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Nat ran to her, trying to lift her as the blood streamed over her face into her mouth, He cried, ‘She’s
drowning in
her own blood.’  

Dinah shouted at him. ‘Paint the cross on her skin Nat. Do it – do it now.’

Nat trembled as he dipped in his fingers in Lucy’s bright blood spewing from the mouth, spraying his face and clothes.  Grimly, he plastered a ragged cross
on
her forehead. Lifting her, he pleaded,’ Breathe Lucy – breathe.’   She jolted in his arms, the blood now just a dribble.

George ran to the windows, pulling open the curtains, tearing at the blinds, whilst Dinah switched on the lights.  The dark mist cleared as George fell to his knees shocked.  ‘Christ all Bloody Mighty, what was that?’  Tears streamed from Jess’s eyes as she panted, ‘Hell – George – Hell.’

Nat whipped his cell phone from his pocket.  Tapping in the numbers, he said, ‘Father O’Reilly – Father  its Nat here.  Can you come quickly?  Things are bad – bad here ... Yeah.   I’ll tell you when you get here....  We are in the Mermaid Suite ... Yeah Mermaid Suite ....  I’ll meet you outside.’

He put down the phone.  ‘He’s none too pleased. But, he’s coming.’ 

Douglas scowled ‘You didn’t need to do that, Christ; we've had enough already.’ He stroked Jess’s hair, his fingers brushing away the last spots of gel from her lips.  ‘Darling – you okay?’

Jess raised her eyes to his, and nodded her arm curling around his neck.

Dinah almost whispered, ‘Muriall – she saved your life Jess.  Did you see the baby?’

Jess spoke, her voice low in wonder, ‘Yes – it was awful, but she saved us Di.  I felt her bones, her fingers down my throat – can’t believe it Di. My throat is so sore.’’

Nat held Lucy in his arms, tenderly brushing away the matted hair from her bloodied forehead. As he felt her shudder,  he gently kissed her murmuring, ‘It’s okay sweetheart – it’s okay – I’ve got you now.’

Douglas looked over to Nat, ‘Thank God – it’s cleared.  We don’t need the priest to whip it all up again.’

Holding Lucy tight, Nat said, ‘This place is dammed Doug. We opened the door to Hell, and O’Reilly’s the only one who can close it.’

‘But it’s all quiet – gone.’

‘So you think
.  But, e
vil like that just doesn’t go away.  It’s bloody playing with us.’

Dinah rose to go to George, shuddering on the settee, when the lullaby floated softly through the room.  ‘Bye Baby Bunting Daddy’s gone hunting
.
...’

‘Did you hear that?’  Dinah crouched closer to George. ‘Oh God don’t say it’s happening again. We’ve got to get out of here.’

***

Hunched over, lighting his pipe, Father O’Reilly clicked off his lighter.  Squinting through the smoke he coughed, his voice rasping. ‘Stupid, that’s what ye be, stupid, playing with the Devil.’

Nat said, ‘Father, it was
just a small circle−’

Douglas felt needles of anger nicking his spine; he was talking to them as if they were bloody kids  ‘We certainly didn’t invite it; it was only a séance just a Ouija board and bits of paper for Christ’s sake.’

‘Don’t be taking the Lo
rd’s name in vain boy. Sure, ye conjured up demons that’s what ye did. Did ye have no sense?’  He thrust the tobacco bag pouch back into the pocket of his shabby coat.

Jessie stiffened. Boy? Douglas
thirty-four
. He really was an offensive old man – rude – bad mannered.  ‘I just thought
−’

‘So it was you was it young lady?’  Taking his pipe from his mouth, he snarled showing stubs of brown stained teeth.  ‘So tell me now. What pushed you to peer into Hell?’

Douglas put an arm around her.  ‘That’s a bit much.  She was onl
y—
'

‘Bit much?  B
it much did ye say? Better that, than she loses her soul, than be dragged down into the pit.’  He pushed his pipe squarely into his mouth, puffing.

Dinah tried to quell the rising tension. ‘Muriall saved Jess’s life tonight. We think she’s haunting Jess.  She’s having dreams – Muriall appeared on a canvas Jess is painting.’

‘And would you be telling me who you are?’

‘Dinah – Dinah Shibley, a cousin of Jess.’

The priest’s eyes gleamed.  ‘Beautiful enough for the Fey. Ye’ll have to watch they don’t fetch you away.’

Dinah blushed, catching hold of a lock of hair.    

He shuffled over to the armchair, lowering his body into the comfort of the cushions.   ‘Muriall, is a sweet soul, an angel, tis not her that is haunting ye, as ye say she’ll be after protecting ye.’

Douglas sprang to his feet.  ‘Protecting?  She’s frightening the life out of Jessie.’

‘So tell me now, what is our angel doing?’

‘She’s possessing Jessie in dreams; now she’s appearing on a canvas holding a baby, a skeleton. It makes you shudder to look at it. Jess was painting a scene of the lake and the mausoleum.  She left it for a few minutes, covering it up with a cloth.  When she came back, Muriall was painted standing inside the mausoleum’

‘Ah, poor wee soul, she is searching for something, waiting.’

’That’s why we wanted to help her.’ Dinah said, looking over to Jessie.

Turning to Jess, the priest asked, ‘And why d’you think she would be after helping you?’

Douglas spoke up.  ‘I think there’s a connection Father. Jess showed me two scraps of paper the other day, and a locket?’

‘Hah, the locket again.  Do ye not get tired of looking at bloody lockets?’

‘No Father, this time I think there is something.  Jess could you get the
papers,
and the locket please?’

As Jessie walked over the desk, the priest’s eyes widened. ‘Is that not the desk from the attic?’

