Savage Spirits - Chapter Four

An hour and a half had passed since Amelia had retired to her room and Max and Stephanie were beginning to appreciate the sheer scale of size and neglected state of Midhope Rectory.
Hampered by the fact that during its two hundred year existence, the old place had never been blessed with the obvious advantages of a connection to the electrical mains network, like every other abode in the area. Running water had only been plumbed in during the last twenty years even that circulated throughout with coldness, bordering on the happier side of freezing. Open fires and strategically located pot-bellied stoves were the only appliances employed to stave off the unpleasantness of hyperthermia.
"I'm amazed the poor old dear has survived so long in this wreck," Stephanie managed to gasp amidst her shivering.

Max smiled, his attention was occupied in the beam of the flash light he was aiming randomly picking out the few rare objects that were hidden among the dense blackness.
"I know what you mean," he grinned wryly. "The cold spots are not going to be hard to find in this place."
"It's not funny damn it! We have to spend the whole weekend in this dump. I need my head looking at for letting you talk me into this."
"Yeah ... yeah. You can whine and moan all you like, but I saw the look on your face when you saw how upset poor old Amelia was getting."
"Oh, let's just get on with it. This place gives me the creeps."
Max aimed the welcome beam of light from the flash down the full length of the long corridor they had wandered onto. He began to move forward, slowly at first, carefully tracing his free hand along the wall to his left, which remained unchartered in the mysterious darkness outside the penetrating brilliant white light.
"Hang on!" Stephanie called, anxiously grabbing a handful of his jacket and pulling him back.

"Now what's wrong?"
"I can't see a bloody thing!"
"Are you going to moan all night?"
"How come you always get the torch."
"Here!" Max snapped, more in resignation and a bid to appease his wittering companion than any anger he may have been generating. "You take the damn torch, and I'll follow you, if it makes you happier.
"It will ... thank you!"
"Good! Can we carry on now?"
Stephanie reluctantly pushed her way past Max, and edged forward, the beam of light before them was now animated into a frantic sweeping and swinging motion as her hand shuck violently.
"Keep it steady!" Max exclaimed. "You're giving me blurred vision."
"I am doing. It's you knocking my hand." Her voice was strained, declining ever faster towards angry.

No more than three steps later Max froze solid with numbing shock, when the corridor plunged into absolute darkness and a shrill scream of horror reverberated along the walls.
"Arghhhhhhh! What was that? ... Did you see it?
"I can't see anything! What have you done with the light?" Max yelled.
"I've dropped it!" Stephanie screamed.
"For God's sake, Steff, calm down."
"Calm down? ... Didn't you see it?"
"See what?" By now Max was fumbling around the floor, desperately searching for the torch, which had either turned off, or the batteries had become dislodged upon impact. Things got decidedly worse when he inadvertently grabbed Stephanie's ankle. An accident that was about to have instant and painful consequences.
Max's mouth filled with the salty taste of fresh blood when Stephanie's booted foot made devastating contact with the side of his head.

"Arghhh! What the hell are you doing? He spit out the blood, accompanied by at least one tooth, dislodged by the impact, before continuing. "Jesus ... Steff, what's wrong with you?"
Once the initial shock and pain had subsided, it became obvious that Stephanie was bordering on hysteria, and his outburst, albeit understandable had not improved matters in the slightest.
After deciding that the situation would not ease until he could produce some light he fumbled for his cigarette lighter, in the hope of gaining enough illumination to at least retrieve the torch.
"Oh my God! ... Max, you're bleeding!"
The flickering amber glow from the cigarette lighter flame framed Max's injured face in an eerie light, which sent Stephanie into another fit of animated panic.
"Keep still ...!" His words were terminated again with an agonizing swiftness, when Stephanie's foot smashed into ribs, sending him barreling along the corridor floor. Although, not a consequence he had wished or intended to repeat, although it did have the beneficial result of depositing him temporarily out of reach of his hysterical companions, flaying limbs.

As if the god's had looked down on his plight and decided to show him their mistimed mercy Max's head miraculously came to rest on the misplaced torch, the heavy impact of which jolted the batteries back into life and the entire disaster scene was bathed in its brilliant white beam.
Stephanie instantly buried her face in her hands, partly to avoid the sudden glare, but more so to hide her horror-stricken features, soaked in tears and devoid of any color.
"My God! Steff, calm down." He rose stiffly and painfully from the floor, his stance for a brief moment was unsteady and swaying. After wiping away the steady flow of blood that seeped from his mouth, he moved slowly forward and embraced Stephanie in his arms.
"Shhh, Steff. It's ok now. Take a few deep breaths, then we'll go back downstairs and I'll make you a nice hot drink."

"Damn it, Max. Stop patronizing me!" she wiped away the tears, a vain attempt at gaining some degree of composure. She was angry and wanted to show it. She wanted him to feel it. "Stopping talking to me like some kind of hysterical school girl!"
With composure came guilt. She gazed at his blood splattered face, and began a barrage of stuttering, nervous apologies'
"I'm sorry Max," she said, "I panicked. You must have seen it though. It was horrible."
"Yeah, yeah! Let's get back downstairs, then, you can tell me all about it.
"It was horrible Max!"
"Ok, ok." He looped his arm around her waist and gently urged her to move forward down the corridor, towards the stairs from the ground floor. "Whatever you saw, it's gone now. You're safe."
Once on the landing they were able to look down into the main hall. Even the dull, inadequate flickering glow from the gas mantle seemed welcoming. It shone like a beacon, beckoning the two intrepid explorers back to warmth and safety of the lower illuminated and heated rooms.

