Chapter 8: Smoke and Mirrors
Disclaimer: I still own absolutely nothing in this.
Edit: I've changed some of the wording and the spacing which should hopefully make things easier to read and improve the flow. The next chapter should be hopefully be up soon.
Warnings: Slight morbidity.
Thick acrid smoke clouded her lungs and she coughed, tears of hate stinging her eyes. The jeering of the crowds filled her ears, but she paid little notice to their meaningless words. She would not give them the satisfaction of a response. After all, it wasn't like she was afraid of what they would do to her. No, the faint tremor of panic that she failed to suppress was that which arose when she thought of what the Master would do when he learned of her failure. Not that he wouldn't know. The Master always seemed to know everything.
Around her were the corpses of the young children once entrusted into her care. The townsfolk, the foolish mob, had heeded Jack's dying words and on entering her manor, had found their beloved. But they were horrified at what they saw. They were neither dead nor alive; floating in some world in between and the spark of life and youthfulness that once filled their eyes was gone. Indeed, many of the children who had been in her care for longer periods of time had nothing but empty black space where their eyes had once been.
The men had tried calling them, pulling them and invoking the name of God, but it was to no avail. The children did not respond and many pulled back, treating their family as though they were enemies. One or two of them even turned violent, biting and scratching the men. The local pastor was called in, and he with a heavy heart declared them possessed. Turning to the crowd he had announced, "There is an unspeakable evil, the name of whom I dare not utter. It is that evil that consumes these children and it is that evil which caused the Disease, which took away our own flesh and blood from us."
Exorcisms and prayers failed to produce any result and when one child managed to claw at the pastor's face, drawing blood with a gruesome pleasure, they knew there was no hope for salvation. The children were rounded up and doused with kerosene and set on fire. As they burned, the congregation recited prayers for them, strewing the ground and their bodies with sacred herbs so that their souls could rest in peace.
And then came the small matter of dealing with Jyll Leigh. It was evident without a shred of a doubt that she was the one responsible for all their misfortune. Thus, there could be no true solution that did not involve her demise. It was only fitting therefore that she also be sacrificed at the altar, as an atonement for her sins, be it a willing sacrifice or not. Jyll was unprepared for the sweet, little old lady from down the road to press an equally sweet smelling cloth to her face. When she woke up, she found herself unable to move, tied to a wooden beam. Struggling, she screamed in fury.
"This is no less than what you deserve!" called out one woman. "You took our children. You promised to make them better and yet you stole their very life! What harm have they done you?"
She spat at the woman, "You common riffraff will never understand. It's so easy for you; you carry out your day to day lives, so unaware of what happens around you. For you, your world is singularly located in this one damned town. But I have had a taste for power, for true happiness and might. And I was, no am willing to do anything in my ability to obtain that power. No one, not you or your husband or any fool from this accursed place will stand in my way. These children served their purpose well. After all, the life of a child, sweet and untainted in its innocence is the most powerful of all, wouldn't you agree?"
She grinned when the pastor arrived, noting with pleasure the marks on his face. She knew she looked like a raving lunatic; her dark hair was messy and fell across her face in absolute disarray. Her face was splotchy with rage and the blistering heat of the fires. She was sure that there was blood near her mouth where she had tried to bite someone. And her eyes, they gleamed with malicious intent.
"Miss Leigh, it is my most unpleasant duty to inform you that you have been charged with the murders of several of the young children in our town. This is a most severe offense, for which the fitting punishment is only death. Do you have anything you wish to add before we continue?"
"Only this, you can burn me and flog me and drug me, but you'll never get rid of me! I curse this very ground that you walk on, this whole city shall be cursed. You and your successors shall rue the day that you dared to cross me!" Many in the crowd swore angrily at her, women wept and dogs howled in the street. The pastor crossed himself and began uttering his prayer, "Most merciful Lord, today we return to you, your very own daughter, who has strayed from your most benevolent path. Let her death serve as a cleansing force, to remove the evil that she has brought to our town. Let your light shine on her that she may experience the misgivings that her actions deserve. We offer this sacrifice up in your most holy name. Amen." He sprinkled her with holy water and she hissed as the essence clashed with her soul, burning her and deeps angry red marks appeared on her skin.
He moved to make the sign of the cross that would herald the end of the rite and would enable him to set her on fire, when suddenly a dark shadow fell over the site. The winds picked up and the tongues of fire around them leapt up, higher and higher, resembling the very gates of hell. Stepping back in haste, the pastor nearly missed the look of horror on the young woman's face. Her eyes widened and she thrashed and struggled against her bonds.
