The Demon Hunters

By Simon Hartwell

Welcome to Borley Rectory. The most haunted house in England.
Legend says a Nun fell in love with a Monk from Borley Rectory and, whilst trying to elope were captured. The Monk was executed and the Nun walled up in the cellar of the local Nunnery.

The ghost of the nun haunts the Borley Rectory
with many sightings down through the centuries, even the BBC commission a short programme about the alleged haunting but was never aired.

JACK
Never solved, never found. The identity of Jack the Ripper remains a mystery to this day.
Father Shaun and Sister Adriana team up to investigate the legend. Travelling back through time they delve deeper into the history of the Rectory and its occupiers and discover the evil at the heart of the truth.For over a century the identity of Jack the Ripper has been a mystery. Father Shaun and Sister Adriana travel back in time believing a Demon lies at the source of the evil that pervaded Whitechapel and terrified London in 1888.
But who is the Ripper? Is he possessed or just a cold blooded killer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Hartwell
• Release date: Mar 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781536542592

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Wikipedia.com

Britannia.com

The Harry Price Website

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PRESENT DAY

LONDON ENGLAND

25th AUGUST 1943

27th FEBRUARY 1939

27th MARCH 1938

OCTOBER 1935

ADELAIDE

2nd OCTOBER 1929

THE SKULL AND SERVENTS’ BELLS

28th JULY 1900

THE BEGINNING

THE PARISH PRIEST

FATHER CLIFFORD

DEMON

GOOD AND EVIL

25th AUGUST 2016

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ENGLAND

January 1888

WHITECHAPEL

March 1888

EMMA SMITH

3rd April 1888

MARTHA TABRAM

7th August 1888

MARY NICHOLS

31st August 1888

MARY NICHOLS

31st August 2017

MARY NICHOLS

31st August 1888

THE MORTUARY

31st August 1888

ANNIE CHAPMAN

8th September 1888

THE RIPPER NAMED

27th September 1888

THE DEMON

29th September 1888

ELISABETH STRIDE

01st October 1888

CATHERINE EDDOWS

01st October 1888

INCIDENT ROOM

01st October 1888

DEMON

01st October 1888

MURDER!

3rd October 1888

MARY KELLY

9th November 1888

THEORY

9th November 1888

MRS CANONICAL

1st October 1888

MRS CANONICAL

9th November 1888

––––––––

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PRESENT DAY

‘THUNDER CRASHED ACROSS the heavens.

Lightning flashed across the earth.

The night the Angel came at first.

With almighty bangs, he pounds the door.

Once, twice, three times no more.’

The nun looked around at her young charges, all wide eyed with excitement and fright.

‘He came in the night all dressed in black.

His face a glow beneath his hat.

Trembled, they did the nuns in her care.

As Mother Superior slumped in her chair.

Believing she had taken her last breath.

For this man, she thought, was the Angel of Death?’

A gasp made the nun pause in her telling, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips as she looked up to see the girls clasping hands and holding pillows across their faces, eyes peering over the top.

‘Were you there?’ a brave girl whispered.

‘I was,’ said the nun, her mind taking her back to that time and place as if it had happened that very night.

‘I’VE COME TO SEE THE Mother Superior.’

Agnes looked through the small square peephole set within the huge, thick wooden gates. One hand holding her coat closed at the neck, the other a lantern to light her way.

‘It’s late,’ she said, annoyed at being awakened an hour past lights out and having to venture out on a night like this.

Thunder rolled across the skies, lightning streaked across the blackness, highlighting the world in its electric blue for a second or two.

As the dark crept back, she noticed something odd about the stranger.

His face.

His face was not shadowed by his hat or muted by the night. It seemed to glow from within.

Her fingers trembled as she undid the latch and opened the small door within the gate, standing back as the man bent his head and stepped through.

‘Thank you, Sister.’

‘I’ll show you the way.’

The man tipped his head, and the nun, holding her lantern high, walked across the courtyard.

She wished her mind would quit playing the theme to the Exorcist as it was freaking her out. Though she felt no danger from this man, she wished he wouldn’t loom over her so as he followed close behind.

Her step quickened, and they were soon at the Mother Superior’s office.

Rapping her knuckles hard enough to bruise, she knocked on the door.

‘Come in.’

Agnes opened the door to see the Mother Superior at her desk, with Sister’s Angeline and Adriana in attendance.