Slowly they descended the worn, creaky steps. Stephanie fixed her gaze with nervous determination, more than anything she wanted to feel the solid, tiled hall floor beneath her feet, yet every step anxiously trod caused her to glance behind, half expecting the thing she had seen to be following close behind.
With slow and painful haste, they reached the hall. Max stopped for a moment to soak up some of the welcome heat issuing from the conveniently located pot-bellied stove near the staircase.
After one last apprehensive look towards the darkened landing above them they took up station in the relative comfort of the drawing-room.
Max selected two small logs from the well stocked log rack by the fireside and placed them gently onto the glowing embers, causing a shower of lively sparks to ascend in a mad rush up the furry, soot coated chimney. Then he produced an unopened packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.
"I'll join you with one of those,"
"I thought you'd stopped smoking months ago?"
"I did! And now I'm starting again. Do you have a problem with that?"
"No! No. Not at all."

Max waited until she'd stopped coughing and crimson face had faded back to a more healthy peachy glow, before bringing up the matter of what they had experienced upstairs.
"So what was it that you saw, up there in the corridor?" he began.
"I don't know what it was," she paused and took another deep inhalation from her cigarette, which quickly induced another bout of uncontrollable coughing. "It looked like a tall man, wearing a robe. You know, like monks wear?"
"When you say tall, roughly how tall?"
"I don't know. Like I said it had a hood on. But it almost touched the ceiling so I'd say at least eight feet."
Wow! Eight feet. That 'is' tall."
"Don't you dare start patronizing me again!" she hissed angrily. "You were there! You must have seen it as well. Christ Max! You're the one with the so-called gift, yet you can't see eight foot tall figures when they stand straight in front of you."

The more they discussed the incident the more obvious it became that Stephanie would not be venturing onto the upper floor any more, that night. So, after a few minutes deliberation Max suggested that they spend a couple of hours in the library, researching the place and searching through whatever records and documents Amelia had accrued over the years on the rectory's previous occupants. He also suggested that, come morning he would contact the two members of his investigation team who were more accustomed to the bizarre rigors of wandering around spooky old houses.
Kim Buxton and Vincent Naylor had stood loyally by his side throughout many a paranormal experience and remained unscathed and emotionally detached at the end, regardless of whatever madness and unexplainable mayhem had occurred.
At first Stephanie received his suggestion with her usual tirade of offended reluctance.

"So, you think I'm not up to it?" she snapped angrily
"No, I'm not saying that!"
"Then why fetch in Kim and Vinnie?"
Max lit up another cigarette, before answering. The night had hardly begun and already he had tasted blood, and his ribs throbbed from his previous encounter with Stephanie's foot. On top of which tiredness was beginning add to his growing list of distractions.
"Horses for courses, Steff." He said with a dismissive grin. "Kim and Vinnie are damn good investigators, and no one is a better researcher than you. So let's all do what we're best at and then maybe we can clear this mess up for poor old Amelia and we can all get back to at least some kind of normality.
Not only did she know he was right, she was quietly relieved he had come to such a decision. Such was her relief she struggled to hide the smile that threatened to break her stern mask of irritation.

"You've obviously made your mind up. Just like you always do. There's no point in me arguing the matter with you. You'll do what you want anyway. You always do!"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Max sighed. "Let's just move to the library and get started."
When they entered the library it was instantly obvious that Amelia had prepared the room in advance for them. Four wall mounted gas mantles sent out an adequate amber glow into the room and several candles were located, unlit, but readiness in various strategic places. A large ornate fireplace occupied the entire expanse of one wall. Its brilliant white, Italian marble reflected the light back, which gave its intricate carved frontage an eerie presence. To its extreme left and right limits were the heads of sinister looking monks, partly hidden by raised hoods. In the center a blazing fire roared and crackled, sending out a flood of welcome additional animated light, but also waves of almost unbearable heat.

"Now, this is more like it!" Max announced appreciatively. "Wow look at the books. We can have a field day in here."
Stephanie's attention was drawn with mesmerizing effect to the monk's heads. She stared into the narrow, unseeing eyes and they appeared to stare back. Occasionally, flickering shadows animated the marble images bringing them to a state of eerie animation. Eyes blinking, mouth curling into an evil grin, almost to the point of utterance of some ancient demonic incantation. A long forgotten language, but clearly one of evil purpose and summoning.
"Steff!"
"She made no reply.
"Steff!" Max's voice raised, fueled by concern. "Steff ... Are you all right?"
"That's him!" she finally whispered.
"Who?"
"That's the monk I saw upstairs."

Stephanie had always been an organized person, without her capable hands at the elm, Max was under no illusions; the business would have crumbled years ago. However, the fact that she rarely contributed to the investigation side of things was no accident. This particular occasion was a perfect example, it was clear from the onset that order and organization were not the ruling factors. She was already in over her head and hurtling towards the ensuing mayhem that often accompanied panic and uncontrolled fear.
"You're safe enough in here. Besides, you have me to protect you," he said, bolstering his statement by puffing out his chest and assuming a slightly ridiculous pose that a muscle-bound warrior of old might adopt to impress his chosen maiden.
"Yeah! Right... and that's supposed to make me feel better, is it?"