Chapter Three.
2 months later.
"It's grandma's birthday. Yes it is, yes it is" Emily giggled and tickled her baby boy. Lying in his cot and gazing up at his mother with the cheekiest grin on his face, little Christopher laughed.
Victor watched from the doorway of their bedroom, as Emily knelt on the floor and leaned over the cot, devoting her attention to their baby boy. He couldn't help but smile. Finally, his wife was beaming and glowing with beauty, pride and love, after many months of sorrow and heartache. He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his trouser pockets as the afternoon sun slowly seeped in through the windows, lighting up Emily and Christopher like they were angels.
"And how old is grandma?" Victor teased to Emily. She looked up, her curls bouncing around her face as she caught sight of her husband.
"You should know" she replied. "She made it very clear at our wedding."
"How could I forget?" he replied laughing, picturing the memory in his head, remembering like it was only mere seconds ago.
"Is her present wrapped?" Emily asked. Victor nodded.
"Yes. Patricia corrected my abysmal attempts and even added a bow."
"You didn't put a bow on anyway?" Emily asked, stunned. Victor merely shrugged, looking down at his son.
"You ready for tonight?" he asked.
"Just about. I've chosen my dress, I just need to decide on a pair of earrings" she sighed.
"No, I meant…are you ready?"
"I don't quite understand."
"Will you be alright…without him, for one night?"
Emily looked at him, a little stunned. She hadn't thought about it. Her first night away from Christopher, her first night out to a social event since his birth.
"Oh" she sighed. "I suppose I will have to be. Patricia will look after him though" she smiled.
"I don't doubt it. She is a wonderful nanny" Victor said. "But you will be alright?"
"Of course. It may be a little bit of a struggle…I just love him so much…but if I stay in this house any longer, I think I'll go insane. You don't mind if Mummy goes out for the night, do you?" she cooed, aiming that question to her son. Christopher merely giggled in response, smiling a cheeky grin, making Emily and Victor laugh.
"You sure you'll be alright?" Victor asked softly.
"Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine. It will all be fine" she smiled.
Two hours later:
"It may be April, but there's a chill in the air. Best to wrap up warm" Patricia suggested.
"My jacket will be enough, thank you Patricia." Victor nodded, adjusting his cufflinks.
"Miss Emily?"
"I have a shoulder wrap, I'll be fine" Emily smiled to Patricia. Standing by the front door, the two were preparing to leave for Lady Hunter's birthday gala.
"You have everything for Christopher?" Victor asked, grabbing his mother-in-law's birthday present.
"Absolutely, Mr Van Dort. Now go and have fun. You two deserve a night out. Take as long as you want, I'm not going anywhere" Patricia smiled, slowly ushering Victor and Emily out of the front door. Finally adjusting her hair, Emily threw her shoulder wrap around her and smiled at Victor. He smiled back and offered his arm to her, she immediately looping her arm through and pulling herself closer to him.
"You look stunning, as ever" he complimented. Emily merely giggled and smiled, her way of showing her appreciation and thanks.
"We'll be back before midnight" Emily assured Patricia, before walking out of the door with her husband.
Meanwhile:
"Before midnight? Damn!" Barkis screamed. This was not what he had hoped for. He had intended for them to return when the entire household was asleep, the maids and nanny included, but no!
Having crept in to Elder Gutknecht's tower last night and perusing the pages of his most trusty book containing magic spells and wishes, he had taken both the 'Ukrainian Haunting' spell and the 'Seeing Eye Portal' bottle. Allowing him to look through to the Land of the Living, in the confines of his hide-away on the desolate side of town. The portal was like a mirror with no reflection. A device for viewing what you wanted to see. And he had been watching Victor and Emily for the past three hours, waiting to hear when they would depart for the party. He had hoped it would be later than midnight when they returned. There was something about striking at midnight – something more dastardly and 'poetic' about it. The end of one day becoming another. As one glorious thing ended, another began. Just not as spectacular.
He paced his room, thinking over the strategy.
"Looks like I'll have to make some adjustments" he sighed. "But never-the-less, all will go…according to plan."
Back 'upstairs':
Patricia sat by the cot, watching little Christopher sleep. He was by far the easiest baby to take care of. He slept the majority of the time, and he only woke when he wanted to be fed, then fell asleep straight after.
Patricia sat idly by his cot, working on a crochet blanket to keep her entertained and from falling asleep. It didn't matter anyway; she appreciated the silence of the night, compared to the hustle and bustle of the day time. It gave her time to catch her breath, be silent and enjoy some alone time.
