Insanity

INSANITY

A Vespula Book

Leon de Kock

Copyright Leon de Kock 2021

Chapter 1: A new beginning

Chapter 2: Stinky bedpans and dirty linen

Chapter 3: Fever and Visions

Chapter 4: Dangerous rounds

Chapter 5: Cobrascor

Chapter 6: Donny

Chapter 7: John out of bounds

Chapter 8: The monk’s present

Chapter 9: The Burning Cross

Chapter 10: End of the Duty

Chapter 11: The Stinging Stone

A new beginning

A demented scream tore through the morning quiet.

Vespula tilted the dagger this way and that, making the symbols on the blade play in the sunlight that fell into the four-bed dormitory in which she had been assigned the bed closest to the window, on which she was lying, propped against the pillows. Her head jerked up at the sound of the scream, then she relaxed again.

Deacon Black had been about to slit her throat, to offer her to the glory of the Church, when some force had taken control of Vespula’s hand, guiding it, and she’d slit the Deacon’s throat. Not once, but twice.

Ten years old, she thought, and already a killer. Well, she didn’t know for sure if she was ten, but everybody seemed to accept that was her age, it was probably close enough.

Still, a killer.

The scream sounded again. Like some of the other children at the Sisters’ Mission convent school, Vespula had never quite grown accustomed to the occasional scream sounding from the neighboring mental asylum.

The sun’s reflection glinted as she turned the blade this way and that. So this was the Dagger of Delilah, for which she had searched the catacombs for so long. It looked ancient, and according to the legend it was ancient. The handle was wood wrapped in leather, the blade with its faded symbols was razor sharp. A magical dagger should be encrusted with jewels, Vespula was sure of that, yet this dagger was not, this was a tool to kill with, nothing more, nothing less. She had made a crude scabbard from thick cloth to stop the blade from accidentally cutting her. With a sigh she slipped the blade under her robes and into this scabbard, out of sight. If she could find some leather she would make a real scabbard, one good enough for this dagger, the Dagger of Delilah.

She had not seen Golden since that night. Or John. She would probably never see Golden again, but tomorrow she would be back at convent school, so she would see John. The thought made a smile flicker in her eyes.

The anger that usually burned in her mind had left her, its place taken by gnawing self-doubt, doubt about her own sanity. She tried to recall the exact feeling she had felt when the dagger had taken control of her and made her slit the deacon’s throat, but found she could not. Had she imagined it? Was it all a lie she was telling herself?

Her thoughts turned to the pale-skinned, beautiful dark-haired woman, sitting in a giant spider’s web as comfortably as only a spider could. In the crypts under the Cathedral, the dark-haired woman had spoken to a demon. The woman had asked the demon if there had been any news of the girl, the demon had said not. A cold shiver ran down Vespula’s spine as she realized that the girl the woman had been referring to might have been her. Who was the woman, and what was she doing there? More importantly, why would she be interested in Vespula? Vespula’s thoughts taunted her.

*

The next morning, daylight suffused the four-bed dormitory in which Vespula lay. Soft, girly snores of those who shared the room with her drifted through the air. It took Vespula a while to realize that she was awake. At least this bed was more comfortable than the one she had endured at the Black residence.

The big question that had bugged her the previous day was nagging at her again. Deacon Black had known she had slipped out of the house, and so had Mrs Black. Mrs Black must have told Sister Mary, and yet Sister Mary had not said a word about it. Or maybe Mrs Black hadn't said anything yet. Maybe the trouble was yet to come.

She would take care of the trouble if and when it came, she decided. Her hand moved under the blanket, coming to rest lightly upon the handle of the Dagger, which she now kept secreted under her robes at all times, parting with it only to shower.

If anybody threatened her she would not hesitate to use the dagger again.

*

‘So what really happened?’ asked John.

Their class at the convent school was having a two-period session in the ancient, high-vaulted library, time which Vespula and John had long abused to catch up on conversation. Vespula felt utterly annoyed, tired of the gawping stares she had endured the whole morning.

