Malevolent Hall 1666AD (10 page)

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped, Matilda spun around, and he stood there staring at her.

“You could knock you know,” she said, grabbing her nightdress and quickly putting it on.  He smiled and walked to her.

“Yes I could,”
he replied.  His eyes widened as he gazed at her. 
“You are so beautiful,”
he murmured.  Matilda pursed her lips, and took a sharp breath as his hand lifted and caressed her cheek.

  As his eyes met hers, a rush of both love and fear flooded her and it frightened and confused her, and she looked away.

“I see you found your locket,”
he said, lifting a finger and touching it.  As his knuckles brushed her skin, a wave of electricity coursed through her body and she let out a gasp.

“It’s my locket?” she replied in a heavy whisper.

“Yes,”
he whispered in reply.  The coolness of his breath skimming her cheek made her quiver.

“I have never seen it before,” she replied, her breathing becoming a little rapid.

“It was yours, in your previous life,”
he said.

“What previous life?  Is that where I knew you from?”  He gave a gentle nod.  She let out a sigh.  “Why can’t you tell me,” Matilda begged.

“I cannot, or you will not be able to break the enchantment.”

“What bloody enchantment?” she said, frustrated.  He lifted a hand and turned her face towards him.

“It is your enchantment, Matilda,”
he said.

“This is so frustrating,” she said, in a breathless whisper.

“Tilly,”
he replied,
“sweet, beautiful, Tilly.”
  His face lowered to hers, and as she stared, she became lost in him.  She closed her eyes as his lips brushed hers, her fingers toying with the locket as he kissed her ever so gently, a vision swept her mind.

They lay back on a blanket deep within the woods, the blossom from the wild apple tree they sat underneath floated down on them like snow.  Eric sat up and leaned over her.

“My darling,” he said, and his fingers traced across the top of her breasts.  “I wish so much that I could marry you.”

“I know, Eric, and I you,” she replied, lifting her hand and cupping his cheek.

“I brought you a gift,” he said, sitting back and reaching up to the pocket of his cloak from where it hung on the tree.

“A gift,” she said, with enthusiasm, and sitting up.  From his pocket, he took out something wrapped in a piece of fabric.

“Tilly, my love, please wear this so we may be together always.”  She smiled at him as she un-wrapped it.

“A locket,” she gasped.  “It is beautiful.”  She read the inscription.

“Open it,” he whispered.  She did, and her heart swelled at the portrait of them both.

“Oh, Eric,” she swooned.

“I have enchanted it my love.  When you close it, it will seal, and only I can open it again.  This will stop Richard from opening it and discovering the truth.”  He fastened it around her throat and ran a finger down her cleavage.

“May I love you?” he asked, with a smile.  She nodded, and as his lips met hers, a wave a passion swept through her.

Matilda caught her breath, overcome by the powerful image. She moaned at his kiss, and her whole body trembled as his hand gripped and moved down her shoulder
.

“Eric,” she murmured, against his lips.  He pulled back sharply, his eyes searching hers.

“I have to go. You must find the book, he will send more demons.”

“No, please, don’t go,” she begged, as he released her.  “You are Eric, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes wet with emotion as he slowly faded away from her eyes.

Her heart shuddered as she watched him go.  Throwing her hand to her head, she frowned.  What was going on, he was a ghost for fucks sake, yet he had such a profound effect on her that she could hardly control herself around him.  Her hand moved down her face, and she covered her mouth as she thought of Mike.  Her heart swelled as his image came to her mind - how could she love two men at the same time, and a dead one at that?

She reached a hand to her stomach, even more confused.  Why did she suddenly have a scar?  She was beginning to feel a connection with the woman in her dreams.  She sat on her bed in thought; was it her, was she the woman in the dream, and Eric, was he her lover?

She laughed aloud at her own crazy thoughts, no wonder they tried to lock her up when she was younger.

She slipped into bed, reached over and picked up her mug of tea.  She had a sip as she opened the spell book and began to flick through the pages.  What she needed was a protection spell, as there was no way she was going to let ghosts, demons or whatever the fuck they were scare her out of her home.

