The Haunting of Lannister Hall Page 7

  Tonight, the job will get a whole lot more interesting. Tonight's when Lannister Hall's resident spook should make her first appearance. And once I've seen my first proper ghost, in the flesh so to speak, then I can start thinking about finding one in particular. I can try to find my mother.

  But, first things first, it's time to track down the ghost of Catherine Lannister.

  Part Three

  Catherine Lannister

  I

  She looks so happy out there, playing in the garden.

  Standing at one of the upstairs windows, I watch as Milly runs through a pile of leaves, kicking them up wildly. I can't hear her, but I can see that she's laughing. My heart warms at the sight of her having made such a rapid recovery from her ordeal, although I know that children can be remarkably resilient. At the same time, Jonathan's words from earlier are ringing in my ears, reminding me that while Milly might look perfectly happy, she is surely suffering some deep-rooted trauma that will haunt her later in life.

  And so far, this all appears to be my fault.

  I so desperately want to go down there and play with her. Indeed, until recently I used to play with my dear girl on a daily basis. Nothing made me happier – or made her laugh louder – than our hours and hours of games each day. How I long for life to be like that again, to be free to play carelessly and happily with the most important, the most loved, girl in all the world. Even now, as she rushes through the leaves, I would so dearly like to be clapping and shouting encouragements.

  Yet I cannot.

  I must not.

  I must stay far away from her. At the same time, however, I need to observe her playful games. I need to watch her so that I can determine what kind of monster is after her.

  II

  The bottle of rat poison is on the shelf, just where I left it. It remains half-full, which means that there is more than enough to kill anyone who might drink.

  Yet I cannot. Not yet. Despite everything that has happened, I know I am the only one who can keep Milly safe.

  III

  Now Milly is in the banquet hall, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she plays with one of her favorite dolls.

  I know this, and I see it, because I am at the farthest window. I have come outside and made my way around the house, and I have placed a small stool against the wall solely so that I can climb up and peer inside. It is of course absurd that this is the only way I can watch my daughter play, but I keep telling myself that the situation is merely temporary. As soon as I have determined the nature of the danger here at Lannister Hall, I shall be able to play properly with Milly once again.

  For now, however, she looks blissfully happy as she chatters away to her doll. A moment later she picks up another of the dolls and brings it over to meet the first, and I watch as she engages the pair of them in conversation. She is such a lively, imaginative child, and I know that she is coming up with some grand scenario in which the two dolls are countesses or princesses or suchlike. I would dearly like to eavesdrop, perhaps even to join in, but of course in this I must be denied.

  Yet I cannot help gazing lovingly and longingly at Milly, and I feel proud that she is able to play so freely. It is as if she has no worries at all, as if she has cast off all the bad things that have happened to her of late. And as she sets down one doll and picks up another, I cannot help but notice that the scene seems so utterly normal. Had I not lived through the horror myself, I would never guess that anything is wrong at all.

  ***

  And now she is eating with her father.

  Jonathan does not usually cook. Indeed, I cannot remember the last time he so much as made a sandwich, yet here he has placed some meat on a plate along with some bread and pickles. It would ordinarily be my job to prepare lunch, and in truth I am rather surprised that Jonathan even knows how to make such a meal, but the evidence is right before me. All things considered, he has done rather well.

  I am at the dining room window, making sure that I cannot be seen as I observe proceedings.

  Whenever Milly and I eat together, we talk and sing. Jonathan, on the other hand, has somehow persuaded her to eat very quietly and calmly. The whole scene appears rather sedate and conservative, and I cannot help but feel as if Milly has somehow grown up very fast over the past few months. She has not even attempted to bring her toys to the table; if anything, she seems to be forcing herself to sit calmly, rather than having Jonathan impose his will with threats. Were I not able to see the situation for myself, I would scarcely believe it possible.

  The worst part is, they do not seem to miss me at all.

  I had hoped that I might be invited to partake in meals with them. After all, Jonathan said that I should not be left alone with Milly but he didn't indicate that I was to keep away from her entirely. Then again, perhaps Milly herself asked that I not be present, such is her apparent mistrust of me. My heart breaks to consider such a possibility, but I cannot deny that the bond between us has been torn apart.

  I just wish I knew what force has been meddling in our lives.

  As I continue to watch Milly, I wait for some hint of a malevolent entity. I am certain that there must be something that is watching her and trying to ruin her life, and I cannot believe that this entity does not leave behind a mark. Perhaps a shadow will fall, or I shall spot some hideous, demonic face reflected in a fragment of glass. My mind is racing with the possibilities, yet so far I have seen absolutely nothing at all. This does not mean that there is nothing to see, of course, and I tell myself that I simply have to learn to be more observant.

  This thing must show its face soon. And when it does, I shall be ready.

  ***

  Late-afternoon sunlight streams through the kitchen window as I stand watching Milly once more. She is back out in the garden, where she started the day, and she seems to be happily playing yet again with the leaves. She has been there for some time now, running around and laughing with all the carefree abandon of a child. Were one to watch her and her alone, with no knowledge of everything else that has happened, one would surely perceive that absolutely nothing is wrong.

