Opening Chapters: The Irresistible Summons

A television crew interviews a murderous prisoner believed to be demon possessed.

Continuing my brief series showcasing the first chapters of some of my novels, here’s the post-prologue opening of gothic mystery horror-thriller The Irresistible Summons.

Naomi Levinson sat in the driver’s seat of the company Citroen Berlingo, watching light drizzle splatter on the windscreen. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the walls of Holloway prison. Judging by the silence among her colleagues, she wasn’t the only one feeling on edge.

They had interviewed prisoners before, including the worst kinds of rapists, child molesters, and murderers, but on this occasion, there was something particularly chilling about the individual they had come to film.

Naomi recalled Tanya Sutton’s mug shots from the television news, along with footage of her walking calmly to and from the court during her trial. Elegant and attractive, Tanya Sutton came from a wealthy background. She had founded what promised to be a very successful cosmetics business. During the trial she had been softly spoken, never once raising her voice. Somehow that had made her appalling crime, and the reasons behind it, all the more frightening.

Brendon, the long-haired, lanky, middle-aged sound recordist, broke the silence with a nervous question. ‘How long do we have to wait? It’s nearly lunch.’

‘It’s eleven. That isn’t nearly lunch,’ said Raven, the camera operator. Not quite out of her teens, Raven had a punk-ish look with her torn jeans, leather jacket, and multiple piercings. She gently stroked her wide-angle lens as though it were a cherished pet cat.

‘Yeah, but by the time we’re done here, it’ll be more like two,’ said Brendon. ‘That’s too late for lunch and I get headaches if I don’t eat.’

‘Two isn’t too late for lunch,’ said Raven.

Brendon shook his head. ‘Anything later than one-thirty is too late for lunch. After that time, you enter the realm of ambiguous not-lunch-but-not-teatime. That’s a scary place to be, if you haven’t eaten.’

‘Why didn’t you bring something to eat on the go?’ asked Lucy, a bright-faced, long-haired, twenty-one-year-old production assistant.

‘I don’t eat on the go. I get indigestion.’

‘Oh God, here we go,’ muttered Brian, the lighting director. ‘Time for hypochondria bingo.’

‘It’s not hypochondria. I really do get indigestion.’

‘Brendon, you get everything,’ said Raven. ‘Or at least, you think you do. Remember that time you had a cold and you thought you’d developed cancer?’

‘Yeah, but I checked online, and the symptoms…’

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, never check online. Every symptom is a symptom of a life-threatening illness.’

Lucy joined in. ‘Remember when you swallowed polystyrene and thought you were going to have a heart attack?’

‘That was your fault,’ said Brendon. ‘You told me they were crisps.’

Brian grinned and fist-bumped Lucy.

‘How you mistook polystyrene packaging for crisps is beyond me,’ said Lucy.

‘Well, at least I can find the way from Kensington Gardens to the Royal Albert Hall,’ said Brendon.

Everyone laughed.

Lucy shrugged. ‘It’s easy to get lost.’

Brendon scoffed. ‘Lost? The Royal Albert Hall is right flippin’ next to Kensington Gardens!’

‘It’s true,’ said Brian. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, but you have the worst sense of direction of anyone I have ever met.’

‘What makes it even funnier is you’ve lived your entire life in London,’ said Brendon.

‘I think we’re missing the real issue here,’ said Lucy. ‘Brendon, what are you going to do about lunch?’

Brendon’s smile melted. ‘That is a serious problem.’

‘Brendon, I think you’ll survive until two,’ said Naomi, pleased the crew’s banter had cut through the nervous atmosphere.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Brendon. ‘Looks like I’ve got a choice between indigestion and headaches.’

Naomi glanced at her watch. ‘There isn’t really time for you to pop off and get something. Not unless you run.’

‘I can’t run. I get asthma attacks.’

Naomi smiled. Brendon Hargrave might be one of the worst hypochondriacs she had ever met, but he was also the best and most experienced sound recordist they had amongst the staff at Paranorm Productions.

‘Why don’t we just go in now?’ asked Raven.