‘Yes Father, we-‘

‘I told ye to burn it.  It’s possessed – a devil’s gateway.’

‘But Father I didn’t know it was in here. I specifically told Tom to put it in the barn. But, somehow it appeared here.’

Jessie said, ‘He was going to remove it, but I asked him, to leave it. ‘

The priest sucked
on
his pipe, ‘Hmm, devil’s work.’  Sitting down he took out a pair of spectacles from his top pocket and examined the scraps of paper. ‘There’s not much to go on here, two birth certificates. Hmm. The initials Mur and Mor?   It could be anything.  To be sure there’re many names beginning with M.’

Opening the locket, he peered at the painting, ‘Tis like his Lordship and this hair – tis so like
−’

Lucy interrupted, ‘Maybe you could get a DNA reading?’

Douglas said, ‘Not if the strands were cut. It has to have a follicle on the end. And even then it may be too old.’

Lucy looked over to Douglas, ‘Might be an idea.’

Dinah jumped up. ‘I have some st
rands from the painting. I’m sure they’re an apport from Muriall.’

The room darkened as a male voice cut the air. ‘Ye shall not have
her; the
bitch is mine.’ 

Father O’Reilly plunged his hand into his breast pocket bringing out a phial of liquid. Grunting his way up from the chair, he immediately began sprinkling the
room.

The voice cackled ‘Get ye hence ye canting priest. Your brain is pickled in drink. Your tongue vomiting flies
—
’

‘Shut up.’
His face blotched purple with anger, the priest raised his arms as he shouted, ‘Begone all foul things from this-’

‘Maggots squirm in your stomach you piss pot of a priest.’  

Taking hold of Lucy, Nat drew her closer to George and the others, whilst the priest rose to his feet.

His quavering voice now strong he roared, ‘Time to send this demon back to Hell.’

CHAPTER 3
8

Calmly, Father O’Reilly clicked open the battered leather case
,
lifting out sacred vestments. Putting on the white surplice, he kissed the Alb and the Chaucer before putting them on. Turning he held up the host, ‘
In the name of Saint Paul, I abjure thee – get thee hence from this room – foul not these innocents
.’

‘Innocents – their mothers licked— ‘

‘Be silent.’ thundered O’Reilly, his stature now straight, his voice deep.

Titters raced around the room mocking.  

Laying out the sacraments of salt, oil and another phial of holy water on the table, the priest prayed. ‘The Spirit of Our Lord Jesus Christ is with me as I go into the pits of hell.  His strength is with me, his light, the Light of the World banishing all darkness.’

As he spoke, a delicate aroma of the sea wafted into the room followed by a sweet voice. ‘Bye Baby Bunting, Daddy’s gone a huntin....’  Muriall’s transparent form wafted before them, now showing her lovely face unmarked with age or death, crystal bright tears streaming down her face. The bundle clutched tightly to her breast. As they backed away O’Reilly whispered, ‘Stay with her, she be protecting ye. Stay.’

Jessie felt her whole body trembling with horror as she looked through the phantom form of  Muriall standing guard in front of them. Yet, part of her could cry for the sorrow in that beautiful face, the pitiful tiny skeleton.  She clutched Douglas’s hand, whilst she felt Dinah shuddering beside her.

The priest rose from his knees, the salt and water before him as he prayed further,

  
vos votum ut reddo hic.

 
Senior , quot es meus foes! Quot consurgo obviam mihi!

 
Plures es sententia mei â God mos non vindico

 
Tamen vos , Senior , es a contego inter mihi , meus palma ,

 
Unus quisnam levo meus caput capitis altus EGO dico sicco ut Senior ,

  
quod is refero mihi ex suus sanctus mons montis. 

   
LORD, how many are my foes!
 
 
 
          
How many rise up against me!
             
Many are saying of me,
 
 
      
 
   
“God will not deliver him.”’

The voice grunted like a pig.  ‘Come to Mama – come to Mama piglet.’

  The father took no notice continuing in English,

   
But you, LORD, are a shield around me,
 
 
 
            
my glory, the One who lifts my head high.
             
I call out to the LORD,
 
 
 
           
and he answers me from his holy mountain.

              
I will not fear though tens of thousands
 
 
           
 
assail me on every side.

Arise, LORD!
 
 
          
 
Deliver me, my God!
             
Strike all my enemies on the jaw;
 
 
 
          
break the teeth of the wicked.

 
From the LORD comes deliverance.’

The voice now started to sing, ‘Stand up, stand up for Jesus .....’

Then came the sing-song whisper, ‘Jess.... oh Jessie... come be my love. . I’ll never leave you.... Daddy’s here with me. The horse is falling. He's wounded, in agony, Jess. Daddy’s crying for you.  .... Mommy’s in heaven; Prissy’s screaming in hell and all is well with your world.  BITCH.’

Muriall’s voice floated over the words, trying to drown the horror. ‘Bye baby Bunting, Daddy’s gone a huntin.... ’

The demonic voice boomed,  ‘Shit in hell, you and your bastard child.’

‘Be silent fiend.’  Shouted the priest. With his back to the window he faced the room. Glancing at the phantom form of Muriall almost disappearing, as she guarded the group, he said to Jess, ‘Ignore everything, girl.  He’s playing with you.’  Opening the book of Psalms he read,

   
He lies in wait to catch the helpless;
 
 
 
            
he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.
             
His victims are crushed, they collapse;
 
          
 
 
they fall under his strength.
             
He says to himself, “God will never notice;
 

 
 
 
he covers his face and never sees.”

  
Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God.
            
 
Do not forget the helpless.
              
The victims commit themselves to you;
 
 
           
 
you are the helper of the fatherless.
             
Break the arm of the wicked man;