Demons Dwell:The Tower

By Irene Allen-Block

A hidden evil torments a young couple in a small Italian village along the Amaflitana Coast and threatens to destroy their once peaceful lives. As dark forces close in around them, help arrives in the form of two paranormal investigators: Charlotte "Charley" Elliott-Bell, and her assistant Viola Padgett. Using Charley’s psychic abilities and research experience, the pair quickly find themselves embroiled in a one hundred-year old mystery involving Satanic cults and terrifying entities. As Charley and Viola are forced to confront the evil forces around them, they are drawn further into the dark and mysterious world hidden beneath the delusive tranquility of an ancient Italian village.

The first book in the Demons Dwell series, "The Tower" is a frightening tale set in an idyllic part of the world where evil lies hidden from the bright Mediterranean sunshine, and old world superstitions are a reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glannant Ty Publishing
• Release date: Nov 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311766588

Irene Allen-Block

Irene Allen-Block is a devoted British housewife, mother and grandmother, who currently resides in the lush UK countryside of Carmarthenshire, Wales. At an early age, Irene perceived the ability to contact and interact with the spirit world. From that point on, Irene realized that she was being prepared to undertake a mission that was different than she had ever envisioned.Irene was born in Amberley, Sussex and raised in south London. During her early adult years, she was extended an opportunity to master coordinated remote viewing at the time of the Cold War. In later years Irene took advantage of her prowess as a remote viewer and, combined with her psychic gifts, enabled her to be stronger in the spiritual service she currently performs to help others in need.Irene founded Spirit Rescue International in 2008 with the express intent of helping individuals, families and businesses with their paranormal issues at absolutely no cost. Working with her team of psychics and remote viewers, Irene is able to ascertain if people are dealing with spirits, demons, or just real-world problems – and help bring peace of mind to her clients. In extreme cases she can clean the location of any negative spirits or energies, and help lost and wayward souls cross over to the Other Side.

Book preview

Demons Dwell: The Tower

Copyright 2014 Irene Allen-Block

Published by Glannant Ty Publishing

First Edition: April 2014

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One – Santa Maria

Chapter Two - Malaccio

Chapter Three – The Tower

Chapter Four – The Demons Dance

Chapter Five - Amalfi

Chapter Six – La Strega Nella Cantina

Chapter Seven – The Practitioner

Chapter Eight - Gaspard

Chapter Nine – Unexpected Company

Chapter Ten - Abditis

Chapter Eleven - Llamas

Chapter Twelve – A Brief Respite

Chapter Thirteen – The Demon

Chapter Fourteen – The Padre

About The Author

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to our families, whom without their support this book could not have been written.

To the beautiful people in the villages and towns of the Amalfitana coast of Italy, for their inspiration, and for always being so welcoming.

And finally, to Willow and Carl, who will forever remain in our hearts.

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

something wicked this way comes."

- William Shakespeare, Macbeth - Act 4, Scene 1

Prologue

The demon floated in the void. It was not aware of the passage of time, which had no meaning in this place. It simply existed, waiting patiently until it was called back once again to the other realm - the place of both light and dark. The demon loved and hated that place -- a place where it longed to roam free, feeding on the energies of its helpless victims. But it despised it as well, envious of the physical forms that existed there. The demon could only come when it was called, so it had no choice but to wait patiently in the other realm.

The demon began to feel a subtle change in the vibration of the ether surrounding it. Lifting its head, it sensed the vibration increasing in intensity. It was a vibration with which it was very familiar.

Its time had come. The humans were calling it into the physical world once more.

The vibrations grew in intensity, and the demon felt itself being pulled forward towards the portal that had just formed before it. It floated through the opening and passed through the tunnel of energy that surrounded it. A light appeared at the other end, and the demon raced towards it, the pull of the energy being too strong for it to resist, and it finally emerged through the opening on the other side.

The demon found itself floating in the darkness. Below was a familiar location where it had been called to many times before. The ruins of an old human-built structure lay before it, and off to one side a group of humans stood in a circle. The energy continued to pull it forward, and demon floated down toward the circle. The humans were all dressed alike, wearing black cloaks with hoods that obscured their faces. At one end of the circle, a human wearing slightly different robes stood before a large stone altar. The other humans chanted in a rhythmic fashion, creating more energy with the vibration of their voices. Two smaller humans were led to the altar, one of whom wore a white robe. These were the offspring of the High Priest leading the ceremony, and the demon lusted in hunger as it focused its intent on the child dressed in white.

Two adults flanked the child who simply stared ahead, his eyes clouded with the fog of the drugs given to him to keep him passive. Picking the child up, the adults laid him upon the altar in front of the High Priest, who continued to chant in the human language. The demon did not need to understand the words, it easily read the priest's mind and felt his intent. The demon hated the priest and would kill him if it could, sucking the energy from his body to sustain its existence. But the priest was clever, as were the ones who came before him. He was trained in the ways of controlling energy, energy which could be used to manipulate the demon. So it had to obey its master, all the while despising him.