  Yet something is wrong.

  Her father is working in the study, so Milly is spending time doing childish things in the clearing. She has not shown any sign so far of being upset, of being in any way troubled, yet I am starting to think that she is simply putting on a brave face. Yes, that must be what is happening. My strong, brave little girl is refusing to cower in the fact of whatever evil she must surely sense. Even now, she appears to be nothing more than a happy little girl playing in the shadow of her family's home, yet I know the truth.

  I know there is more to the scene.

  I have spent the entire day observing Milly. She has not seen me, but I have seen her. At first I was surprised that I had not spotted any sign of the malevolent spirit, but now I understand that this must be part of its plan all along. It is simply very good at hiding, at covering its tracks, and I am sure that it laughs now as it sees my struggle. The absence of the spirit's face is the very thing that proves it is real, and now I know that I must be more careful. More cunning. More sly. I shall -

  Suddenly Milly turns and looks this way.

  I instinctively start to take a step back, but then I realize that I am too late. She has noticed me, and all her playing has come to an abrupt halt. Indeed, she appears frozen out there, as if the mere sight of me has stilled her soul. I had thought that I was sufficiently hidden by the shadows here, but I suppose she is just about able to make me out. I do not know what I should do or say, however, so I simply stare back at her until finally she turns and starts heading back into the house. After a moment she picks up her pace, shuffling with increasing pace until eventually she disappears through the back door.

  Perhaps she has gone to tell Jonathan that I was watching her.

  No matter.

  I promised to keep away from Milly, but I did not promise that I would not keep an eye on her. Jonathan can have no quarrel
with me on this matter, and he will thank me when I finally determine the nature of the entity that is hounding Milly.

  Once our family is back together and happy, I shall be utterly vindicated. And then I shall no longer have to watch Milly from afar in this manner, haunting her almost as if I am a ghost.

  IV

  “Milly?”

  Sitting up suddenly, I find that I am in bed. The room is dark, although a patch of moonlight is showing through the curtains. My heart is pounding, and when I reach up and touch the side of my neck I find that I am sweating. I must have been dreaming about Milly, about her being pursued through the forest by some kind of beast, but it was a dream that seemed so absolutely real.

  Even now, as I struggle to get my breath back, I can see the dream in my mind's eye. I can see Milly racing between the trees as something terrible bears down upon her. Something huge and dark and snarling, something hungry, something that finally pounces and lands on her back. Something that knocks her down and bites her as she screams, slicing its fangs into her shoulder and tearing through the muscle and bone. Something that will not stop until it has devoured her entirely.

  Finally the dream begins to fade, and I am left with none of the details and instead with only the barest of outlines. Milly was being pursued, and she was unable to outrun the entity. I think she was running toward the house, as if she was trying to get to safety, but the entity tore her down before she even had a chance. I can still hear the sound of jaws chomping through my daughter's flesh, and the sound of her scream becoming more of a desperate wail before finally fading to nothing.

  She died.

  I had a dream in which my dear, darling Milly died.

  Scrambling out of bed, I hurry to the chair by the window and slip into my dressing gown. When I reach the door, I pull it open a crack and step out onto the dark landing. I can hear Jonathan snoring in the adjacent bedroom, which I suppose is one reason to be glad that he is no longer willing for us to slumber together in the same room. He is clearly fast asleep, so I make my way cautiously along the corridor until I reach the door to Milly's room, at which point I peer inside and see to my relief that she too is asleep.

  She's fine.

  The dream, though horribly realistic, really was just a dream.

  A moment later, as if to prove that she is untroubled, she rolls over and I see her face. Her eyes are closed and she looked utterly content; indeed, she lets out a very faint murmur, as if to emphasize that she is indeed lost in a tranquil dream. Once again, I am struck by the fact that – despite everything she has been through – she seems to be holding up remarkably well. My brave little girl is stronger than I had ever realized. As I turn away to go back to my room, I cannot help but feel immensely proud.

  And then, suddenly, I hear a snarl.

  I freeze, convinced that I must have imagined the sound, but then it returns just a moment later.

  Another snarl, this time louder and a little longer than the first. Ragged, too, and filled with impatient anger.

  I hesitate, before stepping back and looking once more into Milly's room. The snarl seemed to come from somewhere in there, yet now everything appears to be fine. I look around, worried in case some form of wild beast might have entered, but there is nothing and – besides – the window is shut to protect Milly against the cold night air. There is simply nowhere for a beast to hide, so I tell myself that I must simply have allowed a fragment of a dream to drift through into my waking thoughts.

  Again I turn to walk away.

  And again, this time after just half a pace, I hear the snarl.

  I freeze, but now I know that this is more than a mere imagining. I turn back and look in at Milly, but she remains asleep and she appears to be blessedly undisturbed. Indeed, the room looks very peaceful, and my mind is somewhat returned to a state of ease. A moment later Milly rolls over again, this time settling on her back as she continues to doze happily.

  I turn away, and the snarl returns immediately.

