Beyond Darkness ( Episode 15 ) An uncertain future.

The woman sitting in the easy chair stared intently at the world outside her window; to a casual observer it would seem that she was captivated by something just beyond that glass. However, were a person to come and stand close enough to observe her eyes, then it would be plain to see her gaze was somewhere very far away from the scene outside her window. The blank stare in those eyes made him wonder if perhaps her vision had turned inward, either that or she had learned to see things beyond this mortal realm. Things that held her stranded in a twilight world, like a deer staring into the headlights of an on rushing car.

He always made a point of knocking loudly on the room door before entering; he would knock and call her name. This was more for his sake, than for the woman’s modesty, each day he carried out this ritual, he hoped it would be the day she answered him. But today was no different to all the previous days, the nurse had dressed her and put her sitting on the easy chair a tartan blanket wrapped about her legs. Sarah just sat there staring at something only she could see, and Kirby found a hopelessness growing inside him. He would sit here with the manikin like woman until feeding time, then the nurse would spoon feed her before preparing her for bed.

In the beginning he would carry on an endless monotone about trivial things, but it was as if she was alone in the room. Whatever Blum had done to her had left her locked inside her own mind, Cissy bird had been busy researching a way to break this spell Sarah was under, but so far she had not found a way to do this. In the meantime Sarah’s doctors appeared as puzzled as everyone else; all the while Sarah remained in a prison that was her own body. The cheerful young nurse arrived with a bowl of what looked like baby food; this was Kirby’s cue to leave, as he found it soul destroying to see Sarah dribbling food as the nurse fed her.

Kirby left the residential home and just drove without any real clue as to where he was going, all the while a loop played in his head of the scenes from the lighthouse on the night Blum died. It had been over six weeks since that night and there was no sign of any improvement in Sarah’s condition, and Kirby’s mind was tormented by the visions surrounding that event. But even though these unwanted visions were vivid, they made little or no sense.

Glimpses of an insect like monster that was moments before a man, and an old stooped woman suddenly becoming an angel like figure with a flaming sword, had begun to make Kirby believe that Sarah was not the only one that suffered a psychotic episode that night. He found himself once again staring into the shadows of his existence, something dark lurked there but it moved in places beyond his vision or understanding. He sometimes feared that perhaps his very sanity was what was in question; he only hoped the old adage was true. The one that said. “Only a sane man questions his own sanity.”

The past number of hours had become a blur and when he came out of his trance like state, Kirby found himself approaching a small town that looked vaguely familiar. This was becoming a disturbing habit of late, getting into the car and arriving somewhere with no recollection of the drive. It was rapidly becoming a source of amazement and consternation to him, just exactly how he had managed to avoid a car wreck so far. Kirby was alert to his surroundings now but apart from a vague feeling he had been here before, he had no idea where he actually was.

Kirby found himself driving through the small town with purpose, as if some part of him knew exactly where he was going. He found himself pulling in off the road on the far side of the town outside a small neat cottage; there he sat staring at the house until the seed of a memory began to take hold. It was not easy being a man whose memories played hide and seek with you at every corner, but suddenly this particular memory came flooding back. It was late at night when he had been here before, and he had brought a badly injured woman here.

Kirby felt guilty now, he had promised Geri he would check in on her to see how she was progressing. But that was quite a while ago now, and he had not kept his promise. The trouble was, that time seemed different to him; it was as if the recent past and the distant past were just vaguely remembered chapters from another person’s biography. Now that he found himself here, Kirby was at a loss as to what to do next. The last time he had stood on that particular door step, Geri’s grandmother left him in no doubt that she felt he was somehow responsible for her granddaughter’s injuries.

The light was beginning to fade now, and he knew that even if he was to turn and leave this moment, it would still be approaching daylight by the time he got back. Normally this would not bother him, but of late weariness had crept into him. It was not a natural tiredness that one might feel after a long day’s work. Instead it was something that affected him physically and spiritually, a deep set exhaustion of his very soul. This thought in itself surprised him because it was not a normal thought process for him; he never thought of spirituality in relation to himself. Kirby found himself with three options now, find someplace quiet to park up and sleep in the car, go back to town and try to find accommodation or the one he had been avoiding, get out and knock on the cottage door.

As sometimes happens in life, the choice was forced on him at the end. The cottage door opened, and the silhouette of a woman stood in the fading light staring in his direction. The outline of the woman’s figure told him it was not the grandmother, so unless someone else lived there, it was Geri. Kirby climbed out of the car and made a show of searching the back seat for his cane, he had become more dependent on this cane as time went on, but he was also waiting to see if the woman would close the door and go back inside.

When he turned to face the door she had stepped a little further into the shadows of the hallway, however the door still remained wide open. Kirby made his way slowly in her direction, as his mind searched for something to say when he got there. As it turned out, fate once again intervened, and the woman spoke first. “Hello Kirby, it’s been a long time, I thought that you had forgotten me.” Her voice was soft and she somehow sounded sad, Kirby again found himself feeling guilty about not coming sooner. Geri turned sideways in the hallway and gestured for him to come inside, her features were lost in shadow but he would recognise that figure anywhere.

The interior of the neat little house was filled with shadows as she walked ahead of him towards the sitting room, something about the way she was dressed felt peculiar to him. Geri led him to the sitting room it was almost dark in here now, Kirby took the armchair on one side of the fireplace and Geri sat opposite him. She leaned behind her and switched on the standing lamp behind her chair, it was then he figured out what had bothered him about her clothing. Her face remained in shadow but he had a clear view of the rest of her, she wore a plain black dress, black stockings and black paten shoes.

Geri must have sensed what he was thinking, and she cleared her throat a couple of times before she spoke. “Forgive me if I appear a little sombre Kirby, I really am glad to see you and today in particular. I have just returned from burying my grandmother, and I am glad I am not alone in the house this evening.” She lapsed into silence again, and Kirby searched frantically for something to say, but anything that came to mind sounded so trivial at a time like this. In the end he settled for a short sentence, “I am sorry to hear that Geri, are you alright.”

Now that those words were out, they too sounded petty and patronizing, Kirby was feeling more awkward by the moment now, and in desperation he took out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. His hand trembled slightly as he offered her the pack, he could not even remember if she had smoked the last time he was with her. Geri took the cigarette and he was relieved, but he was in for another shock when she leaned forward to accept a light. Kirby just about managed to stifle the gasp before it escaped his lips; the scars on her once beautiful face were vivid and angry looking.