‘No point,’ said Naomi. ‘Not until 11:10, when the Governor said he would meet us.’

‘I must admit, I’m feeling a bit freaked out,’ said Brian. ‘I didn’t want this gig.’

‘But Naomi is very persuasive,’ said Raven.

Brian nodded. ‘True… But I can’t understand why you didn’t get someone cheaper. I know you sometimes use Ed Lawson.’

‘Ed’s good, you’re better,’ said Naomi. ‘If I’m going to interview the scariest prisoner at the centre of the most horrible news story of recent times, I want it to look amazing.’

‘Ed Lawson can be a right miserable bastard,’ said Lucy.

‘So can Brian,’ said Brendon.

Lucy grinned at Brian. ‘True, but he’s my miserable bastard.’

Brian and Lucy bumped fists again.

Brendon groaned. ‘What the hell is it with you two? Seriously, it isn’t appropriate for a twenty-one-year-old newbie to have this kind of partner-in-crime relationship with a seasoned veteran like Brian. He must be at least, what, fifty by now?’

‘Forty-four,’ said Brian. In truth, he did look young for his age, partly because he insisted on wearing sci-fi T-shirts and designer jeans, and partly because when freshly shaven he looked rather baby-faced. His thick dark hair had only the barest hint of grey.

‘Right, well, that means you should be like a mentor or something responsible,’ Brendon continued. ‘Personally, Brian, I liked you better when you were inside your shell, before this… distracting creature drew you out of it.’

Lucy laughed with an expression of mock offence. ‘Distracting creature?’

‘I wasn’t in a shell,’ said Brian. He turned to Lucy. ‘Was I?’

‘You so were in a shell,’ said Raven. ‘Then Lucy worked her magic on you.’

Brian shifted awkwardly in his seat and addressed Naomi in business-like tones. ‘Where are you selling this? The BBC?’

‘The Supernatural Channel.’

Brian rolled his eyes.

‘They pay well,’ said Naomi. ‘Besides, this interview is a real coup for Paranorm Productions. The footage could end up on the BBC in other formats.’

‘Is Freddie bringing his own make-up artist?’ Brendon asked.

‘Yes,’ said Naomi.

‘Thank God for that,’ said Lucy. ‘Last time I thought that arrogant, vain narcissist was gonna punch that poor girl you hired.’

Naomi laughed. ‘Freddie Deacon’s not so bad. I kind of feel sorry for him given the way the tabloids treated him.’

‘Yes, the poor man was so badly treated after he beat up that male prostitute,’ said Raven.

‘Well, he did find himself in some hard times,’ said Naomi.

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, boo-bloody-hoo. Poor Freddie went the way of so many other light entertainers before him, immersing himself in booze and sadomasochistic orgies.’

‘I’m not saying he didn’t make mistakes, but he did pull himself out of the depression.’

‘Yes, you’ve single-handedly given him a comeback he doesn’t deserve by allowing him to present your documentaries. But you can’t deny his behaviour has been insanely unpredictable. To describe that business with the make-up as ridiculous would be pathetically inadequate.’

‘Well, I did put my foot down on that score,’ said Naomi.

‘Do we have to use Freddie for this?’ Lucy continued.

Naomi nodded. ‘He’s good for publicity. But he won’t be in the actual interview. We’re just filming a couple of links with him outside the prison.’

‘May the gods of television be thanked,’ said Raven.

‘I thought you liked Freddie,’ said Lucy. ‘You seemed to get on so well that time when you leapt off the back of a moving lorry with him.’

‘That’s because I was hoping he’d break his leg,’ said Raven. ‘Besides, it was a great shot, even though he didn’t break his leg.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Brendon. ‘With Raven, it’s all about getting the shot, regardless of subject matter, and no matter how insane or dangerous or cruel.’

‘I do draw the line somewhere,’ said Raven.

‘Where exactly? Remember that poor bastard you kept filming, after he thought the ghost of his dead mother appeared in the room with us? He kept telling you to turn off the camera because it would scare his mother away, but you wouldn’t, even when he started crying and begged.’