  Glancing back, I fully expect this time to see nothing. Instead, however, I am confronted by the monstrous sight of something sitting hunched and curled on the bed with Milly. Indeed, there is something sitting directly upon her chest. I cannot make out the creature's face, but I can see a curved back with sections of a spine poking through beneath thin skin, and at the top of that spine I can just about make out the rear of a large, hairless head. My first reaction is to assume that I am wrong, to simply stare at the horrific sight, but then I see the back of the head twitch slightly, as if something has noticed my presence. And then, slowly, the head turns a little further until I see one side of a pale and gaunt face, with a moonlit eye staring directly at me.

  “No!” I shout, stumbling into the room and rushing over to the bed.

  Reaching down, I grab Milly's arm and pull her toward me, but the creature simply snarls again as it remains perched on her chest.

  “Leave her alone!” I scream, putting my arms around Milly's shoulders and forcing her up from the bed. She stirs and mumbles something, but I have no time to tell her what is happening. All I can do is gather her into my arms and raise her from the bed before turning and rushing her out of the room.

  I almost trip several times, but finally I make it out to the corridor, where I drop to my knees just as Milly starts crying loudly. Holding her tight even though she is trying to pull away, I start kissing the side of her face in a desperate attempt to make her feel better.

  “I have you!” I gasp. “Don't be scared! I have you!”

  Looking over my shoulder, I'm horrified to see that the hunched figure is still on the bed, still staring out at me from the darkness. It has made no attempt to follow us, yet it remains in full view, as if it no longer fears being seen. It does not scuttle away into the shadows, nor does it run to the window. Showing no fear whatsoever, it merely stays right where it is, watching from the bed as if it has finally decided to make its presence known. And then, slowly, it begins to climb down off the bed and crawl toward the door.

  “Mummy has you,” I whisper to Milly, leading her away as she continues to cry out and push against me. “It's okay, Mummy has you and you're safe now.”

  “What in the blazes is going on here?” Jonathan shouts, and I turn to see him hurrying along the corridor in his night-shirt. “Catherine, what are you doing? Let go of her at once!”

  “It's in there!” I sob, turning and looking once more at the creature, which in turn is still watching me. “Look, Jonathan, look! It's on her bed and it's absolutely horrid!”

  V

  I can hear her.

  Poor dear Milly is sobbing loudly in one of the upstairs rooms, and I can hear Jonathan pacing about. I have no idea what is happening up there; all I know is that my darling girl is in danger, and I'm not sure that Jonathan truly appreciates the threat. I saw the disbelief in his eyes, and I know full well that he still thinks that I'm becoming hysterical. Finally, filled with desperation, I turn and hurry toward the door at the far end of the library and I grab the handles, but of course the lock is still keeping me trapped in this room.

  “Jonathan!” I call out, shaking the door in its frame in a rather hopeless attempt to make him change his mind. “It's not safe for her to be up there!”

  I shake the door again, but then I hear Jonathan's footsteps once more. It sounds as if he's pacing around in Milly's room, which means that he perceives there to be no danger. He is a good father, and he would never keep Milly up there unless he felt absolutely certain that she's safe. This, in turn, means that he must have convinced himself that there was nothing at all on Milly's bed, nothing crawling across her floor. Is it possible that he was unable to see such a horrid, vivid thing?

  Even now, with tears in my eyes, I retain a strong imagine of the creature.

  Its face was pale, with little hair on its head. It had eyes that seemed to have sunk somehow into their sockets, although they still flicked and moved, and they were still able to look directly at me.
The rest of the body was deathly thin, with ribs practically poking through, while the limbs seemed agile and wiry. I cannot imagine that a dead body – after months of deterioration – could possibly look worse or less full of life. That thing that I saw on Milly's bed seemed to have crawled from the cracks of death.

  And it wasn't just in my head.

  How could I, a respectable woman, ever imagine something so terrible? It's inconceivable that a normal, decent mind could conjure up such horrors.

  Then again, how could such a creature exist in all of the Lord's creation? I cannot believe that such a monstrosity could possess even an ounce of holiness or godliness, in which case I do not understand how it can be real.

  Clearly there has been some kind of mistake, either in the Lord's world or in my mind. And I suppose that my mind is more likely than the Lord's creation to fracture. To twist. To produce monsters.

  Lost in such thoughts, it takes me a moment to realize that Jonathan's footsteps are now coming down the stairs. I instinctively take a step back as I hear him approaching the other side of the door, and then I step back again as I hear the key turning in the lock, and then I step back yet again as the door finally swings open and Jonathan – his face filled with fury and anger – storms into the room and marches straight toward me.

  “My darling,” I stammer, raising my right hand slightly, “how is our precious -”

  Before I can finish, he slaps me hard on the side of the face. Shocked, I half-turn, and then my legs give way beneath me and I crumple to the floor. Gasping in shock, I touch the spot where I was struck, and I feel the pain burning through my cheek. Finally I squeeze my eyes tight shut, and in that instant I realize that I deserve all of this and more. Jonathan has always been a strong and decent man. I must have been behaving badly indeed, to push him so far that he ended up striking me. Then again, of late he has seemed more free in that regard.