"No!" she screamed, "You can't abandon me! After everything that I've done for you!" The shadow passed, leaving in its wake a most gloomy air. Striking the match, the pastor did not lift his head to meet her eyes, he merely threw the lighted stick at her feet and walked away.
The hay around her caught fire, and soon she could feel her bare soles blistering, the skin charring as the flames licked at them. Her eyes flashed and she shouted out to the pastor, "You all seem to enjoy fire so much, then as a parting gift let me leave you with something that I'm sure you'll remember forever." She muttered under her breath, bowing her head as the flames grew higher and higher. The townspeople looked at each other worriedly, surely she was only bluffing, perhaps trying to save herself at the last moment.
A scream from the old Account's building three roads down caught everyone's attention. A man came tearing down the road, "The building's on fire," he screamed. All around, more screams broke out as more of the old buildings broke out in flames. Jyll knew her time was up, but she looked around, surveying the chaos she had caused with no small pleasure. As her lungs closed up, and breathing became far too difficult, she let her eyes slide shut, the sound of her own heart beat echoing amidst the screams.
*Modern Day*
"Quoi?" whispered Francis looking at Matthew, eyes wide and disbelieving.
Antonio raked a hand through his hair tiredly, "I'm so sorry. He was only out of my sight for a few minutes."
Francis tried to smile weakly, "It's not your fault mon ami. I….I just… Mon Dieu, Arthur what has happened to my Alfred?"
Arthur was scowling at something in the book they found in the cottage. His head snapped up at Francis' words and he blinked, trying to focus on what was happening. "Francis, perhaps…perhaps, it would be better if you and Matthew went out for a breath of fresh air, to clear your head a little. I need to have a word with Antonio." He didn't miss the betrayed look that the Frenchman shot him, but there was something that he needed to tell Antonio and given the current situation, he didn't think that Francis would be able to handle hearing this.
"What's wrong amigo?" Antonio asked once they were alone. Pointing to a section in the book, Arthur explained, "See this part here, it's a ritual. I've only heard about it in legends that the fae used to mention many years ago. But from what I remember, this is a ritual to attain power and longevity of life. It makes use of children as a sort of battery if you will."
"Children? Por que?" questioned Antonio.
"The idea was that young children who had not yet been afflicted by the dangers and harms of the world were somehow purer than others. Cultures all over the world have believed that purity was in some form, a symbol of power and I suppose that was the logic of using children. Toni, it's starting to make sense now, the missing children. Whoever or whatever is behind this is taking the children to keep itself tied to the earth in some way. And I think that this person, this Jyll Leigh, is behind it. Look here," he added, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his satchel.
"This is what I found on the Internet. According to lore, Leigh was Welsh in origin, and I did some digging around. Apparently, there are records of children going missing in quite the same fashion as what was happening here. The primary difference is that in our case, it seems that the citizens took a slightly more direct approach and got rid of her. In Wales, it seems like they found out something about her and merely drove her out. If my hunch is right, and they cremated her in entirety, then there will be no mortal remains that would allow an easy exorcism. Our only other option is to find out what exactly her secret was. If we can find out what she was so afraid of, we can use that to get rid of her once and for all. But I can't do this alone Antonio."
Antonio nodded, olive green eyes blazing with determination.
Arthur continued, "Right, first things first, I need you to call the local police and ask for a man called Ludwig Beilschmidt. Explain to him what's happening, we'll need as many eyes as we can now. Then call the local hospitals and train stations and airports. I don't want her taking Alfred out of the city. Lastly, but most importantly, I need you to go through local records and find out where she's holding the children. Going by logic we'd need to search for an isolated place, somewhere dark and deserted where no one would bother her. The less sacred the place the better."
Arthur shook his head, shooting Antonio a pointed look, "But Leigh's too smart for logic. That's why I need you to search for exactly the opposite. Alright Toni?"
Nodding grimly, Antonio asked, "Si, Lovi and I will get to work. And you amigo?"
"I'm going to call Llyr, I may not love the git, but if anyone can help us with the Welsh, it's him."
"Are you sure Arturo? You didn't exactly part on good terms…"
Sighing, Arthur replied, "I know Toni, but this is no time for foolish pride. Alfred's life is in danger."
Francis absentmindedly stroked Matthew's hair as he gazed at the sky. He felt so helpless. His son was gone and there was nothing that he could do, nowhere that he could look. The sound of footsteps drew him out of his thoughts and he stared at Arthur hopefully. That small flame of hope flickered out as he noted the look of absolute consternation on the smaller man's face.
"Arthur, be honest with me, what's going on?" Francis demanded.
Arthur replied, "Francis, we'll do the best we can. As we speak, Antonio and Lovino are talking to the police to get Alfred back."
"Mais, back from what? Do you know what has taken my son?"
