| RoYds Part 1 - Dark Day |
Present Day
The grave lay close to a Weeping Willow, the leaves of which had
fallen and were scattered over the surrounding area like autumnal
confetti. The late afternoon air was burdened with a grey ice-tinged fog
that left only a few pockets of visibility as it whispered its way from
the moors and towards town. Elizabeth brushed away a number of wet
leaves clinging to the black marble headstone, then, pulling her coat
tight, set off across the rain-swollen lawns.
As she walked, her
boots crunched along the gravelled pathway and in the distance, the
upper windows of the house where her mother had lived as a child watched
her silently. She stopped still and stared back at them.
A solitary tear trickled slowly down her cheek as she left the cobblestone rake leading down from the cemetery and entered the main street of Whituth. As a town it was nothing special. None could deny its glorious location though, nestled as it was in a valley between moorland and a breathtaking dell.
As a child, Elizabeth had delighted in learning the history of the area; bloody battles involving Danes, Vikings and Celts, and legends full of sorcery and mythological creatures. Her mood darkened when she remembered other less documented invaders. Not all struggles that had taken place here had or would appear in the history books.
The wind gusted and Elizabeth’s pace quickened to match it. Each hurried step was punctuated by the echo of her soles scraping against the fine layer of grit smothering the damp stone pavement. She scanned the hills and moorland above the industrial landscape searching for some colour. Between clouds of fog, church spires and mills she glimpsed only the occasional bolt of green. Today was a dark day indeed.
Elizabeth returned her gaze to the turreted grey building ahead and the chink of light radiating from it.
Concentrating hard, she pushed herself onward towards the beckoning light only to be startled by a rasping cough from a cobbled alleyway to her right. A raggedly dressed young woman sat on the ground, her back against the wall of one of the buildings. A rake-thin baby beneath a grey woollen shawl was suckling at her emaciated breast.
Elizabeth refused to meet the eyes of the ones searching her out and rushed onwards as a dirt-encrusted hand thrust its way down the alleyway towards her.
A child’s buggy nearly collided with Elizabeth’s black leather boot; she just managed to step out of its way. A rain-soaked infant stared at her with blank eyes. Elizabeth gave him a warm smile and his eyes lit up with surprise. The mother remained fixed, huddled over the buggy handles and hurried past without any recognition.
Not far now
A soldier wearing a World War II uniform appeared at one of the windows of the Heyleigh Arms public house. He made no effort to acknowledge her presence and a relieved Elizabeth pushed on towards the welcoming doorway ahead.
A single, time-worn stone step led up to an imposing arched doorway. In the granite beside the weathered wooden door was carved “RoYds”.
The door was held open halfway by an elderly gentleman wearing a full morning suit. Opening the door fully so that Elizabeth could easily step inside, the man gently closed the door behind her.
“Morning, Miss.”
“Morning, Wilfred. How are you today?”
The little man blinked back at her, same blank expression as always. He answered with the usual monotonous tone in his voice.
“Present as usual, Miss,” he replied. “Mr Birch is waiting for you in the red reception room, Miss. Very dark out today isn’t it?”
Elizabeth suspected that Wilfred had always been around to supervise the doorway at RoYds, altering only his clothing, hairstyle and manner of speech to suit the conventions dictated by the modern world.
“Certainly is,” remarked Elizabeth with an involuntary shudder.
***
Elizabeth entered the red reception room through an open doorway. The rather grand room was furnished with deep sofas, armchairs and various pieces of antique mahogany furniture. Facing her was a large, highly polished black marble fireplace and a roaring coal fire.
Sitting in one of two oxblood leather armchairs by the side of the fireplace was Stanley Thomas Birch, an eccentric gentleman whose demeanour, despite his civilian attire, gave away the fact that he was, or had been, in the military. He was quietly sipping an amber liquid from a cut crystal tumbler and when he caught sight of her, he stood up and smiled.
“Ah, Elizabeth! Please do come in and take a seat." He pointed to the armchair facing the one he had just left.
Elizabeth shivered slightly; someone else was in the room with them. Turning to her left she caught a glimpse of Wilfred placing a small silver tray with a large mug of tea and some chocolate biscuits upon a nearby table.
“Took the liberty, Miss,” remarked Wilfred. “I thought you might be in need. Can I take your coat, Miss?” He held out his hand.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” she replied removing her long red winter coat and passing it to him.
“Please do take a seat and enjoy your tea,” said Stanley fussing after her lightly.
Elizabeth reached for the tea that Wilfred had made for her. She was delighted to discover it was as delicious as ever.
“Welcome back,” said Stanley with a broad grin.
Labels: Elizabeth, Fiction, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls |
posted by Miladysa @ 00:06  |
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| Billy Part 26 - Silver |
Present Day
The light of the full moon formed an eerie silver shadow across the desolate landscape. The five roughly hewn stones, known locally as witch stones, appeared almost to stand as guardians upon the hillside. The barguest lay peacefully beside the farthest one watching Elizabeth and Grispheran patiently.
Elizabeth gazed almost spellbound as she surveyed the wild landscape, every inch of it called out to her. She was overcome by an intense desire to run across it and continue running as far and as long as she possibly could.
And what was now
Floats by forgotten
“Washed away softly, by the call of the soul.”
“What? What did you say?” Grispheran’s spoken words had broken into Elizabeth’s thoughts and carried her back down to earth.
“I quoted from a poem, the name of the poet escapes me for the moment,” Grispheran materialised behind her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders.
On a night like this
When the moon fires silver
Every rush of breath
Coats the mind with frost
And what was now
Floats by forgotten
Washed away softly
By the call of the soul
As cloaks of iced whispers
Rush through the darkness
Every rustle of leaf
Traces desire upon stone
And what was now
Forfeits forever
Burned to a cinder
By the call of the soul
“Thought I’d find you here,” said a voice behind them. “Worked it out fer yer’sels, then?”
Elizabeth spun round. “Hughie! Worked what out? We’ve only just got here!”
“I think yer’ll find you’ve been ‘ere quite a while,“ Hughie said, glancing pointedly at Grispheran. Grispheran shot back a look of thunder in return.
Hughie cleared his throat. “That Ed Lord fellow dug up one of those holey stones. Somehow it made its way to that Howell fella and his crony Davie Blade.”
“Holey stone?” repeated Elizabeth, perplexed.
Grispheran walked over to the largest of the witch stones and directed his conversation for Elizabeth’s benefit. “Each of these stones has a hole ceremoniously carved into it for a purpose. This large one,” he pointed to the stone where he was standing, “was used to cure. The Living would pass a sick child through it three times, an adult would crawl backwards through it nine times.”
“Did it work?” Elizabeth asked sceptically.
“It worked alrite!” answered Hughie enthusiastically. “People forget the old ways, but the magic’s still there if yer believe in it.”
Grispheran gave the pair of them a look of exasperation before continuing. “In any case, these are not the holey stones. A holey stone is the part of the standing stone which has been removed. It is powerful and can do much harm in the wrong hands.”
Grispheran leaned against the large stone he was standing beside. “The holey stone from this one can cause sickness and pestilence.”
“And the others?” Elizabeth asked anxiously. “What are they capable of and how do we know which one has been taken?” Elizabeth’s worried gaze darted between Grispheran and Hughie.
“Luckily, I’ve seen it! It’s about this big,” replied Hughie, forming a fist. “Don’t know what it can do, mind you. Suspect they’ve managed to turn back time somehow? Up until a few hours ago they’d no idea what they’d done or what the heck they were dealing with!”
“They do now,” Grispheran announced calmly.
There was only one stone it could be. The three of them looked over to where the barguest was now standing.
“What was that one used for?” Elizabeth asked Grispheran with trepidation.
Hughie lowered his eyes and kept them fixed on the ground. Sweeping his foot side to side, he flattened the short coarse grass. “They says if one of the Living looks through that ‘un during a full moon they can see t’otherworld, fairies, ghosts and t’future.”
“And so the holey stone does what?” Elizabeth asked Grispheran with an added sense of urgency.
“Unravels time and permits the keeper to dictate how events proceed.”
Something in Grispheran’s manner alarmed Elizabeth greatly. “Why don’t you just go and demand it back?” she asked outright. “I’m sure they wouldn’t be able to resist your powers of persuasion!”
Grispheran and Hughie both laughed.
“Shouldn’t imagine it’s as easy as that, lass.” Hughie said with only half a smile. “Yon man’ll be able to tell us more though,” he nodded in Grispheran’s direction.
“The battle cannot be fought here,” said Grispheran gravely. He had moved away from them and was looking across the hilltop towards the town. “We will have to accompany the barguest back through the stone opposite the one they have taken and we shall have to go tonight while the moon is full.”
“We?” said Elizabeth and Hughie simultaneously.
