The Talented Blackwoods Chapter 3

“We need to set the camp bed up in the attic,” said Aunty Stella, returning to the kitchen after talking for at least an hour with someone on the phone in the hallway.

“Really?” asked Jason’s mother, looking up from the magazine she’d been half reading.

David is coming to stay for a bit,” said Aunty Stella, obviously trying to sound cheery, but not entirely succeeding.

“David who?” asked his mum.

Aunty Stella tutted. “My nephew David – well, your nephew too, by marriage. That was your brother-in-law Jack on the phone, he says David has started displaying some of the family talent.”

“That’s one word for it.” Jason’s mother pretended to read the magazine again.

“Jack and Elaine want me to try and help him control it a bit more. It’s had some slightly embarrassing consequences, apparently, one of them involving something to do with eggs, which Jack seemed very miffed about.”

Jason had no idea what Aunty Stella was talking about, but he wondered if the family talent she’d mentioned had something to do with his father. He’d overheard her talk about it before, and his mother always reacted in a similar way.

They had been at Aunty Stella’s house for a few days now. To Jason it felt like months. He didn’t even mind sleeping in the attic anymore, as long as the door was left open and the landing light on.

“Why does cousin David have to share my room?” he asked Aunty Stella. “I mean, I don’t mind, but you have loads of rooms.”

“They’re full of junk,” replied Aunty Stella, opening one of the many doors in the Aga cooker to check how their dinner was progressing. It smelt wonderful – of meat and all kinds of herbs. “Anyway, wouldn’t you like the company? It will only be for a few days.”

Jason had only met his cousin a couple of times, and he’d been very young, so all he could remember was a lot of black, curly hair and a snooty voice. He decided to revert to shrugging rather than give his aunt an honest answer.

***

“This reminds me of the kind of lonely garret flat from which a great writer would compose his literary masterpiece,” said David, surveying the attic room.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Stella.

Jason looked at his cousin blankly.

Not for the first time, Stella wondered how well the two boys would get on sharing a room. Maybe she should clear some junk from one of the other rooms and give David his own space. Also, there was the worry that David might divulge too much to his younger cousin. Although she had a feeling Jason was slowly working things out for himself, albeit with the interpretation of a seven-year-old’s mind.

David dropped his backpack onto Jason’s bed. “It’s perfect, thank you, Aunt Stella.”

“Actually, you’re sleeping over there,” said Stella, pointing to the camp bed on the other side of the room. Her bangles jangled nervously.

“Sorry?” David sounded mystified.

“Jason’s been sleeping in that bed, so I’ve set you up a camp bed,” said Stella.

David stared imperiously at the glorified sun lounger. “I’m sleeping on that? And I’m sharing with him?”

Jason turned red and looked at the floor.

“That’s right.” Stella was now determined that David would sleep nowhere other than the camp bed. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour, so take as long as you want settling in. You can hang your clothes in one of the wardrobes, or there’s a chest of drawers. She pointed out the respective antique pieces of furniture and left him to it. She expected Jason to follow her, but he stayed with his cousin. Maybe he wanted to make sure his bed wasn’t claimed.

“He’s an odd kid,” said Angela as soon as Stella entered the kitchen. Angela was drinking a large glass of red wine, which concerned Stella slightly. It was only four in the afternoon, and this early drinking was becoming a habit.

“It’s my first,” said Angela, reading her mind. “I need something to take the edge off all this. I’m not sure I like David sharing with Jason. What if he blabs about his talent?” she uttered the ‘t’ word with her finger miming quotation marks.

“Well, Jason will need to learn about the family history some time. He’s a Blackwood, so the chances are he’ll inherit the Blackwood abilities. You and John tried to run away from everything, and look what happened. Jack and Elaine tried the same thing. You don’t get much more normal than selling double glazing in Middlesex, but David still ended up trespassing on his own mother’s erotic dream.”

“That does make me feel sorry for him,” said Angela, taking a large glug of wine. “The thought of Elaine getting sexy with the egg man makes me feel queasy and I’m not her son.”

“Apparently, he’s a very attractive egg man,” said Stella, giving the stew on top of the stove a stir and replacing the lid of the dish. “Elaine and I had a private chat about everything the other day. She assured me nothing has ever actually happened with him, although, between us, if he gave her the slightest encouragement, I think she’d be in that hen house like a shot.”

Angela guffawed, almost losing a mouthful of wine.

“It’s good to hear you laugh,” said Stella. “Even if it is at your sister-in-law’s expense.”

“Oh God, is she really officially my sister-in-law?” said Angela. “I thought it was just Jack I was related to by marriage. Do I get her as well?”

“Positive thoughts, Angela,” coaxed Stella. “Unless you want me to burn more sage.”

Angela laughed. “Please no!”

And then she looked pensive. “How long can John survive like this? With that thing inside his body and his…” She waved her hand in the air, floundering for the right word.

“Spirit, astral body, soul, take your pick,” said Stella.

“Whatever,” said Angela, taking another ample sip of wine. “How long can it go on like this?”

“My friends say he’s physically fit. They have him on the drip as you know, so he won’t starve, but it’s obviously not ideal, keeping someone sedated and restrained for days. As for how his astral body is doing, you know as much as I do; he visits you too. He seems fine, just sad and frustrated and frightened, of course.”

“Why is it taking so long to get rid of that thing? Don’t they just need to say a few prayers and banish it like in The Exorcist?”

“We’ve had this conversation, Angela. It’s not as simple as that. Not all demons respond to a Catholic-style exorcism, and my friends aren’t priests. They just have similar abilities to me and most of the Blackwoods.”

