Ravenscroft Manor

By Rosie Lynch

Ravenscroft Manor

Eleven years after the brutal murder of her family, Matilda Rhiamon returns to her ancestral home, Ravenscroft Manor.
The only survivor, Matilda is haunted by her memories of that night. Convinced her family were murdered by a demon, and after discovering she is a witch, Matilda spends eleven years investigating the paranormal, hoping to find out the truth about her powers and her family's murders.

Moving back into the manor, she hires Mike Toveneer's company to oversea the renovation of the manor. When weird things start happening in the manor, and Mike's crew start disappearing, Matilda is convinced the Demon has come back to finish what he started.

The closer Mike gets to Matilda the more he falls in love with her. A paranormal investigator himself, he is soon drawn into Matilda's world of the paranormal. However, Mike has a secret he is hiding from Matilda, a secret that becomes vital to their survival against the demon and his creatures.

Can Mike and Matilda save themselves from the Demon, and stop hell breaking loose?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosemary Lynch
• Release date: Apr 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224214846

Book preview

Chapter One

Ravenscroft Manor

Matilda cruised slowly down the last stretch of country road. Her brow furrowing into a frown.

Where the hell is it? she grumbled to herself.

Mirrored either side by ancient oaks, their autumnal leaves drifted like snow across the windscreen of her blue van. She flicked on her wipers to clear her vision, but that just made it worse, spreading the leaves like butter across her windscreen.

She gave another groan, and leaning forward a little over the steering wheel she glanced up. Heavy rain clouds loomed above her, and the sky was getting darker and darker. A storm was forecast that afternoon, today of all days, and she gave a hefty sigh as she sat back. It couldn’t have been a worse day to move back home.

Your destination is on the right, her sat-nav announced in a strong male accent once again.

Yes, yes, I know, so you keep saying, but where the hell is it? Matilda snapped at the Sat Nav. She drove slowly, almost at a crawl for another two minutes, her anxiety levels were through the roof and she hadn’t even seen the place yet.

Fucking hell, she muttered as her eyes settled on the imposing gates, the entrance to her ancestral home.

She checked her rear-view mirror as she stopped her van in the middle of the road. There was nothing behind her, in fact, she hadn’t seen another car for at least an hour. She still indicated right, but instead of turning, she put the van in neutral and sat there for a moment contemplating. The tick, tick of her indicator continued as she checked her mirror again.

Come on, for god’s sake, she yelled, banging her hands hard on the steering wheel in frustration at herself. She was being ridiculous. She slipped the van into first gear, checked her mirror once more and turned right and drove slowly onto the start of the drive. Stopping in front of a pair of imposing iron gates, which were securely locked, Matilda slipped the gear stick into neutral, turned off the engine and pulled up the handbrake. It had taken her three years to build up the courage just to get this far.

As she stared at the stone pillars framing the entrance to Ravenscroft Manor, the hairs rose on her arms, and her stomach churned over and over in dread. She glanced either side of the gates, the ten-foot stone wall that she knew encircled the entire estate was covered top to bottom with ivy and creepers.

Matilda took a determined breath, grabbed her handbag from the passenger seat and opened it. She took out two keys, one was a small padlock key, the other a large old iron key. She dropped her bag back on the passenger seat, and opening the van door, jumped out. As her feet hit the ground, a sudden rush of wind caught her long dark hair and swept it in the air. Her heart skipped a beat, and she glanced nervously in every direction.

It’s just the bloody wind, get a grip Tilly, she said out loud and scolding herself. You can do this, she added, and with a determined breath, she walked to the gates. Her eyes settled on the old sign carved into the stone on the left gate pillar, and her leather-gloved hand trembled slightly as she began brushing away eleven years of grime and muck.

