Something Wicked This Way Comes…
Something Wicked This Way Comes...
Note: This is the fourth part of the story “A beginner’s guide to summoning demons”
Links:
Part 1
A Beginner’s Guide to Summoning Demons
Part 2
A Practical guide on communicating with Angels
Part 3:
The Library in the Bookshelf.
The fight with Peter, all of it seemed like it happened days ago, even though only a few hours had passed.
Charlie
The walk back from the Library was uneventful, save running into the Security. It was a quick interaction, though; my mind was elsewhere. The fight with Peter, all of it seemed like it happened days ago, even though only a few hours had passed. The cold was unbearable now, yet I walked on almost mechanically. Hitler. The name resonated in my mind. Peter was anxiously floating beside me. His paleness was even more accentuated due to the dark. I felt a shiver down my spine. Perhaps I shouldn’t be running around in the dark with ghosts. I chided myself for the thought. Peter was my friend. My only friend. I didn’t have the luxury to think that Pete would betray me again. I couldn’t bear the thought. From what Peter said, Hope was waiting for us in the room. I stopped at the foot of the stairs; I didn’t want to keep up the fight with Peter. “Can we forget fighting? I am too tired for it.”, I said, turning towards Peter. I hoped he would hear the apology that I left unsaid. Peter nodded furiously. And we stepped into the room.
Hope was pacing the room. She stopped when she spotted us.
“Have you read from the forbidden books? Is that what took you so long?” Hope asks, her eyes never leaving my face. Something heavy settled into my chest. While I was in the Library, I had not thought of my actions’ consequences. I swallowed. “Yes, I had to.”, I tell her, not meeting her eyes.
“What have you done, Charlotte?” whispered Hope. ” I tried to help you, but you are beyond my help now. “, she sighs dejectedly.
“What does that mean? What is gonna happen now? “I asked her trying to keep the panic in my voice hidden. I glanced at Peter, who was absolutely still watching us with worry etched on his pale features.
“Please tell us,” Peter urges Hope.
Hope’s face twists with rage, her eyes are dancing with fire when she responds, “Now? Nothing will be the same I-
A loud knock on my door interrupted Hope. We all glance at each other, unsure of what was going on. Then I gather myself to answer the door, gripping the handle a little tight to steady myself. Hope was still in my room, I reminded myself. She could help me if something goes wrong. Silently I unlatch door the and open it an inch. Through that, I see our resident sports teacher Ms Nerza. Her face was caught between disbelief and sadness, I could see. As she sees me, she says, “Something terrible has happened here. I’d rather you come with me”, turns and walks away without waiting for my reply. Numbly I follow her. As I near the Headmaster’s room, I see almost all the teachers huddled in, some of them still trickling in. The buzz of noise in the room suggested a majority had no clue what was going on.
“Please”, says an unfamiliar voice from somewhere in the centre of the room. I craned my neck as I fell silent. “We are here from the Police Department on request of the School Security. Some time ago, the Headmaster, Mr Cademan, went missing. One of the security personnel found him dead in the Library”, he says. A sudden hush falls over the room. As I looked around, everyone seemed bewildered. Ms Nezra was silently sobbing into her handkerchief. She must have known beforehand. Once the room had settled once again, the voice continues, “The causes of death cannot, unfortunately, be discussed freely as we suspect foul play”. This is met with another stunned silence. I felt my eyes filling up without warning. I was not very close with anyone here, yet the Headmaster was a comforting presence in the institute. The Officer informed us that the students were to be moved from school for the next couple of weeks, parents to be informed tomorrow, etc. I was half-listening to this, but my mind was trying to make a connection with everything I knew and what had happened. It could not be a coincidence.
“Excuse me”, someone was tapping me on the shoulder. I looked up to see another tall Officer; her hair was in a tight bun, face grim. “Please follow me”, she said. Without telling me why I should, I slowly maneuvered my way to the door, following her. No one was paying me any attention. Every single teacher in the room was listening to what the other Officer was saying. Once outside, she turned to me, “Is there anywhere we can talk in private?” she asked, worry etched in her face. Warning bells go off in my head. So I point to my room in the distance, “We can go to my room”, I mutter. At least Hope will be there. As she follows me, I notice another Officer smoking by the steps; he turns at us as we near him, looks at me for a second then walks with us. My chest was hurting as though a heavy object was crushing me. My breathing was shallow now. Wordlessly I open the door to my room and walk-in. They follow me.
“The headmaster was found dead in the library”, the Officer whose name tag said Philip said. I look at him blankly. I knew this, of course. He looks at me for a few seconds before continuing, “When we checked the security footage, we saw you go into the library with a book in hand, just before Mr Cademen. What were you doing there?”. My heart stills. “I.. just.. went to the Library”, I stutter.
The other Officer, Susan, asks, “To see Mr Cademen?”.
My hands start to shake, so I stuff my hands in my pockets before answering.
