The Devil's Hand Read online

  They look so happy. And weird, too, all wrapped up with scarves and hats, and with their pregnant bellies showing despite their thick coats. After a moment, I realize I can see my own face reflected in the glass, and for the first time in my life I can see lines under my eyes, the kind of lines that old and tired people get. I reach up and touch my cheek, and a moment later I feel a faint shuffling sensation in my belly. At least, despite everything, my baby is still alive, although I can't help wondering what will happen to it if, as Kane and Mrs. Kilmartin insist, the Devil is possessing my body. What if all my thoughts are wrong?

  “Please keep it safe,” I whisper, as the girls continue to sing outside. Reaching up, I touch the side of my head where I butted the radiator, and I think I can actually feel a faint lump already forming. “Dear Lord, whatever has to happen to me, I'm begging you, let my baby be safe. Let -”

  Suddenly I see a second face reflected in the window, just behind my own, and I freeze for a moment until I realize that I recognize her.

  “Abigail?” I stammer, before turning and looking over my shoulder. There's no-one in sight now, but after a moment the hand leaves my shoulder and then, a few seconds later, I realize I can hear something bumping against one of the nearby beds. I glance across the darkened room, and my heart is pounding as I realize that there's someone here with me. I can't see them or hear them, but somehow deep in my chest I just know that I'm not alone. Then again, that bump on my head was pretty strong, so I suppose I might just be feeling woozy.

  Still, I wait.

  The only sound is the girls singing in the playground.

  “Abigail?” I whisper, stepping past my bed. “Are you here? Are -”

  I almost jump out of my skin as one of the other beds suddenly shudders, its legs scraping briefly against the wooden floor as some hidden force moves it a few inches away from the wall. I take a step forward, and my mind is racing as I realize that it was Abigail's old bed that just shifted.

  “Are you really here?” I call out, shivering as I make my way across the cold, dark room. “Abigail, if you are, please give me a sign, let me know that you're here and that you're not the...”

  My voice trails off. I can't even bring myself to say the words.

  I wait.

  Silence for a moment, before the girls start singing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' outside.

  Suddenly Abigail's old bed flips over, crashing onto its top and spilling the mattress to one side. Startled, I take a step back, my eyes fixed on the bed's legs as they settle poking up into the dark room.

  “I don't know if it's you,” I whisper, sniffing back tears. “Abigail, you have to give me a sign! Please, Abigail, I need to know that it's you and not the Devil!”

  I watch the bed for a moment, and then I see a small slip of paper falling from the frame, landing on the floorboards. I hesitate for a few seconds, before making my way over and leaning down to pick up the paper with my one good hand and unfold it. To my immense relief, I immediately recognize Abigail's handwriting, and I see that it's an old note that we passed around in class once. She must have hidden it under her mattress at some point, but I don't understand why she'd want me to see it unless...

  Proof.

  She's proving that it's really her.

  Suddenly I feel the hand resting on my shoulder again.

  “Can I see you?” I ask, turning and looking across the room. I wait, hoping that I might spot some hint of movement in the shadows, but there's nothing. “Please, Abigail,” I continue, with tears rolling down my cheeks, “I'm scared. I think the Devil might be in my soul.”

  I wait.

  The girls are still singing outside.

  “The Devil's not in your soul,” Abigail says suddenly.

  I turn and look for her, and finally I realize I can see a figure in the far corner, almost lost in the shadows.

  “Abigail!” I call out, hurrying toward her.

  “Stop,” she replies.

  “I thought I'd never see you again!”

  “Stop!” she shouts.

  I stop next to one of the other beds, just a few feet from her. Now that I'm closer, I can just about make out her face in the gloom, staring at me with intense, unblinking eyes.

  “I thought you were maybe gone forever,” I tell her, with tears in my eyes. “I thought the Devil's hand was on my shoulder, but it wasn't him, was it? Please, Abigail, promise me it was your hand!”