Ravenscroft Manor, she read aloud, and as the words rolled off her tongue, an involuntary shudder rippled through her entire body. Her hand lifted to the wrought iron bars, she leaned forward a little and peered through. Her eyes searched from one side of the drive to the other. It was still and dark, the thick woods surrounding the Manor seeming even denser than she remembered. Her eyes lifted sharply to the squawking of the ravens that were now gathering in the trees above her. She let out a puff of air. With a bad feeling niggling in her gut, they were just adding to her state of unease.

Putting the smaller key in a padlock, she wiggled it a little, and it opened. Removing the key and lock, she took the next key and put it in the old gate lock. Matilda hesitated, and as her thoughts went back eleven years, she questioned for the millionth time whether she really wanted to do this. She began taking in a breath through her nose and slowly letting it out through her mouth, a technique her counsellor had taught her. But she was unable to hold back the tears, and as she blinked, they ran down her cheeks.

What the hell am I doing here, she mumbled, and lifting her hand, she wiped her tears away as the memories of her past came flooding back.

Eleven Years Previous

31st October – Matilda’s 11th birthday – Ravenscroft Manor

Gathered in her mother’s ‘best room’, which was only used for special occasions and important visitors, Matilda stood with her hands clasped together in excitement. She wore her favourite dress, it was long and blue, with pink and yellow flowers dotted all over it. A sparkling tiara fastened in her hair added to her princess guise. Her little brother Teddy was eyeing the birthday cake, he licked his lips, and then glanced up to his mother.

Mummy, I want cake, he said in a desperate voice while tugging on her skirt.

Matilda’s mother smiled down at him.

I know sweetie, but we need to sing happy birthday to Matilda first, she replied, scuffing the hair on the top of his head. Ready everyone? she asked glancing around the room.

Happy birthday dear Matilda, happy birthday to you, her mother, father, her Aunt May, and Uncle Joe sang in unison.

Clapping her hands with excitement, Matilda looked at her father. He was a handsome man, tall and muscular. Matilda had always thought he look rather like one of those adventurers on the TV. His large brown eyes smiled at her with pride, as he swept his hands through his short curly hair.

Tilly, he said, say cheese. With a beaming smile to her father, he snapped a few pictures of her with his iPhone. She then blew out her eleven candles and made her wish. As an avid Harry Potter fan, she wished for what most kids wished for, magic.

What’s that noise? her father asked, startled by a sudden loud banging coming from somewhere within the Manor. Matilda’s parents exchanged strange glances, and a look of anguish covered her father’s face.

Oh no, not now, he said.

Do you want me to come with you? she asked. Matilda’s father shook his head.

No, Mary, I’ll deal with it, you see to Tilly, he replied.

Just be careful, her mother urged, and she stuck the large kitchen knife into Tilly’s homemade chocolate birthday cake. He gave a nod, turned, walked quickly out of the lounge, and disappeared into the hallway.

What is it Mary, what does my brother mean, he’ll see to it, is something there? Uncle Joe asked his sister-in-law as he took a plate of cake from her. Uncle Joe was a tall, lean man, with a curly moustache that made Matilda laugh as it curled up at each end with a twist. He wore a pinstriped suit, ever formal was Uncle Joe.

Oh, nothing, just some weird noises that keep happening. Edward is convinced it’s a ghost or something. You know what his like with his paranormal research.

Are you serious? Aunt May asked, taking a plate of cake. You didn’t say anything about ghosts before we moved in. She looked nervous as she glanced at Joe. Aunt May was far more casual than her husband, she was pretty, with long brown hair, and she was wearing jeans and a sparkly blue jumper.

It’s okay May, it’s nothing really. Just an old house creaking and moaning, or a squirrel in the loft, Mary replied handing her some cake.

May glanced to her husband who was eagerly munching on the chocolate cake.  She loved her sister-in-law, but their old family home gave her the creeps.

The lights in the Manor dimmed, and a sudden rush, like an arctic wind, swept through them all.

Mary gave a shiver and looked down to the end of the long banqueting room, and then to her daughter.