‘There is someone here to see you, Mother.’

‘Who is it?’

Agnes frowned. ‘I didn’t ask, Mother?’

‘My name is Shaun, Mother,’ said the man, walking into the room and removing his hat.

The Mother Superior sighed and slumped in her chair.

With visibly trembling hands, the Sisters rushed to her side.

‘Mother, what is it?’

‘The Angel of Death has come for me at last.’

Sister Adriana moved in front of the desk.

‘Surely not?’

Shaun put up his hands.

‘I have not come for you, Mother, but for you, Adriana.’

Sister Adriana put her hand to her throat but stood straight and proud.

‘I am ready to be called,’ she said.

‘Adriana is going to die?’ asked Agnes in a whisper.

Shaun turned to look at Agnes, who squeaked and took a step back.

‘I am not here to take anyone away. Well, I mean, I’m here to take Adriana away, if she will come. You have to come,’ he added, looking at Adriana, ‘but I am not the Angel of Death.’

The Mother Superior collected herself and looked hard at Shaun, who returned her gaze calmly.

Whatever she saw in those eyes she never said, but she calmed, breathed and visibly relaxed, though her hands trembled and her voice held a reverence not heard before.

‘You are welcome here, Shaun.’

Shaun nodded. ‘Thank you, Mother. Perhaps some tea?’

Mother Superior nodded to Agnes, who slipped out of the room.

Shaun handed his hat to Sister Adriana before slipping his coat off, looking around for a suitable place to put it as it dripped water over the carpet.

‘Oh Father, I’m sorry. I did not see the collar,’ said Adriana.

‘Please have no concern,’ said Shaun, stepping towards the armchair, then changing his mind, and seeking another place for his coat.

‘Here,’ said Adriana, taking the coat and walking out of the room.

Shaun let out an explosive breath, as if he had been holding it in the whole time.

‘Please, Father, won’t you sit?’

‘Thank you, Mother Superior.’

Father Shaun sat and looked around the room.

‘Nice,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ said Mother Superior. ‘Now why don’t you tell me why you are here?’

‘I’ve come for Adriana.’

‘Yes, you said, but you didn’t say why.’

‘I have need of her.’

Mother Superior tutted and moved papers around on her desk in agitation.

‘Yes, Father, I understand that, but why do you have need of her?’

Father Shaun looked at the Mother Superior and smiled.

‘Honestly, I don’t know.’

The Mother Superior frowned. Adriana had arrived quite suddenly one evening, battered and bruised with burns across her face and hands, and no memory of how she came to have them or how she arrived at the Monastery for that matter. Over the months, she recovered in body and spirit and was a delight to have around. She was loath to let her go and was honest enough with herself to know it.

Adriana walked back into the room, baring a tray with four cups and a huge teapot. She stopped a couple of steps in, sensing the tension, and looked at Angeline, who shrugged.

Taking another couple of steps, she placed the tray on a small table and, picking up the pot, poured the tea into the cups.

‘Milk and sugar?’

Adriana looked up to see the bluest eyes looking back.

Without knowing why, heat washed through her body and her face flushed.

‘Milk and sugar?’ she repeated, her voice frosty, though she didn’t know why that was either.

‘Just milk,’ said Father Shaun.

Adriana added a dash of milk before handing over the cup.

Father Shaun rose and paced the room, tea in one hand.

‘I cannot explain everything, Mother Superior. All I know is I have to go to England and Adriana has to come with me.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not good enough, Father. I cannot simply send Adriana off without more than a feeling.’

‘How about the Archdiocese, Mother Superior?’ said Father Shaun, fishing out an envelope from his inside pocket and handing it over.

The Mother Superior pulled out the letter from inside and read it through.

‘Umm, I see,’ she said, handing the letter to Adriana.

Adriana read the letter and then handed it back to Father Shaun.

‘If it helps, Mother, I too feel it’s the right thing to do, but like the Father, I cannot say why.’

‘It doesn’t help, Sister, not in the least.’

The Mother Superior looked between the two of them.

‘Are you sure?’ she said.

Adriana looked thoughtful before nodding.

‘I am. It’s time.’

LONDON ENGLAND

‘OK, WE’RE IN ENGLAND; will you tell me why we are here now?’

Shaun nodded towards the church and buildings.

