Warren Rome

Warren Rome

Author of the Macabre

The Field "Chapter Three"

So here is as promised, the third and final chapter before the release of the full book 'The Field'.  I really hope you enjoy it as the build up to Hallows Eve continues.   I will try and upload the full report with video's and photo's over the coming days so keep checking back on my blog if you are interested in what occurred on October 21st /22nd in 30 East Drive, Pontefract.  It was an unforgettable investigation...

 

For now though, my third chapter of 'The Field'.  Enjoy...

Stay Scared,

Wx

@warrenrome

www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com

www.facebook.com/warrenrome

CHAPTER 3

 

 

 

Like a pneumatic drill to the dome, the scream echoed around the large room.  Chloe looked at the Doctor in an attempt to decipher the cause of the unnerving disruption.  Vaheys was calm, he beckoned her beyond the doorway and it locked automatically behind them as they entered.

“I was thinking that I could introduce you to your patient right away, as I am sure you have had enough of my induction for the time being.  I can let you meet him and collect you, in, shall we say twenty minutes?  Yes, I think that would be splendid!  A little introduction to get you started and then I can introduce you to the nurses on duty and of course, show you around your, shall we say, permitted zones? He-he  ”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically.  She was nervous beyond belief but extremely excited to be allowed the opportunity to interact with her patient, James.

“Most of our patients are housed in rooms with glass walls.  I will endeavour to show you some examples; they are in these places to enable us, of course, to keep watch over them at all times as they are likely to injure themselves given any opportunity.  James on the other hand, is harmless.  He is happy to be away from the other patients and in his own quarters.  Enter my dear, say hello to your patient...”

The door had been unlocked and the doctor in some macabre and twisted ceremonial sidestep, took Chloe by the arm gleefully, and like a sportsman proudly sporting his winning trophy to his adoring fans, Vaheys stretched out his arms in delight:

“James, this is Miss Attwald.  She will be asking you some questions and getting to know you over the course of the next few weeks.  Miss Attwald is a guest here; I would appreciate it if you would treat her with the respect you would treat your nurses, psychologist and any member of staff.  Miss Attwald, I will return in twenty minutes to conclude your tour of the hospital.”

Vaheys closed the door as he left, leaving Chloe standing, motionless and observing the frail individual facing the corner of his brightly painted prison-like cell.  The patient did not move an inch; his failure to acknowledge her presence had been expected, so Chloe attempted at conversation by introducing herself in the softest voice she could muster.  The room was small and cold.  The bed had a single plastic sheet covering the mattress and at the foot of his cradle was a single white sheet; his one item of “luxury” afforded due to the conclusion that he posed no danger to himself or others.  The sparse room contained no personal items and the bleached sterile walls reflected back at Chloe with a blank disposition.

 

Her patient remained still and a few minutes had passed before Chloe realised that she had not spoken to James since her initial greeting.  He was dressed in a long white, draping poncho that hung off his shoulders revealing the top of his slender back.  He was certainly malnourished and his bones protruded so hideously that Chloe imagined, if she were to turn him around, to her horror the skeletal face grinning at her would confirm his passing away some years previous.  The doctors and nurses would have continued on in their ways, never having noticed they were a patient down and left him to rot in his pitiful gown, staring forever more at the blank wall situated only a few centimetres from his gaze.

 

Although seated, it was easy to decipher he was not a tall man.  His unkempt, greasy hair that nested on his head was thinning and emphasising his poor health.  Chloe opened her notebook and took in a lungful of air before attempting a second round of introductions:

“I guess you are not in the mood for talking today James?  That’s perfectly fine.  I mean, I have days like that all of the time.  I hope you don’t mind if I visit you again tomorrow?  Maybe we could try again and get to know each other a little better?  I am here to help you in whatever way I can.  I am going to read your file tonight to gain a little insight into what they say is troubling you, but I think it would be much more special, and maybe even helpful to you, if you could tell me how you are feeling.  Maybe you could let me know how they are treating you in here.  Anything that you might like in your room or something?”

