Spook_me 2020 - Haunted - Chapter 24

[m_findlow]

Title: Haunted
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Gwen, Ianto, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 50,847 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for spook_me 2020 Prompt - Ghost
Summary: The team investigate rumours of a haunted house in rural Wales.

Gwen had worked up a light sweat by the time they were halfway up the winding lane. She hadn't noticed before the way it snaked uphill between the straggling beeches and firs. She cast a glance at Father Michael who was, to his credit, keeping pace well for a man of his vintage, but even Gwen could tell he was beginning to flag. She gently took him by the elbow. ‘Almost there,’ she said, hoping it was encouraging, rather than what it probably was - walking straight back into the lion's den, dragging him into danger.

‘Should've asked you earlier, Father, but do you believe in ghosts?’

‘Who but the dead can say how long or brief the journey into heaven is.’

‘I'll take that as a maybe.’

Gwen might have laughed or cried in relief at the sight of the SUV still parked outside the large stone house as it came into view. Even on a moonless night it gleamed with a promise of salvation. She pawed at the driver side door handle, confirming her suspicions that it remained locked.

She looked around the overgrown cottage gardens, running a discerning eye over them before walking over to one particular bed and leaning down. Her hands wrapped around the warped wooden plinth that was meant to be holding the soil in. As she pulled it loose, more of the garden bed fell out onto the gravel path, no longer held in place by the three foot hunk of timber.

‘What are you planning on doing with that, my dear?’

Gwen strode around to the back of the car, hefting the thick timber over her shoulder even though it hurt like hell. ‘What does it look like?’ she replied. ‘Breaking into the company car.’ Don't balls this up, Gwen, she told herself, already feeling the rough wood splinters piercing her hands. You might only get one good swing with that shoulder. She grit her teeth and threw everything into it, roaring as the end of the wood smashed through the tinted black glass. She dragged the heavy wood left and right, clearing out the jagged pieces of safety glass that clung to the window frame before finally dropping the wood with a grunt of relief.

‘There we are,’ she said, feeling good about herself despite her pain. Ianto could take his triple deadlock system and shove it. Nothing beats a good old fashioned Welsh smash and grab.

She reached in with her left hand and began pawing through the boxes neatly stored inside. There were only two that interested her and the first had a green cross on it and all the good drugs inside. She flipped the dual clips on its lid and rifled through until she found the syringe she wanted. She stuck it between her teeth whilst she struggled out of her jacket. Father Michael attempted to help her get it off. She didn't waste any time pulling down the shoulder of her cotton top and sticking herself. It stung like mad but it would be worth it in a few minutes. She slipped her jacket back on and roughly pulled her hair out of her face.

‘Right. Now we can get ourselves some guns,’ she declared, reaching back inside the SUV and directing her attention to her favourite metal container. God alone knew what kind of gun could stop a ghostly entity but an automatic with alien augmentation and a thirty round clip was a decent starting point.

‘I'm afraid my days of violence are well behind me, Gwen. The only protection I have is that of the cross.’

‘Then best you stay behind me,’ Gwen warned him, ‘because I have a tendency to shoot anything that moves in a situation like this. Here, at least take this,’ she said, handing him one of their standard issue stun guns. ‘It's not a gun. Well, I mean, it is a gun, but it's not designed to kill, only incapacitate.’

Father Michael reluctantly took the proffered weapon. ‘I suppose in the current circumstances such a thing might be overlooked.’

‘There'll be time to ask for forgiveness later.’ She grabbed a torch and discarded the rest of their cache. She'd seen the size of the thing that had confronted her before and one of their portable prison units wasn't going to be nearly big enough if it came to that. ‘Now, come on.’

She rounded the side of the house, switching her beam of light left and right as she navigated the overgrown vegetable gardens.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Jack,’ she replied plainly. ‘He came out here and didn't come back.’ As much as she wanted to get back inside the house to figure out how the hell they stopped a creature that appeared barely corporeal, she needed better backup than a local priest who should be enjoying his sunset years and not chasing after aliens with her. And where the hell was Ianto?

It didn't take long for her to have searched the entire eastern side of the house, as well as the coal room. There'd been a tiny fragment of hope that maybe Jack had holed himself up inside it, perhaps injured, but it was empty but for the bins of dark brown rock and rusting garden tools.

She moved slowly backwards from the house, trying to take in as much of it, and the surrounding gardens, as she could. Everything out here was quiet and dark. The lights from the figures that had chased her before had disappeared.

She took another step back and something grabbed her from behind. She screamed and spun around, confronted by a seven foot tall creature in ragged clothes and a menacing face. At first she thought it was the monster, but then strong arms grabbed her and held her tight.

‘It's okay,’ Father Michael's soft voice spoke into her ear. ‘It's just a scarecrow. You just backed into it.’

He gently let her go and she lifted her torchlight up to meet it. He was right. Its face was nothing more than stuffed hessian with a crude stitched face and buttons for eyes, and weather worn old clothes that rippled in the breeze. How had she forgotten that was here? Stupid, she chastised herself, letting her fear get the better of her.

‘Well, it did its job,’ she tried to joke. 'Scared half to death by a potato sack and some hand me downs.' She puffed out a breath, trying to quell her pounding heartbeat. If anything was out here she'd either scared it off with her cry or drawn it straight toward them.

She held her gun under her torch and completed a full turn, scanning their position from every angle. Nothing moved and everything was eerily silent. She began to wonder if they were the only two living souls left here. The house remained dark and unyielding against the prussian night sky.

Edging around the wooded area that encircled the house on three sides, the rear of the house came into view. She looked up for the bedroom window where she'd made her escape, looking for any signs the creature was still up there. What she found instead was a window that was perfectly formed, unbroken, the ivy around its edges undamaged and the drapes that had broken her fall no longer hanging in tatters out through the gap. That wasn't possible. She knew she'd broken it and thrown herself from it. Her shoulder could attest to the fall.

‘Gwen,’ came the low voice next to her. ‘Over there,’ said Father Michael, pointing to a small ebbing glow.

Gwen saw the small light and stepped closer to it. She wouldn't run this time. She was going to find out what it was and what it wanted. The closer she got though, the more the light dimmed until it was hardly larger than a palm print, then blinked out altogether. ‘Damn,’ she cursed. She pointed her light around, hoping to coax it back out. ‘Hello? We don't want to hurt you. We just want to talk.’

The light from her torch was temporarily blocked as it hit the side of the thick tree, illuminating letters that had been carved into its trunk. She'd seen this tree before, but it had changed, or maybe it was a different tree altogether. Either way, it troubled her as she touched the letters that read "Gil heart Jack". G. R. heart J. H. She didn't need surnames to know deep down in her gut which Jack was the object of affection. She felt a shiver run down her spine. This wasn't just a haunting anymore. It was personal and Jack was somehow connected to it all.

‘You remember that bad feeling you said you had earlier?’

She saw Father Michael frown in the glow from her torch as he read the words. ‘Yes?’

‘I think you were right.’

Next chapter...