Holding a ceremonial dagger, the priest raised it high above his head. The worshippers instantly stopped their chanting, and all were silent in anticipation. With a sharp thrust, the priest plunged it deep into the heart of the young boy lying on the altar. The boy, already dazed due to the drugs in his body, never felt the blow, nor did he feel the cold steel tear his heart open, causing the blood to pour into his chest cavity. The heart instantly stopped beating, and the boy's gaze clouded further as he stared into the eyes of his father…and then he was gone 

The demon felt the surge of energy rush from the boy's body and invigorate it, flowing through its being with the intensity of a thousand suns. The demon used that energy to manifest before the worshippers, choosing a form that the humans expected, one both grotesque and fearsome. They all fell to the ground in adoration of its presence. The demon stared at the other boy standing near the altar who was gazing on the form of his dead brother. The boy then shifted his gaze to the demon towering over his head, and he smiled.

Suddenly the scene was thrown into chaos as dozens of other humans appeared. These humans did not wear cloaks, but uniforms that marked them as special in human society -- police. Brandishing their primitive metal weapons, they converged on the worshippers who quickly began to flee. The High Priest turned to run but was quickly subdued by several police officers who bound his hands behind his back with metal cuffs. The priest looked at his living son, who appeared oblivious to the situation, he only had eyes for the demon standing before him, the demon that the police officers couldn't see. A police officer grabbed the boy and carried him away from the ruins towards their vehicles, but the boy's gaze never faltered.

The demon was now his.

CHAPTER ONE

Santa Maria

Charley, I think my husband is possessed, said Maria.

Viola and I stared back at Maria in shock. This was not at all what we were expecting to hear from her, especially while the three of us were enjoying some cold orange juice in the bright Mediterranean sunshine.

The two of us arrived in Naples earlier that morning for a much-needed holiday. We had worked on several tough cases over the past few months, and we needed some time away to relax and re-gather our energy. After collecting our luggage, we had taken a bus and made our way down the Italian coast to one of my favorite spots in the world. Eventually, we found ourselves up in the mountains above the Amalfitana coast in the small village of Santa Maria. The village was filled with an abundance of white-washed houses, some of which looked like they were two or three hundred years old, perhaps even older. Everywhere there were narrow walkways lined with old tread-worn steps; steps that must have carried many a traveler over generations, from one village to another, along the maze of pathways that spanned the mountains. We had spent the last hour or so climbing these steps to reach this village. Upon reaching our destination we were exhausted, but very pleased to see the piazza now stretched out in front of us.

Looking around, all seemed quiet. There was a section of the square that gave us a beautiful view down the mountain to the town of Amalfi below. Beyond that, the Mediterranean Sea stretched out as far as the eye could see. The piazza was surrounded by small houses. On one side was a small and very old church, while across the square sat a little shop that looked as if it sold everything needed by the villagers. Still out of breath from the climb, the sight of tables and chairs outside of the shop looked welcoming, so we made our way toward it. The sun was beating down as it had just reached midday, and most sensible people had already headed home for their siesta time.

We sat down at a table, and a chubby little woman wearing a black apron came out to take our order.

Buongiorno come stai, she asked in a voice that seemed to sing.

Siamo ben, I answered, continuing with my best Italian, which wasn’t much but I tried.

Get you I can anything? she asked in broken English. She must have guessed my British accent; it was hard to ignore. At least she was trying.

Due succo d’ arancia si prega di, I ordered. We were both trying.

Oh, si! Parla Italiano?  She asked chuckling to herself.

Si, poco.

Happy that I could at least speak a little Italian, Mrs. Chubby gave me a big smile and went on her way to fetch our drinks. We didn’t have long to wait before she returned with our beverages. After taking several refreshing sips, we relaxed and took in the beauty of our surroundings. It never failed to amaze me how peaceful this part of the world was when compared to the chaos of London. A slight ocean breeze cooled our foreheads as Viola, and I relaxed and let the tension of our bus ride drift away. We had finally arrived, and all was wonderful. Besides ourselves, the piazza was mostly deserted which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. A couple of stray tourists were admiring the old church while across the way an old woman sat out on her balcony smoking a cigarette. There were no car noises, no airplanes flying overhead, no throngs of people pressing in on you until you could no longer breathe. This was tranquility…which was broken when a woman’s voice spoke behind us.

Look at what the cat dragged in.  The voice spoke fluent English but with an unmistakable

Italian accent.

Without bothering to look, I squealed with delight, sprang out of my chair, and threw my arms around the woman who had approached us, giving her a great big bear hug!  She hugged me back, equally excited to see me. Viola remained seated and smiled, waiting for the introduction.

Vi, this is my good friend Maria Muato. Maria, this is my American partner-in-crime Viola Padgett. We call her Vi.  Viola stood and extended her hand, which Maria promptly ignored and gave her a big hug.

This is Italy, everyone hugs here, said Maria with a smile. Viola hugged her back, and I could tell she was enjoying herself. This was Viola’s first time in Italy, so she would have to adjust to the cultural differences here more than when she first moved to England to work with me two years ago.

Mrs. Chubby wandered out to see what the commotion was about, and we ordered another round of orange juices. Maria took the seat across from me and looked at Viola.

