*      *      *

Bear Ross had given up all hope, given up on life itself as the lethal teeth slowly poised to bite down.   Hearing the nightmare let out a tremendous shriek, at first he thought that it was a shriek of triumph.   Then to Bear’s astonishment, as she started to rock from side to side, he realised that it was a shriek of anger and dismay, as some unseen force attempted to pull the demon woman away from him.

A deeply religious man all his life, Bear had been praying silently to the Blessed Virgin as the teeth lowered over his face.   So he now believed that She had answered his prayers, as kicking and writhing wildly, the nightmare was dragged backwards up off his face.

Immediately Bear rolled onto the floor, in case the creature fell back onto the bed.   He lay on the carpet watching in fascination as, still struggling furiously against the unseen adversary, the nightmare was pulled up backwards toward the ceiling in a strange, jerky motion as though someone had her on a gigantic rubber band and was slowly reeling her in.

As Bear watched she hit the ceiling with a strange plopping sound.   The surface of the ceiling seemed to have become elastic and bulged in upon itself for a moment against her twisting bead, until slowly, still screaming her indignation, the nightmare began to disappear headfirst into the very fabric of the ceiling, centimetre by centimetre, like a diver slowly disappearing into the water in a slow-motion replay.   Except that she was defying gravity by “diving” upwards, through hard plasterboard, not down into soft water.

Finally even her toes had disappeared.   Then the yellow light that had heralded her arrival began to seep up into the ceiling like shiny dust being sucked into a vacuum cleaner, until Bear was alone again in the darkness, terrified by his close encounter with death, yet grateful to still be alive.

*      *      *

Now even Ernie was chanting and dancing with vigour, as slowly the static crackle began to build up until the atmosphere inside the living room was flashing like lightning.

Throughout the “calling” Morton Matthews had continued to throw pinches of varicoloured herbs and powders onto the brazier in the centre of the five-pointed star; each sprinkle of powder making the fire flare up for a moment.   As Matthews threw his last pinch onto the brazier, there came a loud crash upon the corrugated-iron roof, followed by a high-pitched screech.   Then blinding yellow light began to flaw into the living roam through the solid ceiling.

After a moment, to Ernie’s astonishment he saw five toes seep in through the fabric of the ceiling, followed by a delicate foot, then the start of a shapely leg.   The second foot soon appeared, followed by the lower body of the nightmare, which still writhed around wildly, shrieking her fear and rage at this unexpected treatment.

As Matthews continued his chanting, the nightmare was dragged down into the pentacle within the Cone of Power, until she was almost being pulled into the now blazing fire within the small brazier.

Realising Matthews’ intention, Alwyn leLean protested, “No, she must not be destroyed by the fire!”

“Purging with fire is the only way to make her atone for the evil she has committed!” insisted Morton Matthews.

“No!” protested leLean.   “The evil isn’t hers, it is ours!   We made her what she now is!”   Pointing toward the twisting, snarling creature he added, “Somewhere within that creature is the spirit of Vera Hilliard.   A spirit poisoned by us.   We turned her into a demon, against her will!”

Aware that he meant that it was his fault, Matthews flushed red from anger.   But reluctantly he consented to leLean’s demand and began to perform a healing ritual, to draw out the psychic poison from the spirit of Vera Hilliard.

Almost as complex as the charm that had pulled the nightmare from Bear Ross’ apartment, the healing spell continued into the early hours of the morning.   At first the creature snarled and glared at the circle of dancing witches, shrieking her disapproval each time a part of the “exorcism” ritual was completed.   But slowly the evil look on her beautiful face began to dissolve away, allowing her features to soften, becoming gradually more and more human, less and less monstrous.   Gradually her strident shrieking began to dim, began to lower in pitch and volume, until it tapered out entirely as bit by bit the evil was drawn out of her to be sent spiralling down into the flaming brazier, making the flames flare up brightly for an instant, leaving the soul of Vera Hilliard a little less polluted.

Until finally, barely an hour before dawn, the ritual cleansing was completed and the last of the psychic poison was gone.   With it went the nightmare, leaving behind the soul of Vera Hilliard, still almost supernaturally beautiful, but now a pure innocent beauty, not the leering, sensuous beauty of the nightmare.

“Darling…darling you’re back!” cried Eleanora Hilliard, sobbing from joy at the sight of the spirit of her daughter, finally cleansed of Morton Matthews’ evil.

“Don’t cry mother,” said Vera.   She reached out through the magic circle, which could no longer contain her now that the evil that it had been designed to imprison had been cleansed from her.   For a few moments Vera took her mother into her ghostly arms and hugged her, before finally pulling away, saying, “It’s time for me to go on, mother.   On to the next level of existence.”

Sebastian Hilliard put a loving arm around his wife’s waist and gently pulled her away as the spirit of their daughter began to fade from sight.

While they were packing away their magic paraphernalia, Alwyn leLean explained, “As I said before, the nightmare of Glen Hartwell herself wasn’t evil, she was merely the victim of human evil.”   Looking pointedly at Morton Matthews, he added, “Hopefully this will be a lesson to us all, that magic should only be used for good purposes, never evil!”

*      *      *

Although the killings stopped in late August, remnants of the Army Reserves and Melbourne Police stayed in the area until Christmas 1995.   Although no murderer was ever caught, Detective Inspector Kenneth Fisher returned to Melbourne a hero, credited with having scared away the killer.   To the annoyance of Mel Forbes and Bear Ross, Fisher received a Certificate of Merit at a special police awards ceremony and later picked up an Order of Australia in the Christmas Honours List.   “But he didn’t do a bloody thing!” protested Mel when told of Fisher’s awards, drawing a nod of agreement and an ironic laugh from Bear Ross.

Though Glen Hartwell is a large town by country standards, nearly five percent of the adult male population had been killed over a three month period and Ernie Singleton knew — as he tried to comfort Rowena, who still grieved for her father, Tony Frankland — that it would be years, if ever, before Glen Hartwell and Merridale fully recovered.

THE END