  “It was my hand,” she replies, sounding a little weak. “I wasn't strong enough at first to contact you, so I used my hand to let you know I was still around. I thought you'd understand it was me, since I used to talk about feeling a hand on my shoulder. In my case, though, I think it was just a physical symptom of my bad heart.”

  “So it was never the Devil?” I ask cautiously.

  “The Devil is not at Beacon's Ash,” she continues. “He's not in your soul, and he's not in Jeremiah Kane's either. Kane is very, very human, that's all.”

  “He thinks I'm possessed,” I reply, my voice trembling with fear.

  “I know. I was there. He's obsessed with facing the Devil.”

  “I knew we'd find a way to get you back,” I continue. “It was my method, wasn't it? It wasn't Mary's fairies or Millicent and her stupid books in the library, it was me!”

  “That doesn't matter,” she replies. “What matters is stopping Kane. This isn't the first school he's run. There were at least two others, before he came to Beacon's Ash. He changes his name every time he moves, to evade the police after they discover his crimes, he's not really called Jeremiah Kane at all. I don't know his real name, but I know that when he's eventually driven out of this place he'll just call himself something else and find another school where he can play his games. You have no idea how many people have died because of him already, how many ghosts follow him from school to school, but he's learned to ignore them all. So long as he remains in control of his emotions, he doesn't have to see us, and so long as he doesn't see us, there's nothing any of us can do to stop him. His self-control is like a barrier.”

  “He didn't even shout at me when I confronted him,” I tell her. “I told him his stupid Bible was just a fake, but he stayed calm the whole time.”

  “Of course he did,” she continues. “It takes a lot of practice to keep from seeing all the ghosts that surround him. He has absolute faith in his own work, and he knows that he must stay calm at all times. If you can make him truly angry, Ivy, if you can make him lose control, there are things I can do to stop him.”

  “But how -”

  “Find a way,” she adds. “Please, Ivy, you have to make him lose his temper, or he'll just keep on doing what he's doing and eventually he'll flee and go to another school, and another, and it'll never end. He thinks he's chasing the Devil from girl to girl, from school to school. No-one has ever been able to make him see that it's all in his head.”

  “But...” Pausing, I reach down and put a hand on my bump. “If I push him,” I continue, “he'll just punish me more and...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that I can't risk this fight. “Someone else can stop him,” I say finally. “If that makes me a coward, then fine, but I let him hurt my baby. If I just keep my head down and play along with everything, maybe he'll decide the Devil isn't in me after all and he'll just leave me alone.”

  “You want to appease him?”

  “I can't fight,” I whimper, with tears in my eyes as I feel my baby kicking. “Not like this. Not when my baby could get hurt.”

  “He drowned my baby,” she replies. “I was already dead, I was screaming at him to stop but he and Doctor Ratcliffe couldn't see or hear me. He drowned my son because he thought he was a scrap of filth, so do you really think he'll let your baby live? If he thinks the Devil is in your soul, he'll kill you and then if your baby doesn't die too, he'll tear it out of you and finish it off. And even if by some miracle he didn't do that, he'd just send it off to the orphanage. Trust me, the children who go to that place are even w
orse off than the girls at this school.”

  “Then I'll run,” I reply, filled with panic. “Maybe I can make it to town after all!”

  “You'd freeze to death in the snow.”

  “Not necessarily!”

  “You would. Trust me.”

  “Then what can I do?” I shout, as tears stream down my face. “I don't care about myself anymore, I just know that I have to keep my baby safe.”

  “Then you have to help me. You have to stand up to Kane.”

  “He'll kill me!”

  “Not if you can make him angry. Do that, and I'll be able to finish him off. It's the only way. You needn't worry about old Mrs. Kilmartin, I've already shuffled her out of the way for you. Don't feel sorry for her, she deserves everything she got for the horrors she ignored.”

  “I can't so this,” I stammer. “Please, Abigail, I can't!”