So how are you enjoying Italy so far?

It’s so beautiful, said Viola in near wonder. The architecture is gorgeous, and the countryside is breathtaking.

We also get lots and lots of sunshine, said Maria proudly, who then glanced my way with a look of mock disgust. Not like the dreary weather you have there in London.

We have our sunny days, I replied with mock offense. We are allowed three days of sunshine a year in between the fog and the gloom.

We all laughed. It was so good to see her again. We had originally met when Maria was a nursing student at Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Woolwich, South London. I worked on the administrative staff at the time, and we had quickly become fast friends. She had learned about my psychic abilities one night over several bottles of wine, right after I had broken up with my boyfriend at the time. I’m usually tight-lipped about my abilities, and I rarely share it with people. Thankfully, she was open-minded and didn’t shy away from my paranormal exploits like some people tended to. She eventually met her husband-to-be, Pino, and moved back here to Italy with him last year. We kept in touch, and when I mentioned that I was thinking of taking an Italian holiday, she insisted we come visit her for a few days. She also said that she wanted to talk to me about something, but she wouldn’t elaborate on the phone. So here we were, back together again, and it felt like no time had passed at all. While Maria looked almost exactly the same, there was something about her eyes that were different. They seemed tired, anxious.

The three of us continued to chat, and Viola had no problem joining in on the conversation. Not one to sit idly in the background; Viola became her usual animated self. Her hands flew wildly in front of her face while describing her life growing up in Boston. Maria was enjoying her Boston accent, where words like yard and car came out sounding like Yahd and Cah.

What felt like an hour, and two rounds of orange juice later, Maria’s smile faltered ever so slightly. You didn’t have to be psychic to tell that something was on her mind. After a moment’s silence, she simply looked straight into my eyes.

Charley, I think my husband is possessed, she said.

I studied Maria’s face more closely. She had always been one of the most got-it-together people I’ve ever known, and she wasn’t prone to fits of fancy. She was a tough, young, Italian woman full of passion, and strong of will. But in an instant her face morphed from the cheerful, smiling person she had been only a moment ago, to someone that looked as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Charley, I want you to come to my house. I want you to see for yourself.  

I could hear the desperation in her voice, and I was eager for her to explain some more. Maria was fully aware of my hobby as a paranormal investigator, which is why she felt comfortable enough to say something to me now, something that she normally would never have said to another living soul. I was no stranger to dark and negative forces, having gone through something similar when I was younger. Some people would call what stalked me a demon , but I never liked to use religious terms. Still, demon fit the bill as the dark entity damn near killed me and almost destroyed my family. I don’t really like talking about what happened, so I will save the details for a later date (after many bottles of wine, of course). But that event placed me on my path of using my psychic gifts to help others with their paranormal issues. I don’t advertise it; I like to keep things close to the chest, so to speak. But word of mouth gets around, and I’m usually pretty busy with cases throughout the year.

That’s how Viola and I met about three years ago. She was a former client of mine. I helped to banish a negative spirit that was troubling her family. After that, she began volunteering her services as my assistant and secretary. It’s a good thing too, since I am hopelessly unorganised to the point of being pathetic. Our styles conflicted on the surface, but in reality, we are a perfect fit, and I don’t know how I could ever function without her.

Why do you think that he’s possessed? I asked Maria. It was important to know what she was thinking. Any good investigator, paranormal or otherwise, knows that it’s important to gather all the facts before making a conclusion.

It’s hard to explain, I just know that something has gotten inside of him. You have to believe me!

Our glasses now empty; I suggested she tell us her story on route back to her home. Leaving a few thousand Liras to pay for our beverages, we set off through the winding pathways that zigzagged through the mountains. Her home was situated off of one of the narrow paths between the village we had just left, and the houses further on up the mountain. Maria told her story as we made our way along the path.

We were so happy when we first moved into our new house, Maria started. It was run down at first. It had sat empty for a number of years, and nothing had been done to it. That didn’t matter to us since it was cheap, and Pino is a contractor. You know how much property costs here Charley, we were lucky to get it. Or so I thought.

I was very much aware of the cost of property in these parts of Italy. I tried to purchase a house here some time ago, but it was a hot market, and I was out-priced. Viola and I listened intently as Maria continued.

The house felt right. We shared all sorts of ideas about how we would decorate it and what improvements we could make. Those were our intentions, but it didn’t work out that way.  Maria looked sad as she was talking. About six months after moving in things changed. Pino at first began to feel tired all the time. He didn’t want to do anything but just sit around, while trying to get him to go to work was a task in itself. Eventually, he lost his job. I don’t know if it had something to do with not being employed anymore or what, but he started to get short tempered. He was so touchy; I couldn’t say anything for fear of being wrong.

From what Maria had shared so far, I could see no reason to determine that something paranormal was going on. Many people lose their jobs, feel worthless, get depressed, and give up. Sometimes even the smartest people can begin to lose faith when faced with adversity and begin to blame their problems on something else out of their control, instead of taking responsibility for their actions. You have no idea how many times someone has blamed their problems on the devil because they didn’t want to face reality.

We were nearing the house now, and with all