Sam stood in the doorway of St Paul’s church and peered inside. Sunlight spilt through the stained-glass windows, but when Sam looked only with his right eye, the interior appeared as dark as night. The wooden panelling had been eaten away by the mysterious black substance that covered the outside. Sam had never seen anything like it. It filled every crack. It had sunk into every gap. It had eaten away at the walls and spread up to the rafters in the ceiling. When he stared at it Sam almost felt as if he could see it slowly moving. Spreading.
‘I’ll wait here,’ said Rector Bray, holding the door.
‘You will not come in with me?’
‘I don’t think I can,’ he replied.
Sam stepped into the church.
‘The bell tower is just to your right there,’ said Bray. ‘That’s where the exorcism took place.’
Sam followed the spiral staircase, each footstep echoing off the walls. He stopped when he heard the front door slam.
‘Rector Bray?’ he cried. ‘Rector Bray?’
There was no reply. Sam wanted to run back down and to escape this place but there was something compelling him forward. At the top of the staircase he stepped into the bell tower, where a long piece of white material hung down from the end of the rope used to ring the bell. A breeze blew through gaps in the brickwork and the sheet moved.
‘Hello?’ said Sam. ‘Is there anyone here? I come to make peace.’
Inside the bell tower the black substance was even thicker. It was as if it had worked its way into the brickwork of the church. He reached his hand towards it and felt only the cold brick, but as his hand passed through the substance it caused strange slow ripples. He withdrew his hand and clasped his fingers to warm them. Sam looked up at the bell above him, thinking of the poor heartbroken man who had hung there listening to the bell sounding his own demise.
‘Hello?’ he called.
His voice reverberated around the inside of the bell.
He turned to leave, but the breeze picked up and the flapping material whipped against the back of his head. He pushed it away and felt it wrap itself around his arm then around his neck. He tried to free himself but it was strong and determined. Sam stumbled and fell, catching his chin on a table edge. He tore himself free from the material. He struggled to stand but the black substance was creeping up his legs and arms and up his back, keeping him rooted to the spot, growing over him like it had grown over the church. He felt it sink into the pores in his skin, seep into the marrow of his bones, chilling his blood.
‘Help, help, Rector Bray, help me!’ Sam tried to shout. He pulled one hand free and grabbed the flapping cloth, attempting to heave himself off the floor. He felt the pull of the bell and heard the sound of it reverberate through his bones. He rang it again. And again. And again. But the sound it made was not that of a bell. It was a voice. A voice like he had never heard before. Low. Rasping. Inhuman.
TALKER, it said.
‘What are you?’ gasped Sam helplessly. ‘What are you doing here?’
TAL-KER!
‘What do you want?’ he whispered.
TO KILL. TO FEED, spoke the voice.
Sam lost consciousness.