On finding a spell, Matilda got out of bed.  She cleared the bedside table and dragged it to the window.

Opening her chest, she took out twelve white candles, and ringed them around the homemade alter.  After lighting them, she took out a burner placing it in the centre.  She lit it and added some sandalwood, frankincense, and rosemary to the burner.

Out of her chest, she took a small hand-held circular mirror, and holding it facing the candles, it reflected the flames.  Matilda moved the mirror slowly clockwise, watching the reflected firelight bounce off the surrounding walls.  Gradually increasing her speed, she chanted with each full circle for the magic to protect her.  As she felt a surge of power, she lifted her hand, gathering the energy of the spell and saving it within her for when she was in dire need of it.

She lowered the mirror and picked out the flames with her finger and thumb. Matilda gathered the candles together, tied them with string and placed them back inside the box.  She climbed into bed, snuggling down before lifting her hand to her head to check her wound.  Thankfully it wasn’t bleeding.  She closed her eyes, and drained of energy, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Morning came unexpectedly quickly, and Matilda awoke to the sound of banging and whirring.  Her heart jumped to her throat, her reflexes lifting her hands in automatic defence as she opened her bleary eyes.  She took a reassuring breath when she realised it was just the men working outside.  Last night’s events had drained her and she must have over slept. 

Matilda slid from her bed, her feet touching the cool floorboards as she walked to the window.  Opening it, the fresh morning air sent a chill down her body and goose bumps across her arms.  She peered outside, and smiled when she saw Mike leaning against his van talking to another man.  He was wearing jeans, a thick, blue cable jumper, and a yellow hard hat and was shaking his head, as if puzzled by something.  As usual, Parker was at his feet, she smiled, that dog adored his master, and she completely understood why.  Mike was adorable without a doubt and not only to his dog.

Mike glanced up, and she caught a startled breath, as he grinned and waved. She waved back, and then panicked when she realised he was heading across the drive towards the front door.

She grabbed her robe and slipped it on.  There was no mirror in this room, so she had no idea what she looked like, and she raked her hands through her long flowing locks in the hope of making herself presentable.  Unbolting the door, she heaved it open.  Her bare feet pattered down the stairs, and she flung the door open at the bottom.  Darting into the bathroom, she checked herself in the mirror.  The cross on her throat had faded, but she gave a sigh as she looked at the wound on her head.  Thankfully, Steve’s steri-strips still held it together, and it had not bled any more.  The doorbell rang and Matilda ran down the stairs and unlocked the door.

“Morning,” he said, giving her a cheery smile.  “Not up then,” he finished with a quick smile as he eyed her dressing gown up and down.

Her mouth twitched in response, but she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling back at him.  He didn’t look like he had shaved this morning, as he had a light stubble covering his face.

“No, I forgot to set my alarm, I had a bit of a rough night,” she said, not wishing to go into details.

“Can I have a quick word,” he asked, and his dark eyes gazed into hers.  She swallowed at their intensity.

“Sure, do you want a cuppa, I haven’t had one yet and I’m parched,” she said as she turned and walked towards the kitchen.  Matilda heard the front door close, and his footsteps and the pitter-patter of Parker’s paws echoing down the hall.

“So what’s up?” she asked, switching the kettle on and grabbing a couple of mugs.

He pulled up a chair and sat.

“Are you okay?” he asked.  She glanced at him.

“Me, yes, I’m fine, why?” she replied taking the milk from the fridge while keeping one eye on those mugs!

“Well, Steve said he had to patch you up last night that you fell and hit your head, and I don’t know you just look, different,” he said.

“Here, Parker,” she said, and picking up a throw from the sofa she put it on the floor next to the Aga.  Parker settled himself down on it.

“Probably because I have no make-up on, this is just plain raw me,” she replied, before joining him at the table.  She sat down and gave him his tea.

“Thanks,” he said, and he shook his head.

“No it’s not that, you look lovely without make-up,” he said, and she did he thought, look lovely period.  “It’s something else,” he pushed, and there was obvious concern in his voice for her.

She gripped her mug tightly, pleased that he liked her in her natural state, but also wondering if she had a strip of white streaking through her hair from where she had been so petrified last night.