The statuesque figure of her patient still perched on his bed, facing the wall and silent, was not the sight she had envisaged.  Still, this was her virgin voyage on a “real” case and it would take a lot more than ten minutes of being ignored to dampen her enthusiasm.  Chloe considered that if she had been given the file of her patient just the night before, she might be able to invoke a minor element of response.  The confidence in her abilities was not misjudged.  She had after all, been handpicked for the case; James’ psychiatrist had failed after two years of tests and experiments and had practically given up on all hope of reaching the distant patient of room 213.

“Maybe a picture perhaps to break up the white decor?  Or even some flowers to brighten up the place the right way, hey James?”

Chloe realised that she was blabbering, but the poor guy had to endure enough silence, so it seemed only natural that any pleasant small talk would be a respite to the wintry solace of the confines of his cell.  It must be understood that Chloe was not only a rational person entrenched in the world of science, but that she would have been the first person, as indeed she was, to question her own eyes when she witnessed, or at least, what she momentarily believed she encountered, before she could continue in her blether in order to escape the quiet.  Under the loose garment that hung around his bony shoulders, what can only be described as the word “Naamah” appeared for mere seconds before dissolving back into the pale skin; for those few seconds however, it appeared like a tumour, bubbling up red, scarred tissue; before returning to the depths of his despairing carcass.

 

Her belief and dedication to science were unwavering and as Vaheys entered the room and broke the silence with a retching wheeze, Chloe remained quiet on the issue and reasoned that the atmosphere and barren surroundings had already begun to play tricks.  This was something she noted to herself in order not to fall foul of mind games and tricks of the imagination.  This was the last thing her patient would need.  It would be unfair to say that Chloe had already begun to question her qualification for the role in the case, but that fleeting moment had made her uneasy and she noted that strange word or symbol in her book for review when she returned home.

“And how are you two getting on? He-he, I see you have noticed he is not one for talking my dear?  He-he.  Not to worry, I am sure you will break down the barriers.  Come, come, anyway, that is enough for today.  I will show you around your permitted areas of the hospital, but we must move with haste my dear, as it is nearing time for dinner and I am beyond hungry!”

Chloe shuddered slightly as she felt the sweating arm of the doctor around her slender shoulder.  She observed her patient one last time as she left the room, no movement, no sign of life, and no further messages were forthcoming.  He remained, staring at the wall like a hypnotised horror of a concentration camp, emaciated and harrowing in appearance.  Chloe would question Vaheys on James’ diet when she had the opportunity, but she would have to suffer the sickening touch of the doctor as he paraded around the hospital and gleefully pointed out the patients and their prison cells.  

 

As Vaheys walked Chloe down another bleached corridor, he pointed out the occupational therapy building, this she would be allowed in when she pleased.  The side of the hospital housing the male patients remained a mystery where she would have no access, other than of course, to her patient.  Chloe was introduced to the two nurses that were the usual characters on the evening shift.  They were enjoying steaming mugs of coffee in the canteen and greeted Vaheys and Chloe with a grunt as they passed.  Chloe did not even make eye contact, her thoughts entirely consumed with her patient and his self-induced silent quarantine.

“Do you think I could possibly take James’ files home with me this evening to go through?  It would give me a much needed head start for when I visit him tomorrow.”

Vaheys nodded and smiled.  He was only half listening as he grabbed a plate from the large pile of crockery that shimmered under the lights.  He ordered the rotund lady that peered over the dining bar amidst the steam and mist, to fill his plate with the pasta bake that would be presented later to the remaining abstemious patients for their evening meal.

“I will quickly show you the church on site and we will pass the laundry complex and occupational therapy building.  Behind there is the isolation hospital, which of course, you will not have access to.  Still, knowledge is power he-he.”