Tilly, darling, can you go and make sure the French doors are closed properly, it’s getting a bit chilly in here? her mother asked.

Yes, mummy, Matilda replied, and she skipped to the back of the banqueting room. A huge medieval stone fireplace took up most of one end, and next to it was a life size marble bust of Matilda’s grandfather, which sat proudly on a pedestal.

Hi grandad, she said, patting the top of the bust’s head as she skipped passed.

There was floor to ceiling windows, framed with heavy green velvet curtains and double French doors that led to the garden.

She stopped briefly to look in an ornate mirror, carved out of oak, and gilded in gold, which hung on the wall above the fireplace. Matilda lifted her hand and admired the pentacle her mother had given her for her birthday. It once belonged to her mother, her grandmother, and hers before and so on. Her mother wore it every day, and now she was eleven, it was Matilda’s turn.

The house suddenly began to shake, and an odious rumble penetrated their eardrums, causing her to pull her hands to her ears.

What the hell was that? Uncle Joe asked, looking towards Matilda’s mother.

Mary looked at the door nervously.

Mummy, her younger brother Teddy cried, and as her mother grasped him to her, he dropped his red ball on the floor, and Matilda watched as it bounced across the highly polished floorboards and came to a gradual stop in front of her.

Edward where are you, what’s going on? her mother yelled.

Mary, her father gasped, he had been running and was out of breath. He glanced behind him, and as his hand grasped the doorframe, Matilda knew she would never forget the look on his face as long as she lived.

"It’s him, He’s here, get the children out of here, I can’t stop him!" he yelled.

No! Mary cried, a rush of terror and panic took over her. It can’t be, the wardings!

They’re not holding him back, he’s through! Edward screamed, Run!!

Who is here? Uncle Joe asked, in a panic.

Matilda stood frozen, her eyes wide, her heart stopping when she saw it.

Edward! her mother screeched, stumbling backwards in horror. The demon came like the wind behind him. The light from the crystal chandelier caught the metal on the lethal blade of the scythe the demon held in his hand, and it glinted menacingly. Edward turned, and he screamed a terrible, terrible sickening cry as the demon swooped down like a bird and swept her father inside its black cloak.

Edward! her mother wailed as he disappeared. She pushed Teddy behind her as the demon lifted the scythe towards her. Mary held the cake knife towards it in a desperate but useless attempt to defend them.

Mummy, Teddy cried, clinging to her, his little hands gripping the green fabric as he buried his face in her skirt.

Eric! she screamed at the top of her voice. Eric, he’s here, please help Matilda!

Mummy! Matilda screeched, she didn’t know who her mummy was calling for, she didn’t know anyone called Eric.

Where’s daddy gone! Matilda screamed in a sob; she wanted her father. Her mother’s dark eyes looked towards her daughter; her heart was breaking as she knew what was to come and she could do nothing to stop it.

Without warning, the demon lunged, slicing the scythe across her mother’s torso, and just missing the top of Teddy’s head. Her skin burst open and fresh red blood gushed from her body, hitting the floor, and seeping into the cracks between the polished oak floorboards. Matilda shrieked, she stumbled backwards, landing on the ground flat on her back.

Matilda! her mother cried, pointing at her daughter. Choking, and coughing as blood spewed from her mouth she chanted. "Ego invocabo fons. Traduxisset potentiae. Mary Rhiamon transitus fiat ad Matilda Rhiamon. My consensus ad transitum." A beam of light shot from her fingers and connected with the pentacle around Matilda’s throat. It illuminated, and as Matilda glanced down at it, a shockwave of something hit her body, and shook her from head to toe as it coursed through her veins.

Her mother’s body broke cleanly in two, and thumping lifelessly to the floor, her blood crept like a river of red wine across the floorboards. Teddy stood rigid to the spot, covered in his mother’s blood, his little hands still clutched at her skirt.