Vespula glanced around to make sure they could not be overheard, but the racks of books, both ancient and new, seemed to swallow any whispered conversation.

‘Remember I told you about the tunnel in the catacombs, under the bones, and the skeleton of the monk that I found there?’

John nodded, remembering her story of the silk-lined tunnel which went through the bones of the dead, in which she had found the skeleton of a monk.

‘Well, I crawled past the monk, further into the tunnel, and it came out somewhere under the Cathedral, inside a sarcophagus.’

John’s mouth hung open as he listened. He had known this blue-eyed girl was crazy right from the day he had met her, and the rumor that she had killed Deacon Black had quickly spread in whispered conversations throughout the convent school. But this, the story of how she had searched the catacombs for the Dagger of Delilah, had always been the best of her stories.

‘Inside a sarcophagus,’ he whispered.

‘Yes, and there was a slit to peep out of, and on the outside there was this woman, with the palest skin you’ve ever seen, and pitch-black hair. She also had these overlong teeth,’ Vespula held her thumb and forefinger apart to show him how long the woman’s teeth were, ‘and when she talked, her teeth clicked together, making the most horrible sounds. She was sitting in, or on, a spider’s web, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do!’

‘You’re not serious!’ said John.

‘Of course I am, she was the weirdest woman I’ve ever seen.’

‘Then what?’ he asked.

‘The woman was talking to a demon.’

A twitch on John’s face made her pause. ‘A demon?’ he said. ‘Are you sure? How do you know it was a demon?’

‘It was a demon, it was easy to recognize, because its skin was decayed, and it had these leathery wings and an ugly face with a mouth full of fangs. Any way,’ she said quickly when it looked as if John was going to interrupt again, ‘the woman was asking the demon about a girl, she was worried about some girl.’ She was about to tell John her suspicion that the girl the woman had talked about was herself, but stopped, although she was not sure why. ‘The demon said they did not know about the girl yet, and then something really bad happened,’ she continued.

‘What?’

‘The woman asked the demon what was for supper, and the demon said it was a priest, one from the desert tribes, one who had not turned from the old religions!’

John’s eyes were wide and worried.

‘That’s when I decided to get out of there. I was busy getting down out of the sarcophagus, climbing back into the tunnel, when my hand touched something that felt like a blade, and that was it, the Dagger of Delilah!’

‘The real dagger? How do you know?’ asked John.

‘I knew it the moment my hand closed around it,’ she said. ‘Even before I lit the candle.’

‘What do you mean, before you lit a candle? Were you crawling around in the dark?’

‘No, silly. I blew out the candle when I was in the sarcophagus, because I was scared it would give me away. So when I went back down into the tunnel I had to light the candle again.’

‘You’re crazy,’ whispered John.

‘It was a piece of cake, really.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Once I had the dagger, I went back home. I thought everything was okay, but Deacon and Mrs Black had noticed I was not in the house, they were waiting for me to get back. As soon as I was in my room Deacon Black walked in, dragged me out of the room to his study, and tried to sacrifice me!’

Recounting the story of what had happened at the end of the previous term felt strange. It sounded strange, even to Vespula’s ears.

‘He tried to sacrifice you?’ asked John, his eyes as wide as ever.

‘Yes! He said some prayers, like they do during Mass, and he tried to make me say the Eighth Commandment, and then he tried to cut my throat!’

Vespula could see he was having a hard time believing her.

‘He really did!’ she insisted. ‘Only, the Dagger of Delilah really is as magical as David said it was. It took hold of my hand and made me swing it around, and it slit Deacon Black’s throat, twice.’

John shuddered. This, he knew, had definitely happened. David, the fat boy in their class whose father was in the police, had confirmed that the deacon’s throat had been slit twice. This was the part that all the other children in the convent school found difficult to believe. No ten-year-old girl, in their opinion, would cut a deacon’s throat. There was a shadow story, that the Deacon had cut his own throat, and this might have been true if his throat had been slit once, but nobody believed he could have cut his own throat twice.