 

The journey home was filled with excitement.  Chloe had ordered a taxi and was relieved when she saw it making its way along the long winding road she had taken with Steve a few hours earlier.  Doctor Vaheys had left her waiting, eager for his meal and seemingly already growing bored with her company.  The novelty of showing the first newcomer to the hospital in over three years was only momentary, so it seemed.  Her relief however, was not for want of escaping the intimidating atmosphere of the hospital.  If Chloe had her way, she would have spent the evening quite happily attempting to break through to James Douglas.  Her request to take his personal files had been noted and Vaheys smiled sagely when he ordered Noah Crompton, the evening shift nurse that looked after the medium security block (housing six patients including James), to go to the storage house and collect his files.  These files it turned out were in-fact boxes.  There were fifteen of these old dusty boxes and they contained everything from paper files, videoed sessions and numerous psychiatrist reports, to medication documentation and personal artefacts.  She could spend the whole night awake going through the trough of materials and still not have studied more than three of the boxes.

 

Monica was not present when the army of paperwork entered the small house on Ducee Avenue.  Slightly relieved, Chloe made eight separate trips up the stairs armed with a box, until the floor space in her small dark bedroom was crowded with the creased life story of a disturbed young man.  After swiftly leaving her room for refreshment (consisting of a hot mug of green tea and a biscuit), Chloe entered her room.  The light flickered slightly, but Chloe had already tore the lid from box one and plunged her hand into the array of yellowing paperwork and files.  The cracked, leather bound file begged to be opened and she did not torment it, opening it quickly and settling into the comfort of her thick warm duvet.  Sipping the hot tea, she observed the journal.  It was the writing of her patient, a diary of events before he had been forced to spend his days under the leering eyes of Doctor Vaheys:

Monday October 2nd 2000

I woke up early today.  Couldn’t sleep, the birds seemed noisier than usual, like something was provoking them into insane wicked warbling that would make the deaf restless.  I would normally take Morrison for a walk, but it’s raining hard out there.  Still no news on the job front.  A man could get depressed sitting around all day with nothing to do.  For some reason though, I feel upbeat, maybe something good is waiting around the corner, God, how I hope I can find work soon.

 

Wednesday October 4th 2000           

Morrison enjoyed a good run today.  Even though he’s a greyhound, he eats like a horse.  Walked across the fields and enjoyed the autumn colours of the trees with Hollie.  We didn’t talk about our lack of money or the depressing state of our kitchen.  Empty cupboards, but for the constant presence of those little bastard bugs.  They get everywhere, even found some in the sugar bowl and a cheap bag of rice; just where the hell are they coming from?

 

A noise signalling the arrival of Monica startled Chloe, causing her to drop the diary to the floor.  A muffled “hello, it’s me” crept under the bedroom door.  Chloe did not respond, the voice may well have been distorted, but she recognised her housemate’s tone all too well.  Monica was intoxicated and Chloe was in no mood to indulge her and another of her excited tales of drunken foreplay.  She remained cocooned in her duvet and lifted the book from the floor.  She turned the pages to where she was unexpectedly disturbed.  Her eyes, in their eagerness to absorb as much information as possible, focused on the neatly written prose of James Douglas, only a week on from the last entry she had perused:

 