‘Oh come on! That guy was insane.’

‘Raven, I sometimes think you have no moral compass.’

Raven shrugged. ‘I have a moral compass. It just doesn’t always point north.’

‘With a surname like yours, I’m amazed you can speak or spell, let alone have a sense of direction,’ said Brian.

‘What’s so difficult about my surname? Thorarinsdottir just rolls off the tongue.’

‘Raven Thorarinsdottir,’ said Brendon. ‘The girl wonder, whose meteoric rise within the ranks of Paranorm has been suspiciously extraordinary.’

‘That’s because she can shoot and edit better than anyone I know,’ said Naomi.

‘For the money,’ said Brian.

Raven stuck her middle finger up at Brian, but smiled. ‘It’s true. I’m little more than a slave. Naomi just keeps me chained up in the edit suite and every so often chucks in fresh straw.’

‘Naomi, did you have her genetically engineered?’ said Brendon.

‘Of course,’ said Raven. ‘That’s why the rest of you are such dimwits. You’re the result of her earlier, less successful experiments.’

The good-natured exchange continued for a couple of minutes, but eventually, Naomi and her crew fell silent. The unnerving anxiety returned with a vengeance. Naomi inwardly told herself to stop being ridiculous. She was a successful television producer and director, and would not be intimidated.

Slow seconds passed as Naomi cast her mind back to their shoot the previous day, when they had interviewed Jewish exorcist Elliot Greenberg. His contribution had been illuminating, but he had strongly warned them against interviewing Tanya Sutton when he heard of their intentions.

She is one of the most dangerous and heavily demonised people I have ever encountered.

Greenburg’s words were not reassuring, but given the subject of their documentary — demon possession — they would have been foolish to pass up the opportunity to interview Sutton, who many, even those with avowedly secular beliefs, referred to as demonically possessed. Her peculiar outbursts in court, where she had seemingly spoken in voices other than her own, had earned her the tabloid title of Demon Killer.

Eventually, they could wait no longer. Naomi and the others got out of the vehicle and headed for the prison; a bloated slab of red brick and concrete surrounded by the usual steel fences and barriers. Gloomy clouds covered the skies and drizzle sprayed in their faces.

The prison reception was a bland, featureless area with little to distinguish it, save a couple of tall potted plants positioned at strategic intervals along the magnolia walls. Naomi approached the reception desk, but before she could speak to the receptionist, a short, slightly overweight man in a grey suit emerged from the electronic double doors to the left of the reception area. He smiled and extended his hand.

‘Naomi Levinson, I presume?’

‘Governor Jackson,’ said Naomi, shaking his hand.

‘Please, call me Edward,’ said the Governor. ‘You’re exactly on time. Would you and your team care to follow me?’

Naomi smiled. ‘Lead the way.’

After meandering along a veritable maze of corridors, through locked double doors with bars and up one staircase, Naomi and the others arrived at a large interview room with a wooden table, plastic chairs, and a barred window that looked out onto the car park.

‘We will bring the prisoner to this room at precisely 12:45pm as agreed,’ said the Governor. ‘I must say, I am surprised she has agreed to speak with you.’

Brian indicated the window. ‘Can we cover this? It will be trickier if I allow natural light in.’

The Governor shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not, as long as you stick to the agreed schedule.’

‘I’d have preferred longer to set the lights,’ Brian muttered.

‘You always want more time to set the lights,’ said Lucy.

The Governor glanced between each of them in turn, his eyes finally resting on Raven. He frowned. Naomi wondered if he found Raven’s dyed red hair, nose ring, and dark clothes a little too unconventional for his conservative tastes.

‘She doesn’t bite,’ said Naomi.

Raven grinned. ‘Oh, I definitely bite.’

‘Forgive me,’ said the Governor. ‘I was just wondering… How old are you?’

‘Nineteen,’ said Raven.

‘Nineteen going on thirty,’ said Brendon.

‘Yes,’ said the Governor, clearly worried. ‘Let’s just hope it all goes to plan…’

‘We’ll be fine, thank you,’ said Naomi.