“You don’t think you’re going anywhere without us do you, Lizzie?” asked Gemma, descending onto the hilltop alongside Paul and Tashriel.
Elizabeth, initially startled, now rolled her eyes -- as if they didn’t have enough problems!
Prev
Labels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 21:30 |
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| Billy Part 25 - Dark Shadows |
2008
Hughie waited in the courtyard of Staibey Nayes. He watched from the encroaching darkness as the workmen switched off the lights inside the building they were working in and made their way home. The smallest of the three buildings, although still dimly lit, was surrounded by such darkness that Hughie was reluctant to get any closer.
He had seen the two men -- the ones Elizabeth had asked him to keep his an eye on -- enter the building earlier. He needed to discover what the mysterious object was that they had in their possession. Hughie gathered all his courage together and entered the building.
The dark shadows completely filled the barren interior, hissing as Hughie passed by. Several flew through him, screeching horribly. Their continued screaming echoed within him, as if some of their particles had somehow lodged themselves within his presence. He pushed on. He wasn’t going to let Elizabeth or the Living down; they needed him.
After what seemed like hours, Hughie broke through the darkness into the room where Davie Blade and Linus Howell were located. Both men were whispering excitedly, encouraged furiously, unbeknown to them, by the dark shadows. Hughie watched as they peered into a small metal urn on the workbench before them.
Valiantly, Hughie continued past the screeching gargoyles and moved into the centre of the room to take a look over the hunched shoulders of the two men. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was genuinely surprised to discover that all the fuss was over a simple pebble. Then something clicked and he remembered exactly what it was he was looking at!
PrevLabels: Hughie, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 16:00 |
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| Billy Part 24 - Under Control |
Present Day
“You can hold my hand if you want, Bess,” Grispheran offered.
Elizabeth was infuriated with his butter-wouldn’t-melt attitude. “No, thank you very much!” She replied tersely, struggling to place one foot firmly over the over on the boggy landscape they were attempting to walk over. Her maglite had no problem picking out the trail, but the fact was, there wasn’t much of a trail to begin with.
“No? Well, I am surprised! Would you prefer to hold something else instead?” he asked flirtatiously, turning his back on her and carried on walking a few paces ahead.
Enraged, she stopped dead in her tracks and glared at his back. “I wouldn’t touch you with a flaming barge pole!” she blazed, her hair and pearl earrings positively bouncing in the cold dark air. “You are a conceited, chauvinistic, immoral --”
Grispheran spun around and placed himself right in front of her. “Agreed! Handsome, too -- even if I do say so myself!” He leaned in close, as near as practically touching her.
Elizabeth pulled her face and upper torso away from his. “Freak you!” she spat.
He laughed and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Well, if you insist...”
“Don’t. Say. Another. Word!” Elizabeth fought hard to keep her temper under control and adopt a professional manner. “Look. I have no idea why Stanley thought it would be a good idea to send us two out here but, he did. I, for one, think that we should just get on with it and...” she paused for breath, “get it over with as quickly as possible!”
“Agreed!” Grispheran adjusted the lace cuffs of his shirt and casually brushed a lapel of his malachite velvet coat. He raised his head slowly and ran his fingers through his long wavy hair almost lethargically. For a split second, Elizabeth noticed how very long his eyelashes were.
“You flatter yourself, madam. I offered to hold your hand in order that I might comfortably transport the pair of us to Heyleigh Stones in comfort. If you had accepted graciously -- not that such a thing is in your nature, mind you -- we could have already been there by now and possibly be on our way back!”
Elizabeth now felt rather foolish in the face of Grispheran’s matter-of-fact manner. Though she sometimes was certain that he was just manipulating her, this time she decided she had probably overreacted and read something more into it then was intended.
“My thoughts exactly, Madam!” Grispheran answered, holding his open left hand out to her. His long masculine fingers gave the impression of marble in the darkness and Elizabeth was surprised when she placed her hand in his and received a sensual thrill from his warm flesh encasing hers.
He pulled her closer to him gently and then casually slipped his arm around her waist. As Elizabeth felt her feet rise off the ground she instinctively placed her arm across his lower back. A breeze gently brushed Elizabeth’s hair and then they were standing on the top of Hades Hill within the avenue of Heyleigh Stones.
Elizabeth unconsciously contemplated Grispheran’s face as he delicately removed his arm from around her waist, making her feel as though she was a little china doll in the process. Her eyes traced their way across his full lips and upwards to lock with his alluring deep basalt eyes.
“Let go of me,” he ordered abruptly.
Elizabeth jolted into action and moved herself a short distance away from him.
“I...I’m sorry! I --”
Feeling her cheeks burn, Elizabeth put further distance between them and tripped over a stone.
“Damn!” she cried angrily and spotted the flame red eyes of the barguest watching them both from the cover of one of the upright stones.
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 11:00 |
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| Billy Part 18 - Time |
Present Day
“Linus Howell,” announced Stanley perplexed.
“I would recognise him anywhere,” said Elizabeth with an involuntary shudder.
It was the first time they had all been together in one place for as long as Elizabeth could remember. Stanley had gathered together his war cabinet. The group of them were crowded around a large circular table in the red reception room at RoYds. Wilfred was busying stacking coals on the already roaring fire behind them.
“Kelly Crabtree is sitting in a classroom up at the college and all of his other victims are walking around as large as...life,” added Paul. “It’s as if his crimes never happened! Of course we know differently, but somehow Howell, or someone...something else, has managed to bewitch the Living into believing otherwise.”
Elizabeth noted the concerned looks around the room before shifting her attention towards Gemma who had placed herself in between Tashriel and Grispheran. Much to Elizabeth’s annoyance, the latter was sitting sideways against the table his own attention also focussed firmly upon Gemma who was flirting with him outlandishly.
“Then there is only one explanation I can offer,” said Stanley, lighting a cigar. “Whatever Ed Lord uncovered up at Heyleigh Stones has magical properties. It would appear that we need to recover it and return it to where it belongs without further delay.
“Agreed,” said Tashriel almost as if he was speaking for all of them.
Lady Mabel leaned forward, placed her elbows on the table and the palms of her hands together as if in prayer. When she had everyone’s attention, including Gemma and Grispheran’s, she spoke with authority. “The last time something like this happened...”
“Was in 1946 when we first lost poor Mr Lawrence,” interrupted Wilfred standing up from the fireplace and walking towards them.
“Ah, Wilfred,” said Stanley twisting in his chair and looking over his shoulder to get a view of him. “Would you like to join us?” he nodded towards the empty chair beside Paul.
The coal dust disappeared from Wilfred’s hands as he joined them at the table and produced a delicious looking display of cakes upon a silver platter.
“Mr Lawrence?” asked Elizabeth quizzically. “Billy Lawrence?”
“The very one, Miss,” confirmed Wilfred. “I did have a soft spot for Mr Lawrence, Miss. Dare say he reminded me of myself in some ways...”
“Quite,” said Stanley in an attempt to bring them back on track again. “We can’t talk about that little episode now -– we haven’t got time. By the way, has anyone actually noticed the time by any chance?”
All eyes focussed on the Edwardian clock ticking merrily upon the black marble mantelpiece.
“What about it?” asked Gemma. “The clock looks to be working fine to me.”
“Always does, Miss,” replied Wilfred reassuringly.
“Then what are we looking at?” questioned Paul.
“11 a.m.,” announced Archie solemnly. “And totally dark outside!”
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 08:20 |
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| Billy Part 16 - Fae |
Present Day
Elizabeth wished she had not made the decision to take this particular route into the dell. The soles of her boots kept slipping on the uneven stone-strewn surface of the makeshift pathway she was attempting to pick her way over. There was enough sunlight to make her way through; the problem was the amount of rain that had fallen throughout the night. What had earlier been a reasonable path had subsequently been transformed into a ribbon of mud.
She was about halfway through her reckless early morning trek when she consciously acknowledged the singing. At first, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her and that it was some kind of insect. After a while, she realised that it was definitely singing, although no matter how hard she tried, she could not make out the words, or even any tune come to that. There seemed to be a number of voices and they never grew closer or further away.
She decided to step off the path and continue over the short carpet of weeds and bushy plants that edged it. It was a good decision and she was able to improve her speed marginally.
The singing was beginning to irritate her -– who the hell could be making such a racket at this time in the morning? It had been a long time since she had made such adventurous early morning forays into the dell. Just then, she stopped abruptly and took a good look around.
Peg darted from the undergrowth to the side and ran, panting heavily, towards her. Hughie in hot pursuit.
“Quick, lass,” he cried. “We need to get to Annwn’s as fast as we can!”
The look on Hughie’s face did not warrant any argument. Elizabeth took heed and raced behind them as the singing, accompanied by a newly acquired scurrying, pursued them from the distance.
***
Despite her fear Elizabeth gasped with delight when she glimpsed the round, stone built and thatched cottage amidst the trees in the distance.
