Spook_me 2020 - Haunted - Chapter 35

[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.

The tiny stone building came into view in the blink of an eye as the SUV sped towards it, barely slowly as Gwen swung the wheel sideways, hitting the brakes and coming to a stop perpendicular. Jack sucked in a breath as he imagined his entire salvation - or rather Ianto’s - lying within those walls.

‘Gwen, go help Father Michael find his books and whatever else he needs.’ His order brooked no argument as the pair of them ran towards the small cottage that lay hidden from view behind the church itself.

Jack carried Ianto's across the grass and through the tiny doors of the chapel. He squeezed them past the small row of dark timbered pews. There were only five rows able to fit inside the narrow stone interior and each would only have seated three parishioners at most. The night struggled to filter its way through the beveled stone windows, with only the main latticed glass windows at the very front of the church casting any sort of light down the nave.

Stepping up to the bema, he laid Ianto down on the cold slate floor. His body was unmistakably cold, like he was wrapped up in death already. ‘You need to come back to me, Ianto,’ Jack pleaded. ‘This was not the way I planned on us going down the aisle.’ Fanciful as it was, he imagined flowers and friends and Ianto in his best suit with a gorgeous red tie and waistcoat to match. He did not imagine being cold and scared. If there had ever been any kinds of gods, he prayed to them now as he shucked his coat and tucked it under Ianto, wrapping him up in it.

A wooden door creaked on rusting hinges as Gwen and Father Michael came bursting in from somewhere beyond the tiny sacristy. They carried two boxes between them as Gwen set hers down and began frantically unpacking it. They almost didn't even notice Jack kneeling there on the floor.

‘What are you doing?’ he implored, expecting Father Michael to begin at once. ‘We’re wasting time. Time Ianto doesn’t have.’

Father Michael looked over his shoulder at Jack even as he was pulling thick pillar candles out of a box and setting them on the table behind the lectern. Gwen was similarly hanging metal lanterns on hooks in the stone walls all around the tiny chapel interior.

‘The devil does his work in darkness. I dare not attempt this without as much light as we can.’ He lit one slender candle and handed it to Gwen to begin lighting the rest even as he took a second slender white candle and began lighting up candles in the wall sconces and on the table.

‘Jack, for God’s sake, don’t just sit there! Help us,’ Gwen demanded. Reluctantly he pulled himself to his feet and moved to take a lit candle, using it to ignite the well used wicks of others, but always with one eye on his lover lying there helplessly on the floor, fighting an invisible battle for survival.

Slowly the small chapel began to glow with a muted yellow light as they moved around, lighting every last possible source. There was a palpable tension in the air at what they were about to do as Jack resumed his spot, knelt next to Ianto.

Father Michael picked up the ancient looking tome off the table and pulled it open, searching for the right passage. He lay the book in the crook of his elbow as his spare hand reached for the large black cross hanging from the centre of his rosary. He gave Jack one last look before beginning. ‘I cannot make any promises.’

‘Please just try,’ Jack pleaded, taking Ianto’s hand in his, feeling it cold like ice.

The priest held out his cross in front of his body as he came to stand over the pair of them.

‘O glorious Archangel St. Michael, Prince of the heavenly host, defend us in battle, and in the struggle which is ours against the principalities and Powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against spirits of evil in high places.’

‘Come to the aid of men, whom God created immortal, made in his own image and likeness, and redeemed at a great price from the tyranny of the devil.’

Jack watched Ianto’s face for any signs of change but it remained pale and unmoving.

‘Fight this day the battle of the Lord, together with the holy angels, as already thou hast fought the leader of the proud angels, Lucifer, and his apostate host, who were powerless to resist thee, nor was there a place for them any longer in Heaven. But that cruel, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil or Satan, who seduces the whole world, was cast into the abyss with all his angels.’

There was a twitch. Jack felt it move down Ianto’s arm as his head jolted sideways, reacting to the words that were spoken. It twitched again, this time in the opposite direction, like he was trapped in a bad dream, unable to wake. Jack's heart leapt with anticipation, beginning to beat faster in his chest.