‘I’ll leave you to set up.’

Once the Governor had left the room, Naomi glanced at her watch. Time was tight if they were to get everything filmed.

‘What’s his problem with you?’ Lucy asked Raven.

‘Oh, he probably just thinks I’m too young to be in the same room as a demonically possessed psychopathic killer,’ Raven replied cheerfully.

‘No doubt he doesn’t realise you’re a descendant of Thor,’ said Brian.

‘Just because she has an insane but cool Icelandic surname doesn’t make her a god,’ said Brendon.

‘Yes it does,’ said Raven.

‘Freddie gets here at twelve, so we’ll help bring the gear in and set up,’ said Naomi. ‘After that, Brian, we’ll leave you to finish here whilst we film Freddie’s bit with the second camera.’

‘Don’t you want that lit at all?’ asked Brian.

Naomi shook her head. ‘We’ll film Freddie’s links outside with a paglight. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour. Then we’ll be back in time for the interview.’

Over the next forty-five minutes, Naomi, Raven, Brian, Lucy, and Brendon travelled to and from the car park through the prison, escorted by prison guards who opened the doors for them. Hauling the lights and equipment up to the interview room proved an arduous process, but eventually, the room was prepared, with the window covered as Brian had asked for, and various bright lights in place. Lucy sat in the chair where Tanya Sutton would sit, so the others could test the light, sound levels, and camera angles.

At midday, Naomi, Brendon, and Raven left Brian and Lucy in the interview room to meet up with Freddie Deacon outside the prison. Mercifully, the rain had eased somewhat, but Freddie was late. Naomi glanced at her watch again, very aware of their time pressures. The production budget wouldn’t stretch to another day’s shoot with Freddie, and they had to get his stuff in the can before the interview with Tanya Sutton.

‘Why is Freddie always late?’ Raven muttered. ‘Do you want this handheld?’

‘Yes,’ said Naomi.

‘We’ll have to be careful on audio too since there’s quite a bit of wind,’ said Brendon.

‘With Freddie, there’s always quite a bit of wind,’ Raven scoffed.

‘He’s not that bad,’ said Naomi.

‘I think you try too hard to be nice about people,’ said Brendon. ‘He’s an obnoxious, narcissistic bastard, who specialises in being horrible to those he considers unimportant underlings.’

‘Remember that time he made that girl in McDonald’s cry?’ said Raven. ‘I mean, it was McDonald’s for God’s sake. A Big Mac is a Big Mac. That guy makes fussiness an art form.’

‘I try not to eat with him,’ said Brendon. ‘And stop talking about food. It’s bad enough I didn’t get lunch earlier.’

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘We’re not back to that again! Just have lunch at two like a normal human being.’

‘No normal human being has lunch at two. Besides…’

The screech of a silver Volkswagen Golf halting abruptly in the prison car park drowned Brendon’s voice. Naomi glanced at her watch: 12:07pm. A mere seven minutes late was pretty good by Freddie Deacon’s standards.

Freddie Deacon cut a flamboyant figure as he swanned across the car park in a bright blue suit, flashing his gleaming teeth in a smile. His thick, dark bushy hair flapped in the wind, and as usual, he reminded Naomi of an American used car salesman.

‘Award-winning talent coming through!’ Freddie proclaimed.

Behind him, two girls in their early twenties hurried to keep up. One had a make-up bag, the other held an iPad and wore a harried expression. Naomi hadn’t met either before, but it seemed Freddie had taken to heart what she had said about getting his own make-up artist.

‘Naomi, wonderful to see you again, darling,’ said Freddie. He immediately seized her in a rather tight hug.

‘Lovely to see you too, Freddie,’ Naomi replied. ‘But I’d prefer to breathe, if you wouldn’t mind just letting go a little…’

Freddie moved away, laughing. ‘That’s what I love about you, Naomi. Great sense of humour. Not like some people…’

Freddie flashed a dark, sideways glance at his PA. She looked embarrassed and began distractedly consulting her iPad.

Naomi was pleased to see Freddie had already been made up, so after a few brief touches from his make-up assistant, they were ready to film his link outside the prison.