How on earth
Peg raced through the open door, followed quickly by Hughie. Elizabeth reached it a few seconds later. Her brief view of the dark interior from outside was limited to the glow of a fire and the long back of a wooden settle. The building appeared to be on one level above ground and was no more than fifteen feet wide at its extreme.
The singing and scurrying noise increased dramatically. Elizabeth felt trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Just then, Peg poked her small head around the door frame. With one red ear cocked she gave Elizabeth a wide-eyed look.
Elizabeth rushed inside.
***
“You took your time!” said Hughie, closing the door firmly.
“Where did all this come from?” Elizabeth asked incredulously, taking in the room around her.
The interior of the cottage was spacious and full of rustic charm. Peg settled down upon a woven rush rug before the open log fire and Hughie walked over to join her. He rubbed his hands together over the open flames and then turned to toast his backside.
“Always been here, lass.”
“But...but...I’ve never seen it before! In fact, we first met here -– remember? There’s only ever been the remains of a building on this spot before today.”
“Not so,” said Hughie with an air of joviality. “Just cos yer’s never seen it -– doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!” he chuckled.
Elizabeth walked around the room marvelling at all the wonderful old objects it contained. Carved animal figurines, hammered pewter ornaments, even a small silver mirror. Everything was whispering temptingly to her. She wanted to reach out and touch it all, yet she respectfully refrained from doing so. Just then she remembered the beings they had been running from.
“Fae,” said Hughie distastefully. “Nasty little buggers! It’s the weather yer see -– cheeses ‘em off when the rain washes the iron ore out of t’soil into t'river. What they need is an ASBO -– the flaming lot of ‘em.”
“I’ll second that!” said Elizabeth enthusiastically. “If Gemma Bolton is anything to go by, anyways!”
Hughie frowned. “What? That wee lass? I’ve noticed yer’ve had yer differences -– seems to me that you have a knack of bringing out the worst in each other,” he lectured, helping himself to a green apple from wooden bowl upon a dresser at the far side of the room. “Besides she’s not really fae -– not strictly speaking that is.”
Elizabeth’s was somewhat annoyed to hear Hughie defending Gemma, her green eyes flashed. “What do you mean by that? I should know, I have been at the receiving end of her mischief!”
Hughie shrugged. “Story goes, her Nan was never a full shilling. Wandered off from the Living when she were a nipper and turned up twenty years later, same age as when she disappeared. Claimed to have been away with the fairies -– of course none of the Living believed it.” Finishing the apple, he tossed the core into the fire where it hissed and spit, disturbing Peg momentarily from her slumber.
“S’pect any magic she has is probably ter do wiv something she has in her possession rather than owt else. Maybe her Nan was gifted with something by ‘em? She wouldn’t be the first and I doubt she’ll be the last come to that. They can either love you or hate you.”
Elizabeth considered Hughie’s words carefully. Hughie, with his back towards her, peeked at the breaking sunshine through one of the stone-lintelled windows.
“All I’m saying is, it can’t have been easy for her growing up with a foot in each camp can it? After all, you’ve had a similar experience yersel.” Peg jumped up onto the windowsill and joined Hughie in his observations.
“Is it safe to leave yet?” Elizabeth asked, changing the subject and walking over to join them.
“Shouldn’t imagine so,” said Hughie, glancing at the latched door. “It’ll open when it is. Anyways, what are you doing down here so early?”
“Thought you might be able to help me figure something out,” smiled Elizabeth warmly.
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 12:13 |
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| Billy Part 14 - Heyleigh Stones |
Present Day
Elizabeth opened her mind and locked eyes with the barguest. His pupils contracted and she let her mind hover above the hillside beyond the graveyard. The panoramic view of the landscape was amazing. The whole valley appeared to be covered with a series of eerie silver lines and boundaries which were not normally visible. Some of the boundaries mimicked the stone walls and hedges laid by man while others detoured.
Elizabeth recognised a series of well known ley lines criss-crossing the farm land on the other side of the valley and up towards the quarry. For every one she had been aware of, there were at least three more previously unknown to her. Other groups ran down toward the dell and across the moors.
She was directly above an area clearly defined by one of the silver boundaries. It took in a portion of the graveyard, the hill itself and a section of the moorland beyond. This boundary appeared more defined than any other, Elizabeth was certain it was the area to which the barguest was restricted. It could travel across the moor and hillside freely but only part way into the cemetery and no further.
A group of Neolithic stones known locally as Heyleigh Stones dominated the moor and was the boundary core. A ley line ran straight through its centre and a number of small, freshly dug pits pockmarked the earth in which the stones stood.
Elizabeth observed as a heavily set man cast aside a collapsible spade which landed beside what looked to be a metal detector already lying on the ground. He then sank to his knees beside the most recent pit. He buried his hands in the boggy moorland and extracted what appeared to be a small, mud-encrusted object before placing it in his rucksack. Retrieving his previously discarded tools, he hurriedly made his way back down into the valley as a thunderstorm broke overhead.
Elizabeth recognised the man as Ed Lord, the barguest victim she and Tashriel had met with recently at RoYds. There had been talk of a barguest but he had definitely not mentioned any treasure hunting expeditions on the moors!
The beast's pupils widened and Elizabeth watched as a coffin was laid into the ground half a dozen graves away from where Gemma and Paul were standing a few feet away from her and the barguest. Her attention was quickly diverted as the figure of Ed Lord appeared behind two of the male mourners; a hand on each of their shoulders.
The first mourner was substantially overweight and entirely unaffected by the solemnity of the ceremony taking place before him. Although Elizabeth could tell that he had known the deceased for many years, she sensed that he was there not to mourn but to network, the day merely a business opportunity. His name came quickly to her -– Davie Blade aka Switch. There was no need to search for the name of the second man; despite the fading light she recognised him immediately as Linus Howell!
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 17:26 |
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| Billy Part 11 - Diminishing Light |
Present Day
Of the many shades of black, Elizabeth had no doubt that it was the deepest black of all that formed the coat of the approaching barguest. Its blood-red eyes glowed like smouldering coals and appeared to be fixed in their direction. She hastily unwrapped the parcel she was holding.
“Think you could buy us a little time here, Gemma?” she asked calmly.
Gemma touched Paul and reached towards Elizabeth, she halted midway. “Something’s wrong -– I can’t get near you. What are you holding?”
Elizabeth raised one of the horseshoes in her hand, “Just a few of these -– Tashriel said they would come in handy if we happened to come across our friend there.” She nodded towards the beast, which was now about 60 yards away.
“That explains why I couldn’t sense it!” Gemma hissed. “Those things are made of iron -– they work against Fae too!”
Elizabeth looked down at the objects in her hands; they offered the only defence she had against the approaching creature.
“What are we supposed to do with them?" Paul asked, reaching out and taking one.
“According to Tashriel, we need to place them on the ground at our feet and stand in a circle with our backs together,” Elizabeth stated calmly whilst looking in Gemma's direction. “Is that going to cause a problem for you?”
“Not as much as the one I’m going to create for you when we get out of here!" Gemma snarled. "I'll be fine as long as they don’t touch me,” she added almost as an afterthought.
Paul placed the one he was holding on the ground beside Gemma and reached over for another one. Elizabeth mischievously considered using her own to whack Gemma with before reluctantly placing it at her own feet.
The barguest howled as if to summon the devil himself, its foul smelling breath hurled the leaves nearest to them in the direction of the surrounding gravestones. Elizabeth clasped Paul’s hand and offered her other hand to the contrary Gemma. Baring its drool-coated fangs and gums, the hell hound rushed towards them with razor sharp claws unsheathed.
Elizabeth, aware of the magical connotations associated with iron and horseshoes, was curious to discover how they would offer protection against the barguest. Within seconds of placing all three on the ground, a thin, almost crystal-like veil had appeared and formed a protective layer around them. It was immediately obvious to all that the horseshoes had created a sort of Celtic trinity knot around them and Gemma was clearly uncomfortable.
The air was acrid and tainted with sulphur. The barguest, frustrated at being unable to break through their defences, sliced the surrounding graves with its razor sharp claws and intermittently threw itself against the protective shield, testing it.
Elizabeth’s concentration was momentarily taken by a hearse and its procession winding along the snaking road to the cemetery chapels, and then returned to the impassioned creature.
“I wonder why it’s so riled,” Elizabeth commented. “Aren’t these things supposed to be guardians or something similar?”
“Technically, yes,” replied Paul. “I’ve never heard of one making an appearance in daylight either. What about you, Gemma?”
“I’m beginning to think we're mistaken. I don’t think it’s trying to harm anyone. It’s trying to tell us something.”
“WHAT?!” Exclaimed Elizabeth and Paul in unison.