  “You're smart, Ivy.” She smiles. “That's what you always told me, anyway. Remember? One of the things I liked about you was your confidence. I believe in you, but you have to be brave. This isn't a fight you can run from, Ivy. You have no choice, you have to -”

  Suddenly I hear the door opening, and I turn just in time to see Beryl coming into the room. She hits the switch on the wall, bringing the lights flickering to life, and then she stops when she sees me.

  “Oh,” she says, clearly a little surprised, “I just... I came to fetch my mittens, that's all.”

  Turning back to look at the corner of the room, I see that Abigail is gone.

  “Are you sure you don't want to come out and sing?” Beryl asks, grabbing the mittens from next to her bed and then heading back to the door. “It's awfully cold out there, but you'll warm up soon enough once you get a little more of the Christmas spirit in you. I really don't like to think of you stuck in here by yourself. Plus, for some reason Mrs. Kilmartin hasn't come out to supervise us yet, so we're mixing a few naughty words in for added fun.” She stops in the doorway. “We don't hate you, you know. I suppose we all just got a little frustrated because of the way you keep causing trouble, but it's Christmas so... Can't we all be friends?”

  With that, she slips out through the doorway and makes her way back along the corridor.

  The thought of going out there with them makes me feel sick, but at the same time I feel that maybe I should try. The baby in my belly must have heard such awful noises over the past week, screams and cries of pain, and I imagine there'll be more to come. So I think perhaps I owe it to him or her to go out and be among people who sound happy for a change, to let my baby hear carols. Maybe this is the only chance I'll get to make my child feel a moment of calm and love. Heading over to my bed, I grab my coat and then make my way to the door.

  “It's okay,” I mutter, reaching down and running a hand over my bump, “the world isn't all screams and pain. You'll like hearing the carols, I promise.”

  Trudging along the corridor, I notice that the door to Mrs. Kilmartin's room is open up ahead, casting a warm patch of light across the dark floor. After a moment, I see that a shadow is edging across the light, and I slow my pace for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong. Finally, as I get closer, Beryl backs out of the room, her face stricken with an expression of pure horror.

  “What's wrong?” I ask as I reach her and look through into the room. “You look -”

  And that's when I see her. Mrs. Kilmartin is sitting in her armchair, her hands gripping the armrests so hard that her fingernails have come loose, and her dead eyes stare straight ahead as if she has seen something truly awful. Her mouth, wide open as if mid-scream, seems almost turned on its side, as if someone put a hand on her face and then slowly began to twist until she died.

  Next to me, Beryl suddenly slips into a faint, landing hard against the floor.

  III

  “Her face was just awful,” Beryl stammers as she sits on her bed in the dormitory. “It was like... It was like she'd been scared to death!”

  “Poor old thing,” Maud replies. “She wasn't really so bad, not when you think about it. Such an awful shame that she died at Christmas. We were out there singing carols and all that time she was in there, dying alone. Say what you like about her, but no-one deserves that fate.”

  “She must have seen something,” Beryl continues. “The way her hands were gripping the arms of her chair, and the way her eyes were open so wide, and her mouth was almost sideways as if...” She pauses, before breaking into a series of sobs. The other girls are comforting her, of course, telling her not to worry, but to be honest I'm not surprised Beryl is having such a hard time with this. The truth is, Mrs. Kilmartin's face was horrifying, and I dare say she really had seen something that scared her to death.

  “You needn't worry about old Mrs. Kilmartin,” I remember Abigail's ghost saying a short while ago. “I've already shuffled her out of the way for you. Don't feel sorry for her, she deserves everything she got for the horrors she ignored.”

  Reaching up to touch the bump on my head, I realize that Abigail can't have been a hallucination. She must have really come back, but how do I truly know it is Abigail? Couldn't the Devil have taken her form? Then again, there's no way I can tell for certain, so I suppose I simply have to trust what I saw with my own eyes.

