Mary Hades (19 page)

Seth squares his shoulders. “Hey. Don’t talk to her like that. She was nearly killed by Amy. She has a connection with Amy’s spirit. Of course she understands how difficult this has been.”

Igor is suddenly on his feet. “And you were fifteen when that lass was killed. You’ve been covering up fer him all this time—”

“He blocked it from his memory!” I interrupt.
“The trauma stopped him remembering until his father’s funeral.”

“How do you know that, eh?” Igor’s face moves towards mine. There’s spittle in the corner of his mouth and his words whistle through his old teeth. “
How do you know they weren’t both in on it, or he did it himself?”

Neil groans. “Don’t you think we haven’t already had
this argument? You know who
might
tell us the truth? Amy. Did any of you think of that when you were sniping at each other?”

Igor backs up.
“The lad has a point.”

I take a chance and approach the man. “Don’t you think there would be other murders since Amy? Who kills a child and then goes back to their normal
life? Not sickos like Seth’s dad. He must have been a serial killer.”

Igor sucks in a long, whistling breath and looks up at the ceiling as though seeking divine inspiration.
“All right. I’m coming with you to put Amy to rest. At least then we might get some answers, and I’m not letting a bunch of kids try to do it alone.” He gives Seth a hard glare. “First sign of trouble and the police are getting involved.”

“All right.”
Seth maintains Igor’s eye contact as the rest of us watch, shuffling our feet and clearing throats to break the tension.

Igor nods once and then turns to the kitchen table. It’s there that
, for the first time, I notice the array of strange equipment splayed out. Most of the pieces are strange contraptions, like a rectangular black box, a little like a large walkie-talkie. It has a meter that runs from green to red, and a thin indicator lever.

“That’s an EMF reader,” Igor explains. “It detects changes in the electro-magnetic field.
”

I feel a cold chill as
Lacey moves closer. “Tell him to turn it on, I want to see if it works.”

“Turn it on,” I say.

Igor flicks a switch and holds the reader up. Almost immediately the level moves straight into the red and it beeps. “There yer go. It’s picked up yer friend. Now, did any of you bring torches?”

We exchange glances.

“Umm, no,” Neil says. “Should we have?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Igor pulls out torches from a black rucksack.
“Got some.”

“Where are we going that requires a torch?”
Lemarr speaks up.

“And
why is there a very pointy-looking knife on the table?” Neil adds.

Igor lifts the knife by the blade and flips it in the air to grasp the handle. It’s ornate. The blade is brushed steel and gleams at the edge.
The hilt is black with intricate symbols etched into the metal. It looks more like a dagger, the kind you would see in films with a religious theme. The kind where monks commit heinous crimes in the name of Satan.

“This isn’t a knife, it’s an
Athamé. And the reason you need torches, is that we’re going ghost hunting. We’re going to send some unsuspecting ghost back to the afterlife.” Igor puts the dagger into a sheath at his hip.

T
he blood drains from my face. This sounds dangerous.

It’s on the way to wherever we’re going that Igor explains what the Athamé does. He takes long strides, his rucksack hanging low on his back. His top hat has been replaced by a more practical flat cap, a faded brown tweed.

“It’s a
dagger used for rituals,” he says. “I don’t know much about owt, but I know it works.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“I went to someone with questions, and they gave me answers. Listen, love, I’ve sent ghosts back using that same dagger. That’s all the proof I need,” he says.

“Okay.” I hurry along, struggling to keep up with the pace set by Igor and the others. Seth hangs back by my side. His fingers often brush against mine but he never takes my hand in his.

It’s a dark night, brightened by the occasional street light. The further we walk, the less frequent the lights are and the more the cold seeps through my light jacket. The scent changes from the tang of piled rubbish bins, to the whiff of wild garlic, and the road narrows around us.

“Not far now,” Igor says
, his voice laboured with the effort of walking. Nettleby is full of hills, we’ve been up and down three so far.

La
cey zips in and out of us, bored by our dull human footsteps. She seems a little brighter than before. I hope that I can rely on her when we face Amy. I’m going to need all of her support if we’re going to stop Amy from killing again.

A large dark lump appears out of the shadows. It is encased with a rusting fence and crumbling walls. Igor steps forward and un-latches a
gate, letting us in. It’s then that I realise—with a chill—that we’re setting foot onto church ground, and that large black lump is an old church building.

“Anyone else starting to think this might be a bad idea?” Neil says.

“Um, I am.” Lemarr lifts a hesitant finger up on the air, like a kid who needs the toilet in primary school.

Igor lets out a low, not very reassuring
, chuckle. I find myself pressing my fingers against Seth’s. He entwines them in his, and warmth rushes through my body. I draw strength from him and use it to keep me walking up the path between gravestones.

“Yer wanted to know more about ghosts and that’s why I’ve brought yer here. Where else is better,
ey?” Igor stretches his arms out wide as we follow him gingerly through the headstones.

“Have you, um, caught ghosts here before?” I ask. My voice wavers in the night air.

“Have I? Have I? Course I bleeding have,” he answers.

We tip-toe around the side of the church while Igor chunters under his breath, complaining about stupid questions.

“Is this church abandoned?” Neil asks.

“Yes,” Igor answers.
“Has been fer years. The graveyard is full, you see, and the congregation are probably all buried in it.”

“I sense a presence
,” Lacey says.

“
Lacey can sense a ghost,” I relay to the group.