“No, seriously. Think about it for a moment. There’s only been one so-called victim and he never even heard it coming and only actually saw it after the event. Why the big show for us? I’ve no doubt if it wanted to, it could have picked us off quietly at any time.”
“I hate to admit it but I think you may be on to something there, Tinks. What do you think, Paul?”
“It makes sense, but couldn’t it just have rolled over or something?”
“Probably would have done if Lizzie Schwarzenegger here hadn’t turned up all heavy handed and brandishing the hardware.”
Elizabeth muttered something undecipherable under her breath.
“Look, ladies, whatever the hell’s going on between you two let’s leave it to another time and place, shall we?” Paul tilted his head towards Gemma. “Do you have any idea as to how we can test your little theory?”
“Yeah. Move this poison from in front of me and whiz it over there.” Gemma nodded in Elizabeth’s direction. “I’ll happily approach the barguest and see what happens next. If it tries to attack me, I should be able to muster up enough magic to save myself and get some help. You two can remain here for now.”
It sounded like a good plan. Piqued, Elizabeth conjured up a mental image of Gemma as a bone with the barguest happily munching on the marrow. Paul prepared to remove one of the horseshoes but hesitated when the beast threw itself against the part of the shield directly facing Elizabeth.
“I’m not moving it until the barguest moves away,” Paul announced firmly.
The barguest fell back then, and made a move towards Paul. Paul threw the horseshoe and Gemma broke free.
Paul and Elizabeth tensed as Gemma dashed away at lightning speed and put a great deal of distance between herself and the barguest which, much to everyone's surprise, did not follow after Gemma, but moved away from Paul and took up a firm position some five yards distant.
“She’s not all that bad, you know,” Paul said almost apologetically.
“Says the man who likes to make a quick exit!” Elizabeth snapped.
They both watched in silence as Gemma leisurely made her way back to their location, her auburn hair bouncing jauntily on the late afternoon wind. Time was working against them; though only just after 3 pm, it was already beginning to grow dark.
The barguest howled as Gemma approached, but then he crouched close to the ground and permitted Gemma to touch him. Elizabeth noticed a subtle change in her appearance and watched in amazement as she appeared to glow.
“Come out and throw the horseshoes as far away as possible,” Gemma ordered after what seemed like ages. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.”
Paul was the first to move and did as requested. A reluctant Elizabeth noted where they fell just in case they should have a need for them later. They both moved closer to Gemma and the dog-like creature. The mourners began emerging from the chapel below, totally unaware of their presence.
“He’s searching for something that's been stolen by the Living. Something which is his duty to guard," Gemma told them while putting a little more distance between herself and the barguest. Her voice sounded feebler than before, and her footsteps looked slightly unsteady. "He needs our help to find whatever it is and return it to its rightful place. I'm sorry, I wasn't strong enough to sense more.” Gemma appeared to physically crumble and Paul rushed towards her.
Elizabeth, although barely able to make out her features in the diminishing light, was convinced that the earlier glow had been replaced by one of a much darker shade.
"Of course, you’re correct,” stated Gemma, leaning heavily on Paul and making eye contact. "Every time I use what little magic I possess there’s a price to pay. There's always a price to pay, isn't there, Elizabeth?”
For the first time in a long time, Elizabeth felt something other than pure dislike towards Gemma. Paul studied them closely and then looked in the direction of the watching barguest.
“Perhaps you could try and see what you can find out, Lizzie? I suspect there’s going to be a lot of bloodshed if we don’t get to the bottom of this soon.”
PrevLabels: Billy, Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:13 |
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| Billy Part 10 - Encounter |
Present Day
The scent of decay clung to the air. Elizabeth sensed the decomposing leaf debris and grey slush borders of the cemetery access road were not the only source of the smell. She hurried towards the outlying boundary wall that winked at her through an avenue of skeletal trees. Behind her were the cemetery offices and two identical chapels of honey-coloured stone and differing denominations. The inhabitants of the community, divided even in death.
Despite the gloomy sunlight and chill of winter, the morning held no fear for her. At least a third of the crumbling gravestones stood guard over the remains of distant relatives. This knowledge and the sense of comfort it conveyed helped to enforce a feeling of strength and belonging.
Stepping off the road and across several scattered graves, Elizabeth caught sight of Paul and Gemma waiting up ahead. She was beginning to suspect they were joined at the hip. Tashriel was nowhere to be seen, despite his assurance that he would be joining them.
Elizabeth smiled a greeting to the gruesome twosome and continued in their direction, avoiding eye contact as much as possible by focussing on the expanding moorland beyond. Paul was the first to speak.
“Hi, Lizzie! How’s it going?” He enquired as sweetly as poisoned candyfloss and positioned his not-quite-corporeal self between her and Gemma like some attempt at a token barricade.
About as useful as a chocolate fireguard
“Me? I’m fine... No thanks to you and Tinker Bell here, though,” Elizabeth replied sarcastically.
“Tinker Bell?” Gemma asked, her curiosity seemingly piqued.
“This is the spot where the barguest attacked,” chirped Paul, pointing to his right and attempting to change the subject.
Elizabeth was distracted by a presence on the horizon. It was moving fast, low to the ground and heading in their direction.
“There’s some kind of beast in the distance behind you," she informed the others. "It seems to be running along the boundary wall.”
“I don’t sense anything,” Gemma commented, turning to observe the line of the wall.
“Are you sure?” asked Paul.
“I think it’s our barguest,” Elizabeth said, reaching into her shoulder bag and retrieving a weighty package. She felt the moving presence stop. The sense of urgency emanating from it appeared to be moving away from them.
“It’s stalking us,” she informed them tentatively.
Gemma frowned, “Are you sure you’re not just imagining it? I’m not picking up anything at all. I would if there was anything out there.”
Elizabeth glared and restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She had been hoping for the opportunity to clear the air between herself and Gemma before she did anything else, but that was looking less likely with each passing second.
Paul made another effort to divert them. “The police seem to be pretty certain that it was a shooting accident. The bloke just tripped and blew his own head off. He probably imagined anything else in his last dying seconds, Lizzie.”
“There’s something out here and I’m pretty certain it’s an animal of some kind.” Elizabeth stated emphatically, gripping the package ever tighter. “I’ve no idea why Tinks can’t pick up on it, and frankly I think that’s the last of our worries. What’s more, if you call me Lizzie again I’ll make Grispheran seem friendlier and more innocent than Sponge Bob!”
The presence started to move. This time Elizabeth noticed Paul had felt it too. It was still heading in their direction, only slower.
“Either of you two had an encounter with a barguest before?” Elizabeth asked calmly.
They both shook their heads, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“We don’t know it is one yet,” Gemma commented, though sounding a little less sure of herself than earlier.
“What would you call that, then?” Elizabeth quipped, inclining her head towards an enormous black-coated beast bounding across the graves before them. “Lassie?”
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Location photographLabels: Billy, Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 09:30 |
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| Billy Part 8 - Collector of Souls |
Present Day
Elizabeth took comfort in her surroundings and absently watched the priest as he went about his business preparing the church for Mass. Her gaze did not linger on the pastel yellow walls with their damp lace decoration but moved quickly on to the sparkling ruby reds and sapphire blues of the stained glass window above the font. The sunlight streaming through the colours caused a shimmery dance of lights across the pale white marble of the altar.
She saw an altar boy out of the corner of her eye as he entered the church from a room to the side of the chancel and commenced to make his way around the outer walls lighting candles. The past was so close in this place, only a hymn or a chant away.
Here I am Lord
Can you hear me calling in the dark
Elizabeth’s concentration was broken when she felt a priest sit down on the wooden pew next to her. She fought down a wave of panic and closed her eyes. She opened them again when he knelt down and started to pray softly and the feeling of panic was replaced by one of comfort.
A heavy oak door to the rear of the church opened with the squeak of old hinges and a series of footfalls made their way down the aisle. The priest rose to greet them and Elizabeth sighed with relief. She wasn’t quite ready for a heart-to-heart yet, perhaps another day.
Tashriel was waiting when she stepped outside, the decision she had made to return to RoYds requiring no spoken acknowledgement between the fallen angel and herself.
They made their way through the narrow back streets towards RoYds, the afternoon calm and the two of them chatting about nothing while in the distance, car tyres splashed their way through puddles and a terrier yapped intermittently. Tashriel was the first to steer their light-hearted conversation down a more serious route.
“Have you ever heard of a barguest,” he asked, raising an eyebrow in anticipation.
“A bar guest?” Elizabeth repeated. “What’s that? A pub customer?” She laughed even though she knew how lame her joke was. Tashriel was kind enough to join her.
“Not quite,” he smiled before continuing. “There are those amongst the Living who believe that such creatures are collectors of souls and that anyone with the misfortune to see one will be dead within a year.”
“Do they?”
“Collect souls? Not exactly.”
They came to a standstill at the corner of the RoYds building. Elizabeth was keen to learn more before they entered.