The man that Kirby had killed had left her disfigured, but those scars somehow made her seem more attractive to him. This thought left him scolding himself, the woman had been through a terrible physical attack and now she had buried her grandmother, yet here he was eyeing her up as if they were on a date. “It is hideous is it not; he has left me a freak.” Her words were almost casual and lacked that bitterness that she was entitled to feel, they just sounded as if she had accepted her fate. “You are still one of the prettiest women I have ever met.” The words just came out of him without any fore thought, yet he felt no embarrassment for he knew immediately that they were true.

Geri smiled for the first time since she had showed her face, and the gesture gave him a warm feeling inside. Geri insisted on cooking supper for him and now that the initial awkwardness was out of the way she turned on more lights, it was as if his words had restored some confidence to the woman. After supper she brought out a bottle of whiskey and they sat at the fireside, Geri talked and he listened as they drank and it seemed the most natural thing he had experienced in a long time. Her grandmother had passed away after a short but devastating illness, and her passing had come as a relief to both herself and Geri in the end.

By the end of the night Kirby had to help her to bed in the backroom, she had already persuaded him to spend the night. Kirby returned to the sitting room and finished what was left in the whisky bottle, and as Geri had not shown him to the guest room he ended up sleeping on the couch. The following morning he was awoken by the smell of breakfast cooking, he wandered in to find Geri standing at the cooker in her dressing gown. Later at the kitchen table he was amazed to find that when he looked at her face he no longer saw the scars. He was right in what he had said the night before; she really was an extremely pretty girl.

Later that morning Kirby drove her to town, Geri wanted to tie up any loose ends with her grandmother’s estate. She had told him that she felt there was nothing left in this small town for her anymore, and that she intended to move on just as soon as she could sell up the cottage. Kirby dropped her outside the attorney’s office that was dealing with her grandmother’s estate; she told him she would catch a lift back to the cottage later. Geri got out of the car and hesitated on the sidewalk, and then she leaned back into the car and kissed him on the lips.

“Thank you for coming in my hour of need”. She was about to leave when he called her back, he wrote the office number on a piece of paper and shoved it to her hand. For the second time since he came here, Geri smiled as if she was genuinely happy. “Call me if you are looking for work or if you ever need anything”. Now it was his turn to smile when she answered. “Don’t worry Kirby now that I know how to contact you, I will definitely look you up.” Kirby sat watching her walk away and for the first time in a long time he felt he had made the right decision in coming here.

Kirby had been driving for a while when he felt the urge to stop and eat, a sign post advertising good home cooked meals caught his attention. He turned down the small side road and fifteen minutes later he came across the restaurant, it was on the main street of another small rural town. Kirby ordered the homemade burger and some French fries; he was quite surprised at how good the food really was, as he had not had much of an appetite of late.

Kirby stood on the narrow street outside and wandered where he could turn the car, rows of cars and pickup trucks lined either side of the narrow street. “You can drive straight through Mr; the road follows a loop that will bring you back to the main road”. The sudden voice startled Kirby and he turned to find a young boy standing beside him. “Just stay right after the fairground and you will be okay”. Before he could answer the boy was off and running down the street, in the direction he had pointed Kirby to take. Kirby stood there perplexed for a moment wondering how the boy knew what he was thinking, but then he got in the car and followed the child’s directions.

He had not driven more than a hundred yards when he found himself enveloped in crowds of people; it seemed the entire local community was walking in the same direction he was driving. Coming towards the edge of town Kirby gave up and pulled the car to the side of the road, he would have to wait a while until the crowd thinned out. The people continued to stream past the parked car in an almost trance like state, it was if the whole place was suffering from mass hysteria.

A loud knock on the side window almost made him jump, Kirby turned to find the same boy that had given him directions standing staring in the window at him. The boy had a strange smile on his face, he rolled down the window and the boy leaned in. “Come on Mr, you have got to see the fair, it is the best most magical fair that ever was.” Something about the boy’s expression disturbed Kirby on some level, he had this dreamy smile on his face and his eyes appeared vacant. Kirby glanced around at the other pedestrians and they all had the same look on their faces, an almost intoxicated look of bliss.

Kirby watched them file past and they looked like an army of zombies, except for the fact they all looked impossibly happy. When he looked back to where the boy had stood moments before he was gone, the peculiar thing about this was there was no sign of the child among the crowd ahead of him. Kirby found himself compelled now to get out of the car, he wanted to see what had attracted the town’s folk in such numbers. One moment he was in the car and the next he was being swept along with the crowd, but for the cane he would have been knocked over on more than one occasion.

Fifty yards further down the road the crowd suddenly veered left off the road, and Kirby found himself in the fairground field. The funny thing about it was, the crowd seemed to suddenly disappear; well at least it had diminished to the state where things looked far more normal. Here in the fairground it was like another place, the few people he could see appeared and disappeared into the various tents in a silent manner. Kirby began to feel as if this whole thing was a dream, being in this place had an abstract feel about it. He tried to speak to some of the people close by, but they hurried away from him.

Those that did not hurry away looked at him as if he was some sort of apparition, they would step backwards with a shocked expression. Everything about the situation was getting more bizarre by the moment, the bright sunshine disappeared and the sky took on the hue of a purple bruise. He suddenly found himself standing alone in the middle of the field; Kirby knew then that it must be a dream. Looking around now, all the fairground attractions bar one small tent had disappeared, it was then he heard the boy’s voice. “This way Mr, come quickly you are missing the best bit”. The child stood in the entrance of the small tent gesturing frantically.

By the time Kirby reached the tent the child had disappeared inside, Kirby lifted the canvas flap and stepped inside. The space inside was impossibly large, and seemed to cover an area many times the size of the outside of the tent. Everything inside here was elaborate beyond any fairground attraction he had ever heard of, ornate brass oil lamps hung from brass poles lining the walls of the tent. The floor of the space was covered in expensive looking Persian rugs; it reminded him of the illustrations from the tales of the Arabian nights. “Over here Mr, come over here”. The boy stood beside a table covered in a gold coloured cloth, and a chair on either side. Kirby was immediately reminded of his first meeting with Cissy Bird.

