Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

Earlier that morning

At seven o’clock Becky had finally reached DC Toby Harbour on his mobile.

“Hi Toby! It’s Becky – Callum’s partner over at the DRI? I need to speak to you and it’s really important. Is there any chance you could call in?”

He sounded as if he was running. “Where? Up at the hospital?”

“Yes. I’ve been here all night. Look, I just need to quickly freshen up, so could we say half an hour from now in the canteen? I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“Aye, alright.”

“You okay – you sound out of breath?”

“Just doing t’ morning run. Got football practice tonight and I’m well unfit. Anyway, yeah, I’ll be straight over. Can I ask what it’s about, though? I’ve got a right busy day on.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, but Toby, I need you to keep this one hundred percent to yourself – the whole thing! Please, please do not tell a single soul, especially not any of your colleagues or superiors – no-one. There is a little girl’s life at stake and there may be several other people’s too. I need you for half an hour at most while you have breakfast and I promise I’ll explain. But please promise me you won’t tell anyone you’re coming?”

“Yeah okay, I’m on me way, Becky.”

She clicked off the phone.
Please God he could be trusted
.

Last night had been one of the worst nights she could ever remember. After Celeste and Noel had left she’d returned to the ward, still with the memory fresh in her mind of the dying man in the bed opposite Callum. Frankly it had been something of a selfish relief to find the curtains had been drawn around the old man’s bed, and with some trepidation she sat down next to Callum and took hold of his hand, her focus firmly fixed on the man she loved. The night would be a long one.

From within the curtained area came the distinctive Cheyne-stokes respirations of a human being about to die, with the gap between each rattling lunge for breath often as long as several minutes. The stench of fear and death hung in the air, and she thought about the other patients who might wake up listening to a life slipping away in the bed next to theirs. How many people had died in the bed they were now sleeping in? Whose turn would it be next? As a nurse who had often worked a night shift, she knew it was usual for a dying patient to be removed to a side ward and wondered why that was not the case here.

Aged eighteen, one of her first tasks on nights had been to lay out a dead body. It had been during the grey hours of pre-dawn; and she had been left alone in a side ward with a fresh corpse. No matter how many times she told herself the man was now an empty vessel and the soul had departed, it had still spooked her beyond measure: the orifices had to be plugged and the body washed, which involved turning it on its side. Invariably an audible sigh would escape during the process as air was forced from the deepest part of the lungs, but she hadn’t been prepared for that and so when it happened she dropped the dead weight on its face. After standing by the far wall whimpering for a while, it had then taken a superhuman effort of mind over matter to persuade herself to heave the poor deceased person back around and put on the shroud. Up to that point she’d though of herself as a pretty practical kind of girl, and the episode had shocked her. Just what was it about corpses that freaked us out so much, she wondered?

Another desperate, rasping inhalation emanated from behind the curtain and Becky forced herself to think about other things. Being awake all night could really get you down, she thought, gripping Callum’s hand. Leaning in close to him, she whispered, “What did you see, Callum? What do you know? Something’s stopping you from waking up and I honestly believe it’s black magic! How crazy is that?” She bowed her forehead to his. “Oh please, please wake up. I’m so alone.”

A tremendous fatigue overcame her, dragging her like a weighted body further and further down into the depths of what rapidly became a highly disturbing dream; one in which she was still very much awake. Initially it was akin to having had too much to drink and being unable to stay awake for another second: the ceiling was spinning and the floor started to roll queasily, but then the edges of the ward began to blur and Callum’s bed was swaying like a boat on the swell. Holding on to the metal frame her face burned hotly and nausea lurched greasily from the pit of her stomach.
Oh God, I’m going to be sick… right here on the floor…

Briefly she blacked out, before emerging into a dreamlike state where the air had turned strangely blue as if lit by an electric storm and all the other beds had vanished, revealing a different kind of room altogether – a pre-war hospital ward which stretched at least three times the length of this one. But empty. Entirely empty. It was then that a line of figures shrouded in domino robes and masks began to file in through the double doors at the far end, silently gliding into the middle of the room.

It’s just a dream. Just a damn dream. It’s your subconscious playing tricks. Wake up…wake up
…

She tried to stand, shouting for help while repeatedly pressing the emergency buzzer, but nothing happened and no sounds came.

After that she must have lost consciousness again because when she came to, she was frozen to the bone, lying on the floor next to the hydraulics underneath Callum’s bed. The back of her skull was sore to the touch and her lungs were rigid making it difficult to inhale. Clutching at the bedclothes they slipped onto the floor and she flopped down again.

