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Excerpt from THE SEERS OF DARK
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The Seers of Dark
Prologue
September 7th 1992
4.00pm
When the vision struck, it hit with such force that Harriet staggered and almost fell. She grasped a chair back and squeezed her eyes shut. It would do no good, but she had to try.
The horrific images exploded in her mind with the clarity of a video nasty. She “saw” dismembered limbs heaped on top of one another; a child’s bloodied, eyeless face and the face of a woman whose mouth stretched into an impossible grimace of pain.
Mercifully, a dense, black cloud dropped through Harriet’s mangled thoughts like a heavy woollen blanket, smothering the visions and blotting them out. Thank God, for that. At least it didn’t last too long, this time... She lifted a trembling hand to her chest as if to soothe her painful heartbeat and took some deep breaths to steady herself before continuing across the room to her armchair.
Her friend, Bonnie, sat by the fireside and continued to pour tea for them both, having apparently not noticed anything amiss. Harriett sat down heavily and in a shaky voice, continued what she had been saying.
“Well, poor Uncle George’s funeral was quite a pleasant affair until then… But then I saw him, my nephew, and from there on the day was completely ruined,” she said.
“Why, what’d he do?” Bonnie said.
Harriett exhaled noisily and rubbed her fleshy upper arms. She could not rid herself of the icy chill that had invaded her bones since the funeral. She wondered if she should tell Bonnie or not? She had never told anyone about him, only Stan, her husband, and he had been incredulous.
She slumped back in the chair, fingers loosely linked and resting on her stomach.
“It was many years ago when Stan, God rest his soul, was still alive. We were staying with my sister Margaret, -that was his grandmother - and her family for a while after coming back from Canada.” She paused and twisted the gold wedding band on her bony finger. “He lived with them but he was such an awful child, Bonnie... But nobody seemed to see it, only me. I saw through him. I saw the evil in him, right from an early age, and he knew it.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about your Gift?”
“Yes, I suppose so...” Harriett said, pausing for a moment. “His mother died and his father was supposed to be bringing him up but he was often at Margaret’s house. Not that his father had much time for him; he was always too busy. Margaret of course doted on her only grandson. Wouldn’t have anything bad said about him, but I knew.” She shook her head as she wiped her damp palms on a corner of her paisley pinafore.
“Go on.” Bonnie whispered.
“So, he stayed away from me," Harriett continued. “Then, one day his father brought a pet to the house, a beautiful kitten, so cute, everyone fussed over her. She was harmless and innocent. Tink, they called her. He refused to have anything to do with it. I think he was jealous of the fuss the animal got, especially from his father. Anyway, one day I was coming in from the garden but the kitchen door had blown shut. So I went round the side of the house to see if the French windows were still open. They were, but later I wished they weren't. He didn’t see me but I saw him through the window. I watched him pick the kitten up. I was so surprised that I stood stock-still and said nothing. He petted and stroked her, talking tenderly and the tiny mite made soft mewling sounds as if in reply.” Harriett gripped the arm of the chair and leaned forward. “Then, quick as a flash, he bent down by the old rocking chair and wedged the cat’s head under the rocker’s foot. I wondered what he was doing, but he suddenly jumped on the chair and bore down with all his fourteen years of weight and... And... Oh God, Bonnie, I can still hear the awful crunch! He crushed the poor little thing’s skull!” Harriett stared at her friend’s horrified expression. “I tell you, I couldn’t move. I just stood there, in the open doorway, my mouth hanging open. I could hardly believe my own eyes. That he could do such a thing and him only a child! And the look on his face... The delight he took in doing it... I gasped aloud and he looked up and saw me. He knew I had seen it all! But his eyes... His eyes... They were dreadful, Bonnie, dreadful... I didn’t know if it was a trick of the light or what, but I swear I saw blue flashes in them.. And his whole body was wrapped in a kind of bright light, like the filament thingy in a light bulb, you know?” She lifted her eyebrows. “Anyway, the light turned to a glowing red as if he was on fire or something. It burned into my head. It was so strong and painful that I shut my eyes. I was terrified; I can tell you. I had a vision then, a vision of hell, dreadful faces in terrible pain, shouting, screaming…” Harriett stopped and closed her eyes, her lower lip quivering like a dollop of jelly. Dear God, she was scared all over again, just talking about it. “I never want to experience that again.”
“What happened next?” Bonnie asked, her face showing the mixture of excitement and fear that comes from hearing any good horror story.