Aunt May screamed and screamed, her hands pulling to her face in horror, she didn’t know what to do, she wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move. Uncle Joe stood frozen to the spot; like his wife, his feet just wouldn’t move.

Instantly, the black cloaked demon darted to the left. Swiping his blade across her stunned uncle Joe, he stumbled backwards, his hand clutching at his throat. Blood seeped through the gaps in his fingers as he gasped, and dropping to his knees, he keeled over.

Aunt May stopped screaming, she looked down at her husband, and then back at the demon.

No, she managed with a shake of her head. Please, she begged, her hands raising in front of her pleading the demon to stop.

The demon’s mouth opened, and with jaws wide it blew a swarm of black creatures towards her. Screaming in terror, her arms frantically swiping at them, her aunt May tried to defend herself, but within seconds, they devoured her.

Matilda’s eyes wept as she looked back at Teddy. She wanted to grab her brother, to pull him to her and save him, but frozen to the spot, all she could do was watch in wretched agony as the demon of darkness moved towards him. Her heart died that day, as at barely four years old, Teddy turned to her, his pleading eyes were wracked with tears and fear as he stared at her.

The hooded demon lifted its cloak, he glanced over to Matilda, and then with a wicked smile, it swept Matilda’s brother within its dark folds, and he disappeared forever.

The shock at what was happening swept through Matilda’s body. Fire suddently erupted all around them, and as the Manor began to burn, Matilda cowered on the floor watching the demon glide across the living room towards her. The demon’s eyes appeared to bleed, and he had a face so twisted and cruel that she was not even able to scream, for fear had rendered every part of her entire being immobile.

He bent down to her. His clawed fingers grabbed at her arm, and he dug them deeply into her flesh as he held her. Wisps of foul odour surrounded him filling the air and offending her nostrils. Matilda was too scared to look at him and her eyes turned to the floor.

You are mine, finally after all these years, the demon growled.

From nowhere came a shadowman of brilliant light. His body glowed with such brightness that he illuminated the darkness around them. He shot at speed to her. Seizing the unsuspecting demon’s back, he yelled with fury as he hurtled him up into the air and threw him with force away from her. The glowing man glanced briefly as the demon hit the fireplace with such force, he cracked the white stone and sent an array of family photos crashing to the ground. The shadowman of light grabbed hold of Matilda, he pulled her from the floor and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest.

Although terrified, Matilda felt a sudden rush of love as he held her. She didn’t know who, or even what he was, but she could feel his flesh against her own. Even though he glowed with a strange, magical light, she wasn’t afraid of him, she could sense he was there to help her, to protect her.

No! the demon roared in a fury. As he steadied himself, his hand lashed out hitting the white marble bust of Matilda’s grandfather and sending it crashing to the ground. His black cloak billowing in the air as the flames around them grew fiercer, he stormed towards them.

I will have her! he bellowed.

You shall never have her, the shadowman of light yelled back. He lifted his hand, and from it he emanated a powerful beam of white light which he directed towards the demon. She is, and always will be mine. Go back to the hell you came from!

I will come back for her, he threatened, his hands lifting in retaliation, and sending a beam of darkness spitting and crackling towards him.

And I will stop you again, the glowing man retorted, his power connecting with the demon’s and causing sparks to fly and spit across the room.

"I will have the power of the dark, I will be complete. She is mine!" the demon promised.

The Manor shook: there was an almighty bang, and the whole room became bathed in a glorious light before it all went terribly, terribly dark.

Present Time

Matilda blinked back to reality. The horror of that day still haunted her every night in her dreams. When she told the authorities what happened, none of them believed her. Instead, they insisted it was some crazy man who had broken in to rob them. They concluded he murdered everyone, burning the Manor in a desperate attempt to hide the bodies and make good his escape. It was just shock causing her to make up such a story, to help her block out the horrible truth.

Matilda insisted her story was the truth, and that it was something else, something terrible, dark, and sinister.