Thursday 12th October 2000

What I am about to write may seem exaggerated, or worse, fabricated.  As I have stated before, my diary is for the eyes of the people I trust most dearly, maybe even for when I am not around anymore.  My scripture is absolute, it is of course, from my perspective and although my yearnings to be an author grow ever stronger, my diary is not to be confused with such dreams and desires but as a tool of complete truth, and my personal feelings, as and when I decide to note them.  I write my account today with more fear in my heart than I have ever had the misfortune to interpret.  My hands shake as I think back to those moments.  It was not just I that witnessed the events that unfolded, and had it not been that the experience had indeed been shared, then would I have doubted my very own senses?  Would I have cried out in anguish at the realisation that the eyes submerged so charily in my beyond, rational head, were no longer my own, but that of a swindler or even a drunken man?   Tonight when walking over the field, to our horror, we noticed dozens of strange, eerie lights appearing in the sky; strange grey silhouettes in all four positions of the compass.  They were working in tandem:  The colours of the rainbow winking at one another as they caressed the night sky without a sound.  This lightshow lasted for twenty minutes or more and Hollie and I gazed in awe at what we were witnessing.  They continued gaily and without concern of being seen.  It was noted that despite the unusual sight of the bravado of an alien machine parading the firmament, Hollie and I uttered not a word, thus was our amazement at the phenomena.  Morrison himself was not ignorant of the bizarre happenings.  He stood transfixed, as if frozen in time, one foot cocked cheekily in the air, stunned into submission.  My mind reverts back to only a few days previous, when the lads in the pub had mocked the local lush, Rory Thomas.  How they rollicked him for his vivacious tales of the unknown; yet had they not occurred within these very grounds?  I smile now, knowing that had the guys seen what my partner and I had, they would surely have mocked no more and laid a round of drinks on for Rory.

 

Chloe took a last sip of her tea.  It was lukewarm, but her mouth was dry from the evaluation of events through the eyes of her patient.  His words were not that of a crazed man, they were well written and descriptive, almost believable.  He may well have seen strange lights in the sky, there are many accounts daily of such occurrences.  The couple’s desire for something out of the ordinary to occur could easily mistake the illuminations of a Government craft, unknown to the public or anything other than a discerning eye for that of something as wonderful as an alien craft.  He had already described their meagre mundane existence; their lack of nourishment could equally explain away the account.

 

Not straying from the excitement of the author, Chloe decided to continue reading to satisfy her intrigue and return to the sections missed, caused by the diaries fall from her bed minutes earlier.  She turned the heavily fingered page and began to read the next instalment when the phone began to ring.  Monica would be oblivious to any outside noise having not returned with a partner for the evening so would be in heavy slumber now.  Chloe carefully placed the book on her bed and withdrew from her room.  The phone was crying out from the darkness.  Slightly spooked by the gloom and violent winds outside, Chloe hurried to the invader of the silence.  Her mood fell further as the voice on the line confirmed it to be that of Doctor Vaheys:

“I think it would be a good idea for you to return to the hospital right away.  Mr Douglas’ night terrors are happening again.  Have you managed to read that far into my notes yet?  No matter, come here right away.  He has gotten rather violent and has had to be restrained.  I will arrange for a cab to pick you up in twenty minutes.  I have your address in your personal file...”

For a few seconds the nervous excitement of the prospect of the night visit to the aid of her distressed patient dissipated.  The prospect of a random visit to the sleazy doctor and his lusty gaze was enough to dampen enthusiasm somewhat.  Chloe regained her composure however, and confirmed she would be ready for when the car arrived.

 

The wind created further unease as the car headed down the winding road to the institute.  The few lights shone dimly and were only visible as she approached.  Chloe thanked the driver and handed him a generous tip before leaving the vehicle awkwardly, haphazardly zigzagging across the stones and shale in a desperate attempt to avoid the hard rainfall.  The matron was waiting at the door and locked it hurriedly after Chloe entered.

“Do you know your way Miss?  I have to see to another patient, so it would be good if you could make your own way...”

Nodding, Chloe left the reception area and headed for the long corridor with the security door.  Her security number was running through her head in a desperate effort to remain unforgotten.  It need not have worried; Chloe’s memory was not quite photographic but it was a force to be reckoned with, particularly when facing an exam or quickly fired questions at a lecture. “CH17” and she entered through into the darkened room before the screams of James Douglas resounded and flooded the area.  She made her way to the brightly lit corridor and walked with haste to meet the creator of the din.

“Welcome!  Welcome my dear!  Your patients behaviour has worsened I’m afraid.  It seems you have a challenge on with him.  You will certainly have to earn your Doctorate my dear!”