Kirby took one of the chairs and removed his fedora and placed it on the corner of the table, when he looked up the boy was gone and a woman sat opposite him. Her features were hidden behind a veil but Kirby had the feeling she was not old, why this thought came to mind he could not say, perhaps it was the fact that fairground fortune tellers were usually old gypsy women. He was convinced now that he was dreaming as his mind tried to make sense of the whole thing, perhaps his visit to Geri was also part of this dream.

“Hello Mr Kirby, I have been waiting a long time for us to meet. However this could only happen when it was time for the next part of your journey, your dealings with Mr Blum has taken you a step closer to learning the genesis of your existence. The lady from the light house walks a line now between this realm and another, the German has extracted her life essence. However all is not lost with her yet, but her survival depends greatly on you. You are so very young Mr Kirby, younger than you can realise. You were born of darkness James Michael Kirby, and in order to escape that darkness you will be asked to destroy it at every opportunity.”

The woman’s voice was having a strange hypnotic effect on him; he needed to ask her how she knew all this. But his mind could neither form the sentences nor his lips speak them, he was trapped in a world where his sole role was that of a listener. “The more you hunt down this darkness the more you will understand it, until one day you will know enough to save those closest to you, and in doing so, you might even save yourself.” The lights in the tent dimmed and when they rose again Kirby was alone with the boy. “Come on Mr, the reading is finished, it is time to go. The fair is moving on now, and if you do not go you will be taken with it.”

The shrill sound wormed its way into his mind, he tried desperately to ignore it but it was beginning to hurt his head. Kirby awoke to the sound of the ringing phone and the thump of the whisky glass hitting the floor boards as it fell from his limp grip, he was sitting behind the desk with his chair facing the window. It was dark outside and few stragglers leaving the cafes hurried away in the driving rain, his head was pounding and his mouth felt as if he had eaten saw dust. The continuous ringing of the phone felt like torture now, he swiveled his chair and knocked the empty whisky bottle from the desk in his effort to reach the phone.

The sound of the bottle hitting the floor boards only adding to his misery, he picked up the phone and said hello, but the word only came out as a croak. Clearing his throat he tried again and it sounded better this time, a burst of static on the line was closely followed by a woman’s voice. Whoever it was sounded nervous and just kept repeating his name, he tried desperately to identify the voice but his alcohol befuddled mind was not functioning yet. Eventually he managed to get a word out; even then it was only to confirm his name. A sigh of relief came down the line, followed by a silence broken only by the sound of her breathing.

“Oh! Thank god, Kirby I have been trying to reach you for the past couple of days, the phone has just been ringing out. I was terrified that you had an accident on the road after leaving me, I am glad you made it back safely. You had just dropped me off at the attorneys when the weather turned bad, it was the most sudden storm anyone here ever remembered”. She paused for breath now and Kirby’s mind kicked into overtime, so the visit to Geri had actually happened. But what of all that had taken place after that, had he arrived back and climbed straight into the whisky bottle, was his visit to the fairground a drunken dream.

“I know that it is late Kirby and I probably woke you, but I was worried about you and I wanted to share my news with you. The attorney believes he can make a quick sale on the house, that money and the sum grandmother kept in the bank should be enough to help me make a new start. Perhaps I will take you up on that offer of work sometime in the near future.” Kirby told her he would be delighted to help and the call ended on a high note, at least from Geri’s point of view it did. But Kirby was left pondering his lost day, and the visit to a supernatural fairground. He searched his jacket pocket and found his cigarettes; in his trouser pocket he found his lighter, and a fairground token for the fortune teller’s tent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beyond Darkness (Episode 14 ) A high price to pay.

The smell of musty paper was overwhelming in the small poorly lit space; everywhere a person would care to look wooden shelves were bowed under the weight of heavy tomes. Looking about him he could not even hazard a guess, how anyone could actually find a title they might be looking for. The tinkling of the little brass bell hung above the door, had so far failed miserably to alert the owner of a possible customer. Kirby had serious doubts as to whether the owner would even remember what a customer was, however he trusted Sarah and she had recommended he visit the owner of this so called book shop.

Apparently the person who owned this establishment was the foremost knowledge on books of a certain genre; she had come across this place through her dealings with that hunch back Philip Mares. The very thought of that creepy man send a cold shiver down Kirby’s spine, still there was no denying that Mares had extensive knowledge regarding esoteric and occult literature. This particular book shop had not appeared in the file dealing with Steven Blum’s missing book. But then again Sarah had reliable informed him that this particular establishment, had its own select and secretive clientele.

Kirby moved around the cluttered space browsing what was on offer; by and large it was a waste of time. The vast majority of titles were in languages that were alien to him; he stopped and traced his fingers over the ornate cover of one of the bigger tomes. The feel of the covering made him pull his hand away as if it had been burned, the material covering the old book felt like dead human skin. The sound of a high pitched chuckle somewhere behind him made him turn abruptly, Kirby could only imagine his expression at the sight of the woman standing there chuckling.

If ever there was a caricature of a witch, then the chuckling woman fitted the bill exactly. Had it not been for her affliction she would be extremely tall for a woman, but whatever was wrong with her spine had left her stooped over at the waste. She wore a scarf gypsy style on her head, from under which tufts of flame red hair poked out. Her nose was long thin and hooked at the end, her skin was like old parchment, but her eyes were sparkling with intelligence and a certain cunning that belied the rest of her appearance. In her right hand she held an elaborately carved blackthorn walking stick; it seemed that the stick was all that prevented her from falling over.

Kirby was so taken aback by her appearance that he now found himself standing staring open mouthed at the old woman. This appeared to cause the woman to cackle even louder; Kirby could feel the heat in his face as he began to blush. As abruptly as her curious laughter had begun it suddenly stopped, her expression became sullen as she stared at him with those piercing eyes. “Welcome Mr Kirby, I have been expecting you”. This caused even more confusion in him, and the woman cackled loudly again. “Relax Mr Kirby; I did not see your arrival in my crystal ball. Your lady friend Ms Joyce has been in contact to let me know of your visit.”

The old woman moved with an awkward gait as she led him through a set of beaded curtains to a backroom, the room was enormous in comparison to the shop outside. Here everything seemed to be well organized in stark contrast to the shop, the bookshelves here were without dust and the volumes that lined them were wrapped in white tissue paper. Kirby immediately got the impression this room was where she did her real business from, a small round table covered with a dark red velvet cloth with a lamp in the centre stood in the middle of the room, a chair on either side of it.