‘So it really was you that cut his throat, not Deacon Black himself, as Sister Mary said?’

Vespula sighed. ‘Yes. But it wasn’t me. The Dagger made me do it. The Dagger took control of my hand, it slit his throat, and hid itself in the folds of my robe when it was done.’

She stopped when she noticed the expression on his face.

‘You don’t believe me, do you!’ she hissed, her voice waspish.

John glanced around.

‘I would never have believed you, but everything you say ties in with the rumors that nobody can believe. Sister Mary insists Deacon Black committed suicide, but David said his father is adamant that a person cannot possibly slit his own throat twice. And his father should know, he’s a policeman, after all. So never mind what anybody wants to believe, what everybody believes is that you killed Deacon Black.’

Vespula subsided, happy that John believed her story.

‘So everybody thinks I killed him?’

‘Don’t look so smug, Vespula. Everybody thinks you are a murderer, and that’s not a good thing. Notice how nobody except me talks to you anymore?’

‘Hah! John, last term almost nobody spoke to me anyway, they’re all too scared of Leah. And by the way, what did she have to say about the whole thing?’

John rolled his eyes.

‘She’s downplaying it. She hates the attention you’re getting, so she refuses to discuss it with anybody.’

‘Hah,’ said Vespula again, under her breath.

‘So, will you show me the dagger?’

Vespula smiled, her eyes lighting up. ‘Of course, as soon as things have settled down and it’s safe to do so.’

John also smiled. ‘Cool!’ he said.

*

The changing of the seasons from high summer to early autumn had transformed the gardens at the back of the Church complex. They were now even more beautiful, especially for Father Adam, who did not have to endure the harsh sun on his shiny, bald head. It also suited his large bulk, affording him some relief from the summer’s heat. Even so he headed for the shady path under the trees, Sister Mary walking by his side.

‘It is safe to talk,’ said Sister Mary, seeing his questioning look.

Father Adam did not ask how she knew, he understood about her strange relationship with the creatures that most humans could not see, the creatures called Still.

‘I am sorry I have not called you sooner, but things have been tricky, dangerous. A lot of questions have been asked, I have had to tread carefully.’

Sister Mary grimaced. ‘I know, I have endured the same. How the man was supposed to have cut his own throat twice, I do not know. There are, of course, those who believe that the girl did it. I have had to work hard to get that thought out of some peoples’ heads, especially her classmates’.’

It was Father Adam’s turn to nod. ‘What did Vespula have to say about it?’

‘She admitted to killing him, of course. I told her it was nonsense, that he killed himself.’

‘She admitted. . .’ Father Adam could not finish the sentence, his shock was too great.

Sister Mary smiled in answer.

‘But he had the sacrificial dagger in his hand!’ Father Adam protested. ‘I saw it myself!’

They had both seen Deacon Black with the sacrificial blade in his hand when they had burst into his study. Him, standing with the blade in his hand, his throat with two gaping slashes from which blood was spurting freely, frozen for an instant in time before he had collapsed, dying in a pool of his own blood.

‘Yet she admitted,’ said Sister Mary.

‘How did she do it?’ demanded Father Adam.

Sister Mary looked at him, a triumphant glint in her eye.

‘She found the Dagger of Delilah!’

Father Adam stopped dead, so that he had to hurry to catch up to her.

‘She found the Dagger of Delilah?’

‘Oh yes, she found the dagger, and unless I am very much mistaken, she used it to slit Deacon Black’s throat one moment before we burst into the room. I am sure it is what happened though, because later that night she cleaned blood off the dagger.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I have my spies.’

Father Adam looked skeptical. ‘And where is the dagger now?’

‘She carries it upon her person at all times.’

They walked along in silence for a while, Father Adam lost in thought, looking at the dapples in the shade of the paved walkway. Eventually he gave a heavy sigh.