“Do they really exist?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.
“There are a few of them about.”
Tashriel continued forward and Elizabeth followed him. “So why bring them up now?” she asked as they reached the entrance.
“Well, we're just about to meet a man named Edward Lord. He claims a barguest ripped his throat out last week.”
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 23:58 |
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| Billy Part 6 - Black Fox |
Present Day
The night was growing darker. It wouldn’t be long before it would be as dark as the coal which lay a hundred or so feet beneath his own, yet nowhere near as black as the creature he had just witnessed.
Ed Lord’s heart raced, rushed in his ears and crashed against the walls of his chest. He quickened his pace and stumbled over his own feet, the simple act of walking no longer automatic when accompanied by haste.
He knew what he had seen but who would believe him without proof? He increased the grip on his rifle and kept his eyes trained on the horizon beyond the dry stone wall he was approaching. Only the wall was between him and it, only the wall to his proof. He couldn’t fail, there was nowhere for it to go to ground!
Badgers! You could stick your badgers; he had something special, something no other bugger alive had seen and lived to tell!
How fortunate that he had exchanged his latest metal-detector finds for that scope from Howell! Once he reached the wall he would be able to take his shots leisurely. There was no chance that he would miss, no bloody chance at all! Only the wall and a couple of feet between them now!
He could clearly picture the events that were about to unfold, the events that were only a minute or two away. He had no doubt that it would bolt when it heard him reach the wall. It had no other option but to leg it across the moor hoping to make the ridge. He would have it before it got half way, probably only need one shot, two if he was unlucky.
He hit the wall running and quickly took aim a few feet to his right where he had visualised the creature would reappear -– nothing there! He scanned the breadth of the moor slowly and felt his body relaxing slightly as he did so; he could take his time, there was no rush.
How lucky was it that he had been the one to spot it? Fate! He was meant to get this kill! He still couldn’t believe what he had seen though. A good job he didn’t give a stuff for the old wives’ tale about how a black fox could live in a man’s shadow and never be seen. A load of bollocks, as far as he was concerned! And what tripe about it being bad luck; this was his lucky day! He’d seen it all right and now he would kill it, stone dead!
There it was! The adrenalin rushed throughout his body and tingled in the tips of his fingers. He would just line it up nicely, wait for it...
"What the bloody hell?!"
He dragged his eyes away from the sights for a split second and then back again in disbelief. It was just sitting there watching him! Well, he’d be the one to have the last laugh! “Prepare to meet your maker, sucker!” he whispered under his last breath and applied pressure to the trigger.
He never heard the shot. Only felt the intense pain as teeth sliced through his jugular. The black fox in the distance howled a greeting to his saviour and then made a dash towards the ridge of moor ahead.
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Video: Black FoxLabels: Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 12:00 |
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| Billy Part 4 - Blossoms Fell |
Present Day
The material beneath her fingers was heavily textured, the flesh beneath it firm and hot. Elizabeth sank towards him and then arched backwards, her long fair hair rippling down her back and swaying as she moved.
The wind whipped through the heavily layered trees of the dell and stroked their exposed skin as it swept across the hollow where they lay. Flecks of cold rain and blossoms fell, a sweet heady scent travelling with every breath it took. Above them, iron water cascaded onto stone.
Grispheran’s tongue traced its way down her neck, across her shoulder and then delicately found the divot in her clavicle. The soft kiss of his teeth leaving puddles of pressure which increased with each move he made, her pleasure increasing with his passion.
Elizabeth’s fingers kneaded his shoulders before she cupped his face and lowered her lips to his.
You belong to me, Bess
Besieged with an overwhelming panic, she woke up with a jolt! Her heart raced and her eyes scanned the shadows catching sight of Grispheran watching her from the window seat. Moonlight seeped into the room from behind him and painted his silhouette and a fraction of the wall and floor with a silver glow. Elizabeth squinted across the room towards him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snarled, sitting up and brushing her hair back across the crown of her head with her fingers.
The fallen angel stood and came towards her. The lace-trim cuffs of his white shirt reflecting the light of the moon against the blackness of his coat.
Elizabeth’s heart raced as he leaned over her, stretching his hand out as though to brush a stray wisp of hair away from her face. Her right hand shot out defensively. Grispheran reacted with an inhuman speed, dragging her effortlessly from the bed and holding her firmly against the length of his body. Her feet dangled several inches above the floor beneath.
“Dreaming about me again, Bess?” he whispered harshly but seductively. Her face was pressed into his long thick hair and its earthy scent was undeniably arousing. She jerked her head away from it before losing herself completely.
“Don’t flatter yourself!” She snapped back at him.
Grispheran’s vice-like grip, however, left her otherwise completely at his mercy. She had no option but to remain pressed tightly against him. She fought to draw her thoughts away from the waves of his hair, the silky texture of his coat, the warmth emanating through fabric stretched across the muscles of his thighs and the harsh, awakened memories of the steely form that lay within.
I will not succumb
He slid his right hand into her hair, pulled her head back and brought his mouth firmly down upon her own.
You will!
Elizabeth struggled momentarily against his kisses before passionately returning them. Instantly, she was standing alone in the room with nothing but Grisperhan’s laughter encircling her. That laughter grated against her weakness and pierced another chink in the feeble armour she fought to possess.
“I hate you!” she shouted at the empty air he’d left behind.
His laughter rang out once more in return and then faded.
PrevLabels: Billy, Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Volume 2, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 22:47 |
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| Billy Part 3 - Choir of Gargoyles |
Present Day
Elizabeth cringed as she commenced her trek across the highly polished floor of the library accompanied by the nerve-tingling click click click of her high-heeled boots. A choir of gargoyles commented on every step.
Too much noise
Elizabeth reached the harbour of the doorway and smiled at the librarian who, even though she was sitting at a low desk, managed to look down at Elizabeth from over the tops of her contemporary spectacles.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so. I have a reader booked for 11:00?”
“Ah, yes. You wanted to look at the Observer archives?”
Elizabeth tried to focus on the smilingly insincere professional in front of her and fought to retain a portion of the instructions she was being bombarded with. Eventually, she managed to get a word in edgeways, “I have used one before, I should be OK.”
Photograph: Miladysa
The librarian nodded brusquely, showed Elizabeth to the machine and returned to her desk. Elizabeth took off her long red coat and glanced shiftily around the room. As she slid the chair back, the legs scraped loudly across the floor. She grimaced and felt even more uncomfortable when she observed several other people quietly and competently engaged in research. She cringed again as her car keys slipped from her coat pocket and clattered to the floor.
Idiot
She bent down to retrieve them and tried unsuccessfully to avoid eye contact with an elderly gentleman to her left. Her hands shook as she loaded the microfiche into the reader. Why couldn’t she just calm down? It did not take long to find the edition she was looking for; it was front page news. The microfiche, however, was rather grainy and difficult to read.
“WHY DID I DO IT?” MURDER CHARGE AGAINST LOCAL SOLDIER A Midnight Call to the Police With bowed head and obviously under great mental stress, William Lawrence, aged 34 years, of 24 George Street appeared in the dock at the Borough Police Court on Monday to answer to a charge that he “feloniously, wilfully and of his malice aforethought” did kill and slay. It is understood he had been on leave from the army in which he holds the non-commissioned rank of Corporal. The court proceedings were brief. Superintendent Finch said it was proposed to offer evidence of arrest only at that stage and Lawrence was remanded until Wednesday of next week. The Chairman stating that a certificate of legal aid would be granted. Mr S T Birch, who was present in court, replying to the Chairman said he was prepared to act for the accused.
Mr S T Birch? Stanley! That was a surprise to add to the fact that she had been correct in her assumptions about her grandfather being involved in the death of her great-grandmother.
Even though the information she had uncovered was grim, Elizabeth was excited by her discovery. It was liberating to release a secret from the past. Who else knew that her grandfather had been a murderer?
Minutes later, the microfiche displayed the report of the murder trial in the December 1940 edition of the paper. The headlines cut to the core.
FIVE YEARS “PENAL” FOR SOLDIER
A Story of Disputes and Drink
“All right, dear?” Elizabeth was startled back into the present by another interruption from the overly helpful librarian.
“Yes, of course I am!" she snapped.
Now you know who you get your temper from
“I was only trying to help,” muttered the librarian, clearly hurt by Elizabeth’s rebuttal. Feeling guilty, Elizabeth decided it was time to take a break and headed to the library café.
***
Fortified by a full pot of tea and a four-finger Kit-Kat, Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and prepared to return to the local studies section and continue her research. It was interesting learning more about her grandfather like this. She supposed that she was learning more about herself in a roundabout way.
Billy Lawrence had not been perfect, yet Stanley had still thought highly of him. She did not like to admit it, but perhaps Grispheran had been correct when he claimed that she was her own torturer.