As all her family were presumed burned to ash in the fire, there were no bodies, therefore there was no funeral, just a small memorial service that Matilda attended with a woman from social services. Matilda had merely existed since the death of her family. Initially recovering from her ordeal in a hospital, she then spent the next six years in and out of therapy. At fifteen, and close to being committed to a secure hospital by her psychiatrist, Matilda finally realised no one was ever going to believe her story. She knew she needed to stop talking about demons or risk spending the rest of her life in an institution.

Over seven years, she lived in five foster homes. Most of her foster parents were unable to cope with her mood swings, and her, as they called it, ‘weird ways and supernatural obsession’. Although her bedroom looked like a shrine to the occult, Matilda didn’t practice the black arts, she studied it.

Her life was spent absorbing books and searching the internet for information on demons and the paranormal, in the hope of finding out what that thing was that killed her family.

After receiving her financial inheritance and officially inheriting Ravenscroft Manor, Matilda left her last foster home when she turned eighteen. She bought herself a flat in London, which gave her the independence and solitude she longed for. After toying with the idea for what seemed like an eternity, she finally made the decision to move back to the Manor, renovate it and bring it back to its former glory.

The company Matilda contracted were specialists in medieval restoration, and the owner, Mike Tovenaar, had been with his team to assess the state of the building and to draw up the renovation plans. Unable to face the Manor, Matilda didn’t go with him on this occasion. Even now, three years later, she was not sure if she was completely ready, but the building approval had come through, and if there was any chance of her having some kind of a normal life, she had to put this part of her life behind her. Until she could figure out what happened in her past, Matilda knew she had no future.

Matilda turned the key, took it out the lock and pushed the gates, but they refused to move, which surprised her, as the contractors had only been in a month ago to repair the electricity for her.

Putting her back to one of them and leaning against it, she heaved.

God damn it! she cursed aloud, and kicking out at the metal gate in anger. Hearing a sudden rush of movement from above her, she looked up, and squealing in a panic, immediately dropped to the ground. Her hands covered her face protectively as the ravens took off in a frenzy at her noise, squawking and screeching as they swooped by her.

After a few minutes, there was silence, and Matilda peered through her fingers.

Holy hell, she cursed, giving a shudder and glancing around checking to make sure they had all gone. On seeing no more birds, Matilda rose to her full height and ran her fingers through the front of her hair before sweeping it back behind her shoulders.

She looked back to the gates and saw there were brambles and vines gripping hold of the bottom, which was preventing them from opening. She took a quick glance about her. Not that she was expecting to see anyone there, but it was a necessary precaution. She took hold of the gate with both hands, and her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Aperta," she chanted, and a magic wave of power left both her hands and reverberated through the gate, making it rumble and shake. As the magic reached the bottom, the brambles and vines began to shrivel up and release their grip on the bottom. She took a step back, waiting, and watching as the gates scraped noisily across the overgrown driveway as they opened. Matilda smiled. She never told anyone about her powers, especially not her psychiatrist, who was already in half a mind to lock her up and throw away the key. Matilda’s powers started the day after the demon slaughtered her entire family, and since her eighteenth birthday, they were getting stronger.

Once the gates were fully open, Matilda got back in her van and drove the long mile up the drive. She thought back to the shadowman of light which appeared from nowhere and saved her life all those years ago. Even though only eleven years old at the time, she knew he loved her, and they shared some kind of connection. Although the thought both thrilled and frightened her, she had always wondered whether she would see him again.

Pulling the wheel hard right, the van swerved around the brickwork that had risen with the overgrown weeds that covered the drive. After ten more minutes of navigating around the dilapidated driveway, her eyes finally looked upon her ancestral home.