It was to the table she gestured and Kirby took one of the chairs, the woman turned off the main lighting before joining him. The room was windowless and now the only light source was the small table lamp, sitting opposite the woman at the table with the low wattage lamp between them, Kirby was put in mind of a fairground fortune teller’s tent. But the look on the woman’s face told him she was not taking their meeting frivolously; those dark eyes of hers appeared to looking straight into his soul. The woman broke the silence to introduce herself, her name was Cissy Bird and she referred to herself as a procurer and seller of rare books.

Kirby filled the woman in on the reason of his visit and produced the Polaroid of the missing book. Cissy’s talon like fingers brushed his hand as she took the photograph; a strange tingling sensation immediately spread from the area of her touch and ran up his arm. Kirby realised now that there was much more to Cissy Bird than her appearance gave away, perhaps her witch like appearance was not the only unusual thing about the book seller. The old woman held the photograph directly beneath the lamp shade, and studied it for what seemed a very long time.

Eventually she made a strange noise at the back of her throat and passed the photograph back to him, when their eyes met he noticed hers were filled with anger. “Why did you come here to lie to me Mr Kirby, did you really believe that I am just a foolish old woman. That book is missing alright and has been for the past five hundred odd years, are you trying to make a fool of me.” The old woman’s words were spat out and filled with anger, Kirby was left speechless. He now had no choice but to tell her the full story including the name of the person seeking the return of the book.

Cissy Bird sat in silence long after Kirby had finished speaking, he could tell by her expression she was deciding whether to believe him or not. Then without a word she rose from the chair, and moved with her awkward gait into the shadows at the far end of the room. Moments later she returned carrying a book and magnifying glass, Kirby watched in silence as she leafed through the pages examining photographs. Until she finally found what she was looking for, then she slid the book across to him and handed him the magnifying glass.

“Do you recognise anyone in that photograph Mr Kirby” Her talon like index finger tapped on the page, it was a photograph of a group of smiling army officers. They were dressed in black uniforms with the deaths head emblems on the lapels, when Kirby looked at it through the magnifying glass he immediately recognized the man in the center of the back row. All be it a younger version of the man, there was no mistaking the smiling face of Steven Blum. When he told her this she did not seem surprised, in fact she nodded as if she already knew.

“That book is a very rare and powerful Grimoire; the last recorded whereabouts of this book was in a monastery in northern Italy. The monastery was looted during World War 2 and the book was supposedly taken or destroyed by SS troops, the man in the picture you know as Steven Blum was an SS officer during that campaign and he is an extremely accomplished practician of black magic. His actual name is Stephan Bohm and let me assure you Mr Kirby he is an extremely dangerous man, he will kill to recover that book and he will also kill anyone that knows of his interest in that book.”

Kirby began to understand now the reason behind Sims reluctance to have any more to do with Steven Blum, and he also knew the reason behind the mysterious deaths of the book dealers on his list. Anyone with any knowledge of that book, and Steven Blum would end up dead, even if the book was returned to Blum. The only thing keeping both Sarah and himself alive now, was the fact that Blum was hoping they would help him locate the book. However if or when they did, they would become dispensable also. Steven Blum had somehow known that they would end up taking over where Sims had left off.

Cissy Bird walked him to the door of her shop but stopped inside the building, Kirby stood on the pavement outside while the old woman stared at him. Eventually she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “The man you are dealing with is very dangerous on more levels than you will ever understand, as is that accursed book he seeks. I will reach out to people that may have an idea about the whereabouts of this book, but be warned Mr Kirby the world will be a much safer place when both the German and that book are removed from circulation.”

Cissy was about to shut the door when on instinct Kirby told her to be careful, he felt that coming here he had put her in danger. The old woman cackled softly to herself, before answering. “Mr Kirby I have been around long enough to learn how to protect myself in these situations, however I am afraid I cannot say the same for you and Ms Joyce. Until you rid yourself of the German, you will never be safe again.” Kirby stood stunned at her parting words as she closed the door behind her.

Kirby entered the office to the sound of the ringing phone, he found himself standing in the doorway staring at the black Bakelite phone and wishing it to stop ringing. However the person on the other end was persistent, and in the end he forced himself to pick up the receiver. The sound of the person breathing on the other end of the phone was strangely disturbing, and he knew instinctively even before the man spoke who it was. “Did the old witch have any information regarding the whereabouts of my book?” The accented voice whispered.

It was obvious to Kirby now that Sims feeling of being followed, and spied on were not entirely paranoia on his behalf. Blum should not have known about Kirby’s trip to see Cissy Bird, yet he had just left her and here was Blum inquiring about their meeting. His first instinct was to play dumb, but deep down he knew this would be a dangerous path to take with the German. Instead Kirby opted to tell him out the truth, that the old woman had promised to make some inquiries on his behalf.

The silence on the phone after Kirby spoke seemed to drag on forever, he felt as if he was being examined under a microscope. Being on the phone to this man was a strange experience; it was as if the German could see his every expression. “I do hope for everyone’s sake that the old woman is being truthful, I am beginning to grow tired of all of this. I want that book back, and since you are now the operator of the business that took the contract to retrieve it. I am holding you responsible to fulfill that contract.” There was absolutely no doubting the implied threat in those words, and the line went dead before Kirby could reply.

The next few days were spent with Kirby trying to track down the remaining two names on Sims list, but it was as if they had just up and vanished off of the face of the earth. Not that Kirby could blame them; he had learned that the rest of the people on that list were all deceased since. To a person they had all met their demise through some type of accident or other, natural causes was conspicuously absent from the death certificates of these people. Kirby found himself getting more and more jumpy by the day, he had a constant feeling of being watched and followed.

Sarah had left for Safe Harbor the day he went to see Cissy Bird, as there was a number of properties still outstanding on her books that needed dealing with. Kirby was glad she was away from here and this case; he had a feeling things were going to end badly with Blum. A heavy sense of foreboding was beginning to weigh him down; Kirby knew that this whole thing would end in bloodshed. All he hoped for now was that Sarah would not be one of the casualties of this thing, as for himself he did not really care.

The voice on the phone appeared nothing like the person that it belonged to, it sounded youthful and vibrant, a million miles away from what Cissy Bird looked like. Kirby was totally thrown by this, a fact that Cissy found humorous and she cackled long and loudly. Kirby found himself having to suppress his own laughter as he waited for her to finish, eventually she stopped and drew a deep breath. What she had to tell him suddenly made him sit up and pay attention, Kirby grabbed a pen ad scribbled down the address he was to meet her at.