"No, I'm afraid I simply can't be sure of what's behind this." He wouldn't meet Francis' eyes.
"Oui, but you have some idea, n'est-ce pas? Please Arthur, let me know. It's my son. I have every right to know what is going on."
"Alright Francis, but I warn you, you won't like it."
"Mon cher, be serious. What part of this mess am I supposed to enjoy? He is my son; I will be more at ease if you at least tell me what has taken him."
"Well, the thing is, we believe that something, possibly that spirit that you seem to keep seeing, has taken Alfred. She wants to sacrifice him for a ritual that will provide with her the energy needed to remain alive and attached to the mortal realm." Francis went white and for a moment, Arthur was afraid that he'd pass out.
He wrapped his arm around Francis' shoulder, drawing him close. Breathing deeply, he pulled out his cell phone and opened his phone book.
Scrunching up his eyebrows at the god-awful ringtone that ensued, he ignored the questioning look that Francis shot him. The caller at the other end picked up. "'Lo?"
"Llyr?" he began hesitantly, "It's me, Arthur."
"What in blazes name do you want? I thought we made it clear that we weren't going to speak to one another anymore unless it was a family gathering or a funeral or both. And it sure as hell isn't any of those options, now is it?" Swallowing his anger, Arthur interjected, "Llyr, I need your help."
"Oh now isn't that wonderful. What did that French friend that Iain was telling me about leave you high and dry? Because frankly speaking, I don't give a flying sprite's…"
"His name is Francis and it's got his son Llyr!" Arthur interjected.
"What?"
Now that he had gotten his attention, he took a deep breath and poured out the entire story. At the end of it, Llyr was seething, "Why didn't you tell me about any of this before?"
"I didn't think you'd care." Arthur admitted honestly. Muttering something about moronic younger brothers, Arthur heard the telltale sounds of pages being turned.
"Do you think it's a specter?" he asked.
"No way, it's way too corporeal to be a ghost. Even poltergeists don't have so much corporeal control. And it's rather organized for a regular demon. I think what you're looking at is a spirit daemon." Llyr said absentmindedly.
"A what?" Arthur asked, bewildered.
"Local lore has it that occasionally; people who dabbled with the dark arts liked to go a step further and sold their souls to particular daemons in exchange for greater power. What few people realized was that daemons tended to dishonor their promises and at the slightest sign of a problem, they would readily abandon their human counterparts without so much as a glance back. The scorned humans were essentially soulless and hence could not move on in life, neither heaven nor hell would accept them and thus they were trapped in a sort of perpetuated existence on earth. At the same time, the extended exposure to daemon's essence left gaps in the make-up of a human. Hence the spirit now needed some sort of energy source otherwise it would fizzle out into nothingness." explained his elder brother.
"That does sound an awful lot like what we're dealing with, but the question is Llyr, how do we get rid of it?"
"Well, there should be something that links the spirit to earth. A symbol of suffering or joy that represents the lost humanity of the being. If we can find that, it's a simple matter of destroying it in the presence of the spirit. That should send it to the Netherworld. I'll get to work finding out what the link is, you try and figure out where the spirit is. And get some supplies, holy water, rosemary, the works. And Arthur?"
"Yes Llyr?"
"Be careful mate. These things are malevolent at best. There's no reasoning or talking to them alright?"
"I understand, thanks Llyr."
Arthur pressed his hand to his forehead, screwing his eyes shut, where on earth were they going to find her? By all accounts, there were superstitions and strange sightings linked with almost every part of the town. If they wasted too much time, they'd never be able to find Alfred.
"L' eglise" whispered Francis.
"I'm sorry what?" Arthur asked him, puzzled.
Francis looked at him excitedly, "The church! C'est l' endroit. It has to be, don't you remember? When we came here first, Alfred saw the woman in the church but none of us could see her. That must be where she is. It makes sense no? It's not too deserted, but at the same time with the renovations, it is deserted enough for her to take children without anyone noticing." That indeed did make sense to Arthur, but there was nothing he could do without knowing what held Leigh down.
He started as his phone rang. It was Llyr. Switching his phone onto loudspeaker, he asked, "What did you find?"
In hushed tones, the Welsh man began, "You'll never believe it, I'm not entirely too sure whether I believe it or not. I found this old document in a priest's handbook. Records indicate that doctors declared Jyll Leigh clinically insane at the age of thirteen. She, for some reason, seemed to believe in certain apparitions that no one else could see. Her mélange of friends included a talking faery and a wraith whom she was terrified of.