  While the other girls continue to console Beryl, I turn and look out the window as Sykes wheels Mrs. Kilmartin's body out on a trolley. There's a sheet covering her, of course, but the sight is still rather gruesome. With snow falling all around, Sykes battles to pull the trolley across the rough ground, and after a moment I realize that he's taking her toward the field. I suppose she's to be buried in that same barren patch of land that is usually reserved for girls who don't survive their time here. I'd have thought that a doctor might finally be called from the local town, but evidently Mr. Kane doesn't want any outside interference.

  Turning to look back over at the beds, I see that Beryl is bent double now, her whole body shuddering as she continues to weep.

  “I suppose you're happy,” Prudence mutters, glancing at me.

  “Why would I be happy?” I ask, shocked by the suggestion.

  “Everyone knows you hate this place,” she continues. “You're probably glad Mrs. Kilmartin's dead, because you probably want everyone associated with Beacon's Ash to die.”

  “That's not true,” I tell her, before realizing that there's no point arguing. Let them think what they want. Making my way across the room, I'm about to offer Beryl some platitudes when I notice something moving in the distant shadows. After a moment I realize that it's Abigail, watching from the darkness. She's staring straight at me, and it's almost as if she's waiting for me to do or say something. I want to tell her that I'm powerless, but I doubt she'd take that for an answer. I suppose she's waiting for me to go and face Kane.

  “Let's hope your baby's not a little monster like you,” Prudence sneers at me. “It probably will be, though. It'll probably be ugly like you, and stupid like you, and arrogant like you, and -”

  “Shut up,” I tell her.

  “And rude!”

  “Shut up!” I shout, taking a step toward her as a sudden sense of anger grips my chest.

  “If it's a girl,” she continues, with a big grin on her face, “it'll probably end up just like you. A slut and a whore!”

  “Say that one more time,” I reply firmly, “and I'll pop you one on the chin!”

  She gets to her feet and comes closer. “That baby will be just like its mother,” she says darkly. “If I were you, I'd save the world some pain and take a knitting needle to the -”

  Before I really have time to think, I lunge at her, knocking her down onto the bed and landing on top of her. She tries to push me away, but I grab her ponytail and pull it as hard as I can, and then I slap her on the side of the face. Letting out a cry of pain, she reaches up and scratches my cheek with her right hand, and the pain is enough to make me let go. Gasping, I slump back against the bed and watch as she scrambles away. As she go
es, however, she lashes out with her right foot, kicking me hard in the belly.

  A gasp of shock rises from the other girls.

  Stunned, I reach down and wait for some sign that my baby is okay.

  “What have you done?” Maud hisses, pulling Prudence away.

  “She'll be fine,” Prudence stammers, clearly shocked by what just happened. “Ivy, I'm dreadfully sorry, I never meant to hit you there!”

  “This is the wrong fight,” Abigail's voice hisses in my ear.

  Scrambling to my feet, I hurry to the door and then out into the corridor. I can hear someone running after me, and I turn just in time to see Wendy and Louise catching up.

  “Are you okay?” Wendy asks, staring at my belly.

  “I'm fine,” I reply, although I still haven't felt anything moving in there since the kick.

  “She didn't mean to do it, you know,” Louise tells me. “It was an accident. I'm sure nothing bad will happen.”

  “Leave me alone,” I stammer, turning and hurrying toward the bathroom. When I get through the next doorway, I turn to make sure that no-one has followed me this time, and then I head over to the sinks and lift my shirt so that I can see my bare belly. For a moment, I'm filled with an absolute belief that my baby must be dead. I can't describe the sensation, but my belly feels colder somehow, as if the bundle of warmth has been replaced by a lifeless little collection of failed bones.

  I wait.

  Nothing. There's no pain, but there's no movement either. Maybe this is how it felt for Sissy when her baby was dead.

  “Please,” I whisper, with tears streaming down my face, “let it be alive. Please don't take it away from me, please don't let anything have happened to it, please -”