Blue Flame

Church then frowned and through pierced lips told them, “This was not the first time one of these demons came to this portal.” Still shaking, he glanced at the pentagram painted on the wooden floor in the corner of the room and said, “I know of an encounter we had with a Diabolus at our portal centuries ago and a more recent encounter with another Diabolus in the spirit world years ago, which I believe was the same one that I just met.”

Puzzled, Ryan frowned and asked, “What’s a Diabolus?”

“I will explain later,” said Church, who went to the safe, took out a thick ancient leather-bound book, came back over, and placed it on the desk. “Let me decipher all my notes and read the journal again,” said Church, opening the book and searching through the brittle pages for the relevant section.

“I am not happy with this one, boss. Something doesn’t feel right. Do we have to take the assignment?” Ryan asked, fidgeting and looking at Pinky.

“Perhaps a cheese and ham sandwich would help,” smiled Pinky, trying to lighten the mood, knowing that Ryan would do anything if the reward involved food.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say that before?” chuckled Ryan, “When do we start?” he asked, with nervousness he tried to disguise.

Church looked at his team. After this powerful encounter and knowing what it was, he felt scared. He knew from the journal the dangers of any encounter with a Diabolus, and after what he’d just experienced, did not want to put them in harm’s way. Even though they looked calm, Church sensed fear in the pair and realised that none of them were ready for an assignment of this magnitude. He closed the book, leant on the desk, smiled, and announced, “Okay, we won’t take this case.”

“Phew,” Pinky sighed with relief.

Although pleased with Church’s decision, Ryan had a niggling doubt and asked, “Can we do that?”

Church reply never came, as a flickering blue flame filled the corner of the room along with a familiar aroma and, sniffing the air, Ryan announced. “I smell Brussels sprouts, Granny Pearl’s here.”

3

Things are not always right because they are hard, but if they are right one must not mind if they are also hard.

The PATH team lived in a 16th Century thatched-roofed cottage built in a clearing within a dense woodland area of Clifton Moor, close to York city. This secluded cottage belonged to Churchill Potts junior, who inherited it from his grandparents, Pearl and Jack Potts. The cottage had been in the Potts family for generations and although this quaint old cottage appeared like something from a Brothers Grimm folktale; it held a remarkable secret.

* * *

During the mid-sixteenth century, a wealthy Englishman, Robert Potts, had the cottage built at a specific secluded location. This was ideal for Robert and his family and perfect for the inhabitants of the surrounding towns and villages. The townsfolk felt certain Robert was a Warlock, so the further away he was, the better.

With England in turmoil after the civil war ended and after they beheaded Charles I, a Cromwell-controlled protectorate government, one with deep puritanical beliefs, now ran the country. The English people felt terrified and confused. This fear paved the way for a government-backed religious crusade to rid the country of those considered heretics, so witches and warlocks became an indoctrinated terror. This fear led to the formation of the ‘Witch Finders.’ These individuals scoured the country on high government salaries, flushing out evil forces that allegedly manifested into human form.

Robert was from a wealthy and respectable family. He had fought during the English civil war as an infantry officer in Oliver Cromwell’s Roundheads. His father was a minister at York Abbey, and after witnessing many bloody battles, Robert knew he wanted to follow his father’s example and serve God within the clergy. He returned to York after the war ended when he was seventeen. His father used his influence to push his son through the ranks to a junior ministerial position within York Abbey. Robert had suffered headaches throughout his childhood and heard incoherent voices when nobody was there, especially on the battlefield. Unable to understand why, and afraid to seek advice for fear of being accused of being cursed, he ignored it. Robert was a handsome young man but his ashen complexion gave him a ghostly appearance.

Everything changed on his eighteenth birthday when his headaches became severe and the voices became louder, although still a myriad of sounds, he heard cries for help and could sense despair. Everybody now seemed bathed in a white light, apart from him, who glowed with the colours of the rainbow. This terrified Robert and convinced he was a warlock, feared for his life. Robert altered overnight, becoming reclusive and no longer attending the clergy or fulfilled his duties, spending his time in his room alone which disturbed his respectable parents.

Robert went out most evenings, strolling along smoggy, cobbled city streets of York, amongst the hustle and bustle of street vendors, entertainers, and taverns. Although different from his sheltered religious upbringing, the streets seemed to beckon him. He knew he would find something there, but did not know what.

It was on one of these nightly excursions when he met Elizabeth cooking at a small street vendor’s stall,

“Can I tempt you to some lovely tripe and onions, Robert?” She smiled.

