Malevolent Hall 1666AD (3 page)

“Tilly.”

Spinning around, certain it was the same male voice she heard earlier, Matilda hurried towards the door.  She peered out and glanced up and down the hallway.  There was no sign of anyone.

“Hello,” she called, positive she heard something this time and the hairs on the back of her neck and all down her arms stood up.  She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Tilly,”
his haunting voice called.  Something about his deep, smooth voice pulled at her heart and drew her like a magnet.  Matilda moved along the corridor, each step quicker than the last.

“Tilly.”

Stopping at the door to the east tower and her fists clenched unsure if to go up.  You know when you watch a film, and you are like yelling at the ‘soon to be a victim’ don’t go - don’t go - but they still do.  Well, even though she was scared, her curiosity took over her sense.  Matilda pulled the small door open, peered up the dark, spiral stairs, and flicked the light switch.

“Damn,” she muttered, glancing back up to the darkness when it didn’t turn on. Matilda wasn’t stupid enough to go up there without a light.  She didn’t have a torch, but then she didn’t always need one.

“Lluminare,”
Matilda whispered, holding out her hand and an orb of light materialised, hovering a few inches from her palm.  She learned that spell a few years ago.  During her search for the truth, she came across an ancient bookstore and discovered an even older witch’s spell book.  Matilda devoured it, every word, and every spell.  Since then she used a few in secret, just to see, and this one was particularly useful.  Perhaps she was a witch, or maybe she was something else.  This was another reason why she had come home, to seek out the truth about who she really was and where this ability to perform magic came from.

Matilda lifted her hand and the orb of light hovered in front of her, lighting her way.  Gripping hold of the metal rail running up the side of the stonewall she began to climb to the tower.

She knew the room at the top was beautiful, and had never feared it.  In fact, she hoped after her eleventh birthday, she would have been old enough to have it as her own bedroom.

“Hello, is there anyone here?” Matilda called, reaching the top of the staircase. Nothing but silence came back at her.  Despite everything, something about the room still filled her heart with happiness and walking in she ran her hand over the four-poster bed in the middle of the room.  She remembered her father telling her the bed frame was probably as old as four hundred years.

Matilda was full of excitement when a new mattress arrived at the Hall a couple of weeks before her eleventh birthday, and she thought for sure her father had decided to let her have it as her bedroom.  She looked at the bed and the original plastic film still covered the mattress.  Placing the orb of light on the side table, she wandered to the arched, mullion window and looked outside.  The rain was lashing down now, thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind toyed with the window making it rattle.

As a flash of lightning lit up the wood, Matilda’s heart jumped to her throat.  There was the dark shadow of a man, - at least she thought it was a man standing right on the edge of the tree line.  She ducked tight against the side of the wall and caught her breath.  As another flash of lightning lit the sky, she peered back outside, her eyes searching but seeing nothing.

“Jesus girl, get a grip,” she said to herself.  Her imagination was as crazy as this old Hall.

Matilda turned to the large oak wardrobe and giving a nervous groan, walked towards it.  Her shaking hand lifted and slowly she pulled it open, leaning back apprehensively as if waiting for someone or something to jump out and scare her.  It was empty, and giving a relieved sigh, she closed it and walked back to the bed.

She sat for a moment, and then swung her legs on top and lay down looking to the domed glass roof above her.  Her father installed the roof when he and her mother were first married; the original roof had been wooden.

Now dark outside, the moon’s shimmering light flooded the room and rippled across the bed.  Matilda laid there for a moment closing her eyes and listening to the rain hammering on the glass.  It was by far the best feature of this room, and was why she always wanted it..

“Tilly,”
his voice whispered.

Her body stiffened as she felt an icy breath on her cheek. 
“Tilly,”
he said again.  Her hair lifted from her face, and she felt a cold breeze run down her cheek. 
“He’s coming,”
he whispered.

Matilda was unable to open her eyes, nor breathe; her insides shook, and her hands gripped the plastic covering the bed as something enveloped her body.

As the feeling left her, she forced herself to breathe slowly, and deeply, and as her body warmed, she opened her eyes.

“Holy shit,” she muttered sitting up and glancing around the room.  Did she just hear and feel a ghost?  Was he warning her that the demon was coming?

“Hello, are you still here?” she asked, surprisingly unafraid and swinging her legs around to the side of the bed.

“Find the book, my love,”
he whispered in reply.  Staring into the darkness, her eyes widened.

“Book, did you say a book?” she asked, standing.  “Who are you?” she asked.  “What’s your name?  How do you know me?”

A rush of cool air came at her from the left.  It swept around her throat, caressing her neck, making her whole body tremble, and her breasts heave at the sensation.  As the cold chill left her body, the room fell quiet.

“Are you still here?” Matilda asked, holding her breath and listening. 

“Shit,” she mumbled, reaching for her orb, her heart galloping in her chest.  Raising her hand, she illuminated the room around her, but saw nothing.  Her body quaked, and rushing for the door she quickly made her way downstairs.  Entering the upper hallway and putting out her orb, she turned slightly catching a peripheral glimpse of a shadow darting into one of the bedrooms.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and Matilda hesitated for a second, uncertain if she really wanted to go and look.  Picking up one of the old dusty candlesticks from the hall table, and discarding the candle she edged towards the bedroom. Leaning against the doorframe, she peered inside but it was pitch black.  Her other hand reached around the corner feeling for the light switch.

“Oh come on,” she whispered frustrated, and holding the candlestick in front of her, crept inside the door, her fingers urgently searching the length of the wall for the light.

Bang!

Matilda screamed, her fingers found the light switch, and she whacked it on.  Her eyes wide she scanned the room, her breathing quickening.

Bang!             

