As he spoke, the witching room began to be filled with a soft, barely audible whispering. It sounded like, what, what, what, who is this and what does he want?
‘My name is Father Maurice Salter, from the Catholic church of Our Lady of the Assumption in Tavistock. I am newly trained by the Vatican in the dismissal of malevolent presences, and I am aware that it is the power of a malevolent presence that first trapped you here and which continues to keep you trapped.
‘I have come here today with the intention of exorcising it. I have no illusions that it will be an easy exorcism, because this presence, too, has been incarcerated in this house against its will, and it will undeniably be simmering with as much rage and resentment as you.’
The whispering grew louder, and more excitable, although Rob thought that he could hear protesting voices too. What, what, what, who does he think he is, he’s a fraud, he’s a fake, he’s only going to make things worse for us. Trouble, he’s going to cause trouble.
Rob and Vicky and Grace and Katharine moved closer together, because they could all feel the whisperers jostling around them, even though they couldn’t see them. It was like standing in a chilly, blustery breeze.
Father Salter lifted up his hands again, and declared loudly, ‘Whoever you are – whatever the reason for your having been trapped here – whether you welcome my intervention or whether you resent it – I am first going to pray for you. I am going to petition the Lord for your freedom and for your survival outside this unhallowed room.
‘In return, I ask you to direct all of your energy, all of your goodwill, every atom of your humanity towards supporting my ritual here today. I am not going to pretend to you that dismissing this presence is not the most challenging exorcism that I have ever faced, or by far the most frightening, or that I am at all certain of success. But every ounce of passion that you can muster against the malevolent presence that has been holding you captive for so long will weaken it just a little more, and strengthen my hand.
‘Oro Deum ut eriperet de tenebris vos aquam desperandum. I pray to God to rescue you from the dark waters of your despair. Amen.’
The whispering grew louder and more flustered, until it sounded as if the witching room were filled up with the flapping wings of a whole flock of panicking birds. Then, suddenly, it fell silent. Rob felt as if somebody had brushed close past him, as he had before, but that was the only indication that there was anybody there.
Vicky looked up at him and said, ‘Do we have to go? Do we have to leave Timmy here?’
‘I don’t know, darling. Father? Can we stay?’
‘I’m afraid that would be very unwise,’ said Father Salter. ‘Not until I have completed my dismissal, anyway. As I understand it, these walls are imbued with an occult power beyond anything that we can imagine, and the Lord alone knows what may happen when we start to leach it out. There’s even a risk that the whole house might collapse. But if my exorcism turns out to be successful, we can come back up here and open the door again, and release all those souls who are able to leave. Including, I pray, your Timmy, and your brother Martin, and Ada.’
‘Right, then,’ said Rob. ‘I suppose we’d better get on with it.’
*
They closed the panel in the dado and silently went back downstairs. Father Salter went around the hallway picking up the three-headed cat and the candles and Vicky found him a dustpan and brush in the scullery so that he could sweep up the white ghost slugs. Rob brought back the shield that had rolled into the drawing room.
Father Salter wrapped everything up in the sheepskin, bundled it back into Francis’s suitcase, and locked it.
‘I can fully understand why Francis thought that these Druidic artefacts might give him more power to dismiss a pre-Christian malevolence. But it’s possible, even likely, I would say, that this demon predates even the Druids. Dartmoor is two hundred and eighty million years old, after all, and it used to be forested and well populated in the Bronze Age, when the climate was warmer.
‘This cat and these slugs and the sheepskin and the shield, they may have had the reverse effect, and aroused the demon’s ire even more. After all, if somebody came at me with that atomic whirl that atheists display as their symbol of disbelief, shouting that God didn’t exist and that I should quit my church and never come back, I think I should find it difficult not to lose my temper, too.’
‘Do you need our support?’ asked Rob. ‘I mean, do you want us to stay here with you?’
‘Definitely not, no. Thank you for your offer, but this is going to be a one-to-one contest between the presence and me. I will need total concentration – total – and I don’t want to be worrying about you and your welfare. It’s quite possible that the presence could threaten your lives in order to divert my attention away from completing my ritual. He may well realise that it is my sworn commitment to protect those in danger, and take advantage of it.’
‘Well – if we retreat to the drawing room… is that far enough?’
‘I should hope so. But don’t be surprised or upset if I suddenly tell you to leave the house altogether. It may become necessary, depending on how violently the presence reacts. We’re not talking about some petty little troublemaker like Pazuzu here.’
Rob said, ‘Okay… but if it all starts getting out of hand… just yell.’
Father Salter raised his hand in acknowledgement,