James’ cell door was ajar; Chloe ignored Doctor Vaheys’ mocking remarks and he left for his office with grimy intent, licking his lips maniacally as he disappeared into the darkness.  A male nurse was seated in the corner of room 213; his eyes stared wildly at the patient until they encountered Chloe entering the room meekly.  James was strapped to his bed.  Four leather ringlets around his wrists and ankles holding steadfast, as his torso jerked violently from its crib.  His eyes were wide open and the pupils were replaced by the bulging white pool balls that appeared to be spinning around in his wretched head.  His skin, tight as tree bark, was taught and twisting along his throat and onto his shoulders, as he lurched forwards again and again in a futile attempt to escape his divan detention.  Froth bubbled and popped with every convulsion before it was replaced by yet another deathly howl or scream:

“Fucckkkkkk!  Get it off of me!  Can you see the bitch?  Arrghhh!  Help me somebody please!  Not human...  She’s burning me...  She’s burning...”

It was at that moment that he began to bleed, quite unexpectedly and like a leaking pen.  A blob appeared and seeped into his gown until a black dot surrounded by an orb of claret grew with velocity from his groin area.  The nurse rushed to his aid but was thrown back across the room by an unseen force, catapulting him violently like a feather in a tornado.  He ricocheted off the far wall and landed on the floor unconscious.  Chloe witnessed the nurse flying through air and observing the broken strap of James’ right wrist, considered for a moment how he had mustered such strength with the use of just one arm. 

 

As James began to pound himself hard across the face and chest with his freed hand, Chloe grabbed and attempted to hold on to him tightly whilst crying out for assistance.  The nurse, dazed but recovering, arrived at the bed and injected the patient with a heavy sedative.

“That will do it.  He should be out until tomorrow evening with this.”

After being a party to the events for only minutes, Chloe realised she was involved in something that was beyond her comprehension.  The lack of interest and support for this patient troubled her immensely.  Why did it seem they had given up all hope on this poor man?  His nightmares were troubling, but with counselling, people all around the world had made full progress with similar afflictions.  There was little point in staying around now that James was comatose.  She thanked the nurse and left the room.  James Douglas needed help and the information and key to his troubles lay in those dusty boxes at home.  The hour was late but she was determined to discover any information that the Doctor could be withholding.  She entered the darkness and into the direction of his office with anger brewing, and unless Vaheys was willing to co-operate fully, confrontation was inevitable.  

 

Timid to the point of submission on occasions, Chloe could equally be assertive to the extreme of aggression when it was needed.  The last time her manner had entered uncompromising abandon had resulted in a local drunk receiving a tongue-lashing after his inexcusable, yet understandable accusation, that Monica was “nothing more than a two-bit whore”.  This had been let loose at her frivolous friend, having spent much of the evening bending over the pool table in fortuitous foreplay with her latest squeeze.  Her knight in shining armour had reacted in a fit of laughter and Monica, having drank plenty, was about to lash out with flailing arms at her aggressor, only for Chloe to step in and scold him, whilst successfully blocking Monica’s attack.

 

She knocked on the office door once and did not wait for a response.  Entering the darkened room caused her eyes to lose focus for a few seconds.  The crackle of the open fire on the far side of the room was the only light that flickered from time to time.  It gave away the secrets of the dark; secrets that Chloe’s eyes could well have done without viewing.  If the horror of the evening was the realisation of her client’s dire needs, then the shock of the evening was the image of the doctor, half-naked and pleasuring himself over his antique desk.  The room returned to darkness once again as the fire laid low; an ember sparked and flew from the hearth in utter panic before resting in the fortitude of obscurity.

 

Vaheys pulled up his trousers and muttered incoherently, but it was most certainly an insult directed at the intrusion.  Chloe regained her composure and attempted to take control, speaking with as much authority as she could muster:

“Doctor Vaheys, I apologise for walking in on you like this.  However, I feel I must discuss the further developments of my case with James Douglas.  After what I have just witnessed, I must say, it appears that whatever course you have set this patient on, it is safe to say, it is not working!  Furthermore, the low numbers of staff working in such poor conditions, and with such obviously dangerous patients, is nothing short of a disgrace!”