“It’s a bloody mess,” said Angela, staring dismally into her now empty glass.

“Are you sure that’s your first?” Stella gave the stew another unnecessary stir.

“First bottle.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?”

Stella flinched at the aggression in Angela’s voice.

“I can’t go and see him because the place where he’s being kept is some closely guarded secret. I can’t talk to anyone but you about what’s happening, and I can’t concentrate on anything for more than ten seconds without thinking about him and the fact that I may never get him back, except as an apparition in my dreams. And even that might stop at some point.”

“It’s not an apparition,” said Stella, tentatively resting a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “It’s him, it’s your John.”

“I need the physical him too,” said Angela, tears winding down her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Mum?”

Both women jolted and turned to see Jason hovering near the bottom of the stairs that led from the hallway.

“I’m fine,” said Angela, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “How are you getting on with your cousin?”

Jason jumped down the final two stairs. “I don’t really understand what he’s going on about.”

“Probably for the best,” said Angela. “He talks a lot of…”

“Angela!” exclaimed Stella.

“I’m sure you’ll grow to love him,” said Angela, flashing Stella a sardonic grin. Her teeth were stained black from the wine.

***

John was waiting for Stella on a bench next to the path that ran around the edge of the park. It was a version of the park where they had played as children. She could see the duck pond in the distance and the tall hedge that surrounded the bowling green over to her right. John had always been good at recreating settings from their past. It was one of his gifts, although she was surprised he was still so adept at it, considering the years he had tried to ignore his talent.

He waved as she approached. He was dressed in the same white t-shirt and striped pyjama bottoms as when they’d last met – the clothes he’d been wearing in bed on the fateful night he’d left his body for an astral stroll. He hadn’t intended to project, he’d told her, he’d just found himself wandering in his back garden and realised he’d unintentionally entered the lowest level of the astral world, where reality and dream combined. He’d thought about returning to his body immediately, but then had decided to allow himself just a little indulgence. It wasn’t as if he’d planned it, and Angela didn’t need to know he’d broken his promise. If he’d acted on his initial impulse to return, none of this would have happened. The creature would not have sensed the opportunity to inhabit an empty vessel and John would have just woken to a normal Saturday morning, instead of his wife shaking him awake to discover a stranger staring out of his eyes. A stranger with the gaze of something feral, something that hunted and destroyed.

“Hello, Brother,” she greeted, sitting next to him. They hugged, and she felt the strange, not-quite-real sense of human contact on the astral plane, more a brief combining of energies than an actual embrace.

“Hello, Sister,” he said, not hiding his melancholy mood. “Any news? Good or bad.”

“Stephen and Luke are still trying,” she said. “They are using every trick they have to tempt the demon out of your body onto the astral plane. If they manage to do it, you need to be close by so that you can re-enter in an instant, so these visits can’t be too frequent, or too long – and that includes your trips into Jason and Angela’s dreams.”

“I know, I know,” said John. “But I need to escape from time to time. Can you imagine what it’s like to see your own body and feel the presence of that thing inside it? It’s like coming home to find your house has been occupied by squatters, and having to watch through a window while they wreck it. I still can’t believe this has happened to me. How often do I use the talent? The first time in years, and I end up getting ousted from my own body. How often do you take trips on the plane? Two, three times a week, and you’ve never been caught out. What are the chances?”

“It’s one of those million-to-one bits of bad luck,” said Stella. “But, and I won’t keep saying this, if you’d hadn't tried to run away from your talent for years, you would have become sensitive to creatures like the one that’s taken you. You would have known to return immediately. By trying to be normal, you’ve exposed yourself to this kind of danger.”

“No more lectures, Sis. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be coming to you for expert training when this is over. If it’s ever over.”

A young boy kicking a football ran past them.

Stella watched the child canter off. “Is that Peter Bell from our old primary school?”

“Yes. I’m feeling nostalgic.”

“Well, don’t use up all your energy creating scenes from our childhood. We don’t really know how long your astral body can survive without contact with your physical body. Keep it simple from now on, or just let me create the setting.”

“You’re full of positivity tonight,” said John, staring at an empty carrier bag as it cartwheeled by.

“That’s the kind of tiny detail you really don’t need to be wasting energy on.”

Suddenly the scene was gone. Just the bench remained, seemingly floating in a silver/grey nothingness.

“Better?” asked John.

“You should head back to the lower level,” said Stella, standing. “Be close to your body in case…”

John sighed. “Thanks for looking after Angela and Jason.”

“It’s a pleasure. Jason is lovely company.”

John laughed. “And Angela?”

“Jason is lovely company,” said Stella, also laughing. “I’ll see you soon, Brother.”

“In the flesh, I hope,” said John, and he vanished.

Stella stood, surveying the endless whiteness. A blank canvas. Then suddenly it wasn’t blank. There was a small figure standing some fifty feet away. A girl. Stella gasped, resisting the urge to immediately return to her body. She needed to know if this visitor was who she thought it was.

The girl waved in a slow, languid gesture that made Stella shiver.

“Lucy?” She called, praying that it wasn’t.

The girl was suddenly much closer, and Stella had no doubt it was her.

“Hi Stella!” the child called in that fake squeaky voice. It was the voice of a doll with a pull string, but a doll whose wiring had got twisted.

“What do you want?” asked Stella, feeling like a child again herself, the same vulnerability and fear.

“You’ll see,” said the girl, and she rose a few feet from the white surface, floating towards Stella, grinning and waving in slow motion.

Stella forced herself to return to her body. The speed of departing the higher level of the astral plane jolted her awake, and she lay staring at the wall next to her bed, her heart pounding so loudly the entire bed seemed to vibrate.