Oh my god, she mumbled as the tyres of her van crunched across the weed covered gravel that fronted the house. She stopped, switched off the engine and pulled up the handbrake.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at it. Matilda had forgotten how big the old medieval Manor was. The two front turrets were separated in the middle by the main Manor, and they were covered from top to bottom in ivy. The west wing had partially collapsed from the fire and nature had taken over, creeping, and climbing its way into the building. To the front of the manor were a set of stone steps which led from the drive up to the main front door. She glanced around her.

The contractors were due to start tomorrow. Ideally, they had wanted to start in the summer, but there were a few problems with planning which caused delays, and it had taken another couple of months for everything to be agreed.

Mike, her contractor had re-connected the power back to the east wing, and his team had made the East side of the Manor safe and secure for her to use as her living quarters. He never mentioned anything weird or strange happening to him while he was here. As far as he, his men, and the rest of the world were concerned, her family had been murdered in the manor, there was no mention of demons, no talk of the paranormal. It had been a straightforward murder case, which to this day remained unsolved.

Chapter Two

Matilda was still staring at the Manor, her hands gripping the steering wheel of her VW T6. It looked bloody creepy, and that feeling of dread still clung in her mind. Matilda glanced at her watch; it was nearly three thirty, and in another hour, it would be dark. Taking a breath, she released the wheel, pulled off her gloves and threw them on the passenger seat.

Grabbing her bag and opening the door, she swung her legs around and jumped out of the van. She gave a groan as she looked down at her new boots as they sank into a muddy puddle.

Opening the side door of her van, Matilda took out her suitcase and holdall, the rest of her belongings she decided could wait until later. She slammed the door shut, turned about, and took a pensive step towards the front door.

The wind was picking up, and as she inhaled the mixed scent of damp autumn leaves and fresh rain wafting in the breeze, she gave a shiver. As she walked, she opened her bag, and took out a large antique key; she hesitated for a second as she looked up at the door, and then, with a deep breath she began to climb the final six stone steps leading to the porch.

Matilda glanced to her right as she reached the top, and her eyes settled on the stone bench in the alcove of the porch. Her eyes dropped below it, and her heartbeat trebled as a wave of cold heat rushed through her. Still there, lying discarded and entangled with brambles and weeds where nature had possessed them for herself, were her brother’s red wellington boots. Her hand lifted to her mouth, and her heart thumped as her eyes wandered to the apex above her, and to the broken tattered pumpkin lights that once decorated the porch, and then as her eyes moved left, they settled on the remains of a mannequin grim reaper, banging back and forth in the wind.

What the hell am I doing here, she muttered with a trembling voice and a shake of her head, and her eyes returned to the weathered and worn oak door in front of her. Putting the key in the lock with a trembling hand, she turned it. The door clicked, and pushing it open, it squealed with rusted age.

Steadying her breath and trying to keep the nausea rippling in her stomach under control, she stepped inside. Her nose twitched at the stale musty smell of smoke still permeating the air. Closing the door behind her, and slipping the key in the lock, she turned around. Tears immediately welled in her eyes, and for a long moment, all she felt was sorrow.

Matilda looked through the dimness, at the dirt and grime covering the parquet flooring, and at the peeling remnants of blue floral wallpaper that lined the walls. An old oak hall table, with a dusty lamp and tattered shade sat against the wall. She glanced to the dead shrivelled plants sitting in terracotta pots on the window ledge. And then her gaze shifted to the magnificent staircase rising ominously to her left, which swept to the right as it climbed into the darkness.

Matilda looked back to the hallway ahead of her.

Mummy, she muttered, as transported back in time she saw her mother chasing after her brother, laughing and giggling as they ran down the hall. She ventured towards them, but on reaching her father’s study, Matilda stopped, turned her head, and saw him sitting at his desk. He glanced up at her.

Hello silly Tilly, he said with a grin. What are you up too?

Daddy, she mumbled, leaning on the doorframe for support.

Matilda, tell daddy dinner’s ready, her mother yelled, swooping her brother into her arms. Come on mucky pup, time to wash up for dinner, she said. Matilda glanced back down