‘Where’s the autocue?’ asked Freddie.

‘I told you, we aren’t using autocue for this,’ said Naomi. ‘Budget cuts. We just need you to explain the basic facts to camera. I emailed bullet points, remember?’

‘Yes, yes, I remember,’ said Freddie, glancing again at his PA.

‘Here they are, Mr. Deacon,’ the PA said, hurriedly passing Freddie some cue cards.

Freddie seized them with unnecessary force and began shuffling through them. Raven and Brendon grimaced at Naomi when Freddie wasn’t looking. The last thing they wanted was to get stuck outside filming endless takes if Freddie hadn’t learned his stuff.

‘Told you we should have got autocue,’ Raven muttered in an undertone.

‘Told you we should have had lunch,’ Brendon added. ‘My head’s hurting.’

‘Alright!’ Freddie proclaimed. ‘I’m ready! Mike me up, Mr. Soundman!’

Brendon clipped a small radio microphone onto Freddie’s tie. After a brief sound test, they were ready to roll. Naomi positioned Freddie, discussed the shot with Raven, and went for a take.

Freddie fluffed it within seconds.

‘I’m here at Holloway Prison, London, England, where one of the most notorious killers of recent years has been incarcerated…’

‘No, sorry, Freddie,’ Naomi interrupted. ‘We don’t need to do the whole London, England thing. Everyone knows London is in England.’

‘Lots of Americans don’t,’ Freddie muttered. ‘I thought you said this programme would be sold internationally.’

‘It will,’ said Naomi. ‘But Americans are more geographically aware than the stereotype would have you believe. At any rate, just say London next time.’

‘Yes sir, Mr. Director,’ said Freddie. ‘Sorry, that should be Miss. It’s not Mrs, is it? No. Definitely Miss then. Or Ms?’

‘Let’s just go for another take,’ said Naomi, trying not to show her irritation.

‘Right! Sorry. OK, take two will be the one…’

Like Brendon, Naomi would have preferred to use an autocue for this shoot, but to her surprise, Freddie managed to nail the bullet points on the next take.

‘I’m standing outside Holloway Prison in London, where the notorious killer at the centre of the most shocking murder in recent years has been incarcerated. Wealthy Tanya Sutton seemingly had it all: good looks, money, and a flourishing cosmetics business. But Tanya Sutton was also a deeply religious woman, who attended the church of Pastor Matthew Delbert, a controversial Christian leader who regularly performed exorcisms in his church, sometimes on children. Delbert preached a particularly radical message that emphasised vigilance against witchcraft and the works of Satan, and when Tanya had a baby son, she became fearful and paranoid that he might somehow become possessed.

‘When she discovered her husband Tristan had been having an affair, she fled, believing he must have fallen under the sway of the Infernal One to have strayed from the marital bed. Tanya took her son Barney with her, who was just under a year old at the time. Despite repentance from her husband, she refused to take him back, believing him to be possessed. She became convinced her little boy was also possessed, suffering under the evil curse that had caused her husband to commit adultery. She began to abuse Barney, thinking to drive the demon from his body by means of horrific physical punishment.

‘Suspicious of what might be happening to his son, Tristan petitioned social services to intervene and rescue Barney. But the lethargic, negligent bureaucrats did not act swiftly enough, and in the meantime, Barney was beaten, starved, locked in cupboards, and eventually drowned in what Tanya Sutton initially claimed was an accident.

‘If all this wasn’t shocking enough, what happened during the court case that followed gripped the nation, as Tanya Sutton spoke on the stand sometimes in her own voice, and at other times in a deeper tone that hinted at possible demonic possession. Demon Killer was the headline splashed across tabloids, but the judge did not believe her to be possessed, and instead suggested the courtroom scenes had been a masquerade. He refused an insanity plea and sentenced her to life imprisonment.

‘Is Tanya Sutton really possessed? Is she insane? Or, as the judge believed, was it all an act? Is she really nothing more than a cold, calculating child murderer?’