“Why doesn’t
Lacey show herself, seeing as we’re alone?” Neil suggests.

“Hi
, big boy.” Lacey appears right next to Neil. He lets out the girliest of squeals which has us all in stitches.

“
Would you shut up!
” Igor yells, turning back to us with eyes that gleam in the dark. “This is serious business.”

Everyone who is still alive stops mid
-step and stares at Igor in terror. Lacey just says, “Oh, shut up yourself, you stupid old tosser.”

There’s the trace of a smile as Igor turns away and we carry on round the back of the church.
Here the moonlight shows us the reeds of grass growing up to our knees by the church wall, the silent angels frozen in marble, the well-trodden paths between the stones, the crumbling mausoleum, the neater patches with rotting flowers at the headstones, the R.I.Ps, dark against the grey slabs, and the moss growing everywhere… and the ghost stood in the centre of the graveyard, dressed in white.

Lacey
and I gasp when we see her. Igor focusses his cloudy eyes on her, but he doesn’t react.

She is beautiful in her wraith-like form. She is ethereal and floating. Her head is low when she flickers on and off. Her long white dress trails to her feet, old-fashioned in style but still recognisable as a wedding dress. Her hair ripples to her waist in waves of auburn and gold, unreflective in the moonlight. Her arms are held like a cradle, as though she still carries a baby. They are empty.

Her face is bent low, staring at the invisible infant in her arms, but I can tell she is lovely. Youthful looks have been permanently frozen on a translucent form, forever caught in this spectral goddess.

“What do you see?” Seth asks.

“An angel,” I say. The word slips out without much thought.

The spirit begins to sing a lullaby. Her voice is soft and soothing, but there is a shake of emotion and panic.

“Please quiet, my child,” she says, rocking her arms fervently.

“What is she doing?” I ask.

“She is reliving a memory,” Igor replies. “Ghosts relive memories when they lose their concept of reality.” His gaze turns to Lacey.

“You can see her?” I ask.

“When I hold the Athamé, I can.” He lifts the dagger up to show me.

“Can I hold it?” Neil steps forward towards Igor. “I want to see her.”

Igor passes him the knife, and Neil gasps. “Whoa, that’s insane.”

The dagger is passed to everyone in turn so they can all see the ghost before us. Each person lets go with reluctance. They don’t want to stop seeing
such beauty.

“What’s happening now? W
hat’s happening now?” Neil keeps asking whenever he’s not holding the Athamé.

“Still the same,” I answer. “She’s cradling her child.”

The woman seems oblivious to our presence. She is so caught up in whatever memory she’s reliving, that she never so much as looks in our direction. But as she continues to sing her haunting lullaby, her voice betrays more and more emotion. She starts to sob through the words, and her arms shake as she rocks the baby back and forth, back and forth.

“Something’s wrong,”
Lacey says. “She’s losing it.”

The woman stops singing and lets out a low moan, like the rumbling growl of a Doberman.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Lacey says.

“
Why won’t you stop crying? Why won’t you stop?
” screeches the ghost. She tips her head back and screams in frustration. “
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
”

My stomach lurches with a combination of fright and disgust
as the woman shakes her imaginary baby. She shakes and shakes, her arms out, screaming and wailing like a banshee. And then she stops. She staggers back. She drops the baby to the floor, and puts her hand over her mouth.

“Did she
… kill her child?” Lacey says in a low whisper.

Neil is holding the
Athamé. “Yes, I think she did.”

The ghost’s head snaps in our direction and I see her face for the first time. She would have been beautiful once
, but not anymore. Now her features are twisted in rage. Her mouth is a tight grimace of fury, and it brings to mind the sight of Little Amy on the moor before she wrapped her hands around my throat.

“That’s not a friendly expression,” Neil says with a tremor in his voice.

“Athamé,” Igor commands.

Neil passes it
without hesitation.

“Holy crap,”
Lemarr says. “I can see her.”

“She’s revealing herself,”
Lacey says with a faraway voice. “I think she’s angry that we intruded on her private moment.”

“Um, you think?” Neil replies.

Her wedding dress floats behind her as she moves towards us. I think back to that moment I called myself the corpse bride in my thoughts. I should never think that again. There is no glamour, no romanticism in being dead. No, it’s hideous and shocking.

Her hands outstretch towards us, formed into claws ready to rip us t
o pieces. Seth and I clasp hands at the same time, squeezing tight.

“Shouldn’t we be running away
, about now?” Lemarr suggests.

Igor steps in front of us wielding the
Athamé. With a deft hand, he arcs the knife into patterns. With each sweep, a glowing trail is left in the air, forming symbols. He works fast, creating one symbol and then moving onto the next. It stops the ghost in her tracks and she seems to freeze.

Igor steps around her,
drawing the symbols on each side so that she is locked in an invisible cage of magic. It is unlike anything I have seen before.

“First you trap the ghost with the circle of protection,” Igor says. “It holds the apparition in place.”

The woman snarls and claws at the barrier around her, but she is unable to pass through.

“How does it work?” Seth asks.

“These are the symbols of protection. They control ghosts. That’s all I know. It’s all I was taught.”

“Now what?”
Lacey asks. I notice she has taken a step back away from Igor and the Athamé, nervous of its powers.

“Now, it’s very simple,” Igor says. He turns away from the ghost, who is desperately trying to attack him. “You stab her in the heart.”

Lacey turns very pale, even paler than usual. “In the
heart
?”