‘So what happens next? I hear you have found her a room at the convent and she’s living there now. But I cannot let you put her in any more danger, she is too young. We have to let go of that plan.’

The glint in Sister Mary’s eye became steel.

‘I have told you before, she is no ordinary child.’

‘And I have told you before, she does not understand that.’

‘She will, one day.’

Father Adam shook his head, but decided to change the subject. Thinking about Vespula made him uncomfortable.

‘There has been news from the Russians.’

‘Oh?’ said Sister Mary.

‘Yes, it seems they are getting restless. An especially fierce winter is forecast for the whole of Russia, they think they might be able to take advantage of the winter to strike a hard blow against the Church.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘They are well armed, but they are a small cell. If they strike, I am afraid it will be the end of them. The best they can hope for is to take out the Russian Continentual, and he can be replaced. They seem determined though.’

They reached the end of the lane under the trees and turned around to head back.

‘What do the others think?’ asked Sister Mary.

‘They tend to agree with me, but they are also frustrated. They want the Russians to go ahead. I think they are hoping that the Russians might succeed, and that it will lead to more followers, maybe even an outright rebellion against the Church.’

They strolled in silence for some time before Sister Mary spoke.

‘If the Russian Resistance don’t take out the head, they are wasting their time, and their lives,’ she said. ‘You have had no word as to the whereabouts of Brother Melchior?’

‘No, I have not heard anything about him. I’m afraid the Church must have gotten him, but how they got onto him, I don’t know, except that someone must have spoken where it was not safe to do so.’

‘I chose him specifically for his discrete and quiet manner.’

‘You chose him? For what?’ asked Father Adam.

‘He had to keep something safe for me. His disappearance with that object has complicated things.’

‘I don’t suppose you care to tell me what that object was?’ said Father Adam.

‘Another time, Father Adam, there are people coming.’

*

The bathroom which Vespula was to share with the other girls in the dormitories was simple, as would be expected in a convent. It smelled of disinfectant. Above each of the ancient hand basins was a mirror, all of them equally old and water-stained. A single light-bulb cast a dirty yellow glow.

Vespula stared into one of the mirrors, this one had a rusty brown stain running along the bottom. A pair of lively blue eyes stared back at her. These were the eyes she had come to know over the long summer, after she had lost her memory. Like so many times before, she challenged her eyes to reveal the secret, to tell her about her past. It didn’t help, everything from before the day she had landed up at the Black residence was a mystery to her.

The blue eyes were set in a face without blemish, which itself was surrounded by pure-white hair, which fell to her shoulders, where it was cut to regulation length. She could wear it shorter than that, but never longer. Not at the convent.

She sighed and walked out of the bathroom, turning to the dormitory.

The light and airy four-bed dormitory which Vespula shared with three other girls was in one of the older wings of the convent. The Girls’ Wing was strictly off-limits to any male person.

Vespula sat on her bed, looking out of the window, down onto the beautiful convent gardens. She had liked the view from the moment she had been assigned a bed in the room, and it was here she came to contemplate things when she had some time off. Like now, in the afternoon after classes and before evening prayers, when the other girls were busy with their own things. She was about to kick off her shoes when someone said -

‘Psst!’

Vespula froze. It had come from under her bed, in a voice she recognized.

‘Close the door,’ the voice whispered.

Vespula got up, scared that she might be hearing things. She had thought she would never hear that voice again, this was almost too good to be true. She crossed the room and closed the door, walked back and peered under the bed.

‘You can come out now,’ she whispered.

A sleek, golden-furred creature that looked like a cross between a mongoose and a squirrel padded out from under the bed and looked up at her. Vespula bent down, picked him up and hugged him to her.

‘Hallo Golden,’ she said, her voice soft.

‘Hallo Vespula,’ he greeted back, allowing her to rub her cheek against his head.