‘Cut,’ said Naomi. ‘Very good, Freddie. Exactly what we needed.’

Freddie looked surprised. ‘Are you sure? I can do it again if you like.’

‘All good for sound here,’ said Brendon. ‘Sandwich would be nice though…’

Raven fixed Brendon with a scathing look, whilst Naomi answered Freddie.

‘I think we’ve got it.’ Naomi smiled, wanting to reassure Freddie that he had done a good job, even though she would cut much of his exposition in the edit using cutaways.

‘Right,’ said Freddie. ‘Well, in that case, can I stay and watch the interview? I’m genuinely intrigued.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Naomi. ‘The prison governor didn’t want big celebrities turning up. So just us production crew I’m afraid.’

Freddie looked disappointed. ‘Oh come on! It isn’t every day you get to meet a notorious killer.’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Forget it, Naomi, I’m staying. You still need voiceover work on this piece, right? Well, unless you want me to double my rates, I’m coming to watch the interview.’

‘Alright, I suppose you can, if you just sit out of the way,’ said Naomi.

Freddie rubbed his hands together. ‘Great, that’s all settled then.’

Raven glared at Naomi and she could tell she had caved too easily.

Upon entering the prison interview room, Freddie immediately introduced himself to the Governor.

‘Freddie Deacon,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met.’

‘No, we haven’t,’ said the Governor, slightly taken aback.

‘This is Edward Jackson, the Governor,’ said Naomi. ‘Freddie is our presenter, but he isn’t conducting the interview. I said he could stay to watch.’

The Governor shot a dubious look at Naomi. ‘If you think that’s wise. I would have thought the less people here, the better. We’re bringing the prisoner to you in a moment. I must reiterate the rules. None of you is to speak to the prisoner, except the designated interviewer for the duration of the filming. The prisoner will be handcuffed at all times. She will be flanked by two police guards. I will also be present during the interview to ensure matters are conducted in an orderly way that does not contravene our agreement. Do you concur with all of that?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Naomi.

‘Yes sir,’ said Freddie.

The Governor frowned at Freddie then handed Naomi some paperwork. ‘Please sign here, and here.’

Naomi signed and handed the documents back over.

‘Alright then, I will see you shortly.’

The Governor left the room whilst Naomi and her crew waited in silence. When the presenter wasn’t looking, Brian, Brendon, and Lucy all mouthed What the hell? to Naomi, indicating Freddie. Naomi shrugged. Raven just shook her head in disbelief.

But there wasn’t time to worry about Freddie. A moment later, Tanya Sutton entered the room with the Governor, along with two police guards. A collective intake of breath could be heard across the room as the prisoner was escorted to the chair behind the table. Naomi’s first impression was that she looked shorter than expected. But her long blonde hair and blue eyes were every bit as striking in person as they had been on television. Upon sitting, Tanya Sutton fixed Naomi with a glare that conveyed pure malevolence.

Naomi forced a smile as Brendon silently fitted a microphone to Tanya’s orange prison uniform, and began to address the prisoner.

‘Tanya, I’m Naomi Levinson. I’m here to interview you for a documentary that will be broadcast on the Supernatural Channel, probably some time in…’

‘We can skip this part,’ Tanya cut in. ‘I know why you’re here, Naomi Levinson. Is that camera running?’

Tanya’s handcuffs clunked on the table as she pointed towards the camera. Raven nodded.

‘Great,’ said Tanya. ‘Ask your questions.’

‘Can you describe the events that led to you being imprisoned?’

Tanya smiled darkly. ‘That isn’t why you’re here.’

‘We’d like to hear your version of events,’ Naomi reiterated.

‘Why?’

Naomi glanced at the Governor. ‘I thought that had been explained. We’re here to interview you so we can put across your point of view, the story of how you came to be convicted of murder.’

Tanya shrugged. ‘I told the truth during the trial. All the facts are now public record.’

‘But you pleaded not guilty,’ said Naomi.

‘Not guilty of murder,’ said Tanya. ‘I didn’t mean to kill Barney. I thought he might be possessed.’