How long had she been here?

Eternity was the only way she could describe it later. Eternity and yet perhaps only a few hours because outside it was still dark, although the bed opposite was now a scrubbed, shiny mattress smelling of disinfectant.

“Goodness,” said one of the nurses. “What on earth are you doing down there?”

Her neck and limbs were stiff, her skin icily numb as she struggled to sit up. “I fell. I must have fallen.”

“You’ve been here every night since he came in, haven’t you? You know you really ought to go home and get some sleep. We can take care of Callum.”

The clock showed it was just after six and the first medicines were being given out with cups of tea. “I don’t suppose I could have some hot tea, could I please? I just…” She rubbed the back of her neck and wrapped one of Callum’s blankets round her shoulders.
It would be ridiculous to cry
.

“Of course,” said the kindly nurse, reaching over to the tea trolley. “Here you go, love. Oh you poor thing – are you sure you’re alright?”

She nodded, gulping the hot liquid down her parched throat. “Oh God, that’s good.”

With one last look at Callum, she finally agreed to go and lie down in one of the visitors’ rooms that had become available, and on the way, before she could rest, decided to call Celeste in order to help her understand what the hell was going on.

But Celeste, it transpired, was dead.

***

Toby was already halfway through a cooked breakfast by the time Becky burst into the canteen. Signalling to him she’d be two minutes, she joined the queue for tea and toast, relieved to have a couple of minutes to compose herself.

Celeste is dead. OhmyGod… OhmyGod… And then there were two…

Toby Harbour was fresh faced and clean-shaven – an overgrown teenager wolfing down bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes and mushrooms like his life depended on it. A tiny part of her regretted involving him, but what choice was there? If she went to the police desk she could be routed through to someone who’d report straight to Ernest Scutts and that was far too much of a risk. Toby was the only person she knew on Callum’s team who might be able to discretely do some fact-finding. That was all she’d ask for – just some fact-finding to see where it led.

He stared at his empty plate as if he couldn’t believe it had all gone.

“I wish I could eat like that and not put weight on,” Becky said.

“There’s nowt to you.”

No one had said that in a long while, Becky thought, although to be fair her clothes did hang off her these days. When this was all over – if it ever was – she’d buy herself a whole new wardrobe; see what was in fashion these days for a girl at least two sizes smaller than she had been. And when the divorce was through and the house sold, she’d buy a little one-bedroom flat in Leeds Docklands like Noel had, with polished floorboards and high white ceilings and sash windows. Everyone needed a dream and that would be hers. Unless Callum…Well, best not think about that.

“I have lost a bit recently,” she said, taking a gulp of tea. “Do you want anything else to eat?”

“Are you not eating that toast?”

She pushed it over to him. “Toby, you remember that odd incident the night Callum was brought in – you know when…?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, well I’m hardly gonna bloody forget, am I? Spooky or what?”

“Hmm. Well, I hope you’ve got an open mind.”

“Oh God, what’s coming?”

She grimaced. “Okay, look, I have to tell you some stuff and I need you to listen. And then I’m going to ask for a bit of help, that’s all.”

“Shoot.”

She shot. And when she was done she passed him Linda Hedges’ diary, which he scanned through.

“And on top of all that, Celeste passed away a few hours ago in her hotel room.”

“You’re joking? What did she die of?”

Becky shrugged. “I don’t know but it was sure as hell sudden. So do you see – there’s something extremely frightening going on that no one believes unless it happens to them, by which time it’s far too late. And I think, well my theory is, that it stems from a satanic coven in Woodsend.” She held up her hands. “Yes I know, a lot of these things have been proved rubbish over the years and they don’t exist and if they do it’s a bunch of mad people or a paedophile ring that needs to be infiltrated… but …”

Toby nodded.

“…but in this case there really is something horrific going on, and people are dying and getting hurt. There have been way too many for it to be a string of coincidences, and now only me and my colleague, Noel, are left. But who’s going to believe us without evidence? And what about our own safety? There was an attempt to drive Noel off the road yesterday, for example. We’re both in danger and time is of the essence before we’re stopped from exposing this. Long story short, Toby, we need enough proof to take to another police force outside the area: so we have to find Ruby’s boyfriend, Jes, and we need to speak to Cora Dean. With Callum spark out and Kristy sectioned under the mental health act, there is no other testimony apart from Ruby’s. And Ruby is, of course, clinically insane.”