She sat down on the bed, kicked off her shoes and swung her legs onto the bed, then lay back against the headrest.

‘I thought I would never see you again,’ she said, stroking him.

‘I thought the same, but with Deacon Black dead and Mrs Black gone, there is no chance that any child will be sent to that house again, so I thought I might as well move in with you.’

‘You’re here to stay?’ she asked, feeling excited. ‘That’s really cool, but will it not be dangerous for you?’

Golden shook his head.

‘Not for me, no, because most people cannot see me. It will be dangerous for you though, if there is ever anybody else in the room, you will have to pretend that I do not exist. If anybody sees you talking to me, they will think you are acting awfully strange.’

‘But where will you stay? You cannot stay under my bed all the time, and you cannot sit out, just now there is someone who can see you.’

‘I will stay in your cupboard. Remember, I don’t need doors to get into and out of things.’

‘I’ve always wondered about that, you mean you can simply walk through things?’

‘Well yes, of course. How do you think I managed to get out of Deacon Black’s study the night he tried to kill you?’

‘That is something else I’ve been wondering about. What did you do that night, did you run off and warn someone about what was happening? You must have, because right after I killed Deacon Black, Sister Mary and Father Adam burst into his study to rescue me. Who did you warn?’

Golden looked shifty, as if he did not want to answer the question.

‘Tell me, Golden. And don’t think I won’t know if you are lying to me,’ said Vespula.

‘Not right now. I will tell you some day.’

‘You’ll always tell me everything one day,’ said Vespula, scratching him behind the ear. ‘You’ll tell me what Still are one day, and why you won’t go into the catacombs, one day. Everything is always one-day’.

‘There are things I am not allowed to tell,’ said Golden. ‘But enough about that, tell me about the dagger.’

‘I’ll tell you one day,’ mocked Vespula.

‘Don’t be silly, Vespula. This is important, tell me about the dagger.’

Vespula’s excitement about the dagger overrode her sense of sarcasm. ‘Well, it looks like an ancient dagger, with strange symbols engraved into the blade. I don’t know what they mean, but it’s really cool. The dagger is magical. When Deacon Black tried to kill me, the dagger took control of my hand and I slashed his throat, twice.’ She made slashing motions with her arm, her hand holding a pretend dagger. ‘Then it made me hide it in the folds of my robe, just before Sister Mary and Father Adam burst into the room.’

Golden looked skeptical. ‘I don’t think things can be magical like that, Vespula. So you really did kill Deacon Black?’

‘Oh yes, it was me that killed him. But I had hidden the Dagger of Delilah by the time Sister Mary saw me, so they all think he cut his own throat.’

‘Which is impossible,’ said Golden.

‘Yes,’ agreed Vespula.

‘Well, at least you’re safe now, nothing can happen to you here,’ said Golden. ‘And you don’t have to be anybody’s slave anymore.’

‘I’m not so sure about the safe part,’ said Vespula, thinking about the words of the woman under the Cathedral.

It looked as if Golden had more to say, but the dormitory door opened, causing Golden to shoot under the bed at full speed.

*

It was not until lunch-time the next day, when the class was on its way to the dining hall, that the confrontation that Vespula had been expecting took place. She had known it was going to happen at some time or another, when it came it was almost a relief that she could get it over with.

‘Look what the convent cat dragged in,’ came a snide voice behind her. She recognized the voice as that of her sworn enemy, Leah Barnaby.

It would not help to ignore the girl, she would simply keep on, and showing weakness in front of the other children was not an option. Some of them had come to expect her to stand up to Leah.

Vespula stopped dead, causing a mini pile-up behind her as everybody tried to avoid walking into her. She waited for the sounds of scuffling to die down before turning around. Leah looked unsettled, several other children had bumped into her, she had already lost the upper hand.

‘Good morning, Leah, how are things with your dad?’ asked Vespula, using a mock-friendly voice to infuriate Leah.

