Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (31 page)

“So
you deny that there is anything happening here?” Angela’s expression was one of
disbelief.

Tim
grabbed a clump of his own hair and cursed at the ceiling.  “Shitballs,
motherfucking dogpiss.  I know there is something going on here.  Christ, of
course I know that.  I just don’t think this is right at all.  Whatever is
going on, Sammie is still just a child.  We can’t…we can’t torture him like an
animal.  Hell, I don’t even believe you can torture an animal like this.”

Something
moved in the shadows.

Sammie
leapt from his bed and ploughed into Angela, who fell backwards into Frank. 
The two of them hit the floor in with a
thump!
as Tim stood there
stunned.  Sammie was crouched on the floor like a feral beast, glaring up at him
with baleful eyes.  The wounds on his hands and forehead were no longer
bleeding, yet puckered like the sliced flesh of frozen poultry.

“You
should have stuck me like a pig while you had the chance.”  Sammie was sneering
at them all.  “Now you die instead.”

Sammie
struck out at Tim, tearing a thick sliver of skin from his cheek.  Then the boy
sprinted away, yanking open the door and disappearing into the darkness of the
hallway. 

Sammie,
and whatever was inside of him, was loose inside the maze of the house.  Tim
couldn’t help but feel like a lab rat, involved in something far bigger than he
could comprehend.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“Sammie,
you come back here!” Frank shouted into the darkness of the hallway.

Angela
placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.  The last thing she wanted
was for Frank to disappear into the shadows of the house too.  “He’s not going
to come back on his own,” she said.  “We need to go find him.”

“Yeah,”
said Tim.  “Before he finds us.”

Angela
sighed.  She liked Tim – even trusted him – but she was beginning to see that
he was no good under pressure.  Some people saw problems while others saw
solutions.  Tim was the former and it made him difficult to rely on.

You’d
think a professional ghost hunter would be a little braver.

“So
what’s the plan?” Frank asked. 

“We
go after him.  But we stay together.  Sammie is more dangerous now than ever.”

“Probably
has something to do with the fact that you keep wanting to stab him,” Tim
commented.

Angela
faced him down.  “It is because the blood exorcism is almost complete. 
Whatever is inside of Sammie now has nothing to lose.”

Tim’s
eyes narrowed.  “Almost complete?  What else is left?”

“There
are two more stigmata to perform, two more wounds of Christ to bestow upon
Sammie’s body.”

Tim’s
eyes narrowed even more.  “You need to pierce his feet?”

Angela
nodded.

“And
then…what, no way.  You’re insane.  You plan on stabbing Sammie in his side?”

Angela
shook her head.  “No.  Piercing the feet should be enough to ward off the
demon.  The final stigmata, if performed, would banish any spirit to Limbo for
all eternity.  Just the threat of it should be enough to drive Chamuel out.”

“And
if it’s not enough?”

“Then
we have to decide what we’re up against, and if sacrificing Sammie is something
we should do for the greater good.”  Angela couldn’t believe the words coming
out of her mouth, but she was without any doubt. 

Ever
since the death and destruction she witnessed in Jersey at the hands of Charles
Crippley, Angela knew the importance of defeating evil before it had time to
blossom.  If the entity inside of Sammie was true evil, then she knew the value
of one boy’s life was not enough to prevent what needed to be done.

“We’re
not killing a kid,” Tim objected.  “Frank, you’re with me, aren’t you?”

To
Angela dismay, Frank agreed with Tim.  He had seemed on her side up until that
point.  “I have to draw the line somewhere, Angela.”

Her
opinion was outnumbered. She just hoped they would see sense when the situation
required them to change their minds.

“Okay,”
she said, not wanting to waste any more time talking.  “Let’s just find
Sammie.  We can figure things out later.”

Tim
folded his arms.  “Fine.”

“Frank,
you lead the way.  You know the house better than we do.”

Frank
nodded and took the lead.  They filed out into the hallway and padded down the
corridor silently like weary commandos.  Every inch of the house was bathed in
darkness.  Even though the many windows let in moonlight to see by, every unlit
corner could still be hiding a wealth of unseen horrors.  Sammie could be
watching them right now.

Frank
opened up a door on the left and stuck his head inside, then closed it again. 
“It’s just a storage room,” he said. “No sign of him.  There’s a bathroom over
there.  Go check it out.”

Angela
nodded and headed over to the next nearest door.  Sure enough there was a
bathroom inside.  The white and black tiles that probably shone bright in the
daylight were now dank and dreary.  The smell of bleach hung heavy in the air.  The
room was empty. It was easy to see as the room lacked anywhere to hide.

Except
for one place.

There
was a freestanding bathtub in the far corner.  It was a modern affair with a
wraparound shower curtain from end to end.  It would have been very easy for a
ten-year-old child to hide inside it.

Angela
moved slowly, the sound of her feet hitting tiles after previously being on
carpet seemed inordinately loud.  If Sammie was hiding in the bathtub, he would
have heard her coming.  She thought about calling out, but told herself it
would be a useless act as Sammie was unlikely to respond even if he was there. 

She
closed the final few steps, stood within arm’s reach of the shower curtain.

Here
goes.

Angela
placed her fingers against the plastic sheet and found the seam.  Slowly, inch
by inch, she pulled the curtain aside.

She
let out a breath.

The
bathtub was empty.

Somebody
grabbed Angela from behind.  She spun around, ready to scream.

“Any
sign?” Frank asked her calmly.

“Bloody
hell, Frank.  You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,”
he said earnestly.  “Tim said he heard something down below.  I didn’t hear
anything myself, but I lost twenty-per cent of my hearing during my days in the
forces.”