The time was now just after 11 o clock. The windows of the bedroom were open slightly; enough to let in a cool April air and have the curtains sway in the breeze, but all was quiet and peaceful. So quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
So it caught Patricia's attention immediately when she heard a disturbance from downstairs. That sounded like a bottle smashing. Ugh! It was probably Harriett and Alfred, mucking around in the kitchen again, having been at the servants wine and getting carried away. She had told them repeatedly, but it seemed they never listened. A small bubble of anger growing inside her, Patricia abandoned her crochet upon her rocking chair and headed downstairs, shutting the bedroom door firmly behind her.
She arrived at the kitchen doors, storming inside, prepared to see a drunken servant and the home cook…to see Harriett and Alfred at the preparation table, playing cards with empty cups of cocoa by them.
"Beggar my neighbour" Harriett said, before seeing Patricia standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her face.
"What is it?" Alfred asked, catching her eye.
"What did you break?" Patricia asked firmly.
"Nothing. We've been here for the past…oh my goodness, two hours?! That went quickly" Harriett explained, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"Why?" Alfred added.
"I heard something smash. Like a bottle, or something fragile."
"We haven't broken anything, honestly. Do you see any bits of glass or china?" Harriett said, intentionally looking down at the floor to prove her point. Patricia was amazed. She was certain she had heard it, and there wasn't enough time to sweep up the evidence and throw it away…plus, the cocoa in the cups were staining the china, so they had been there for some time.
"Oh…well then…my apologies" Patricia said.
"You've been up there for hours, watching that baby. Maybe it's sleep deprivation?" Alfred suggested.
"Maybe. Anyway, must return. That crochet won't finish itself" she chuckled, before leaving the kitchen.
Very strange. But none of it mattered, nothing was broken, everything was fine. Except now, she could hear Christopher awakening and crying for some attention. Patricia sighed, and headed for the stairs. But when she arrived at the top, she saw that the bedroom door was open. Not by much, but enough to notice that it was open. She knew she had shut it properly moments ago, she heard the click when it shut. And this frightened her. The wind wasn't strong enough to open that door by itself, so what did?
Not wasting another second to think, Patricia stormed through the door where Christopher's cries were louder and more urgent, demanding her attention. And she saw why.
A dark figure was standing over the cot, looking down at the baby, its hands reaching forward like a vicious claw. Bathed in the moonlight seeping through the window, the figure was cloaked in black from head to toe, the only appearance of colour in its cold lifeless eyes.
Patricia wasted no time; she knew if she didn't act, Christopher would be harmed.
"NO!" Patricia screamed, lunging forward to the cot in an attempt to stop this 'thing', whatever it was. But it was way ahead of her, for as soon as she took in a breath to scream, it looked up and stared at her. Its eyes suddenly glowed ferociously, like burning coals. It lunged at her, throwing its arm back to grab her rocking chair next to the cot, and…threw it at her!
What strength this thing had! The chair was heavy for one person to handle; it required two men to move it when it had first arrived. How did this thing possess such strength?
Patricia didn't have time to think, for seconds later, the chair came flying at her, colliding with her and forcing her against the bedroom wall, knocking her head hard and sharp.
She was dazed as she fell to the floor, the room spinning around in her eyes. But not enough to see the thing finally reach in to the cot and scoop up Christopher in its arms, who was crying with fear, crying for his Mum.
Oh good god…maybe it was death? A vision of death, come to take him away?! She couldn't allow such a thing, he was too young and too precious to be taken!
Patricia made one final attempt…but failed. The injuries on her head kept her to the ground, she must be concussed. She tried to get up, but her concussed head forced her back down, her legs giving way underneath the weight of her body. All she could do was lie on the floor and watch.
Watch as the shadowy figure, cradled a screaming Christopher in its arms, before throwing a dark, misty cloak around it…and disappearing instantly, leaving Patricia on the floor, stunned, silent and scared.
"ALFRED! HARRIETT!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "HELP!"
Within moments of hearing her distressed cries, Alfred and Harriett were sprinting up the staircase and burst through the doorway, Alfred catching sight of her on the floor.
"Good God, what happened?" Alfred knelt down and cradled a crying Patricia in his arms. Harriett was already ahead of him. She was slowly creeping towards the cot, praying in her mind that she was wrong. But she was not. The baby was gone, his blankets ruffled and his toys missing their owner.
"Oh dear Lord" she whimpered.