The discarded red wrapper of the Kit-Kat glared accusingly at her from the edge of the saucer, mocking her lack of resistance to temptation.
Should have had the smaller one
PrevLabels: Billy, Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Volume 2, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 18:01 |
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| Billy Part 1 - Memory |
Present Day
The grave lay close to a Weeping Willow, the leaves of which had fallen and were scattered over the surrounding area like autumnal confetti. The late afternoon air was burdened with a grey ice-tinged fog that left only a few pockets of visibility as it whispered its way from the moors and towards the town of Whituth. Elizabeth brushed away some wet leaves clinging to the black marble headstone, then pulling her red coat tight against the chill, set off across the rain-swollen lawns and toward the exit leading to the Moor above.
As she walked, her boots crunched along the gravelled pathway and in the distance, the upper windows of the house where her mother had lived as a child watched her silently. She stopped still and stared back at them. It was at that precise moment when Archibald Templeton stumbled across her.
“Stanley thought I might find you here,” he said in an abrupt manner before adding an unsure smile as an afterthought.
Elizabeth was surprised to see him. She couldn’t remember the last time they had met, but it had to have been several weeks ago now.
“Really? How strange -– it’s not as if I had planned on being here today or anything. Well, not consciously anyway.”
She sensed he was feeling awkward; he certainly gave that impression as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other and played with the rim of the dark brown trilby he was holding.
“Stanley wondered...well, we all did really, when will you be returning to RoYds?
She froze and then found the courage to answer, “I’m not sure...after that last experience with the young girl and... Grispheran. In fact, I’m not even sure if it’s the right thing for me to be doing anymore.”
The wind began to pick up and a leaf-filled gust swirled across their path. Elizabeth shivered.
“It’s too cold to be standing around here chatting,” Archie said cheerily, pulling up the lapels of his perfectly tailored Harris tweed jacket. “Why don’t we go somewhere warm and talk about it?”
Elizabeth sensed he was feeling protective towards her and the better part of her nature nodded her agreement to his suggestion. Several minutes later they found themselves sitting in front of a roaring log fire in the lounge of the Red Lion.
“We’ve all been through something like it, you know? At least I think we all have. During the Great War every second held as much fear for me as the thought that each one could be my last. The thing is, like all matters in life or delay -– it’s always best to get straight back to it. The longer you leave it, the harder it will become.” He finished his sentence with a nod of his head as if to affirm his words.
“You think so?”
“Well, I’m no expert but I do know that running away doesn’t help anyone. Over the past few years, I’ve had to face an awful lot of bloody dodgy situations, I can tell you. Come to think of it, school wasn’t much better either!” He laughed heartily and Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile.
There was an awkward silence before Elizabeth eventually broke it. “I... Grispheran made me relive the worst moments of my life. It came as quite a shock to face up to what I really am.”
He reached over and patted her gloved hand tenderly. “It’s no different for the rest of us, dear. Don’t blame yourself for not being something or someone you were never meant to be. We can’t escape from who we are just because we want to.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. I will give it some thought. Promise.”
***
Elizabeth lost count of the time she spent wandering around the town before she eventually plucked up the courage to enter the gothic-inspired town hall and ordered a copy of a death certificate from the Registry Office within. She apologised for the lack of information when the clerk scowled.
“I know very little about my mother’s family, and I only know this much because of what I could find on the gravestone. My mother died when I was young and...”
The clerk interrupted her mid-sentence, “Well, I can’t promise anything. We have to go through each of the indexes manually. It could take some time," he said curtly. "Take a seat and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.” The clerk closed the opaque glass window as Elizabeth sat down in the pleasantly furnished waiting room.
Elizabeth’s curiosity about her mother’s side of the family had been roused by Lady Mabel Theawicke’s recent mention of her grandfather Billy Lawrence. Elizabeth had little knowledge of him except for a vague memory of sitting beside a roaring coal fire with him as a small child, drinking strong sweet tea. It was going to be interesting to learn more about him and hopefully solve some of the mystery surrounding her family’s past.
On the rare occasions when any of her immediate family had ever had cause to speak of Billy, they had always employed hushed tones and harsh words, giving her the impression that he must have been a horrible person. Once though, Stanley surprised her when he’d told her, “You're great company! Just like your granddad Billy!”
Elizabeth had been shocked. How could a wicked man like her grandfather ever have been on friendly terms with anyone as wonderful as Stanley?
Forty-five minutes later, Elizabeth was interrupted in her musings when the clerk reopened the window and proffered the death certificate she had requested.
“Thank you so much,” Elizabeth said softly. The clerk, making as little eye contact as possible, smiled faintly and closed the window.
Elizabeth scurried outside and scanned the Cause of Death column on the freshly created document:
“I Shock
II Internal haemorrhage
III Punctured wounds of both lungs and left ventricle of heart
IV Fracture of the sternum and fractures of rib
V Penetrating wound due to bullet in the P.M.”
It was true! What she thought she had once heard was correct. She studied the death certificate further. Date of death, July 1940. Yet the original death certificate had not been issued until December 1940. The death had been informed by the Coroner, and there under the column headed “Signature, description, and residence of informant” she discovered something that she had previously overlooked: Inquest held 16 July 1940.
Her next stop would have to be the Local Studies Centre.
Labels: Billy, Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Volume 2, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 29 - Loss |
Present Day
Elizabeth cringed as Grispheran’s mind crept into her own and systematically demolished the barriers time had put in place. Mercilessly, he explored her conscience and suckled on the unforgiven experiences harboured there.
Betrayal
Judgement
Resentment
Jealousy
Loss
Desire
Death
A thousand or more grey ones and then onward with force toward the putrid acidic ones that gnawed on her soul and hunted her sanity in the dankest, darkest moments of black days and nights when there was nothing left to hide behind. He rampaged freely within the tightly locked cell where her deepest stained memories were held hostage.
Elizabeth writhed like a living moth pinned to a velvet mount as she revisited her tortured memories of guilt, despair, pain and humiliation. His mind continued to hold hers fast as they both drank from the font. Nothing was sacred to him. Finally, when he had stripped her to the core, he released his grip and she once again found herself standing in the gloomy corridor.
The hand holding her own squeezed gently in reassurance and, feeling her spirit rise, Elizabeth prepared to face the fallen angel beside her.
Isn’t evil supposed to be ugly
Laughter broke through her thoughts as Grispheran addressed her verbally this time. “You are your own torturer, not I.”
***
His knee-length malachite green coat stood out amongst all the death, horror and gore that had invaded the corridor. The delicate lace cuffs of his shirt danced macabrely before her as he ran his fingers nonchalantly through his long jet black hair. His beauty astonished her, but it was his eyes that captivated what was left of her sanity.
A small piece of Elizabeth’s mind remembered the open window and yet her legs held no flight. She lacked the strength to flee.
Grispheran dismissed her with an arrogant air and casually made his way over to join Tashriel and Gemma who were in deep conversation a little further down the corridor. From where Elizabeth was standing, it appeared as though Tashriel was admonishing a rather smug Gemma. Elizabeth noted that Gemma looked as fresh and full of sparkle as she had earlier in the day.
Bitch
Elizabeth could taste her intense dislike of Gemma; it washed over her lips and into her mouth, and it was so thick she gagged. It was not until she raised her hand to her mouth that she realised she was no longer holding the hand of the teenage girl and fought to remember when they had been parted. In her despair, she scoured the corridor hoping to find her presence there. The only sign of her existence was the pathetically crumpled body on the floor not far from the mutilated and liquefied remains of the first vampire.
She flinched and wondered why he was still in smithereens. Wasn’t he supposed to regenerate or something? There had been no stake or holy water and the sunlight had not harmed him in any way. Tashriel joined her. He smiled and attempted to move a little closer.
"He was no match for Grispheran!"
Elizabeth backed away, hugging herself in the process and attempting to contain the hysterics she could feel rising. Something brushed against her shoulder and the entire corridor seemed to sway before her.
“Some bloody angel!” Elizabeth flamed, feeling her rage boil as her fear seeped away; the pitiful shadow she had been five minutes earlier was singed in the wake of her fiery anger. The force of her words caused her blond hair to sway and her green eyes flashed. Unwittingly, she drew the attention of Gemma and Grispheran who turned their focus in her direction. Elizabeth wondered briefly what it would feel like to slap that cheesy grin off Gemma’s smug face.
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Labels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 28 - Frantic |
Present Day
Elizabeth knew that Paul was scared –- extremely scared. In the panic that was beginning to overwhelm her, this thought was almost as terrifying as the footsteps now thud-thudding up from the stairwell. Elizabeth was rooted to the spot. The young girl continued to rock and whimper beside her while Paul frantically searched the passage and the ceiling, looking for an escape as well as keeping an eye out for any unwanted company. As she retrieved her Mag-Lite from her handbag, her instinct spoke again, informing her that her experience with Linus the other day was going to prove to be a piece of cake compared to what was about to happen here.