Angela
nodded.  “Okay, let’s go check it out then.  You shouldn’t have left Tim
alone.  It’s not safe.”

“He
insisted.  Said he’d be fine.”

“I
hope so.”

When
they went back out into the hallway, Tim was gone.

Frank
looked left and right.  “Where did he go?”

“He’s
afraid,” said Angela, understanding what had happened.  “I imagine he’s trying
to find a way out.”

Frank’s
nostrils flared and he snorted like a bull.  “Coward.”

“There’s
nothing we can do about it now.  If Tim wants out of here then he’ll be no use
to us anyway.  We need to find Sammie.  Do you think Tim was at least telling
the truth about hearing a noise downstairs?”

Frank
shrugged.  “Probably not.  In fact, I doubt it entirely.  Perhaps we should
work from the top down.  Go to the penthouse first?”

Angela
nodded.  “Sounds like a plan.  You still got that gun?”

“Huh? 
Yes, it’s tucked under my shirt.  Why?”

“No
reason.  Just nice to know you have it.”

As
they walked, Angela decided to fill the time with some questions.  “So now that
Jessica has…passed on, what will happen to the family’s shares in Black Remedy? 
Will they really all belong to Sammie?”

“Yes,
but they’ll be overseen by his legal guardian until he’s eighteen.”

“Who’s
his guardian?”

Frank
shook his head.  “I’m not sure.  Vincent Black was the boy’s godfather, so
perhaps him.”

Angela
stopped walking.  “Isn’t he the other owner of the company?”

“Forty-nine
per cent, yes.  The Black family provided most of the funding that the Raymeady
family required to build the company.”

“Mike
was obviously working against the Raymeady’s.  Do you think he was working for
the Black family?  Are they trying to take control of the company?”

“I’d
imagine so,” Frank said, sounding surprisingly resigned to the fact.  “With
Sammie so young, the Blacks will likely raise him as their own.”

“Doesn’t
that bother you?  Jessica, Joseph, they could be dead because of some greedy
American businessman.”

“Of
course it bothers me, but what would you have me do?  My job was to protect
this family, and I’ve failed.  Time for me to move on.”

“Move
on?”  Angela couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “You can’t just move on. 
You’re right, you failed this family.  You owe them.  You owe Sammie.”

Frank
sighed.  “It’s already too late.  Sammie is obviously under some sort of spell. 
If the Black family is behind it then they have already achieved everything
they wanted.”

“It’s
not over yet, Frank.  You’re going to do everything you can to protect that boy
once this is over.  You promise me that, Frank.  Do you hear me?”

Frank
sighed.  “Yes.  Yes, I hear you.”

“Then
come on.  Let’s go make this right.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Tim
hated himself (even more than he usually did).  It didn’t matter how hard he
tried, he could never bring himself to jeopardise his own safety for anyone else. 
He was a natural coward, and it made him sick, but that was just who he was.

It
was Angela’s sick God that made me this way.

The
house made Tim so anxious that his spine was in a constant state of rigour. He
tiptoed stiffly across the thick marble floor in the foyer and felt as if his
joints were about to seize up at any minute.

Trying
to get the front door open would be a fool’s errand, but Tim didn’t know what
else to do.  He was getting out of this house one way or the other.   With
Sammie on the loose, like a rabid little beastie, Tim didn’t plan on waiting
around to be butchered.

What
the hell was I thinking setting the kid free?

The
thick, wooden front doors loomed over Tim as he approached them.  It almost
felt as if they were in on the whole conspiracy to keep him trapped.  Perhaps
they were possessed, too, like Sammie (if he were to let himself believe that
was why the boy was so ill).  He still felt like the victim of some elaborate
hoax, but that didn’t change the fact that he was also totally freaked out by
now, and becoming more and more open to the possibility of it being something
else.  Something far worse.  Tim had read many articles about a house being
inhabited by spirits and poltergeists. 

He
couldn’t deny that such things existed; he had seen them.  Perhaps there
were
entities inside this house.  Several.

A
goddamn cauldron of evil.

Tim
placed a hand around the door knob and took a deep breath.  Then he twisted his
wrist and yanked.

Tim
almost choked. The handle turned freely, the door was unlocked.  His surprise
was so much that his hand slipped back down to his side and he stood silently
staring at the door.  He didn’t waste too much time, though, and quickly placed
his fingers back around the door handle, turning once again. 

The
door swung open.

Tim
yanked it so hard that it almost smashed against his foot.  He had to hop
backwards out of the way just in time, and found himself staring out at the inviting
expanse of the driveway.  There was nothing to see but a velvet sheet of background,
but Tim knew that freedom was waiting for him out there.  He could smell it. 
The air outside was different: fresh and pure.

Tim
stepped forwards.

“So
I guess this is goodbye?”

Tim
froze on the spot.  There was no confusion in his mind as to who was currently
standing right behind him.  In front of Tim was the exhilarating freedom of the
English countryside, but behind him was the cold evil of a ten-year-old boy.

“I
have no issue with you,” Sammie said, seemingly content to speak to Tim’s
back.  “You are…
insignificant.
”

Something
about the word irritated Tim.  He turned around.  “What is all this?  What’s it
all about?”

“What
is anything about in this decaying crust of existence?  It is about power; the
power to remould the world.”

“And
what exactly do you want to remould it into?”

Sammie
opened his arms wide as if he were surveying the world.  “An existence without
fear or suffering; a world of order and consistency.”

Tim
backed away towards the open door.  “That sounds very much like a world without
free will to me.  Sounds like you plan on enslaving humanity or something.”