Kirby pulled up beside the vintage Bentley saloon, the interior of the big car was in darkness and it was hard to tell if it was occupied. Outside the street was deserted and the falling rain made the yellow street lights look blurry, he looked at his watch it was still only twenty after eight in the evening, yet the street outside was deathly quiet. Cissy had told him to be at this address by eight thirty, so he settled back to await her arrival. Looking around him now Kirby noticed for the first time that he was parked outside a church, the lights were still on inside the building.

Bang on eight thirty an enormous man climbed out of the driver’s door of the 1928 Bentley, Kirby watched as he opened an umbrella before opening the rear door for his passenger. Cissy Bird climbed awkwardly out of the rear of the car, it annoyed Kirby that she had let him wait here without revealing herself until now. The big man escorted Cissy over to Kirby’s car, all the while holding the umbrella over her. Cissy beckoned with her finger for him to get out and follow her, Kirby reluctantly followed her up the steps of the church.

As they reached the door the lights inside the building began to be extinguished, the place was in darkness when they entered save for an oasis of light by the altar. The man in the clerical garb looked around startled by the sound of their approach, for a moment the frightened expression on the priests face made Kirby think he was going to flee. But to his credit the old man stood his ground in the face of the three unusual intruders. “We are closing for the night, go away and return at nine A.M. that is when we open again.”

The man had a brogue so thick you could cut it with a knife, yet his voice trembled with fear. The religious uniform he wore could not hide the fact, that he was feeble frightened old man. “Take it easy father we are here to relieve you of a burden, we mean you no harm. However, that which you have been hiding for so long. Can only bring harm to you in the long run.” Cissy’s words were cajoling and no louder than a whisper, yet they had a strange effect on the old priest. It suddenly looked as if whatever fight he had left in him disappeared, and he slowly crumbled until he was sitting on the steps of the altar.

“You have come for that accursed book; I have always known it was only a matter of time before someone came here to look for it. Even the people who stole it could not wait to be rid of it in the end; I found it in the porch one morning with a note telling me it was pure evil. I must make sure it is hidden away for all time, the note said. Yet I curse the day I ever set eyes on it, everything in the parish has gone to hell since that book showed up.” The old priest put his head in his hands and lapsed into silence, he stayed like that for a long while before Cissy persuaded him to take them to the book.

The old priest’s hands shook so badly he could not put the key in the lock, in the end Kirby took the key from him and opened the safe. When the light shone into the safe and illuminated the book, the old priest blessed himself and shuffled backwards. Kirby reached for the book only to have his wrist caught in a vice like grip, Cissy’s giant companion pulled Kirby’s hand back. Then Cissy took what looked like a piece of sack cloth from her purse, the sack cloth was covered in hand painted symbols and she wrapped it around the book. Only then would she remove it from the safe.

She explained later that to touch the book with your bare hands was to invite corruption into your very soul. Kirby drove to the office and Cissy and her driver followed in the Bentley, when they got there she followed him upstairs while her driver waited in the car with the book. Cissy accepted the glass of whiskey from Kirby; she raised it to her nose and inhaled the fragrance. Yet she left it back on the desk untouched, Kirby waited for her to speak because in truth, now that they had the book he was clueless what to do next. As if reading his mind, Cissy cackled softly and once again sniffed the whiskey. “Now we wait Mr Kirby, he will soon know we have it.”

Kirby was on his second glass of whiskey when the phone rang, he looked at Cissy and she had her eyes closed as if dosing. The old woman opened her eyes and stared at the phone, and then she nodded silently for Kirby to pick up. The conversion was one sided and brief, and it left Kirby stone cold. “I am glad you kept your side of the bargain Mr Kirby, now bring me my book and we will finish the transaction. Bring it to the light house in Safe Harbor without delay, your friend Ms Joyce is really anxious to see you”. Kirby held the receiver in his hand long after the line went dead.

Cissy Bird sat in the passenger’s seat beside him, the cloth wrapped book in her lap. She had insisted that she go with him, even though both her driver and Kirby pleaded with her to remain here. The journey was made in silence, even though Kirby had to admit that he gained a certain strength from the old woman accompanying him. Kirby was not sure how this was going to pan out, but he knew for certain that either he or the German would die this night. He only hoped that Sarah or the old woman would not perish also, beside him the old woman crooned away to herself as they approached Safe Harbour.

The lighthouse was in total darkness as they approached, the moment they had entered Safe Harbor a storm had blown if from the Atlantic to meet them. Intermittent flashes of lightning silhouette the lighthouse against the raging sea in the background, for the first time Kirby realized just how isolated Sarah was out here on the small peninsula. The place looked deserted when they pulled into the courtyard; he began to wonder whether the German had led them on a wild goose chase. But then again this would have made no sense, especially as his main priority was the return of that book.

The front door seemed to open of its own violation as they approached; Kirby took a sideways glance at the old woman. Whether it was the strange illumination of the lightning that was almost continuous now, or the fact that he was nervous and his eyes were playing tricks on him. But something about the old woman looked different, she seemed much less stooped and her movements were far more fluid. Before he could think any more about this, Cissy moved ahead of him and through the open door without hesitation.

Kirby followed her inside just in time for a major lightning event to illuminate the room as if it were day light; Sarah sat staring straight ahead of her in the wing backed armchair. Something about her posture and expression did no look right, the sound of someone clicking their fingers echoed in the silent room and the standing lamps came on. Steven Blum sat in the chair directly opposite Sarah, a creepy smile played about his thin lips but his eyes stared at the book in Cissy’s hand. There was an intense hunger in those eyes, and once again Kirby was reminded of the fact that all this would not end well.

Cissy’s eyes darted between the silent Sarah and Blum; there was an intense look in those eyes that Kirby immediately recognized as red hot anger. “What have you done to her Stephan, if you have harmed her, it will cost you dearly?” Kirby watched the interaction between them, as he felt for the handle of the switch blade in his coat pocket. Blum laughed softly to himself and Kirby felt the woman by his side tense, Cissy moved forward her blackthorn stick in one hand and the book outstretched in the other. Kirby watched her and was shocked at what he saw, this woman bore little or no resemblance to the stooped old woman he has first met.

