few feet from the boy, who walked barefoot in front
of them.

Angela
whispered to Tim.  “Where the hell is Graham?  He was supposed to be keeping an
eye on things.”

Tim
shrugged, headed up the steps to the house.  “With that guy, who knows?  I get
the impression he doesn’t take his responsibilities very seriously.”  He opened
the front door and the three of them stepped through into the house.

The
foyer was bathed in darkness, the power still off and the weather still bad. 
The grand, marble-floored space seemed smaller somehow, almost claustrophobic. 
Angela wanted to be back outside in the open air but, with the rain, that would
make her a mad woman.  She needed to be inside the house.  She needed to take
control of the situation.