“What!” exclaimed Robert, taken aback how she knew his name, as he had never laid eyes on the girl before. Robert saw a crimson aura surrounding her and realised that she was also different.

Robert returned to her stall every night to see the pretty brunette with rosy cheeks that seemed to glow against her pale skin. Elizabeth instigated the courtship and asked him to take her out, which in those days was unheard of, and she could have ended up in prison or far worse. Robert became intrigued and besotted with Elizabeth, who was almost 19-years-old.

“We are special my love.” She’d told Robert. “We are Chosen-ones, and when we find our portal, thou will be the Keeper, and I will be thy Guide.”

This always confused Robert, but he accepted her strange behaviour because he was in love and wanted to marry Elizabeth. His parents wouldn’t give their consent to this union until Robert announced Elizabeth was pregnant. His parent, although outraged, went ahead with the marriage with it being inconceivable to have a child out of wedlock. Not only would it have destroyed the family’s reputation but also they didn’t want to upset Robert’s uncle, as this man terrified people. His uncle was Mathew Hopkins, known throughout England as the Witch Finder General. Robert and Elizabeth married straight away and lived in a cobblestone cottage on his parent’s estate.

Elizabeth, now seven months pregnant, looked radiant, and Robert looked forward to the birth of their first child.

One evening as the pair chatted by candlelight, Robert felt a sharp pain in his head. Elizabeth, knowing of the headaches, reassured him they would go when the time was right, explaining that she too used to get them, and it was only restless spirits trying to contact him.

“They get worse,” said Robert groaning and glancing over at his wife, who appeared to be talking into a large flickering blue flame by the wall.”

After squinting through the pain for a few minutes, his headache stopped and he looked at Elizabeth smiling at him.

He looked at the wall, but the flame had gone and feeling bewildered he looked at his wife, whose crimson aura now had a faint multi-coloured glow surrounding her stomach.

“My love, I must go,” said Elizabeth.

“What?” asked Robert, taken aback, “Go where?”

“I need to prepare for our eternal task ahead.” She said, with calmness in her voice.

Robert stammered, “I don’t understand. Thou art my wife and I forbid thee to go anywhere. What about our child?”

“Goodbye my love, don’t worry, I will see thee soon, and we will all be together,” said Elizabeth, who smiled and closed her eyes,

“What’s happening? Elizabeth, open thy eyes, I want to talk to thee,” said Robert, frowning.

Elizabeth’s body juddered and then convulsed.

“Elizabeth, Elizabeth!” shouted Robert. His eyes widened as he rushed over to his wife as her crimson aura faded.

It took over an hour for a doctor and midwife to arrive on horseback and looked at each other in astonishment when the midwife delivered a healthy baby boy from Elizabeth’s body.

Elizabeth’s death devastated Robert. He spent days and sometimes weeks in bed, ignoring everyone. He never acknowledged his son, refusing to give the child a name and blaming the infant of killing his beloved Elizabeth.

Several years passed and the reclusive Robert stayed alone in his cottage while his parents raised his son, who they named him William.

Late one night while Robert lay in bed watching the candle flicker, staring as the flames went through their nightly dance. He rubbed his temples, “Argh, damn these headaches,” he said aloud.

Closing his eyes as the pain intensified, he smelt Tripe and Onions. Robert felt confused as a large flickering blue flame appeared by the side of the candle with a crimson apparition swirling at its centre. Robert sat up in bed and stared wide-eyed at the light, which got brighter. Then a familiar voice said, “Robert, my love, I haven’t got long to explain. Thee must come and find me and our portal, so we can all be together.”

“Elizabeth” he gasped, startled by the apparition which became clear and he could now see Elizabeth smiling at him.

“I don’t understand. Where art thou? Am I dreaming?” spluttered Robert.

Elizabeth put her arms out and repeated, “My love, thee must come and find me and our portal. It is close by.”

Robert looked agog as the apparition faded, but he felt euphoric and no longer in pain.

After his contact with Elizabeth’s spirit and although he thought it was a dream, Robert knew that he needed to find the portal that Elizabeth told him about, praying that if he found it, he would see her again. He scoured the Yorkshire countryside on horseback for several weeks.

One warm clear night, he came across a large circular clearing within a dense forest area of Clifton Moor. The large patch of ground seemed out of place amongst the woodland, but Robert felt drawn to this area and dismounted. Robert led his horse out of the woods and went over to the circular area. He saw rocks assembled in neat rows around the circle, with a large scorched area in its centre.

Robert cringed, ‘A witch’s coven,’ he thought, ‘Damn, I did not know witches were in this area?’