Banshee Angel Of Judgement (9 page)

Andy sat
quietly eating
, listening
intently to the conversation leaning back in his chair.

“
Andy was
wondering when the new ride was going to be open by the way,” Micky
change the topic.

“
Oh, that
won’t be till May at least,” Charlie slurped up another mouthful of
his meal, cutting a corner of toast with his spoon then shovelled
that into his mouth too.

“
What’s it
going to be called?” Andy piped up.

The head of
maintenance took a moment to answer as chewed noisily trying to
remember what the management had decided to call the Troika, as the
ride was originally known. “The Cradle Of Fear,” he finally said
dismissively as he cut another piece of toast.

Micky and Andy
sat eating in silence as the rest of the group talked amongst
themselves about the Troika as
well as other rides in the park before turning to the big
match on Saturday.

“
Well I
’ll be watching
Celtic kick Rangers’ arses.”

“
You mean
Rangers knock six past your lot.”

“
You
think.”

“
I don’t think
I know mate.”

“
Look at it
this way, the way Rangers has been playing this season they’ll be
lucky if they can even get a touch of the ball.”

“
At home to
you lot and you really think you stand a chance against
us.”

“
More than a
chance it will be a walk over more like.”

“
Ha
ha-ha.”

“
Glad you lot
find it funny but you know what they say he who laughs last and all
that.”

“
Yeah, I know
that one does it not go something like; he who laughs last doesn’t
laugh at all.” This brought hoots of glee for the Rangers fans and
jeers from those who supported Celtic as the one or two that didn’t
follow football shook their heads in amusement.

“
Right you lot
enough of talking shit ‘cause you know it makes no difference who
wins with you’s as in the end Killie will beat the both of you
blind folded,” the ever diehard Kilmarnock fan Charlie brought the
light-hearted squabble to an end in the usual way by declaring his
misguided belief in his team.

Both sides
turned on him reminding how far down the league his team was. He
defended by saying that they were merely giving all the other teams
a chance before they show them all how to play. At this the
laughter became riotous from all sides.

As the
laughter subsided Micky drank the last of his coffee whilst looking
at his watch noticing it was time to get back to work. He collected
his trash
, as he got up to
rinse out his cup, putting it in the bin as he passed on the way to
the sink.

Andy didn’t
bother to clean his cup tossing it in to his lunchbox with his
waste for his mother to bin when he got home. “So what time do we
finish today?” he asked Micky as he got his sandwich box from the
table.

“
What you
scared still of the witch?” Micky teased.

“
Who’s scared
of the witch?” Chippy asked.

“
Andy is,”
Micky smiled.

“
Oh, well you
shouldn’t jest about them things,” Charlie warned half
seriously.

“
Yeah, she
might come out and give him a big love bite,” Micky
laughed.

“
Have you not
pissed her off already last year,” Chippy reminded Micky of last
years ribbing he got for using the old cottage on the way home as
stop off to relieve himself.

“
What did he
do?” Andy sounded nervous as he asked the question.

“
Oh-ho,” came
from the now listening crowd.

“
What didn’t
he do,” began Chippy, “tried to lure the witch out with his tackle,
didn’t you, you dirty bugger.”

“
What?” Andy
looked mystified first at Chippy, then the rest of those
present.

“
I was caught
short,” Micky countered as the others laughed at his
embarrassment.

It slowly dawned on Andy,
“You had a piss in her house.”

“
Oh indeedy,”
Charlie said shaking his head, “and not just the once, did
you?”

“
Ah, you
don’t believe in that shit any more than I do, so stop scaring the
lad, anyway we should be finished before midnight anyway,” Micky
defended himself.

“
It doesn’t
have to be midnight for the ghost to come out to play though,”
Chippy tried to tease Andy through Micky.

“
What can a
ghost do anyway? Walk through you and give you a chill?” Micky
joked.

“
Yeah, well
just remember those teenagers in sixty eight,” Charlie reminded
them all of the local legend.

“
What, those drug
ged
out hippies that freaked out on acid or something?” Micky smiled at
Charlie knowing he was just trying to pull Andy’s
leg.

“
Well that’s
what the police tried to say but they couldn’t really tell what
happened, just that they ended up dead,” Charlie continued to
tease.

“
What ever,”
Micky dismissed the story, “we’d better get back to our sweeping.
Give us a shout when you need us.”

Charlie gave a
chuckle of amusement. “Okay, just keep an eye out for the witch by
the way,” he added as Micky and Andy turned to leave.

Micky shook his head as he
left the canteen. He put his things away into his locker then
headed for the toilets before going back to work.

C
hapter 12

A scurrying
sound drifted through the wall
separating the cellar from her hidden room. At first she
hopefully believed it might be someone to scare so listened
quietly. When the noise came again she recognized it as just some
rodent sniffing around looking for something to eat. She felt a
small wave of disappointment that no one was there.

“
There’s
nothing for you here little beastie,” she croaked dryly in the
direction of the sound. It stopped for a second before resuming as
the creature continued its search.

She listened
as she mulled the past over in her mind, one of the few things she
had during the light of day
;
that and playing with her collection in the jar. She almost loved
remembering the terror she had caused in the past almost as much as
hunting for new prey.

Her mind
wandered to the night of the visit by the Minister
Adams and after he crossed over
leaving her to the curse she had become.