“I passed out and when I came to I was told that I’d had a mini stroke. I never told anyone, except Stan, what I’d seen. The family thought the kitten had gone missing. No one else knew what had really happened, only me.”
“That’s awful! Didn’t you tell on him?”
“No, I was going to when I felt better but he came to see me and warned me off. He said no one would believe me, because I was ill and having a stroke. He laughed, said I was crazy. Told me he could cause me to have another stroke if I said anything. Said he had the power... As if!” Harriett snorted. “But, he also threatened to harm Stan and Stan was already a sick man at the time. I was scared; I didn’t want anything to happen to Stan. I told myself that maybe I had imagined some of it. Anyway, we lived there for a while longer but I kept out of his way. I knew, you see. I knew how evil he was.”
“Crikey!” Bonnie whispered.
“I had to accept my gift after that. Every time I touched something that he’d handled, I got flashes from inside his head. Horrible flashes. I was also seeing things about other people, into the future and all sorts. In the end, me and Stan, we moved into our own place, lost touch with the family and I never saw him again until today.”
“Oh, how dreadful for you," Bonnie said.
“Well, I’m not scared of him now.”
“You don’t see things now, though, do you?” Bonnie’s voice held a nervous note.
“Sometimes. But I don’t touch people much so I don’t have to see. I still get odd unexpected flashes though. I try to live with it nowadays and don’t take much notice if I can. You know that, anyway. I’ve told you before.”
Bonnie's face took on a haunted look as her eyes met Harriett’s own.
“What? Did you think I was some cheap fairground fortune teller?”
“No... But I never realised.”
Harriett reached out and patted her friend’s hand gently.
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I get any flashes about you.” She chuckled.
Bonnie laughed nervously but sharply withdrew her hand.
Harriett frowned and tutted as she hauled her creaking body upright. She lifted the teapot with shaking hands and shuffled into the kitchen to make a fresh brew.
***
When sleep visited Harriet, the nightmares came too. Always the same anxious dreams that Harriett could never quite get hold of or understand.
In her dreams, she was running fast but her steps were not fast enough, they never were, to take her away from the frightening thing. Funny, wasn’t it, how you never suffered from arthritis or anything in your dreams?
She was cold, very cold. Where was her quilt and hot water bottle? She realised she was awake and moved in the bed, her hand searching for the quilt, it must have slipped off. No, she could not find it. Without warning, something clamped over her mouth. Her eyes flew open and her vocal cords tried to work.
“Whaaaaa...” was all she managed, the sound choked off by the vice-like grip. She wriggled her frail body this way and that, but quickly realized the futility of the struggle and became still.
Shock immobilised her brain but strangely, other parts of her body were working overtime. Her bladder recoiled and let loose and her hammering heart almost clawed its way out of her chest. Her eyes were useless in the pitch black but she didn’t need to see, she knew...
Dear God, my time has come.
He (she knew it was a man) removed his gloved hand and painfully shoved a piece of material inside her dry lips and tied something around her head. She gagged but that simply made him yank the thing tighter.
“Like that, old woman?” the voice hissed in her ear.
She closed her eyes, anything to pretend that this was not happening, trying to blot out the searing pain in her mouth. He pulled her arms above her head and looped something over them, pulling it so tight that she gasped under her gag.
Tears squeezed out of her closed eyes and although she tried not to move, she could not control the violent shaking that took over her whole body.
What was he going to do? She knew, of course, but her terrified brain refused to process it, preferring instead to stay frozen, unthinking. Jumbled thoughts; odd memories buzzed through her mind. Stan and she on their wedding day; a birthday party when she was five; her parents pretending not to laugh when she showed off her eight-year-old dancing skills...
She sensed he had moved away from her but not knowing was almost worse. She opened her eyes wide and tried to adjust to the faint light that leached into the room through a chink in the curtains.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut. But you just couldn’t, could you?” He brought his mouth right up to her ear, his voice low, filled with venom. She could smell his aftershave, something expensive, no doubt…
“No one’s going to interfere with my power, certainly not an interfering old hag like you. You should have stayed away from dear George’s funeral - since now you’ll be guest of honour at your own.”
A sob escaped her vocal cords but never made it to her lips.
He lifted his head slightly and stared into her eyes, his expression flat and cold as he held the pillow above her.
Her brain registered what he was about to do. A scream curdled in her throat as she chewed on the cloth gag. Her eyes fastened onto his, beseeching, begging, but hope faded as she saw the look on his face. It was no longer expressionless, it was ecstatic.
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