She hit a nerve, Leah looked uncertain. Her father’s position of power in the Church was the one thing she had always played on, and several things were at once clear to her. The first was that Vespula was taunting her, because she had never met Leah’s father. The second was that Vespula was clearly saying I killed my loser of a stepfather. I slit his throat with a knife. The words were not spoken, but they were there, hanging in the air. It said that Leah better watch out, because she was now dealing with a cold-blooded killer.

Leah rallied, pulling her squat figure up as high as her short posture allowed.

‘Do you think you scare any of us, Vespula?’ she said, looking Vespula straight in the eye. She was brave, yes, but Vespula could see uncertainty there. Vespula broke eye contact with her to look at Rachel, whose face showed a lot more doubt. She let her eyes drift over those behind Leah, challenging a face here and there. Chloe, another of Leah’s friends, dropped her gaze when Vespula challenged her. Some others held her gaze, but she could see worry there.

‘You must be a really dreadful person, Vespula, if first your parents abandoned you and then a drunken old Deacon wanted to get rid of you,’ said Leah.

Vespula looked back at Leah, taking in the words. It was clear that Leah had thought the confrontation through, she had planned her jibes.

A giggle escaped Vespula. The seriousness with which the squat figure was confronting her was amusing, and nothing more.

‘From what I’ve heard, Leah, it is only the best who gets offered to the glory of the Church. You have heard that Deacon Black was trying to sacrifice me, haven’t you?’

‘And you dared to refuse being sacrificed?’ challenged Leah.

‘No, I simply knew that a Deacon was not allowed to do that ritual,’ replied Vespula.

‘But a Bishop is,’ said Leah in a dangerous voice. Behind her, Vespula heard gasps at this open threat to her life.

‘Of course a Bishop is,’ said Vespula, still with the smile on her face. Her mind though, was on the Dagger of Delilah, tucked in her robes, out of sight for now. The same dagger she had used to kill Deacon Black, she would use to kill anybody else that might try to kill her, even a Bishop.

She remembered the audience around them.

‘It was a shame about Deacon Black though, Deacons are such important members of the Church clergy, don’t you think, Leah?’ she said. Those children whose parents were lower Church clergy would know she was only show-boating, but that didn’t matter, because she was show-boating for them.

Leah was momentarily taken aback, not at all sure of what Vespula was getting at. Vespula took the opportunity to dismiss the girl.

‘Come Leah, let’s go have some lunch.’ She turned around and headed to the dining hall, sorry only that, having turned around, she could not see the look on Leah’s face.

*

On Big Mass day Vespula stood towards the back of the enormous Cathedral, surrounded by other children from the convent. With the Black family she had always been in one of the front rows, witnessing Mass from this viewpoint was a new experience. Beside her stood John, stiff as a rod and so determined to keep out of trouble that Vespula had to stifle a giggle. On her other side stood Monica, and right now Monica held all of Vespula’s attention, even though Monica herself did not know it.

Monica had been punished, this much Vespula knew. She had been punished because she had passed her exams, and she had passed the exams because John had helped her with her studies. In return for hard work, Sister Rebecca had been spiteful and punished her.

The priests entered the Cathedral and made their stately way to the front, walking through the cloud of fragrant smoke emanating from the golden incense burner swung from its chain by the lead priest.

When Monica had come to the dormitory the previous night after serving her punishment she had not said a word. Her eyes had been red and puffy, set in a gray, grim face, her hands had been shaking and she had refused to speak to anybody, even to Vespula. She had gone to shower and had skipped dinner, preferring to stay in the dormitory. Later, after lights-out, Vespula had heard her cry herself to sleep.

She would have to find out what punishment could do that to a girl, thought Vespula.

The priests reached the front of the Cathedral and started preparing for Mass, performing the rituals that Vespula had come to hate. Each priest kissed the table that the great ceremonial Book of the Church had been set on before taking up his position on the low stage.

Father Adlay stood behind the pulpit, waited until everybody was in place, and raised both