An Exorcism in Mayfair

(4) The Box

THE FEATHERINGTON HOME

Pen's bed was scattered with old books, ledgers, anything that might give any answers.

There was a local legend that during the witchcraft trials of 1640. Father Abraham buried a box which he believed carried the soul of a demon and hid it where no one could find in. Years of wear and changes to the earth led to the box being earthed. In 1710 whatever was inside escaped. It was trapped in a cave along with the box and the body it possessed. A small boy. In hopes that if one day the cave was discovered once more, the box may be able to catch the beast, before another soul is lost in the dark.

She looked to Colin's Journals to try and pinpoint the exact moment the illness had spread.

March 14th

I do not know where I ended and the demon began. It was seeping its venom so far deep into my mind like a plague. I felt like I was merely in a cage of my own actions. Making me see and feel the cruelest of images. My god. What have I done.

March 18th

Confined to a cell of torment. Flashes of red blood trickling over sheets and the smell of death making me throw up the memories of the torture. They did not deserve such cruelty. No one does. A simply murder would be far easier than the agonising pain the demon threw upon them. Mocking them as he sliced through flesh. All with his face masked with my reflection, proud for them to see. Fear and confusion in their eyes. God kill me now. I do not wish to see any more of this hell.

June 1st

I wish Penelope was here. She could make sense of anything, to be sure. I need her beacon right now to lead me back home. Only then may my torment be eliminated.
I find myself looking over Pens letters, perhaps they can bring me some hope. Hope for a better world. She wrote to me in Rue Saint-Denis, Paris, France and again at Canebière in Marseille, France. Her stories always made me feel joy. I wish I could hear her right now. Life without my Pen, is a world I do not care for. Without her writings this year. I have felt more lost than I ever could have imagined. Perhaps this is why this is happening to me. I must have done something to discourage her so. Perhaps, I am a monster and did Pen already know I could be cruel.

__________

Benedict made a visit to her. To find out what new information she had gathered.

"Oh my god. Colin" he mumbled as Pen relayed the entries of the journals back to him.

Penelope looked at him with regret, but she felt she had to share "I found out something else though. The cave that Colin visited, was not a cave at all. It was a closed trap. Keeping the demon inside"

Benedict shuddered.

"This is good news Benedict. It means we can save him"

He nodded his agreement when he realised she was correct. He smiled warmly at her efforts.

"Colin instructed me to let you know that he hopes you are well and he misses you" Benedict smiled, changing the subject to something less dreary. Something he hoped would make whatever burden she felt, lighter.

"Clearly he is delirious, Benedict" her biting tone caught him off guard. Making him wonder what the hell happened that Colin would warrant such reproach.

"Whatever happened between you both to push you apart. He cares for you. He wishes for you to stay away incase it is catching. My brother thinks a lot about you"

The sentiment seemed pointless now that they knew Colin wasn't merely sick but possessed by some beast from hell.

"Well the words I heard him speak at my families ball last season say otherwise"