The inquisitor
had returned to the area on the behest to the Minister in the
neighbouring parish. He was just
too pleased to return; after all he knew it would mean a
large bag of coin. Lodgings were arranged for him at the local inn
on the outskirts of New Mills an easy ride to the main manor house
of the laird.

She had
learned all of this from the last victim as he pleaded
for her to forgive him for his lies.
She had no mercy though even if she had let him babble on spilling
everything he knew in the vain hope of life. She had found as the
fear spread through the glen that the guilty seemed eager to
appease her though she showed them little reason to suggest they
might be able to bargain for their lives.

So it was when
Reverend Adams
had visited
her, to save her, she was preparing to seek out her greatest
tormentor in her final days of flesh. If he had come sooner, before
she had taken so many he might have had a chance to reach out to
her but that time had been to long in the past.

After he left
she found it hard to go out in search of the man that found
pleasure in torturing other
s
for profit. Once she left the small house she felt a renewed energy
course through her as if not going with her old friend had made her
more powerful, by accepting damnation she gained the right to judge
those beneath her. She was now transformed she felt into the angel
of judgement, the banshee.

She followed
him as he rode his stallion to his lodgings after visiting the
laird. Her plans formed in her consciousness as she moved from
shad
ow to shadow in the bright
moonlight, as he rode on blissfully unaware of his impending
doom.

He entered the
inn, carrying his saddle bags over his shoulder, leaving the inns
stable hand to see to his horse; then approached the landlord
behind the bar. “Can I have a jug of claret and some grub sent up
to the room?” He enquired.

“
No but you
can take it with you if you want? Just bring down the jug and plate
in the morning,” the landlord answered amused at the thought that a
guest could believe that they might get served in their room, as if
they were royalty.

“
Fine then
that will need to do,” the inquisitor said, hating the lack of
curtsies in these small back water inns; though he did like the
fact, that often because of the lack of visitors, he often got a
room to himself as he now enjoyed.

The proprietor
brought the ordered sustenance to the waiting man as he surveyed
the few patrons sitting at the far end of the
grimy
, claret stained bar. He
gave them a nod as he headed for the far door to the stairs to the
upper rooms; they in turn gruffly sounded their acknowledgements as
they eyed him warily.

The rough
wooden door to his room had no lock as was the norm, just a simple
latch for this reason he tended to keep all his possessions with
him where ever he went. Over the years he had acted as the self
appointed inquisitor for those willing to pay he had learned that
inn keepers were about the least honest of individuals
and not above riffling through a
patron’s things if left unattended.

He placed his bag on the
empty bed next to the one he used for sleeping because he believed
it to have fewer bedbugs than any of the other three squeezed into
the room. There was little other than the beds, even the windows
were bare to the night sky and a stool he pulled over next to the
bed, sitting his refreshments onto it once it was in the right
position for him.

She waited
hidden in the dark shadows of the nearby buildings for him to
set
tle in for the night. She
watched as the innkeeper saw the last of his regulars off home then
began too lock everything up for the night. Still she waited so as
to let the proprietor get to his bed as well as the man she had
come to bring justice to.

Finally she
slipped her way through the walls of the inn. Her search didn’t
take long, finding him with relative ease. He lay sleeping as if he
hadn’t a guilt in the world to keep him from a sound nights sleep.
She felt repulsed as she slipped under the covers next to him, yet
knew he too would find what disgust was.

She cuddled in
close to him
, her skin
crawling as she did, fighting to hold down her rage. He slowly woke
from his slumber, at first he was surprised at someone being in the
same bed as himself, after all there were plenty others for them to
have to themselves. The surprise though quickly turned as he
realized that it was a female that was sharing his bed.

“
And who might
you be wench,” he said softly.

“
Oh, sir
don’t you remember me, I am saddened,” she whispered back straining
to hold the hate under control, only managing to hide it from her
voice.

“
Should I,”
his brow furrowed as he tried to think who she might be, for he was
sure he hadn’t been with any female company when he was last
here.

“
Well, I just
thought after last time that you would remember me, after all I’m
sure I shall never forget,” she strained to hold the sarcasm from
showing in her words.

“
Last time, eh,” he pulled her close as he said this, his
lips locked on hers as her hand slipped down his
chest
, as he dismissed any
other thoughts, other than the lust that rose in his
manhood.

The taste of
putrefying burnt flesh filled his senses as her tongue pushed its
way into his mouth. He tried to push her away but found her
stronger than any woman he had ever encountered before. He tried
harder yet still found her fixed against his flesh as the stench of
death and rotting meat filled the room, he began to gag.

Somehow he found himself
pinned flat to the bed as a coldness reached into his chest and
around his heart. His strength vanished as she pulled away from the
kiss her ghostly hand still locked around the still beating
organ.

“
Oh, how
disappointing that you don’t remember our last time,” her voice
sounded different, courser, dryer to him as the light from the moon
shone once again as cloud was carried away from covering the bright
celestial body.

Vomit
prevented him answering, from breathing. His eyes bulged as sick
dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He tried to turn to the side
in an attempt to clear the
regurgitated matter. She held him firm though as his life
ebbed with the lack of air reaching his lungs.

Pleasure
filled her as she watched his life fading till finally she couldn’t
hold on to her scream of exultation. Letting it loose as she ripped
his spirit from its dying husk, her screeching wail filled the
night waking the barkeep from his restful sleep
, as shivers of ice spread down his spine on
hearing the ghastly wail something he would never
forget.