“I just slipped off the chair when I was changing a light bulb, that’s all, and well, I had a rough night.”  She averted her eyes and looked at her mug.  Something about him made her want to tell him everything.  However, she was afraid if she did, he would pack up his crew and get the hell out of here as fast as he could.  She couldn’t bear it if he left.

Mike was sure she was holding something back from him, and he needed to find out what it was.  Keeping his eyes fixed on hers; he reached across the table and grasped her hand.

“Matilda.”  The way he whispered her name made her heart flutter.

“Look, Mike,” she said, lifting her eyes to him.  “It’s this Hall.”

“What about this Hall?” he asked.  His hand was still on hers, and she could feel the heat from it spreading up arm and warming her.

“It holds a lot of memories, a lot of, erm, well spirits.”

“Ghosts do you mean?” he asked, and he lifted an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Well, maybe, I don’t know.  Things happen in here that I can’t explain, and well it’s frightening at times.”  She looked at him for his reaction.  He let go of her hand, and sat back in his chair as her answer made him pause and he took a moment to process it.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you,” Matilda asked at his silence, and her brows wrinkled together with her effort to stop the tears. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything now he was going to think she was mad like all the rest of them.

He focussed his eyes on her, her hair dishevelled she had that ‘just woken up’ look about her.  She was beautiful.  He shook his head, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“No, Matilda I don’t, not at all,” he replied, unexpectedly. “I believe in the supernatural, I always have.  Maybe I’m a little crazy too,” he laughed.  “In fact, I have been on several ghost hunts over the last ten years.  It’s kind of a hobby of mine.”

As she made brief eye contact with him, they both laughed.  It cleared the air, and she gave a relieved sigh that he was not about to leg it.

“Well maybe you would like to do one here, there are enough creepy noises in this Hall to wake the dead.” 

She said it with such sincerity that he was not sure how to respond.

“Maybe I will,” he replied, with a smile.  “Let me see your wound,” he asked.

“No, it’s fine really,” she insisted, with a shake of her head and feeling self-conscious by his fuss.

“No, let me see, Steve said he thought you needed stitches.  If you do I will take you up to A&E now,” he insisted back.

“What are you my mother?” she said a little sharply.

“No, I’m just concerned, that’s all,” he replied in retaliation.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed, and she tilted her head sideways, to let Mike examine her.

“See? It’s okay, I’m not going to die. Steve did a good job; the steri-strips are holding.”

“Hmm,” he muttered, and he sat back down in the chair.  “Okay, but if it opens and starts bleeding I’m taking you to the hospital, agreed?”  She gave a nod.

“What did you want to ask me anyway?” she asked, and she took a long sip of her tea.

He leaned both his arms on the table and drew closer to her.

“Oh, two things, first, your new boiler’s here, I’ll get Steve to put it in this morning for you.”

“Oh great, thanks,” she said, pleased.

“Secondly, the men have found a secret door,” he said, and his face was full of intrigue.

“What!” she exclaimed, her eyes flying to his.

“I know cool right.”

“Where,” she demanded.

“At the rear of the west wing, they were taking up the stone plinth and found some steps leading down into some kind of basement.”

“What’s in there?” she asked.  He shrugged.

“We don’t know, there’s no key, and it’s locked,” he said.

“Damn,” she muttered.  “Hey, mummy had a box of old keys in the kitchen drawer.”  Matilda jumped up and hurried over to it.  Opening the drawer, she pulled out the box she had taken the key from earlier and put it on the table in front of him.

“Have a look and see if there is a key in there that looks like it may fit,” she hurried.  It was a little frustrating as she was sure she could open the door using her magic but she obviously couldn’t tell him that.

“Mike, I’m going to get dressed, wait here,” she ordered, pressing her hand to his shoulder before running out of the kitchen and shooting up the two flights of stairs.  She pulled off her nightgown and looked down at her stomach.  She took in a deep breath.  It was still there.  She ran her finger over the scar.  It just didn’t make any sense, she wished she could talk to Mike about it, but she was apprehensive about what he might say or do.  She quickly dressed, and ran downstairs.  Darting into the bathroom, she had a pee, and cleaned her teeth.