“No. No, I didn’t see him there; I was reading. Check the security footage inside the Library. “
Philip regards me cooly,” Unfortunately all the cameras inside the Library were non-functional during your visit”.
This wasn’t happening. I could tell where they were going with this. My heart was hammering in my chest, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead; I unconsciously wiped them off.
“What happened to your hand?”, Susan asks indicating the blue-black splotch on my wrist where the bookshelf had crushed my hand. I hastily shove my hand back in my pocket, but the damage had been done. They glance at each other as though congratulating each other.
“My bookshelf fell on it”, I tell them steeling myself as I gestured at the bookshelf. I silently cursed; Peter had put my bookshelf back, not a single evidence to prove it had toppled over, almost killing me.
Philip takes a long look at the bookshelf. He turns to me, “I want to believe you, Miss D’Souza, but even you cannot be that strong to lift the wooden bookshelf off the ground and place it upright, not in this time interval. We saw the footage; you have just returned from the Library. Security personnel had spotted you on the way.”, he sighs. His face was that of resignation as though he knew I was lying, but he was tired of my lies.
“We require you to come with us for investigation. I suggest you comply. All the evidence suggests you went to the Library right before his death,” Susan tells me crisply. My knees start shaking, I am sure they will give away, and I will fall flat on the floor, yet I find my voice, “I didn’t do anything. Why are you doing this?”. I ask, ignoring the quiver in my voice. They glance at each other for a long moment, and then Philp nods. At this, Susan produces a handcuff and deftly cuffs me. Tears start forming in my eyes; there was no one to see this, not Hope, not Peter, not any of the teachers.
“I haven’t done anything. Please, you have to believe me.” I beg, hating my tears and hating my voice that sounds so weak. They don’t answer; instead, they shove me forward, the ground tilts beneath my feet. The floor is coming closer to me and closer. Closer.
One side of my face is cold. The distinct smell of sweat hits me. Twitching, I open my eyes; a tilted room is in sight, on one side hangs a mirror. I sit up and wince. My hands are cuffed to the table. I must be in the questioning room. The temperature is colder than I’d like, but my cardigan is helping a little. The chair seems to have one shorter leg; it constantly shifted under my weight. As I looked around, staring at the grey walls and the bare table in front of me, I shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold. The door burst open, and Susan and Philip came in.
“Are you in the talking mood now?” Philip growled.
I remained silent; I knew enough to know that this was a gross violation of the law, that this was not how things should proceed. I just had to hold on until someone figured I was missing. Maybe Peter or Hope will help me. I just had to hold on till then. I looked up defiantly at them, keeping my silence.
Philip seemed to take it personally, “All your colleagues are highly accomplished, is it not?” he asks, his tone polite. He lowers himself to the chair, opposing my chair. Flipping through a file with a polite smile, he goes on, “There are authors, musicians, an astronaut, a game developer billionaire, but you, you don’t seem to fit in. Silver Oaks doesn’t allow outsiders as teachers; all the teachers have been students there at some point or have huge accomplishments.” He looks at me, but what he left unsaid doesn’t escape me; I am nothing.
“You just finished your education and got the job?” Susan enquires matter of factly.
“I was offered the position by the Headmaster himself.”, I say, trying to even out my shallow breathing. The room starts vanishing from sight. The corners are black, and I cannot hear a single word that they were saying. Having a panic attack and collapsing was not going to get me anywhere. I tried to ground myself:
One: Something I can touch – My fingers gripped the cold metal table.
I took a deep breath.
Two: Something I can see- My eyes flicked to my reflection in the mirror. I looked unidentifiable.
Another breath.
Three: Something you can hear- I strained my ears; there was water dripping somewhere. It dripped on steadily.
Another deep breath.
Four: Something I can smell- The smell of sweat was overwhelming for me, but I focused on it.
My breathing was steadier; the room was coming back to my vision.
Five: Something I can taste- I licked my chapped lip and tasted blood, my blood.
I could hear the panic in Susan’s voice as she offered me water. Philip looked bored; it didn’t matter. I just had to hang on.
“A few of your colleagues were against you getting the job. Were you aware?” Philip asks me. I didn’t dignify that with an answer. Yes, I was bloody aware, wasn’t I? Those who hated me had no qualms showing their disgust for a commoner—even some students. Philip flips through the file again.
“As a student, you had applied to the institution but was rejected, correct?”
My head jerks back up, involuntarily, “How do you know that? ” I ask, unable to control myself.
“It’s our job to know.”, Philp primly replies. Susan looks like she doesn’t want this to continue. I guess I know who the boss is now. Slowly I turn my eyes to Philip; he seems like a terrible person. But I decided to answer the question anyway.
“I didn’t apply. My mom applied on my behalf. She always wanted me to go to the institute. But I never got in.”, my voice is barely a whisper.
“She passed away, didn’t she?” Philip asks casually, like asking me if it was raining out. My ears were ringing. I did not want to think about the accident. Unbidden, the image rises to my mind. I close my eyes and nod. When I open my eyes, I notice Susan was eyeing me with pity.