The Doctor chuckled.  This antagonised the distressed student further, but she bit her tongue, holding back further abuse admirably.

“I see feelings are running high tonight.  He-he, I never saw such passion in you.  My, my, I will have to keep my eye on you my dear.  Now, seeing as we are both in shock, might I suggest we share a glass of Brandy to calm the nerves, and we can discuss your case in greater detail?  I may even be able to give a more concise insight into your client, save you reading through all those files that await you at home?”

Chloe agreed to the Brandy; not normally a drinker, she was eager for the information and he was correct in his statement, she was still in shock.  She seated herself in the visitors chair across from the desk she had caught the Doctor masturbating over.  Shuddering slightly, the sound of the Brandy being poured from the crystal decanter in the darkness, made her sit still and focus.

“Here you go my dear.  Are you sure you want to sit there?  It is after all, not office hours.  Would you not like to sit near the fire and warm yourself?”

Shaking her head, Chloe sipped the Brandy.  It was smooth and expensive.  She had never sampled this kind before.  Ignoring the Doctors’ suggestive steering towards the fireside, Chloe began her questioning:

“James Douglas needs closer attention than what he is receiving currently.  The strength he demonstrated was inhuman.  A male nurse, taller, heavier, and healthier I might add, to be thrown across the room in such a manner as I witnessed, with the use of only one arm...  I just would not have believed it!  The bleeding that appeared so suddenly from his groin area, there was no obvious cause of the bleeding, yet there it was, in full gory colour!  There is more to this patient than I was made aware of when I was first introduced to this case.”

Vaheys was impressed with the passion and power that Chloe exhibited on behalf of her case.  He considered for a moment if her motive was really for the welfare of her client, or if it was of more direct consequence to her final grade and resulting career:

“You speak powerfully my dear.  I wonder, if it is not an incorrect profession you are seeking and if a role more as a narrative speaker may be one of your true calling.  I see from your expression that my habitual desire to cling to some form of humour; a resilient response only my dear.  A most natural, human reaction to the pestilence, wicked tongues, vicious attacks on the body and soul – darn right evil that clings to the walls and dwells in the undergrowth.  Like a plague of locusts that devours all within its path, it will only stop when there is nothing left to feed upon.  Take these words and remember them my dear, because if you ignore every other syllable I have pressed upon you over the last twenty-four hours, those words, I implore you to take heed, as I fear they will be your ultimate conclusion and as such, with a desire to succeed that you possess, they may be your sanctuary.”

 

Chloe put the glass down.  The Brandy remained, but she was aware she was in the room with a Doctor she did not trust and was beginning to question his role within the hospital after making his worryingly “Hollywood” statement.  It appeared that the hospital employees were suffering the same state of mind as the patients.  Her look of disdain did not go unnoticed by Doctor Vaheys and he frowned and slammed his empty glass to the desk in fury:

“Do not mock me child!  I have been in charge of this hospital since before you were born, and let me tell you, this patient of yours is suffering from a disease unlike any other!  He is suffering from an illness that science will never be able to find a cure for, or some ill-informed inoculation to remedy the effects!  Let me tell you, that I am serious as was his psychologist who left him to us when he could take no more.  Is that not why your wonderful tutor, Mr Schlobert suggested you for the case?  Yes, yes!  I spoke with him as there was nobody else to turn to, and because of our nanny like state ways, I could not cast him out of this hospital for the devil he truly is, as the law would not permit me to do so!”