Indecision hovered in the young officer’s eyes. Gung-ho combined with the desire to help clearly jostled with a deeper level of caution and disbelief. Fear, Becky thought, governed us all.

“Alice is twelve!” she re-iterated.             

Finally he levelled with her. “I work really closely with Sid Hall, Becky. He’d know if I were up to summat. But I’m off duty later so I’ll try and track down this Jes for you. I used to work in the Chapeltown area and I’ve an idea where I might find him. With regard to the woman, Cora, I’m a lot more cautious – if she hot-wired it back to her son you’d been asking questions they could come looking for you. And if Scutts hears about it when the case is officially closed he’ll have my balls tied round a lamp post. I’ve not crossed him but I’ve ’eard he’s a nasty bastard. One or two officers have disappeared off the force under his watch, but I always thought it was for a good reason. Anyhow, not to digress, I’ll have to think on that one.”

He stood up.

“So, what? You’ll try to find Jes tonight?”

Toby nodded, reaching for his parka. “Yes, it’ll have to be later on, though. I’ll ring you on your mobile, shall I?”

“Yes please. Look, if for any reason you can’t get hold of me then here’s Noel’s number.” She scribbled it down and handed it over. “Or I’ll be here on the ward with Callum.”

He smiled tightly as he transferred the number into his phone. “Yeah, well Callum was always good to me – kept me protected from the politics. I owe him a lot. I can’t say I believe any of this stuff about dark forces, Becky, but I’ll keep an open mind, and I get that a lot of people are getting hurt whenever they get close to that place. I hope Callum picks up soon, I really do. For what it’s worth, neither me nor Sid think it was a car crash, and the photos on his mobile were all deleted by someone. That phone’s empty now – Sid told me. Odd that, innit?”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Be careful, Toby,” she said as he walked away.

She watched him wind his way in between tables full of nursing staff hungry after an early start. The day was brightening with all the immediacy of blinds being shot up, and she pictured a white ball of light around him. He was sure going to need it.

***

Chapter Twenty-One

Drummersgate Forensic Unit

Understaffed as they were, Noel had to take paracetamol and lie down on the staff room sofa. It was like having the flu and a hangover combined – impossible to think straight let alone take care of patients and give out medication.

Celeste was supposed to have been coming in later to see Ruby, and Ruby was looking forward to it. She wanted to know more, she said, about her clairvoyance and what it all meant. Apparently, last night she’d tried talking to the ghost drummer boy and helped him pass over. It was exciting but also scary because other spirits had started shouting in her ear – always the left one – and some of them were angry because they said she’d promised them things she couldn’t remember and were going to ‘get’ her. Not all of the spirits, she said, were dead people from the prison, either – some were demons.

He rubbed his hand over and over his face as if that would breathe life into it, but his reflection still stared back at him from the blank TV screen like an exhausted Bassett Hound. No, there really was little choice because he was neither use nor ornament today, as his mother used to say – shameful seeing as how it was his own fault – but he’d have to pull a sicky. Ruby didn’t need to be told about Celeste’s death just yet – only that she was unable to come in today. God only knew how the poor girl was going to react, and Emily couldn’t be expected to cope with the aftermath.

It was never a nice job ringing management to say you were too ill to work, but they’d have to lump it. Anyway he’d been working flat out for months now without a break, and covering extra shifts; he was bloody exhausted. You could only run on empty for so long, but with constant fear draining your system as well, the body simply wasn’t designed to cope and this old engine, he thought dryly, was stalling.

The startlingly bright day outside highlighted his groggy lethargy. Oh for a darkened room and a soft, warm duvet. Except that wasn’t going to happen, was it? Tempting, yes. Massively. But there was way too much at stake to cop out like that. So, after making the cringe-worthy phone call, he grabbed his jacket, jumped onto the motorbike and snapped his helmet down.
Right, let’s get the job done.

***

This time he constantly checked the mirrors and scanned the road ahead in a state of heightened awareness. The second a black sedan with a strangely powerful engine showed up he’d pull over immediately, set the phone to video and speed dial the police.
Come on then, you bastards…I’m ready…

Every couple of seconds he looked into the wing mirror, keeping his speed down. Thankfully, normality appeared to be the case this morning, with only a smattering of white vans and delivery lorries in sight. Very few people took this particular road since they would either be visiting Drummersgate or taking the long, scenic route towards Chesterfield or the Peak District beyond; and all was quiet. Eventually he came to the junction for the A1 and, relaxing a little, was soon heading for Leeds and in particular the village of Guiseley.