“Shit!” she yelled.  Then she saw the culprit; the window was open and banging back and forth in the wind.  “Holy hell,” she mumbled, walking to it.  She put the candlestick on the dressing table and stuck her hand out of the window.  The harsh pounding of hail stung her hand and she hurriedly pulled the window shut, securing it. Holding her hand against her cheek for warmth, she flicked the light off with her other, and left the room.  She shot down the stairs, grabbed her Harry Potter book and mug from the hall table, and went back in the kitchen.

After making herself a sandwich from her supplies, she went to the cupboard under the stairs to check the electricity panel.  Matilda found a couple of the switches had tripped, so she flicked them back on and went to her father’s study and put the plate down on his desk.  Not allowed in her father’s study, unless it was to tell him his dinner was ready, Matilda had never looked through his extensive collection of books.

Find the book, his voice haunted her.  What bloody book, why, and how could she hear him, and the biggest question of all, why wasn’t she afraid of him?  After all, he was a ghost - wasn’t he?  Her eyes ran across her father’s collection, and she began to pull out a few here and there.  There were books on trees, books on history, but the ones that interested her were the books on the paranormal, and the occult.  There were dozens of them, and alongside them were her father’s own books.  An author himself he wrote books on the supernatural, witches and warlocks, myths and legends.  She had her own copies in the back of the van, but these were first edition author copies.  After what happened to her family, she often wondered if it was because of something, her father had been working on.  Did he dabble in the supernatural, and open some kind of portal to the spirit world allowing this demon to come through?

Abandoning the bookcase, Matilda brushed off the dust and cobwebs on his swivel chair, and sat down.  She flicked through pieces of paperwork scattered on his desk while eating a sandwich, but finding nothing remotely interesting, she began to rummage through his desk drawers.  When she got to the last one, it wouldn’t open.

“Aperi
,” she chanted pointing her finger at the lock, and it clicked undone.  With a satisfied grin, she opened the drawer, and inside found another book.  Her eyebrow rose inquisitively.  Lifting it out, Matilda placed her half-eaten sandwich back on the plate, and put the book on the desk.  The title was written in her father’s hand and it read Private property of Edward Renward.  Opening it she scanned through the pages, and soon realised it was her father’s diary.  She had no idea he kept a diary, and wondered if this was the book the ghost was asking her to find.  She flicked to the last entry he wrote.

31 October, her birthday, and the day they all died.

‘I am afraid Eric is right, Richard is coming for her.  I believe the only way to stop him is to find the book before he does, but I have searched and searched to no avail.  I know he says he will come back to protect her, but I do not know if he can.  Richard is more powerful than ever, he has been sending demons through the portal, so far I have thwarted them, but it will not be long before even I cannot hold them back.

After her birthday tonight, I have decided to send her, Teddy and Eloise away, as it is the only hope I have left.  I cannot keep Matilda here any longer, once she receives her magic, he will know she will be capable of undoing the curse.  I know he still wants her for himself; Richard is coming, of this I am sure, it just a matter of when.

She will have a chance against Richard, but only when she is an adult, and she has learned how to use her powers.  Eloise will teach her all she needs to know.  I know I cannot stop it forever, eventually Tilly will have to face Richard, but I just hope it is when she is older, stronger, and prepared.  I hope that Matilda will reunite with her love and that together they will destroy Richard forever…. 

Matilda read it six times, not quite believing what it said.  Her father had fought demons - who was he talking about, who was Eric, was he a real person, or the ghost who spoke to her upstairs?  Was he the one her mother called for when the Demon attacked them and who the hell was Richard, and why did he want her?  Who was her love, and did her mother possess magic as well?

Matilda leaned her elbows on the desk, sank her head into her hands, and groaned.  She should just leave, run away, and get the hell out of here.  Maybe buy a nice castle somewhere remote in Scotland, after inheriting twenty six million she could certainly afford it.  Matilda sighed, knowing it wasn’t an option, she had so many answers to find, and now there were even more questions.

Matilda left the study and went to the front door. Opening it, the cool night air touched the bare skin on her arms sending goose bumps rippling down them.  Thankfully, the rain had stopped and she walked down the stone steps to her van.  Opening the side door, she took out her duvet, pillows, towels and a sheet and leaning in further, grabbed her chest and dragged it towards her.

She shot a look over her shoulder at the sudden noise coming from the darkness.  Matilda felt chilled, icy cold, and reaching inside the van, she grabbed a torch.  Flicking it on she shone it into the trees praying at the same time she wouldn’t see anything. After a few minutes, she switched the torch off and shut the van door.

Matilda decided to sleep in the tower, as it was the cleanest room, and despite the creepy ghost, she felt safe in there.  She pulled off the plastic cover and made the bed.  Opening her chest, she looked at the different vials of potions and boxes of herbs, checking they were all still in their correct places.  She took out her book of shadows, and the witch’s spell book and placed them on the bedside table.

Taking her nightdress, towel, toiletry bag and a pack of cleaning wipes from her holdall, she went back down to the bathroom.  Turning the light on, Matilda approached the mirrored cabinet, and opening it, she blinked a tear as her father’s aftershave, razor, and shaving foam were still inside as if waiting for him.  Sadly, she closed the door.

“What the hell!” she screamed spinning around.  Her heart was going ten to the dozen as she could have sworn she saw a black shadow reflected in the mirror.  Staring at the closed door of the bathroom, Matilda took a breath; it was just her nerves - just her imagination playing tricks on her.

After cleaning everywhere with the wipes, she ran the water for a few minutes before sticking in the plug.  She took off all her clothes and waited for the bath to fill. It had always been slow, she needed to add, ‘sort out the plumbing’ to her list of things for Mike to do.  Turning the taps off, Matilda climbed in, giving an audible sigh as she sank down into the hot water.  Closing her eyes, her mind began to drift into a daydream.