Naomi regarded Tanya for a moment. ‘You seem remarkably together for someone who killed their own…’

‘You think I’m possessed,’ Tanya interrupted.

Naomi decided to go for the jugular. ‘Are you?’

Tanya laughed. ‘If I was, do you honestly think the demon inside me would just pop up to say hello?’

‘So you aren’t possessed,’ said Naomi. ‘That whole deep voice thing was an act, exactly as the judge said.’

Tanya sighed. ‘Look, I can’t change what I did. Barney was a great boy, but he was the one who showed signs of being possessed, not me.’

‘What signs?’ asked Naomi.

‘You wouldn’t understand. You’ve not been taught what to look for.’

‘What should I look for?’

Tanya didn’t reply.

‘Alright, who taught you what to look for?’

‘Pastor Delbert of course. He became very concerned about Barney and my husband. When my husband left, it was obvious a demon controlled him. I didn’t want him back near my boy. But it was too late. The curse had already been passed on to Barney.’

Naomi watched her closely. Perhaps she really was insane.

‘Let me ask you something else,’ said Naomi. ‘Do you think Pastor Delbert is a good man?’

‘Of course he’s a good man,’ said Tanya. ‘He showed me the reality of the supernatural. He warned me about demons. He showed me what the battle between good and evil was really all about.’

Flecks of spittle began to appear at the corner of Tanya’s mouth; an image entirely at odds with her face, which was still beautiful despite the prison fatigues and lack of make-up.

Deciding to return to the court case, Naomi changed tack. ‘So you maintain you are innocent of murder, but guilty of manslaughter.’

Tanya nodded. ‘As I said, I didn’t mean to kill Barney.’

‘And you regret killing him?’

‘Of course.’

Tanya began to drum her fingers on the table. Naomi waited for a moment, then glanced around. The room began to feel tense and she could sense a shift in the atmosphere. An expression of mild alarm crossed the Governor’s face.

Naomi turned back to Tanya ‘What made you pretend to be possessed?’

‘Put yourself in my situation, Naomi Levinson. You’re facing life in prison for murder. You try to explain you didn’t kill your child on purpose. After a while, you see the trial isn’t going in your favour, you decide on desperate measures. Make everyone think you’re crazy. Or possessed…’

Naomi stared hard at her subject. ‘Why did you kill your child?’

‘I’ve already told you why and I didn’t kill him on purpose.’

‘That’s not what the judge found. He said there was evidence you had deliberately killed Barney. He called you, and I quote: One of the most remorseless and calculating people I have ever encountered. If he’s right, and the fact that you are in here suggests he is, then there are logically two options: you either did this of your own free will or you were under some other influence.’

Tanya took a sharp intake of breath that sounded like a hiss. Again the atmosphere in the room seemed to become more charged. Brendon, Lucy, and Raven exchanged nervous glances, and even the usually dispassionate Brian began to watch with interest. On the other side of the room, Freddie Deacon’s eyes widened in lurid curiosity.

‘So which is it, Tanya?’ Naomi asked. ‘You murdered Barney of your own free will or something else made you do it?’

Tanya stopped tapping her fingers and to Naomi’s astonishment, her expression changed. Tanya smiled and nodded slowly.

‘You got me.’

‘You’re now admitting murder?’

Tanya kept smiling, but said nothing further. Feeling reckless, Naomi continued.

‘I think you want to admit it,’ Naomi said. ‘I think you’d like nothing more than to come out and tell the world you killed Barney, and exactly why you did it.’

‘I sacrificed the male Sutton child to demonstrate my power,’ Tanya said. Her lips moved, but her voice was much deeper. The prison guards took a step back from the table in response to her startling tone.

Naomi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A voice in her head urged her to get up and leave. She now had her sought-after manifestation on camera, but she wanted to hear more.

‘You admit to deliberately drowning Barney?’

‘Of course I drowned the little brat.’

The Governor looked alarmed and opened his mouth, but Naomi caught his eye, silently urging him not to interrupt. He reluctantly subsided, but folded his arms and cast dark glares at the production crew.