Guiseley sits to the north of the city and is, in estate agent terms, a desirable location; with well-built stone houses close enough to commute to Leeds whilst also bordering the north Yorkshire countryside. A short drive and you could be in Harrogate or even over to the coast. There was, Noel thought, as his bike purred throatily into the leafy suburbs, a feeling of quiet money here: that this was perhaps where a retired professor and his family might live very comfortably. He pictured Michael opening the door – a tall, well-built gentleman of mature years who was no doubt going to look thinner and more tired than when he’d seen him last. Nothing, however, not all of the years he’d spent in nursing put together, prepared him for the shock of the other man’s appearance. It caught him so off guard that the words of introduction he’d prepared came out in an incoherent jumble.

Michael’s flesh had withered from his facial bones to such an extent that his head now resembled little more than a skull. Jaundiced eyes stared out from cavernous sockets, and the man’s clothes draped from a rail thin body, his trousers belted double over a sweater to keep them from falling down. As Noel attempted to recover himself, there came a waft of staleness from the house interior and a stench of decay from the man himself.

Noel held out his hand. “I really am terribly sorry to intrude, but we met in St Mark’s church not so long ago – you prayed all night with myself and a friend who was in a bit of a state – and well, I’m afraid we desperately needed some help, and… Look, I’m a nurse and I can see you aren’t well enough for this. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” He turned to go.

“How did you find me?”

Noel turned back.

There was a glint of recognition in the other man’s eyes.

“Well it wasn’t easy. I’d been looking for a while. In the end I waited all night until someone at St Mary’s pointed me in the right direction. We’re desperate, you see? There’s something terrible going on – it came to our door at the psychiatric hospital where myself and the friend I mentioned, work. Long story. Suffice to say that several members of the medical team involved will never practice again and some have died. It started after a patient from one of the mining villages near here was hypnotised.”

Michael stood back from the door and motioned for Noel to enter. “I can’t stand for long, you’d best come in. I’m in a bit of a mess – you’ll have to excuse me.”

Noel saw immediately what he meant. Dirty dishes were piled up on the drainer, the remains of a long-ago meal were congealing on the kitchen table and the curtains were still drawn. Michael had obviously been sleeping downstairs on the couch for some time too. The air was rancid; at a guess the bins hadn’t been emptied for a while and the mewing cat’s litter tray was full.

“Is no one helping you?”

Michael shrugged. “A nurse comes in with painkillers but there’s little she can do about all this. I don’t want anyone in, really.”

Noel nodded. That was so often the case. Many people who were either elderly or infirm didn’t want strangers in their home even though they were struggling. It was understandable though, when the last thing you had left was your dignity. “Shall I put the kettle on? Make us a cup of tea?”

The other man nodded, slumping into an armchair by the cold, empty fireplace.

Once in the kitchen Noel switched onto automatic pilot, unable to curb his natural caring and cleaning tendencies, and zoomed around emptying the litter tray, feeding the cat, putting dishes into the dishwasher and opening a window. Flying around, multi-tasking as he related to Becky later, he wiped surfaces, rinsed out a couple of cups and flicked the kettle on. It was ridiculous really as Michael would not be hard up for money. Still, even if he didn’t find help for Kristy today, maybe he could make this man’s last few weeks a bit easier by arranging private help.

Back in the living room, Michael accepted the tea gratefully while Noel brought him rapidly up to speed. “So now Kristy, we believe, is in a state of possession too. And what’s worse is that the doctor in charge of her care is Crispin Morrow. So you see, Becky and I are the only two people left now? She’s supposed to be contacting a junior police officer this morning and he’s our last hope. Everyone who tries or gets involved in this ends up hurt, you see?”

Michael nodded thoughtfully.

Noel frowned. “Do you mind me asking when you were diagnosed?”

“Two weeks ago. The day after I started with symptoms I had a diagnosis of stage four – too late already! How about that?”

“Good grief.”

“Yes, I know. In fact my decline has been so rapid I haven’t even told my family yet. I’m a widower but I have a daughter and two grandchildren, a brother and a nephew who I’m close to.” He put his head in his hands.

“Michael, please would you let me help you?”

Michael nodded. “Thank you. Bless you, thank you.”

The day did not pan out as Noel expected it to, with himself making dozens of phone calls and cleaning up; but by the end of it private domestic help had been arranged as well as a private nurse; and Michael’s daughter, brother and nephew had all been informed and would be arriving as soon as they could.