What happened next, Kirby would never really call to mind even in the days following the event, Blum gestured with his hand and the shadows in the periphery of the room came to life, shapeless things descended on them. A maelstrom of wind ripped through the room and knocked Kirby clear of his feet, dark spectral figures swamped him until he felt he would suffocate. He was losing conscious now and he felt himself being drawn into a terrifying darkness, the likes of which he would never had imagined in his most tormented times. The sound of Cissy’s raised voice was all that saved him; her voice was stronger than he could believe and the words were in a strange language.

Kirby felt the oppressive shadow entities hesitate as Cissy’s words reached a crescendo that drowned out the noise of the swirling wind, gathering every ounce of resolve he could muster he gained his feet. The sight that met his eyes shocked him to the very core; both Blum and Cissy were engaged in battle in the center of the room. He knew it was them but both of them had metamorphosed into creatures not of this world, Blum had taken on a shape vaguely representing a human sized praying mantis. While the old woman was gone to be replaced by a tall figure reminiscent of an angel from a child’s bible, he blackthorn stick was now a flaming sword.

The mantis Blum snapped at Cissy’s throat with those lethal jaws, Kirby thought this was surely her end. While all the while the wind carried shadow creatures around and around the combatants, the shadow creatures wailed now with an ear piercing voice. The high pitched wails burrowed into his head until he felt his head would split; Kirby fell to his knees clamping his hands over his ears. Cissy’s flaming sword arched through the air in a blur of speed, striking the Blum creature in the throat. Kirby watched in horror as the things head severed and arched through the air only to land just feet from where he knelt.

An eerie silence descended immediately and Kirby stared in shock at Blum’s head on the floor before him, those vacant eyes stared back accusingly at him. A shuffling sound made him look up, and the old stooped woman came into view. Her awkward gait was a far cry from the creature he had watched slay Blum only moments before. “Go to Sarah she needs you, it will be a while before she is herself again.” As she finished speaking the huge figure of her driver entered the room, he picked up the severed head and the body of Blum as if they were feathers. Cissy followed him outside still carrying the book, moments later the sound of the old Bentley disappeared into the night.

The next couple of weeks saw Kirby spend most of his time in a bedside vigil, Sarah had not spoken a single word since that night in the lighthouse. Cissy Bird had managed to get a place in an exclusive rest home for Sarah, the doctor that attended her could not say for certain what was causing the catatonic state that had a grip on Sarah. All he could tell Kirby was that Sarah had experienced a massive traumatic experience; her mind had basically shut down as a coping mechanism. It would be all a waiting game now, in the end Kirby decided that he needed to go back to work. Whether Sarah would ever return to normal now, was totally beyond his control.

 

Beyond Darkness ( Episode 13 ) The case of the missing book.

The howling wind and biting rain rocked him backwards on his feet, and the wind moving through the crevices of the cliff face made a mournful wailing sound. The sound fitted well with his mood, a heavy melancholy had settled over him of late. What sleep he was getting was fitful and filled with terrifying dreams, which vanished from memory the moment he opened his eyes. Far out at sea the lights of a passing freighter, blinked in and out of view as the ship rose on the waves only to fall into a trough when the wave passed.

The lone vessel on the dark and raging sea, could never match the feeling of isolation that weighed him down. At least the crew of that ship faced the dangers together, while Kirby stood totally alone on the cliff top. Sarah had called around a number of times over the past few days, but he could not bring himself to answer the door. The guilt of this only serving to add to the malaise he could not shake. Even his ghostly companion must have sensed his mood, for he had not caught a glimpse of her in quite a while now.

Kirby had tried hard to get a handle on this melancholy or at least the origins of it, only to find his thoughts running around in circles. This was the reason he found himself at the bottom of the cottage garden at 3 a.m. in a raging storm, something about the North Atlantic storms had a soothing effect on him. The tempest surrounding him seemed to cocoon him from a world he increasingly felt alienated from. That thought was the catalyst, and a fledgling understanding began to take hold in his head.

The melancholy had been fuelled by two things, his increasing feeling of not belonging in this world and his total lack of understanding as to how he had come to be here. When he looked back at the man named Jim Kiely, he saw someone he did not recognize. It was like seeing a stranger whose features were strangely familiar, yet you knew instinctively that it was someone that would always be a stranger. Kirby made up his mind there and then that all that had gone before had to be banished from his mind, and he now had to create a new life or at least a new existence for himself.

But he also understood that in order to do this, he needed to understand the genesis of the person he had become, something dark had given birth to the man called Kirby and he needed to know what it was. However until then he needed to find something to occupy his days, the longer he remained idle the more isolated he was becoming. Kirby realized that his story would only really unfold with the passage of time, what he needed now was to get back working.

The mournful sighing of the wind followed him inside; the cottage seemed strangely deserted since the blonde girl’s recent absence. The irony of this did not escape him, he had purposely avoided answering the door to a woman who wanted to be his friend, and yet he mourned the absence of a ghostly child. Kirby filled a tumbler of whiskey and sat by the now extinguished fire, over the next few hours tried to make sense of his part in this world. Eventually the amber liquid worked its magic, and somewhere near dawn he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Kirby woke to the smell of brewing coffee, the stove had been relight and the chill of the previous night was replaced by a warm glow. It took him a while to piece together the previous day, now that he thought about it the previous numbers of days were more or less a blur. It was only now he realized that he had been trying to drown the melancholy in a sea of whiskey, the copious quantities of liquor only serving to drawn him deeper into the pit of despair.

Sarah waltzed into the room with a steaming mug of coffee; she left it beside him along with a couple of paracetamol. “You really should remember to close the backdoor before going asleep Kirby, especially when you have been so intent on avoiding company these days”. The thinly veiled rebuke of his recent behavior was not lost on him, but he certainly could not blame her. As if reading his recent thoughts, she told him to drink up the coffee and jump in the shower; she wanted him to meet someone that might have some work for him. Kirby never ceased to be amazed at her intuition, although with Sarah he felt it was a lot more than just intuition.

The day turned out to be one of those bright and cheerful days that sometimes followed a stormy night, Sarah seemed to be in high spirits as she sang along to the eight track blues tape. She had been fairly tight-lipped regarding who they were going to see, other than the fact that he was someone who had done some investigative  work for her, when she was trying to locate her missing daughter. They had since become friends, the man ran his business from an office in New haven.