Naomi began to speak, but to her absolute astonishment, Freddie Deacon began to sing. She turned in her chair incredulously.

‘He’s got the whole world, in his hands. He’s got the whole world, in his hands…’

Everyone, including Tanya Sutton, stared at Freddie in amazement.

‘Freddie, what the hell are you doing?’ Raven hissed.

‘Singing,’ said Freddie. ‘That rabbi you interviewed the other day said singing soothes people like Tanya, so I thought I’d try something I once learned in Sunday school, and…’

‘Freddie,’ Raven interrupted. ‘Shut up.’

Freddie mouthed sorry and hung his head.

Tanya smiled darkly. ‘You think to soothe me with music? You are a foolish man, Freddie Deacon. You meddle with what you don’t understand and will pay for your folly, very soon.’

‘Tanya, why did you drown your son to demonstrate your power?’ asked Naomi, keen to get the attention away from Freddie.

‘To show how I had hidden in plain sight all those years in Matthew Delbert’s congregation,’ said Tanya. ‘He thinks he drives us out, but he doesn’t. He invites us in with his indiscretions and infidelities. That man has screwed his way through half the congregation and embezzled money from the other half. Tanya Sutton gave herself willingly.’

Naomi felt chilled, but demonic possession? Clearly, Tanya Sutton was disturbed, but the evidence could just as easily point to a split personality. As for the voice, perhaps Tanya simply had the ability to speak deeply.

‘What is your name?’ Naomi asked.

Tanya laughed, and spoke again in the same deep voice. ‘Why should I tell you that, Naomi Levinson? What possible interest does a lonely, heartbroken teenage girl have in my name?’

This response puzzled Naomi. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You were such a pathetic little slut, standing at his grave, all teary that he’d burned up in a fire.’

‘How did you know…?’

‘You thought you were over him, but when you arrived here, you felt the pain again. I’ll tell you a secret, Naomi Levinson. You don’t know my name, but I know your name. And I know you will never be free of his memory.’

Naomi sat open-mouthed, incredulous at this impossible knowledge, then hurriedly composed herself.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I see you doubt me,’ Tanya continued in the deep voice. ‘Perhaps another demonstration will convince you.’

‘I’ve heard enough,’ said Naomi. ‘I’ll leave it to the viewers to decide whether you are possessed, insane, or simply a deliberate murderer.’

‘Let’s leave them in no doubt of the truth,’ said Tanya. ‘And to help me demonstrate… Who amongst your colleagues should we select?’

A nervous pause followed as Tanya eyed each of the production crew in turn. Naomi stood and backed away from the table.

‘I think that’s enough,’ said the Governor, stepping forward. ‘It’s time to escort the prisoner back to her cell.’

With a suddenness that shocked Naomi to her core, Tanya pulled at the handcuffs, and to her astonishment, they broke. Tanya seized the Governor by his tie and smashed his head against the table. Edward Jackson fell to the ground unconscious as the two prison guards moved in, but before they could grab her, Tanya Sutton leapt over the table with incredible speed and agility.

‘Whoa!’ cried Raven, unclipping the camera from the tripod and stepping back. She kept filming Tanya as Naomi and the others backed away.

But Tanya wasn’t going for any of the crew. Instead, she grabbed one of the light poles and struck Freddie Deacon across the face with terrifying force. He fell to the ground as Tanya struck twice more, pounding his head with the metal pole. Bloody gashes appeared on his skull, and the floors and walls were splashed with crimson.

Another blow had fallen by the time the surprised guards managed to seize Tanya Sutton and pull her away from Freddie. She was dragged from the room kicking and screaming.

‘Now do you believe me, you filthy bitch?’

Naomi and the others rushed to Freddie’s side — except for Raven, who kept filming. Freddie was unconscious and the pool of blood around his body continued to grow. Horribly shaken, Naomi took her phone out and dialled for an ambulance whilst other prison guards rushed into the room to assist the Governor.

The Irresistible Summons is available via the usual outlets (Amazon, Smashwords, and so on). You can read my companion piece article, about my process for writing opening chapters, here.

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