Sam: A Novel Of Suspense Read Online Free Page B

said, “Then you should really call a doctor, not an alcoholic
ex-priest.”
    Jessica
laughed.  “Oh, believe me, there’s been doctors in and out of this place for
the last six months.  Psychiatrists, Paediatricians, Oncologists, GPs; I’ve had
enough to staff a small hospital through here lately.  They’ve all had a good
look at my poor Sammie, but none of them have been able to do anything to help
– anything at all.  He’s just been getting worse.”
    “What’s
wrong with him exactly?”
    “If
only I knew.  Sammie was such a sweet, energetic little boy, but about nine
months ago he awoke in the night screaming, yelling that something was inside
of him.  Of course, my husband and I put it down to a bad dream, but the
following morning Sammie was sullen and pale, as if he had come down with some
wretched flu.  He’s been like that ever since, and now he barely eats or sleeps
either.”
    Angela
placed her whisky down on the glass table.  “I still don’t see why that would
make you seek me out.”
    “Because
you were an exorcist for the Church of England.  You performed more than one
hundred exorcisms, yes?”
    Angela
picked up her whisky again and took a large sip.  She let out a sigh.  “It was
more like thirty in actual fact, but the church only conducts exorcisms to
bring people peace-of-mind anyway.  A bit of dodgy plumbing or noises in the
night and people think demons are to blame.  It’s usually nothing more than a
mask for other underlying problems that people don’t wish to confront.  But
it’s a good way for the church to take advantage of people and gain their
faith, so they perform their rituals and flick their holy water. I was a part
of that charade, yes, and nine times out of ten, an exorcism is merely
theatrics – like most things in the church to be honest.  You’d be better off
using all your money to find a medical specialist.  Your son sounds very
poorly.”
    Jessica
smiled knowingly.  “Nine times out of ten – so what about that one out of ten
that is more than just theatrics?”
    “I
don’t know,” Angela admitted.  “Scam artists, schizophrenia, unknown
phenomena?  What are you getting at?”
    “I
know about Jersey, Miss Murs, and I know that there is more to what went on
there than what the papers reported.  I know that you’ve dealt with evil
before.  You know that it exists.”
    Angela
started to rise from her chair.  “Look, I’m very sorry, but I think it was a
mistake me coming here.”
    Jessica
reached out and grabbed Angela’s wrist.  There was pleading in her almond
eyes.  “Please, just listen to what I have to say.”
    Angela
sighed. She never could resist a plea for help.  She sat back down.
    Jessica
smiled but seemed close to tears.  “Thank you.”
    “Go
on then,” said Angela.  “Tell me what you have to.”
    “Okay. 
Well, Sammie has been sickly since the time he had that nightmare – about
something being inside of him – but that’s not all that’s happened.  Sometimes
it’s like he’s somebody else, somebody older.  He uses language that he’s never
been taught and sometimes he…swears.  Such filthy language that you wouldn’t
believe it.  Then there’re all the accidents.”
    “Accidents?”
    Jessica
nodded.  “There’s a reason for there being no staff around here anymore: they
all left. The ones that were still in one piece, anyway.  Our chef, Nicholas
slipped while carrying a pan full of boiling pasta.  One of the maids tumbled
down the stairs and broke her neck like a twig. Our gardener lost two fingers
to his own shears and managed to blind himself in one eye. And my husband…my
husband hung himself, which is something he would never have done.”
    “I’ve
seen a lot of suicides in my time,” said Angela.  “Anyone is capable.”
    “With
all due respect, Miss Murs, my late husband was Joseph Raymeady, son of Wesley
Raymeady, one of the original founders of Black Remedy Corporation, the