‘Behold, this primeval enemy and slayer of man has taken courage, Transformed into an angel of light, he wanders about with all the multitude of wicked spirits, invading the earth in order to blot out the name of God and of his Christ, to seize upon, slay and cast into eternal perdition souls destined for the crown of eternal glory.’

‘Virus nequitiae suae, tamquam flumen immundissimum, draco maleficus transfundit in homines depravatos mente et corruptos corde; spiritum mendacii, impietatis et blasphemiae; halitumque mortiferum luxuriae, vitiorum omnium et iniquitatum.’

Jack could feel vibrations coursing through his own body as if something were trying to be leached from it as well. The words were filling the room with an energy that Jack could sense. It rippled the air and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. He knew Gwen could feel it too. She knelt opposite him and reached over Ianto's body for his other hand and clapsed it between her own two, unsure whether it was for his comfort or hers.

‘These most crafty enemies have filled and inebriated with gall and bitterness the Church, the spouse of the Immaculate Lamb, and have laid impious hands on her most sacred possessions.’

Ianto’s eyes flew open and there was a guttural cry as consciousness ripped through his body like a piercing blade. His eyes blazed out a bright blue light and Jack knew it was the thing inside him, raging against the invocations being made. He writhed in some unspoken agony.

Father Michael paused a moment, uncertainty and worry etched across his face.

‘Keep going!’ Jack cried. He feared what might happen if they stopped. The creature knew they were here now and what they were trying to do. Jack knew it would fight them at every turn and that they couldn't give it a moment to regain any strength.

‘Ubi sedes beatissimi Petri et Cathedra veritatis ad lucem gentium constituta est, ibi thronum posuerunt abominationis et impietatis suae; ut percusso Pastore, et gregem disperdere valeant.’

Ianto's eyes rolled back in his head showing nothing but the terrible whites. His back arched so impossibly that Jack was certain his whole spine would snap in two, paralysing him completely. The hand that Jack had taken at the beginning was now trapped in a vice-like grip, Ianto’s knuckles bright white as they clutched it.

‘Arise then, O invincible prince, bring help against the attacks of the lost spirits to the people of God, and bring them to victory.’

Jack yelled in pain as he felt Ianto’s hand tighten with inhuman strength, shattering the bones in Jack's hand and crushing them to pieces. Even with Jack's hand now a mangled and floppy mess of broken bones Ianto didn't let Jack go, and neither could Jack pull it away. Bolts of pain lanced up Jack's arm as the fist continued to crush it. The sheer pain of it took his breath away.

Father Michael’s voice grew louder and more forceful, trying to be heard over Jack’s pained cries and Ianto's gasping breaths. ‘Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; te gloriatur defensore adversus terrestrium et infernorum nefarias potestates; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas!’

The room began to shudder. Windows rattled in their cast iron frames, wooden pews clattered and knocked together as if moved by an earthquake, and bits of grit and dust tumbled down from the aging beams and stonework overhead. An invisible force tugged at their clothing and whipped through their hair. Jack fought through his own physical pain before something else overwhelmed him. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning. It travelled up his arm and lanced across his body, setting every nerve ending on fire. Gwen cried out in pain as she let go of his hand.

‘Oh, pray to the God of peace that He may put Satan under our feet, so far conquered that he may no longer be able to hold men in captivity and harm the Church!’ Father Michael roared.

Candles around the chapel began to flicker, some of them all the way out as a new battle began. A dark cloud began to form around Ianto, and Jack in turn. It grew thicker and denser, enveloping them in a choking fog. Jack could no longer make out the man beside him but through the hand that gripped his, he could feel Ianto’s body convulsing violently. Jack's own body began to shake uncontrollably. The whole chapel seemed to shudder and the roof creaked and cracked, threatened to collapse in on them.

Father Michael tried to grip the lectern with his hand to steady himself. ‘Offer our prayers in the sight of the Most High, so that they may quickly conciliate the mercies of the Lord; and beating down the dragon, the ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, do thou cast him in chains in the abyss, that he may no longer seduce the nations. Amen!’

The black cloud exploded outward, hitting them with a blast wave so powerful it knocked Jack flat on his black as it erupted in all directions, knocking furniture against the walls, sending lanterns smashing from their hooks to the floor and blowing out every last flame of light before the church fell completely silent and dark.

Next chapter...