Her parents were worried about her mental health and so sent her to the local abbey where they beseeched the holy men there to cure her. After years of exorcisms, torture and counseling failed to yield results, the men punished her for her ungodly ways by sentencing her to solitary confinement. She continued to exhibit signs of delusions, talking to what appeared to be thin air. Her ramblings grew more and more anxious until one day they stopped entirely. The fathers, fearing that she had died, opened the door and there she was, sitting silently on the bed. After that, it seemed that she was completely reformed.
The priests gave her a small prayer book as a farewell gift and wanted to re-baptise her, but she disagreed, saying that she was not ready for such a step. They released her back into society under the impression that she was entirely too sane to be held any longer. Three days later, the abbey burnt down and not a single man, woman or child escaped alive."
At some point in the story, Francis' hand had slipped into Arthur's and now his grip was almost painful. Matthew had long since buried his face in Kumajirou's fur. "Then, that book…"
"That's right. If you can find the book, then you can get rid of her." Llyr crowed triumphantly.
"That may be easier said than done Llyr. That book could be anywhere."
"Not necessarily. Think about it, wasn't that Adalric chap of yours the owner of a bookstore? From what you told me, he was one determined bugger. There's a good chance that he knew something. Try his old journal; you never know what you'll find."
"Um…I think I know where it is…." A small voice piped up. The two looked surprised at Matthew.
"Matthew," ventured Arthur cautiously, "Are you sure?" "Yeah! Don't you remember that first night when we got here and Papa thought he heard something at the door? Kuma told me that something had come inside our room when Papa opened the door and it had gone under the bed. He went to check it out and he found this really old book that had a lot of funny writing on it. We didn't know what it was and Kuma said that it smelled really bad so we put it back under the bed. But I remember that it had pictures like the ones that Papa used to read to us sometimes, the prayer books and stories about heaven."
Arthur was already dialing Antonio, asking him to get the receptionist to open up their room and to get the book. "Francis," he said, getting to his feet, "Stay here! Antonio will be here soon with Ludwig. Keep Matthew with you at all costs alright? I'm going to get some things ready for the exorcism, call me if anything happens. And whatever you do, don't talk to anyone that isn't Antonio!"
"Arthur…will we, will we be able to save Alfred?" Francis asked hesitantly.
Arthur froze, he had expected this question, but that didn't make it any easier to say this. "I don't know Francis, but we certainly won't go down without a battle."
*St. Botolph's Parish*
Wearily, Alfred cracked open his blue eyes, squinting at his surroundings. Everything was pitch black and he had absolutely no idea where he was. The last thing he recalled was being in the rest room. He was a big boy now, and he didn't need Arthur's friend or anyone else to help him. The stalls weren't too big and when he had entered he was sure that it had been empty. When a shadow fell over his head, he whipped his head around and would have screamed if he had not passed out. The last thought that flashed through his mind was that he shouldn't have been watching those trailers of the Ring.
He whimpered quietly, not understanding what was happening. His eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark and when they did he screamed. All around him were skeletons, small ones about his size. Some were upright, some chained to the walls, and many were thrown haphazardly on the floor in one corner of the room.
"What a commotion you boys like to make. It'll be so much quieter once you're dead." Alfred looked up and yelped. There was the lady that he had seen in the church. She was looking at him with a small smile on her face. "I want my daddy." cried Alfred.
"Oh isn't that just precious! Well, would you look at that? I don't care. Now be quiet you dratted boy. It'll be all over once the moon rises. Now if I hear another sound out of you, I'll let you play with the rats. Nasty fellows they are, very sharp teeth and quite a taste for human flesh I'm told, especially that of little, whiny boys."
Alfred hiccoughed quietly, wiping his tears with his scraped palms and watched as the woman faded through one of the walls. The room was made of stone and it looked old. There were no windows and the only source of light was the cracks in the ceiling. He could hear noise from above, people talking and machinery at work. He wanted to scream and call out for help, but something told him that the mean lady would make good on her promise.
As the morning wore on, Alfred heard the woman again, now she was singing in some funny language that he didn't want to understand. He huddled into a ball in the corner of the room and sniffled, rocking himself back and forth. He was scared. What if he never got to play hide and seek with Mattie again? What if he never got to tell Arthur how cool he thought he was and how he wanted nothing more than for all four of them to be a family? What if he never saw his father again? How'd he apologize for always being so naughty and making his dad worry all the time?
"Alfred? Lad is that you?"
He couldn't believe it. "Flutter?"
The petite faery flew over and nested in his hair. "There you are! Everyone's been looking all over for you! Are you alright?"
"I want to go home! I want Arthur and Dad!"
"I know lad. Hold on for a while, we won't let that witch get away with this. The cavalry is on its way."
Author's Note:
And here's the next chapter! Happy belated New Year everyone! Feedback would be appreciated.