‘We are here to investigate the haunting of Borley Rectory.’

‘Haunting, as in ghosts? How exciting, what’s the history?’

Father Shaun shook his head. ‘I’d rather not say. I want you to see things with fresh eyes and an unbiased opinion.’

Sister Adriana looked at Father Shaun for a few seconds before nodding.

‘Where do we start?’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Feel?’

‘Close your eyes, allow your other senses to take in the surroundings.’

Sister Adriana gave him a hard look to see if he was making fun of her, but seeing nothing but honesty behind those blue eyes of his, she closed hers and took a deep breath.

Immediately she felt it and her eyes snapped open, searching for the source of her unease.

‘There’s something,’ she said, closing her eyes again and turning. ‘An eerie feeling in the air. It’s all around,’ she said. ‘I can feel, oh such sadness, there is so much sadness here.’

Unconsciously, she put her hands up in front of her as if feeling the surrounding air.

‘It’s old though, so very old. It’s ancient.’

Adriana opened her eyes and dropped her hands.

‘That’s not the original building. It’s too new; there was another house here once.’

Shaun nodded.

‘A few actually, come let’s go. We need to be on the site of the old rectory, but first I want to visit the graveyard.’

As they entered the graveyard, Adriana crossed herself and said a small prayer.

‘This way.’

Shaun walked carefully through the graveyard, but his step was hurried.

‘Do we have to be somewhere?’ asked Adriana.

‘I feel,’ said Shaun, and then gave an exasperated sigh, ‘that time is moving,’ he said. ‘That is the best way I can explain it.’

Adriana gasped.

‘Here,’ she said, kneeling down alongside a small gravestone.

Shaun stopped and waited as Adriana held her hand, palm down, over the ground.

‘The sadness, it’s here.’

Shaun nodded.

‘Harry Price, a psychic researcher, buried some bones, a jaw bone among them, here.’

‘Who did they belong to?’

‘A nun, Marie Lairre, according to legend, though many believe she was buried in Liston. Mr Price buried them here secretly one night.’

‘Why the subterfuge?’

‘The Borley parish church refused to bury the bones, believing them not to be human.’

Adriana closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.

‘Come, we have to go,’ said Shaun, looking towards the buildings.

Adriana rose, thinking to insist Shaun tell her more of what he knew, but a tingle fizzed along her arms.

She looked up and around. Something was taking over all thought, all drive.

‘I feel it too,’ she said. ‘It’s coming from over there.’

She pointed to the buildings and took a step towards them.

‘This way,’ said Shaun, guiding her back to the gate and towards the church.

As they approached, they heard the neighing of horses and the clatter of wheels upon stony ground.

Looking around them, they tried to get a sense of the direction the sound was coming from.

‘You know, I thought it was just a saying that England was always foggy,’ said Adriana, as she peered into the swirling mist, waving her hand in front of her, hoping to gain a clear window.

‘It is,’ said Shaun, turning around until he was sure he was facing the approaching carriage. ‘This fog isn’t natural.’

‘Not natural. What else can it be, if not natural?’

‘Supernatural,’ said Shaun, grabbing Adriana and throwing himself to the left as a coach raced past, drawn by two black horses, their eyes wild, their teeth bared.

Lying on the damp earth, Adriana pushed her hair out of her face in time to glimpse a frightened girl in the carriage before the fog swirled in front of her, cloaking both sight and sound of the apparition.

Shaun pushed himself to stand and reached out a hand to Adriana.

‘Was that supernatural too?’ she asked, looking at the fog as it cleared, straining her ears for any sounds.

‘I think so, yes. Time is overlapping here. Come, we have to get going or the window will shut.’

‘Overlapping? Like a ball of wool?’

Shaun stopped and stared at Adriana in amazement.

‘You know the theory of time?’

‘Well, I know a couple. The standard theory, the accepted one is that time is linear, a straight line, but I have heard another theory, that time is curled up, like a ball of wool and where it touches, time can merge, which goes a long way to explain ghost sightings.’

‘Can you remember where you heard that from?’

Adriana thought for a moment and shook her head.

‘Me neither, go on.’

‘Well, take that carriage. If we are to believe it was a ghostly apparition and not a crazy Englishman tearing along to impress the girl in the back, something he clearly wasn’t doing by the way, then our timeline is touching their timeline and