"What?" Alfred asked.
"Christopher's gone. Patricia…what…what on Earth?" Harriett stuttered.
"Call the police" Alfred ordered, and Harriett took her demands with immediate effect, rushing back down the stairs to the home phone, whilst Alfred stayed with Patricia.
"What happened dear?" he asked her softly.
"I…I think…I think it was death. It was all in black. And it disappeared…with him…oh dear God…what are we going to tell them?" Patricia cried in to Alfred's sleeve.
Half an hour later:
Slightly tipsy from the champagne, Victor and Emily gently rode along in the back of their carriage, savouring the joyous energy from the night.
"Oh, what a night" Emily sighed, leaning against Victor's shoulder. As he loosened his tie, he peered down at his wife, letting her rest.
"Indeed. I think it is safe to say that your mother had a fun night" he chirped.
"'Fun' doesn't begin to cover it. She was ecstatic! Just what she deserves" she sighed, closing her eyes briefly.
"We all deserve a little happiness. Especially now a days" Victor stroked her hair with his thumb, kissing her forehead gently.
"And I think it is safe to say that you too had a fun night. You haven't danced that vigorously in a long time."
"Can you blame me?" she giggled. "Though it was mothers special day."
"Emily…" Victor began.
"Another year older but no change in attitude or behaviour" she ignored him.
"Emily…" he repeated, this time more urgently.
"Still the vibrant woman I knew as a child" she finished, before Victor leaned forward in the carriage, leaving her to fall away from his shoulder.
"Hey, what…" she began, but then saw what he was gazing at. Another carriage outside their home, with the local police emblem across its door.
"What on Earth?" Victor whispered to himself, jumping out of the carriage as soon as the wheels had stopped turning, Emily shortly behind him with her skirts round her knees, not caring if anyone saw. They barged through their front door, to see two police officers standing in their hallway, dressed from head to toe in uniform, holding notepads and pencils in their hands and looking down at Patricia.
Victor saw her sitting down in an armchair looking traumatised, Harriett and Alfred standing behind her with their hands on her shoulder, comforting her.
"What's going on here?" Victor asked, directing the question at everyone.
"Mr and Mrs Van Dort?" one officer asked, stepping forward.
"Yes" they both answered.
"I'm afraid there's been an incident" he said.
Emily wasted no time. As soon as the officer had said 'incident', she was sprinting up the stairs to their bedroom, praying she was wrong. Victor saw her go, but his mind was spinning with questions that he immediately went to Patricia, hoping for some answers.
"What happened here?" he said to her, kneeling down to the floor taking her hands in his. She was in tears, and she had a large noticeable bump on her head.
"Oh Mr Van Dort, I'm so sorry…I couldn't do anything…I tried to…but…I couldn't" Patricia began…but she was interrupted.
The horrific, tortured screams from upstairs echoed throughout the house, ordering silence from everyone. That was Victors cue to attend his wife. He leapt from the floor and bounded up the stairs to their bedroom. First, he saw two more police officers standing outside the door. Then he heard more heart-breaking screams coming from Emily.
He flew through the door, seeing the rocking chair lying misshapen on the floor and Emily clinging on to the cot, on her knees, shaking horrendously. She was crying so badly, he had never seen her like this before, and it broke his heart instantly to hear her weeping like this. She didn't need to say anything. All she did was cry. She sensed him behind her, watching her and she turned to see his face. Her face was stained with tears, her make-up smudged and her hair dishevelled.
She didn't say anything, she just looked at him. She didn't need to say anything at all. He threw himself to the floor as she let go of the cot, losing her balance and falling to the floor. He caught her and wrapped his arms around her so tightly, never letting go.
"He's gone" Emily wept, burying her face in to Victors shoulder, using his waistcoat as a tissue to absorb her tears. Victor didn't respond just yet, he was being haunted by the sight of the empty cot, missing its owner.
But he couldn't show defeat so easily; he knew he had to be strong for Emily. She was a heart-broken mother, mourning her child and he needed to support her, in whatever way a husband should. So he rocked back and forth on the floor, whispering in her ear, kissing her gently on her temple.
"It's alright. I'm here. I've got you."
On the outside, he was the loving, devoted, supportive husband any woman would wish for.
But inside, he was broken.
He couldn't help a single tear leave his eyes, letting it fall. He didn't care if anyone saw him. He had just lost his son, he was a broken man.
And he didn't know what to do, other than cradle his wife as she wept uncontrollably.