Screams erupted from the room Gemma had been pulled into, snatched by the flying creature. Hearing them was a sort of déjà vu, and Elizabeth had no doubt that these were the same screams that she and Gemma had heard a few minutes earlier.
“What the hell is it, Paul?”
She took hold of the young girl's arm and pulled her down the corridor away from the stairs and towards the gable wall and shuttered window at the end. They were like cornered rats.
Together, the three of them waited for the shadows on the half landing to appear in their full form at the top of the stairs. Elizabeth broke through the glass pane of the window with the hilt of her Mag-Lite and started to attack the wooden shutter, praying that it was rotten and would give way. Disoriented, she fought to determine if they were on the second or third floor of the building. Either way, the fall would probably finish the girl.
Elizabeth channelled all her anger and fear into a final assault on the wood which surprisingly surrendered. One half of the shutter swung outwards, making way for a stream of sunlight to flood down the corridor and announce the presence of the dark and threatening figure that had finally reached the head of the stairs. Elizabeth’s morale hit an all-time low when the figure failed to disintegrate in the beam of light reaching out from the window and the intimidating sound of the echoing footsteps continued to move towards them.
The young girl was completely hysterical now and she began to claw at her face with her fingernails creating a series of bloody half-moon welts across her cheeks and forehead. Elizabeth was drawn between a desire to slap the hysteria out of the girl and one to save her.
She leaned over the windowsill and surveyed the drop below. They were on the second floor. Scanning the lay of the land, she estimated that if the girl had the chance to take up a sitting position on the ledge, the drop would be about fourteen feet, with a good chance of a broken ankle rather than a broken neck.
Before Elizabeth could pull the girl up onto the windowsill, she felt a powerful presence immediately behind her and she went stiff. Suddenly, the young girl was pulled away from the wall beside Elizabeth with great force. Elizabeth heard taut skin pop as teeth punctured and ripped into flesh, and she began to tremble uncontrollably and with absolute horror as her own cheek and hair was washed with a fine spray of hot fresh blood.
***
Hail Mary full of grace
As Elizabeth resorted to prayer, the young girl who had just met her death turned her back on the light and held Elizabeth's hand tightly, her ghost remaining firmly by her side. Paul had already made his escape through the window.
This creature was not what Elizabeth would have expected from a vampire. She surmised that he must have been something quite ordinary before his death.
The figure before her disintegrated, one moment a grisly shape of a vampire, the next, millions of particles of decaying flesh and blood, holding their shape for a split second and then exploding onto Elizabeth in a red, horrifying shower. She found her voice and screamed hysterically.
Her screams caught in her throat when she saw Tashriel at the top of the stairwell accompanied by Grispheran. As the pair of them approached, they were joined by Gemma who emerged from the previously closed room totally unscathed.
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 18:01 |
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| RoYds Part 27 - Deathly White |
Present Day
Elizabeth and Gemma rushed through the doorway at the back of the room and found themselves faced with a wide, grey stone staircase which they hastily began to climb. Each of the stairs was furnished with a crescent shaped indentation in the middle where they had been worn down by countless footsteps over nearly two centuries. The stairway was dark and dimly lit, the only light coming from a window on a small landing about halfway up.
Gemma led the way, almost skipping with excitement as she tried to work out the room from which the now-silent screams had originated. “Over here! This must be the one!” she cried out, stopping in front of an open heavy wooden door.
Elizabeth came to a halt after a couple of steps when she noticed the figure of a dark-haired young girl leaning against a wall at the far end of the corridor.
“Are you coming?” Gemma shouted loudly from inside the room.
Why the hell doesn’t that flaming woman come with a volume control
Elizabeth tried to focus more clearly on the figure of the girl walking unsteadily towards her. She gagged as a putrid odour reached her and quickly raised a gloved hand to cover her mouth and nose. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the leather scent of her glove and the warm tones of her own perfume to keep her stomach from churning. As her eyes ran over the open sores and what appeared to be small red puncture marks covering the arms and neck of the girl’s deathly white body, it dawned on her that this was one of the Living.
Without hesitation, Elizabeth removed her coat and rushed towards the girl, wrapping it around her shoulders, struggling again not to retch at the sickening odour in the air around her. The girl did not appear to even register Elizabeth’s presence. Her eyes remained fixed straight ahead, her pupils dilated.
Gemma appeared in the corridor behind Elizabeth. “What the hell’s that stink? Where did she come from?” She asked, keeping a healthy distance.
“I’ve no idea. She needs a doctor," Elizabeth replied calmly.
Paul appeared at the top of the staircase and ran towards them. “We need to get out of here now! Where did she come from?” He asked, his eyes darting between them for an answer.
“Elizabeth found her,” replied Gemma. “What’s the rush?”
Elizabeth felt the whispering before she heard it crawling through the building. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end and she shivered.
The teenage girl beside her began to weep pathetically. Paul reached out and pulled her towards him with a tress of her dirty black hair. “They’re awake and they’re coming!” he announced. The fear on the girl’s face communicated that his message had at least made its way through her trance-like state.
“Where’s Tashriel?” asked Elizabeth nervously.
“Gone for help!” came his quick response. “Hurry! We’ve got to go!”
Gemma appeared as confused as Elizabeth felt. They turned and were about to make their way back to the stairs when the whispering was joined by a rustling sound and it felt as though the whole building was crawling with some form of invisible insect. Something large, black and vaguely human suddenly swooped down from the ceiling above them and snatched a shrieking Gemma with it into the room she had previously been investigating. Her piercing screams echoed out into the corridor and throughout the building. The young girl began to rock on her feet.
“What the freak was that?” shouted a ruffled Elizabeth.
“Something we weren't expecting,” replied an equally ruffled Paul.
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 23:15 |
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| RoYds Part 26 - Spooked! |
Present Day
Moorlands Hospital, a former local authority care home and prior to that, an infectious diseases hospital, was set back from the main road and accessible via a smaller private road of its own. To either side of the main entrance were two long, timbered sun lounges which, judging by their corridor style appearance, were additions to the older structure of the building sometime in the 1970s. Most of the windows were boarded up.
The main building was built of grey stone. Above the third storey and just under the apex of the stone-slated roof was a date stone which read, “Moorlands Workhouse 1868”. The exterior of the building was bleak and foreboding, having long fallen into disrepair and been neglected for a number of years –- a decade, possibly two.
Elizabeth lagged quietly behind the others, reluctant to enter the building and unusually wary of the snippets of past events captured by the structure. Gemma Bolton was gaily chatting away with Tashriel and Paul, her long auburn hair bouncing along as she walked and trilled away. There was no doubt about it –- Gemma was already starting to irritate Elizabeth.
Paul pushed aside the main door which was already ajar and stood to one side, his right arm directing the others inside, “I’m going to have a scout around the grounds. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Elizabeth noticed a brief pout from the gregarious Gemma and smirked. Tashriel was the only member of the party who noticed her spite and he briefly raised an elegant eyebrow in silent rebuke. Elizabeth pulled a childish face at him and entered the buildings.
The main hallway led to a long corridor with a number of doors leading off. The first two doors were on either side of the main entrance hall. Elizabeth suspected that the door to her left led to what had once been the women’s wing of the care home, and the door to her right, to the men’s wing.
Gemma had sped off down the corridor, a blur of indigo jeans and short black woollen jacket. Her excitement seeming to grow with every step she took. Tashriel briefly passed Elizabeth and then waited half way down the corridor for her to catch up.
Elizabeth was happy to note that he could drag his attention away from Gemma, but she was feeling peevish also. She both wanted his company and wanted to be alone. “I’m OK,” she feebly assured Tashriel. “You carry on with Gemma. I’ll either stay here or follow you in a minute or two. Don’t worry, I’ll have no problems finding you both –- I'll just follow the noise!”
Tashriel nodded and continued down the corridor in pursuit of Gemma. Elizabeth was now even more annoyed because he had chosen to do as she had suggested rather than stay with her. She realised how illogical she was being.
Elizabeth tried to get a grip on her current mood. It was almost as if her mood was reflecting the building's.
Layer upon layer of images and voices rushed through her mind and calmly she attempted to filter and arrange them into a less frantic viewing order, working backwards through time. Eventually satisfied that she had some control of the information that was assaulting her senses, Elizabeth entered the women's wing of the old hospital.
She was in a large, pleasantly decorated sun room and through-lounge sometime in the late 1960s. Rays of sunlight were streaming through a wall of windows to her left and a radio was booming out the hit song Young Girl somewhere towards the back of the room.
Five or six female nursing auxiliaries were dispersed throughout the two rooms. One auxiliary was perched on the wooden arm of a blue PVC armchair chatting merrily to the elderly lady seated in it. Another was handing out cold drinks in white plastic cups. Elizabeth sighed with relief; the overwhelming feeling was one of contentment.