 

Chloe observed the frantic doctor and not for the first time tonight, she saw unqualified fear.  It would have been imprudent to remind the doctor that although she held the title of “Paranormal Psychologist” her beliefs were in science and not other worldly inhabitations.  Doctor Schlobert shared her beliefs but would have offered her services if only as a crutch to his old friend.  Before she could consider these thoughts any further, the doctor continued:

“Read the diaries; the truth is all in there.  I did not believe it myself at first, but what you saw tonight and you were right, it is inhuman.  Believe me; we have had him in here with every test and experiment available. Only the church can help him now!  Do you think my superiors would have that, though?  Men of science admit that they cannot help – that they do not understand?  Read the diaries, you will see.  He believed you know.  It is all in there; he encountered aliens, there are spirits that haunt him, they visit him at night.  We have hours of video footage of the man being raped by an unseen force.  If they were released to the public we would have outpourings of panic-stricken people.  The churches would not be able to cope!  I could not even seek help from other professional sources; the authorities would never have allowed it.  He is here to stay, we cannot help him yet I cannot seek outside help...  That is where you come in, Schlobert does not believe me.  He thinks I’m an old lecherous drunk, but he felt sympathy for me and as you came with an excellent reputation; he felt sure that you could be just what our patient needs.”

 

The doctor left his seat and entered the darkness again.  He offered Chloe a top up which was declined.  The revelations of the evening were hard to stomach and adding Brandy to her disposition could have taken her over the edge.

“I will do whatever I can.  I will leave for home in a minute and study his files.  Are the tapes of the err... Abuse, are they in the boxes too?”

The doctor returned carrying the decanter of Brandy with him.  He nodded but did not look in her direction.  His face was troubled with the experiences of the past with James Douglas.  They permeated and twisted within like a cancer, spreading and enveloping his body like a black mass.

“He is regularly abused by his succubus.  Oh, but to say it out loud to a stranger, does it mean that I am lost to my profession?  Am I to be forever punished because I was but a mere bystander to the unseen forces that pursue and persecute us mortal souls?”

Her knowledge on the paranormal and the terms and anecdotal references portrayed in literature and movies, was beyond respectable.  Chloe had studied the subject and never once arrived at a conclusion beyond any reasonable doubt that there existed another plain, unworldly creatures or spirits amongst us.  Familiar with the term “succubus” she questioned the doctor to confirm her understanding of the phrase:

“I assume when you use the term succubus, that you are alluding to the old mythical, sorry, I mean the belief in the story of the old hag: The woman of the night who enters the bedroom of unsuspecting men and rapes them whilst they sleep?  This is of course, opposite of the incubus which is the male spirit attacking females...”

Vaheys confirmed with a nod.

“Is there any way, Doctor Vaheys that I might be able to get a hold of the psychologist that you informed me, left the case?  It would be good to interview him and see if there is anything that he did not include in his numerous notes.”

Vaheys shook his head:

“He retired.  He left the profession for something else...”

The doctor, troubled and trembling, looked down at the old desk.  He sipped his brandy and continued:

“He left and moved to the other side of Texas.  He joined a Monastery after he was visited.  I wish to speak of this no further for fear that to simply say its name might cause it to follow me in some way...”

Chloe was stunned at the doctors’ abandonment of science.  Yet to question him, she felt sure would have been suggestive of mockery and lacking in compassion:

“Surely Doctor, if it would help the patient or at-least, if it is valuable information that I should be made aware of, it would not hurt to tell me?”

Vaheys shook his head once again.  A rogue tear made haste down his cheek before dropping to the ground. 

“If I tell you, you must realise that you are in it with us.  You may never go free of it, it’ll always be there, watching you, mocking and chastising with full vigour whenever it pleases.”

Chloe nodded.  She battled to control her expression of disbelief until the Doctor uttered the word “Naamah”.  A strange sensation appeared to rouse up and engulf her body, causing it to shiver as if out in the harshest of winter with nothing but the lightest of clothing to protect the body from the austere conditions.  The name was not unfamiliar to her; she had witnessed for merely seconds those same letters appear on the skin of her patient.  She decided against probing the doctor any further and left him in his office sobbing quietly, with his hands shrouding his head in self-pity.

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