Philip flicks through the file again, “You are not married”, he looks at me, “do you have significant other?” he finishes.
“What does that have to do with anything?” my voice is tight.
He doesn’t respond; instead, he looks at me, his distaste clearly visible. Then he says, “Not that I am surprised if you look like that, you are likely to have seven cats rather than a man in your life”. His words somehow feel like blows. Susan’s face is awash with disgust, but she says nothing. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of making me feel small. I look up at him haughtily, “Are you the fashion police? I am almost scared you will teach me how to do a smokey eye next”. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Susan grinning at me, her eyes twinkling.
That shuts him up. Men like him are always scared of being associated with make-up. My thoughts inadvertently go to Peter, who would help me choose the cardigan for the day; we had a fun way of choosing clothes, subtly referring to the books we were reading. Peter and I get along just fine, mostly. Too bad he’s a ghost. Philip was eyeing me with distaste. I could feel his eyes lingering on my wavy, unkempt hair.
“Were you and the headmaster closer than any of your Colleagues?” he asks drily. He doesn’t say it, but I know what he’s asking. My heart stills; I can even hear my heart treacherously beating, threatening to spill all my secrets.
“Were you blackmailing the Headmaster?”, Philip asks his lips curving cruelly to form a smile. I look at the clock behind him, which was strange; it was orange, and I am relatively sure that the clock was not there before. I look back at Philip; his face had a criss-cross of black lines. I blinked, and it was gone, so was the clock. Susan and Philip continued to look at me. When it became clear to them that I would not say anything further, they glanced at each other. Without a word, Philip pulled out his phone and turned it towards me. In a Ziploc bag is Peter’s copy of Anne of the Green Gables. I must have left it behind in the other Library, so how did it get to the school Library? He swipes left, another Zipolac bag contains what looks like a diary.
“I am sure you recognize the first book; it’s yours, isn’t it?”, Philip asks searching my face. I merely nod. The other one was the Headmaster’s diary. I will read out the last entry. ‘I am scared; she will go to any length for this. I have already made so many mistakes. I will ask her to leave.'” Philip stops reading from his phone and looks at me. “Are you the person referred to?” he asks.
I cannot find my voice because behind Susan and Philip, I can see a giant bird; I am hallucinating. I know that, but it looks so real. Which was sending me down another spiral. What if Peter and Hope and Dave were my hallucinations? What if they were but a figment of my imagination? Even if they were not, how would I explain to the Police that I was merely going to a different Library with a demon and a ghost? The more I seemed to think about it, the more I realized how ridiculous I sound. The more I start to question everything that has happened.
“Your book was found in the Library”, Philip’s voice pulls me back to the present. I must have been staring at the wall behind them for quite some time. Susan looks disconcerted.
“Do you know how he was killed?” Philip asks me yet another question I can’t answer. I shake my head.
“He was crushed under a bookshelf. Head smashed in. Some other bookshelves collapsed on impact. The killer may have been injured in the process. Your hand has a matching injury which you claimed was from the bookshelf from your room, yet we saw no fallen bookshelf in your room.”, Philip drones on. I feel sick; there’s a pit at the bottom of my stomach. It feels like I am being dragged through the mud, and I realized it was not mud but blood. I can’t breathe. It doesn’t feel like air around me.
“Do you know what this means?” Philip asks, ignoring the panic in my face and shallow breathing. Tears form in my eyes, alarm or realize that I may not get out of this unscathed. Slowly as my breathing shallows out, I realize my face is wet. There seems to be some commotion outside. Someone opens the door to the room I am kept, and Susan leaves me alone with Philip.
That’s when I see it. Philip’s face turns the colour of blood, his eyes two slits, there were two horns on his forehead. I look at him for a second, then he grins at me, revealing bloodstained fangs. I scream and close my eyes tight. The demon is shaking me now, urging me to open my eyes. I don’t know why it bothers me. I am doing all the shaking on my own. Then I open my eyes a bit, but there was no demon. It was just Philip looking overly concerned. I blink, and he’s a demon. The air around him swirls turning black, and thick smoke seemed to be pouring into the room from the demon. I blink again. It’s just Philip.
This is not real; it’s just a bad dream. This is not real.
“Oh, it is real enough, alright. You don’t have much time now. I will leave you to it.”, Demon-Philip says. I blink. It’s still a demon. It grins at me.
“Why?” I ask faintly.
Demon– Philip looks at me, then he speaks his voice gravelly, “Because death and destruction will follow you around. This is kinder; this is the better option.”
The smoke is pouring into the room rapidly. I cannot see anything. As I breathe in the smoke, I realize it’s not smoke at all, it’s poison, and it’s killing me. The demon has vanished. I try to scream, but no voice comes out. I try not to breathe in the poison, my hands still cuffed. There’s not much I can do. Time slows down, and I lay on the desk. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is the thick black smoke closing in on me. Maybe this was death.
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