Matilda stared at her reflection, ran a brush through her hair, and waved her hand dismissively at herself; make-up would have to wait.

Mike rummaged through the box.  He selected three keys that looked like possibilities, and laid them on the table.  As he was perusing them, a sudden noise made him look up.

Thud!

Parker barked and sat up, his ears pricked sharp he growled.

Mike glanced at him, his eyes followed his dog’s line of sight, and he watched an orange roll across the worktop and fall on the floor.  He stood, and walking to it, he bent down and picked it up.  Spotting another one under the table, he picked it up and jostled them both in his hands.  He gave a shrug, and put them back in the fruit bowl on the worktop.

“It’s okay Parker,” he reassured his dog, with a gentle pat to his head.  Parker licked his hand in response, and Mike wiped the slobber down his trouser as he strode back to the table and sat down.

He looked at the keys, but there was one missing.  His nose scrunched as his eyes searched the table.  He moved Matilda’s mug out of the way and lifted up her bag.  He bent down and looked under the table, but it wasn’t there either.  He sat up.

“What the …?” he muttered, when he saw the key back on the table in front of him.  He glanced over his shoulder, thinking Matilda was playing games with him.

Thud – thud.

Parker jumped to his feet and barked.

“Shush, Parker,” Mike ordered, and his eyes shot to the fruit bowl, as two more oranges rolled across the worktop. “It’s okay,” he added.  His dog sat and growled as, thud – thud, the oranges hit the floor and rolled across the tiles.

Scraping his chair on the kitchen tiles, he stood sharply and marched over to the oranges. Bending down and picking them both up he put them back in the bowl.  Mike ran a hand across the worktop, and lowering his head, he closed one eye to check the level, before rising back to his full height.  With his hands on his hips, he glanced around the room.

Parker joined him and sat by his feet, his eyes staring up at his master.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said, looking down at Parker, and scratching behind the dog’s ears.  “Go on, lie down,” he said, pointing back to the throw by the Aga.  Giving a puzzled shake of his head, he walked back to the table, and while keeping one eye on the fruit bowl he sat down.  His fingers toyed with the keys, but his eyes were still watching the fruit bowl.

“Well?” she asked.  He jumped, startled by her sudden appearance.

“Hells bells, Matilda!” he said, throwing his hand to his chest in alarm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump,” she apologised with an amused chuckle, her hand lightly touching his shoulder.

“That’s okay,” he said catching his breath.  “I was miles away.  Anyway I think one of these three keys may fit,” he said, indicating to them on the table.

“Great, come on let’s go then,” she urged, and she pulled at his arm.

“Okay, okay,” he said.  Parker shot ahead of them, and as Mike followed her out of the kitchen, he took one final glance over his shoulder at the fruit bowl.

The front door closed.

Thud - thud - thud – thud - four oranges fell from the bowl rolled across the worktop, and dropped to the floor.

***

“Steve, can I have a couple of hard hats and a torch,” Mike yelled to his foreman as they approached the West wing.  Steve turned, picked up two hats from a pile, and threw them at him.

“Cheers,” Mike said as he caught them and then a torch.  He turned to her and plonked it on her head.  “There you go, very fetching,” he said with a laugh.

“Thank you, so much,” she replied with a sarcastic grin, lifting her hand to the hat and giving him a tip of her head.  They walked onto site, and her mouth opened as she took in the devastation.  Matilda hadn’t seen close up the damage the fire had done as three years ago she hadn’t been ready to face it.  She had sent Mike in alone with his team to assess the damage and to draw up the building plans.

“Shit,” she swore under her breath.

“Pretty bad isn’t it,” Mike said standing beside her.

“Bad!  It’s fucking terrible,” Matilda mumbled.  “How the hell did I get out of that?” she added, and she looked at him.

Mike looked back at her.  He had often wondered that himself.  What he could remember of that afternoon, it had been a towering inferno.  Why he had been in there and how he got out he couldn’t remember either.  His skin had not blistered, and not a hair on his body had burned.

She took hold his warm hand and brought him out of his thoughts.