Walking slowly, she wended her way past at least thirty of the identical blue armchairs, each one occupied by an elderly lady. To her right, one of the residents started clapping her hands and shouting excitedly.
“There! Look! One of 'ems 'ere now. Look! Can’t you see 'er?”
“Calm down, Cora,” soothed a much younger woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. “There’s no one there!”
“Oh, is that so? I can see ’er, alrite! I’m not soft in t'head!”
Elizabeth crouched down before Cora and, looking directly into her eyes, saw her recognition. Speaking softly and interspersing a friendly smile every few words, she said, “Hello, Cora. I’m Elizabeth. I mean no harm. I’m visiting, that’s all. Just trying to find my way around the place.”
“’Er name’s Liz!” shouted Cora cheerily.
The young nursing auxiliary passed her a tiny pill from a bottle she had taken out of the front pocket on her uniform. Another of the auxiliaries rushed over and offered Cora one of the plastic cups. Elizabeth patted Cora's hand and then made her way over to the doorway at the rear of the room.
After a few steps she felt a tap on her left shoulder. Elizabeth turned her head to discover an ecstatic Gemma grinning at her.
“Spooked yer!” declared Gemma, triumph sparkling in her blue eyes.
Elizabeth swore under her breath and was just about to ask little Miss G what the hell she was playing at when they both heard piercing screams coming from somewhere above.
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 22:42 |
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| RoYds Part 25 - Problems |
Present Day
Elizabeth looked across her desk at Paul Sharney; the young man sitting opposite her, and cast her mind back to the last evening they had spent together. A wave of nostalgia washed over her and carried her back through time. In an instant, she was sitting on a stool watching him play bass guitar and singing along with the other members of the band. His long brown hair curtained his face and gently danced upon the shoulders of his white cheesecloth shirt. He looked across the room towards her and smiled. They both knew it was over between them. The only problem would be in finding the right words.
“Ready?”
She had failed to notice that the music had ceased. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you away like this. If you want I can make my own way to the bus station. I don’t mind.”
She watched his nimble fingers as they fastened the toggles of his brown duffle coat and then assisted her with her colourfully embroidered Afghan; both garments haunted by the faded scent of Patula oil.
“Did your dad agree to you coming to Glastonbury with us yet?”
She hadn't bothered to raise the subject at home, knowing instinctively what the answer would be. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. Hey! You sounded great tonight. It’s really coming together.” She smiled and looped her arm through his as they walked in unison down the dimly lit road towards the bus station. Part of her loved him –- part of her always would.
“You’ve changed. I knew you would be different when you came back and you are. Your dad got what he wanted. He only let you go to Europe for three weeks because he knew it would split us up.”
Guilt engulfed her as she sensed his pain and yet she felt only a little sadness of her own. She gazed up at him through her long blonde hair, “My dad’s not like that.” It was a lie and both of them knew it. “I guess we are just growing up and growing in different directions...” She didn't know what else to say.
“I'll always be there for you, Elizabeth. No matter what happens in the future. If you ever need a friend I'll be there for you.”
His sensitivity had been one of the reasons she had fallen for him in the first place and it had also played a part in driving her away.
Their last kisses were more passionate than any they had previously shared; the sense of loss fuelling the tiniest sparks of passion that still existed between them. It was a new discovery for Elizabeth, the first time she realised that passion was as much a part of her nature as anything else.
“I know I’m not what you need...”
She felt him tremble as he dared to speak her mind for her and understood the words were not easy. Nestling her face in the warmth of his woollen scarf, she held him tight before breaking away and leaving traces of glitter and blue mascara in her place.
The following Friday, she stayed away while the band played their first breakthrough gig. Years later, one of their mutual friends had informed her over several glasses of warm rosé wine that he had dedicated their performance to her. That had been the last time she had cause to remember their final night together until the moment they met again at RoYds.
Elizabeth brought herself back to the present and studied his profile while he read through the file he was holding. The part of her that loved him wished he was still alive.
“Find what you were looking for?”
“Yes. Did you?”
Elizabeth was not too sure how to take his answer. Was he trying to be funny? “I meant in the file...” she replied hesitantly. There was definitely an edge to both his voice and his attitude; something she could not remember being there in the past. Perhaps it was something that he had grown into.
He ignored her question and slapped the file closed with an audible smack before returning it to its place within the drawer of one of the filing cabinets.
“Do you remember the old hospital? The one on the road between Whituth and Badale?” he asked, blatantly changing the subject.
“Moorlands? Yeah. Never knew it was a hospital though. I always thought it was an old people’s home. It’s been empty for years. Why?”
He definitely was a lot more confident than she ever would have imagined he could be. In place of his shoulder length brown hair was a respectable yet slightly edgy haircut, and his whole persona was rather reminiscent of Johnny Depp.
“Thanks. I have always admired Johnny –- he hasn’t sold out.”
“So, what about this hospital?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Several teenage members of the Living have claimed to have witnessed some weird events up at Moorlands. So far, their rantings have been dismissed and put down to drugs they've been using. I’m not too sure, though... Thought it might be worthwhile if we took a look around. Fancy taking a trip up there?”
“Why not? When did you have in mind?” Elizabeth found herself quite excited at the prospect. It might be good for them to spend some time together away from RoYds.
“Ten minutes? That OK with you? I’m just waiting for the others to arrive.”
“The others?” Elizabeth asked intrigued.
“Tashriel and Gemma Bolton are coming with us.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes upwards.
“Great girl, Gemma! What’s your problem?”
“Did someone call my name?” asked a beautiful young redhead waltzing into the room.
PrevLabels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 23:10 |
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| RoYds Part 24 - Creature of the Night |
Winter 1690
Lady Mabel Theawicke paced the room like a cat possessed and fought to regain some control over her senses; all emotion apart from rage appeared to have abandoned her. Her killer leaned nonchalantly against one of the heavily ornate posts of the bed, his arms folded across his chest and a smirk fixed upon his handsome face.
“You cheated me! You promised to make me one of you!” she screamed at him.
“I promised nothing of the sort –- you cheated yourself!” His words were calm and confidently delivered.
“You said you would do it! You said you would take the child and the others as payment! You agreed to the bargain and now you renege! I will have what is mine by right and you shall give it to me!”
“My dear Mabel, let us look at the facts. I asked nothing of you and only agreed to accept what you freely offered.”
“There! You condemn yourself with your own words!” she accused, continuing to pace as she spoke.
“Let us look, then, at the bargain that was struck.”
“You said you would make me a creature of the night!”
“I told you I could not do that. I am as I was created –- as were you. How could I possibly change you from one to the other? I am not responsible for your mistaking me for something I am not!”
“But I wanted to live... I wanted to carry on! You said it was possible,” she implored.
“And it is, and you are! You are still here speaking with me despite your body lying there.” He pointed towards the floor at the foot of the bed.
They both looked down towards her ashen corpse lying crumpled and withered upon the wide oak floorboards. Her dark brown hair fanned out around her face and her fathomless blue eyes stared upwards as though appealing to heaven.
He sat down at a small oak table and stared nonchalantly at the white and silver lace of his cuff. The tightly woven floral pattern of the lace danced lazily across the grain of the table and flickered in the firelight.
Embracing the lace was the smooth powder blue linen of his jacket's slashed sleeves and a trail of silver buttons kissed the table where his arm rested.
“I wanted to carry on living! I wanted to cheat death!” she tightened her hands into little fists and punched the air beneath them, biting her bottom lip at the same time.
“Then don’t go into the light. Carry on as you are now,” he replied flippantly.
The coldness of his words and his apparent amusement at her situation continued to fuel her rage.
“I love you!” she declared, hoping to harvest some degree of affection from him.
He rose to his feet suddenly, sending a heavily carved wooden chair backwards across the room and made his way towards her with measured steps, his polished black boots hammering their way across the floor, mimicking the beat her absent heart would once have made.
Taking a strand of her hair in his hand he commenced to caress it gently between his thumb and forefinger, studying her intently as he did so. Suddenly, he pulled her forcibly towards him and pushed his snarling face against her own. Mabel felt an emotion other than rage.
“We both know you lie –- when have you ever loved anyone more than yourself?” He spat the words at her before releasing her hair as though the touch of it disgusted him. He walked towards the door and as he approached it, it opened wide and crashed against the wall, plaster dust bursting out from around its edges.
“I don’t understand,” she whimpered, voice filled with despair.
His presence instantly moved from near the door and formed behind her. Slowly, painstakingly, he walked around to face her. “What don’t you understand, Mabel? You got exactly what you wanted –- as did I. You would have died tonight either way. I just had no idea how hard you were prepared to fall.”
PrevLabels: Lady Mabel, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 22:43 |
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