The office was located on a leafy street surrounded by sidewalk cafes; the whole area had an old world ambience about it. It was a far cry from the office he had briefly operated from in China town, the office that now laid in ruins after the attempt on his life. The door leading to the office was sandwiched between a Jewellery store and a pub restaurant, the brass plaque declared it to be the offices of Christopher Sims investigations. Sarah pushed the bell and moments later a buzzer sounded to alert them the door had been unlocked.

The narrow hall led to a staircase leading to the first floor of the building, at the top of the stairs they were greeted by another door with the word reception on the frosted glass. The reception area had a large old fashioned desk and a couple of armchairs in the waiting area. Kirby took in the thin layer of dust covering the desk; it was obvious to him that it had been quite a while since that desk was manned. The whole place had a feeling of decline about it, the door to the left of the desk suddenly opened and an elderly man appeared.

Christopher Sims could have been anywhere between his late sixties to mid-seventies, nothing about the small thin man would have hinted at his profession. Actually if he had been introduced as a retired professor from the local Ivy League college, Kirby would not have questioned it. The clothes he wore were old fashioned, and it seemed as if he had dressed himself in a hurry and in pitch darkness at that. The plaid shirt had not been properly buttoned, the tie was badly knotted, and the collar of his shirt had not been turned down correctly. It reminded Kirby of a child’s first attempt to dress themselves.

Sarah hurried across and threw her arms around the man’s thin shoulders; she had to stoop to kiss him on the cheek. The man looked genuinely happy to see her and ushered them both into his office, the office itself showed even more signs that it had ceased operating as a legitimate business quite a while ago. The situation was beginning to feel stranger by the minute to Kirby, something about the small man was not quite right.

Kirby sat holding the delicate little sherry glass and hoping it would not shatter in his awkward grip, the whole situation had a surreal feeling about it. Sims nattered away to Sarah about seemingly totally irrelevant things, and Kirby started to get the impression the man had no real clue as to the reason for their visit. But to Sarah’s credit she managed to steer the conversation around to the reason they had come here, Sims fell silent and appeared to be trolling his mind for something relevant.

After a few moments of silence, it was as if a light had suddenly gone on in the dark recesses of the man’s mind. “Ah! Yes my dear, please forgive my waffling. Our conversation on the phone seemed to have momentarily slipped my mind, of course now I have it. This is the gentleman that is going to take over my business while I look after Margret; poor thing has been really unwell of late”. He turned now to Kirby and offered his hand; it was as if he had just now discovered they were not alone in the office.

Now that he had a grip on what was going on, Christopher Sims became more coherent by the minute. It seemed that Kirby’s first impression of the man had been bang on the money, he had been a professor for a number of years prior to opening this business. He had specialized in Anthropology and Religions, and had wandered into this work almost by accident. It had all started when one of his students had disappeared, however the once great mind was now beginning to fail him.

“I have taken the liberty of drawing up a little contract between us, however I am afraid it will be rather open ended as I am not quite sure how Margret’s recovery will progress”. Sims delved into the top drawer of the antique desk and pushed some papers in Kirby’s direction. Before he even had a chance to read them Sarah grabbed them and put them in her purse, smiling at Sims she told him that Kirby would sign them later, and she would drop them back. Christopher Sims seemed pleased with this and nodded his satisfaction.

Kirby watched in disbelief as Sarah accompanied Christopher Sims to the door of the retirement home, on the drive from his office the man had lapsed into complete silence. An employee of the facility came to the front door and Sarah handed over her companion, the small man had seemed to shrink even further into himself now. Christopher meekly accompanied the employee inside now, all memory of Sarah and Kirby seemingly to slip from his mind.

Sarah stood for quite a while staring after the man as he was led inside, that wistful look on her face, told Kirby everything was far from good with Christopher Sims. On her return to the car he thought he detected the moisture of tears in her eyes, she was on her second cigarette before she spoke. He was not surprised to hear that Sims was suffering from dementia and that his beloved Margret had passed away a few years previous to this. But what was a source of confusion to Kirby, was the reason behind their visit here in the first place.

Sarah easily read his confusion and finally explained everything to him; it was not exactly what Kirby had been expecting. Christopher Sims had been the go to source regarding ritual murders and ritual abuse; because of his background in Anthropology he was extremely knowledgeable in obscure religious practices. When he retired from his academic life he opened the agency, specializing in some of the stranger cases. When Margret passed away from a long illness he found himself under financial pressure, then his own health went downhill and he now needed institutional care. To cut a long story short Sarah had stepped in and bought the business including the office.

Sarah lapsed into silence again to give him time to digest the story she had just told him, when she spoke again the puzzle suddenly came together. “I have grown extremely bored with the real estate trade Kirby, and like you I need something new in my life. I suppose what I am trying to say here is, will you be my partner in the investigations business?” The person most surprised when he agreed, was Kirby himself, but he knew that with this offer she had thrown him a lifeline.

The details had all been worked out by Sarah; it was obvious to him now that this was not a spur of the moment idea with her. On the floor above the office was a small apartment, Kirby was to live here when he was working. Sarah herself had been left a townhouse in the city by a maternal grandaunt; she would stay there during the working week. Everything was ready and now all it needed was them to get up and running, they would return on the following Monday and Sims investigations would be back in business.

Sarah was busy dusting and cleaning, she had rearranged the office twice in the past hour. Kirby was getting dizzy just watching her, so he went into the back room where Sims kept his filling cabinets. The top drawer of the filing cabinet had been left open; the files were covered in dust. By the look of the files they hand not been taken out in quite a while, Kirby was about to close the drawer and go back outside when he felt her presence. The spectral figure of the little blonde girl stood on her tippy toes, her ghostly fingers played across one of the files without disturbing its covering of white dust.

Kirby watched her in dismay, she had been absent for a while now, yet here she was miles from the cottage. Her pale fingers were grasping the file now, but it was as if she lacked the strength to take it from the drawer. She suddenly turned to face him with a pleading look on her face; Kirby reached in and took the dust covered file from her grip. The initials on the tag were S. B. and it was dated from four years back, this was around the time Christopher Sims world began to unravel. Kirby wiped the dust off with his handkerchief, and carried it to the outer office.

He was just in time to catch Sarah’s comment about nipping out to meet an old friend, before he could reply she was out the door and down the stairs. At least there was peace and quiet in the office now, he took the file to the desk and switched on the bankers lamp. The grey skies outside brought a promise of rain and the office had become dark. It was as if the gods were setting the scene for a drama to unfold, the girl appeared again at his side staring intently at the file on the desk before him.