“It took me by total surprise,” said Michael. “One day I was fine and the next I was in agony… I can remember the exact moment – I was standing in the queue at our local newsagents when I felt this huge crushing pain in my lower back. I broke a sweat – I’m not joking I was bent double and barely made it to the car. Since then I’ve been stuck here in this… how can I describe it? It’s rather like being on the ocean floor with my speech and movements all in slow motion and the real world miles away – as if it’s all a dream. And sometimes I’m not sure if I’m awake or sleeping because the visions come either way – creatures speaking in tongues and someone poking or pinching me; and although I’ve been desperate to urinate I’ve been unable to rise from the bed.” He hung his head. “I’m afraid the mattress…”

Noel’s heart squeezed with compassion for this gentle, well-educated man.

“That can all be sorted out,” he said, patting the other man’s shoulder.

As the day died in a fuchsia-streaked sky, he went to make more tea and toast, drew the curtains and turned on the lamps, then attempted something he’d never done before. From rolled-up newspaper, twigs and logs he built a real fire, and when it finally crackled into a blaze he almost cheered.

“Nothing like it, is there?” said Michael, leaning forwards with outstretched hands. “I’ve got central heating but this place has been colder than a morgue even with the thermostat turned up full. It just wouldn’t get warm.”

Noel frowned. “Michael, what’s your take? What’s happening? Give me the truth as you see it because we haven’t got much time left.”

“Well, my take is simple really – whatever was attacking Becky has attached itself to me, except somehow she resisted where I was perhaps an empty vessel.”

Noel frowned and shook his head, not understanding. “You know more about this sort of thing than I ever could, but how is that possible?”

“The transfer of an evil entity into another’s aura is entirely possible, absolutely. As for the darkness being intelligent enough to identify people, sniff them out and psychically or physically attack them, I don’t know. I’ve been an atheist for most of my adult life, arguing theologically on the non-existence of any kind of superpower and frankly, winning! I was ordained originally but later I lost my faith. Then a friend of mine had a bizarre and inexplicable experience and I re-discovered it. That was about ten years ago now but who knows how these things work?”

“Did you go back into the Church of England?”

“Yes, well Methodist actually. I’ve tried many religions but frankly I go wherever I’m needed; mostly to those of any religious persuasion who’ve lost their faith or are undergoing some kind of crisis. Or I did.”

“Was your friend in a similar situation to Kristy’s, do you mind me asking?”

Michael’s eyes welled with sadness. He shrugged. “Suicide. He hanged himself.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s a long story, Noel. Suffice to say he dabbled in things he thought were good fun but were, in fact, far more dangerous than either he or anyone else, including myself, could ever have imagined. He lost his mind first.”

They sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes, gazing into the fire.

“Eventually, Michael said, “From your description of what might be going on in Woodsend, it seems perfectly possible those people have summoned a demonic force. And now it’s spreading pain, terror, disease and debauchery – everything that defiles humanity. Recruiting too, with promises of power and revenge.”

“What can we do about Kristy? Can we save her, do you think? Is there anyone else in your opinion, who we could ask to help?”

“What happened to the other psychiatrist? To Dr McGowan?”

“He was exorcised by a priest and he’s now back with his family in Ireland, albeit struck off the register and facing divorce. They had a different medical officer at Laurel Lawns then, and his mother got the agreement.”

Michael frowned deeply.

“That priest is no longer available, apparently,” Noel added. “On long term sick leave.”

“Hmmm…How would we get past this Dr Morrow, do you think? He must have time off?”

“Surely you can’t..? I mean, you’re not well enough…”

“Find out when he’s off. Ring Becky and ask her to fix it up, and I will bring a friend of mine to do the actual exorcism – he owes me a few favours and he’s studied possession for years. It’s against the rules but he’ll do it off the record – he’s a good man, a special person.”

“Oh my God, thank you, thank you.”

“I’m going to die, Noel and there’s no getting away from that. My family will be here tomorrow and I’ll say my good-byes. Then I’ll be ready.”

***

By the time Noel left it was dark. Although Michael had protested, he fetched a bag of groceries for him and put them away so he’d got ready-made meals and fruit drinks in the fridge. It would tide him over until his family and the paid help arrived next day. Meanwhile, fighting leaden exhaustion, he picked up his mobile and scrolled down the list of missed calls. No, he wouldn’t be well enough to work tomorrow and no, he couldn’t go to the opening of a new bar in Leeds, and no, he wasn’t interested in solar panels. Finally there was Becky’s number with a message to call.