Kirby had a strange urge to return the file to where he taken it from, an unusual atmosphere had slowly crept into the space they occupied. As if on cue a clap of thunder echoed in the street outside the moment he opened the cover of the file, a wind suddenly appeared out of nowhere and torrents of rain battered the window pane. As he began to read the office became as dark as night, it was as if the small oasis of light projected by the desk lamp was all that stood between him and the darkest abyss.

The initials on the tag referred to Steven Blum, the man had approached Christopher Sims to engage his services, with regard to locating a certain valuable book that had been taken from his possession. Bum had escaped Europe towards the end of World War 2, bringing with him a collection of rare esoteric manuscripts. A burglary at his house had resulted in a number of these books being stolen, however Blum appeared to only be interested in the return of one particular book.

The fact that Sims had been a professor of Anthropology appeared to have been the catalyst for Blum choosing him to investigate the disappearance, and current whereabouts of this book. A Polaroid photograph of the book had been placed in the file; it looked to be a small and ancient volume. The cover of the book appeared to be made from so kind of leather or hide, there was no title on the cover, only a strange esoteric symbol. Nothing about this case seemed unusual or important, yet his ghostly companion had shown great interest in this particular file.

A list of rare book dealers was included in the file, all but two of these had a line drawn through them, and the remaining two had a question mark next to the name and address. Sims had obviously been methodically searching possible outlets for this rare book, but it seemed he had been unsuccessful. The remaining sheets in the file were what Kirby believed to be in Sims own handwriting, this is where things became strange.

The writing on the sheets of paper took an almost diary like format, the old investigator had taken to recording random thoughts on the case. Sims thoughts on this case made Kirby wonder if perhaps the dementia was beginning to take hold of him at this time, the notes he had taken were by and large cryptic and random.

At some stage during the investigation Sims appeared to have doubts about Steven Blum, or at least he began to feel that there was more to this than just the monetary value of the book. The notes began to grow stranger after this, a number of the book dealers appeared to have died in strange circumstances shortly after talking to Sims. While Sims became convinced that his every move was being watched, on a number of occasions he had recorded that he was followed. The notes concluded with a statement that had been scribbled in a heavy hand, and circled in red pen, it read. “Steven Blum is not who he says he is, there is evil involved here. Return his deposit and stop taking his calls”

It was a mystery to Kirby, who this last entry was for, was it a reminder to Sims himself or was it instructions for whoever worked with him? Either way the unusual case had garnered his attention now, he made a note in his book of Steven Blum’s number he intended to ring him the following morning. The ghostly figure watched him write, and her expression was fathomless. However Kirby was in no doubt whatsoever that she had drawn his attention to this file for a reason. He turned to gaze out the window at the storm, and when he turned back she was no longer there.

The accented voice at the end of the line had a strange effect on him; Steven Blum had answered the phone with a curt “Yes”. But even that single word put Kirby on the defensive straight away, for some unknown reason he felt as if Blum had been expecting him to call. The silence on the line made him realize he had not utter a word himself, since the connection was made. Kirby felt stupid now as his mind went completely blank, for an instant he felt like just hanging up.

“Can I help you with something” The question from Blum sounded as if he was ridiculing Kirby, and he now felt angry at a man he had never even met. Eventually Kirby found his voice and said something nonsensical about coming across Blum’s name in a file, he was sorry now that he had ever made this call. “Would that file have been in the possession of Christopher Sims investigations by any chance?”

Blum’s voice sounded smug now, and the anger inside Kirby grew. Without waiting for a reply Blum gave him an address and asked him to call around the following day, Kirby foolish agreed and the man ended the call. Kirby sat holding the receiver in his hand and cringed at the way the call had panned out, but for some reason he was even more determined now to find out about Steven Blum.

The house was modeled on a nineteenth century southern plantation house, and it looked completely out of place in the northern landscape. Sarah sitting beside him had an expression of disbelief as she eyed the big house; Kirby supposed she was looking at it with a realtor’s eye. She had insisted on joining him to meet Blum, and to be honest he was glad she had. The house was situated an hour’s drive from the office, in an isolated rural surrounding, for some reason he was glad he had not come alone.

Steven Blum was a tall gaunt looking man, with small round wire framed glasses perched on a thin hawkish nose. He had an air of superiority about him, beloved of the aristocratic classes. Kirby took an instant dislike to the man, Sarah looked visible shaken as the man took her hand and brushed his thin lips against the back of it. Blum led them into a large study lined with book shelves and glass cabinets that displayed various antiquated weapons. Something about the way he carried himself, hinted at a military background.

Blum gestured to the two fireside chairs and waited for them to take their seats, while he himself remained standing with his back to the marble place. The fact that Blum now seemed to tower over both of them, made Kirby feel even more uncomfortable. Perhaps Christopher Sims had been corrected when he noted that there was a certain evil about this man. But now that they were here Kirby wanted to know more about this strange man and his missing book.

“It is good of you both to travel out here to see me; I rarely have visitors these days. Even more importantly, the matter I engaged Mr Sims to look into has still not been resolved and this is a matter of grave concern to me. I do hope that the fact you have taken over the business, means you are willing to finish the task Mr Sims promised to take care of.” A strange smile played on the thin lips of Blum, but the eyes behind the small round lenses were like dark chips of ice.

Blum walked across to a large antique desk in the corner and retrieved an envelope from the top drawer; he returned to the fire place and handed the envelope to Kirby. “I fear that our Mr Sims was beginning to have problems with his health, and as a result of this he was unable to fulfill his end of the bargain. He sent me that cheque in the envelope by way of a return of the deposit I gave him, however where I come from a bargain is exactly that. It is a sacred promise that must be fulfilled; I do hope that you both have the integrity to finish what Mr Sims had already started.”

The atmosphere in the large study had become almost oppressive now, and something about the man’s strange accented speech was almost hypnotic. Kirby looked across at Sarah and she had a worried expression on her face, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Steven Blum was not a man to be crossed, and now that they had made contact with him they had placed themselves firmly in his sights.

Later as they drove back to the office they were both lost in their own thoughts, but they both had the same line of thought. Steven Blum would not go away until they either found that book, or ensured that the man with the strange accent was no longer a threat to either of them. Kirby knew that their new enterprise would be short lived, unless they made sure that they got to the bottom of the case of the missing book.