"Aren’t…. aren’t you afraid of me?" She said, I knew it was her from the tone of her voice. I couldn't see her in the dark, but I somehow felt that she was scared.

"'Afraid of you?' Why would I be afraid? I'm here to help you" I said, utterly sure that she was just some ordinary young woman, just like any other.

"To... to he-help me?" She whispere. “Haha... I haven't heard that word in fifty years... But... All men tend to run away when they see me, do you... promise not to run away?”

I swallowed hard hearing that, but not because I was scared, it was something else. There was no danger to worry about, to be alert of, yet the mention caused me to wonder if I was really talking to a woman, or if what was in front of me was something much stronger than that.

“Go ahead” The determination was in my voice, after a pause, curious, waiting for what my eyes would see. And I think, in my nearly twenty-five years of experience, I've never seen anything like what I saw that night.

I usually start my stories at the beginning, but this in particular I couldn't help but mention this particular moment with certainty, because no matter how hard I've tried to explain it, no one ever believes me, no matter how many cities I went to. My name is Naib Subedar, known in the world as Mr.Inference, a pseudonym that I particularly use when I have to carry out investigations, but not about normal things such as cheating, cases of murder or disappearance. On the contrary, as the skeptical man that I am, I try to find an explanation for the supernatural facts, reaching the depth of the matter, all with complete intentions of denying, demonstrating and proposing reality as it is. Letters have come to me from different parts of the country, not only from the United Kingdom, but also from surrounding areas, as countries in Europe and America, from North to South, from East to West. I’ve traveled to so many places, demonstrating obvious, specific things... The paranormal events simply seemed ridiculous, absurd... And it wasn’t an inconvenience for me to go to Glasgow that summer, because I had been away from the country that gave me a hand when I needed it most. 

The town I'd visited, Drumchapel, didn't really seem like much, just a bunch of quaint little houses, surrounded by beautiful greenery that made photos anywhere worthy of a stereotypical Scottish landscape. I had been in a lot of places like this, but for some reason it had an eerie vibe to it, as if something wasn't right in some way. That didn't stop me from doing my research, staying at the home of an acquaintance who conveniently lived around there.

The first thing I did was try to obtain as much information as possible, the kind that I couldn’t easily obtain without going to a library, such as legends and stories, dedicating myself to interviewing adults and elders who knew the history of the place better than anyone else. It was then that they told me about a legend, putting me in better context than the client who had mainly sent the letter, leading me to raise an eyebrow at the main reason why it was happening.

Being on the outskirts of Scotland, as expected, everyone there had a fixation on Christianity. The church that was there had been operating on its own since 1923, so although there was no burning of witches as I supposed, the story that was told in any case had to do with an illegal act within the same construction. The body of a woman had been found at the door of said church, more than fifty years ago, with her body almost completely charred and crucified, along with a horrible poster announcing that this happened to "sluts". The culprit couldn’t be found, perhaps because although it was a frightening fact, in different parts of the town what would soon be known as an urban legend was established, a myth started by unknown voices about a presence over the town.

At first, and while I was taking notes of what the old man said, I couldn't help but think about that feeling of being watched from somewhere, until the man told me what that entity did and caused every man to fear for the nights: that spirit was an avenger, a nocturnal one, which, if it saw a man alone and with an impure heart, would receive a most atrocious punishment. At first I just laughed, a punishment for impurity? It sounded too Christian to be true, however the man spoke again, releasing words that did not escape my mind and that, even if years have passed since then, I cannot forget:

“Not a laughing matter, boy. The Lady on a Cross (that is, the name with which she was spoken of) is an extremely precious soul, if you see her in the moonlight, she will try to take you into the darkness so that you can see her true being and when do that, believe me, you're not going to get out of there alive, just like everyone else "

Once I returned to the house of my acquaintance, I kept thinking those words, half dressed, sitting on the bed. Being on the second floor, from there I could see a large part of the town as it was the furthest house, feeling the night wind; even if it was summer, the atmosphere felt cold, heavy. I wondered how vengeful that spirit was at that moment, smoking my pipe, spinning it around... I hadn't even noticed the female figure sitting on a swing in one of the small parks, watching me and rocking in my direction. , watching me wherever I went.

• • •

On the second day of my investigation, having already completed most of it, I only needed to put into practice, a way to prove that none of this was so true. For that reason, that night I decided to tell my acquaintance, young Sickert, who, although he had a long lineage living in the drum*, somehow seemed not to know the story of the Lady of the Cross very well, about my plan: spend the night outside, at the supposed points where the woman was seen and where some men fled with scratches and marks on their arms.

"Are you sure about that, Detective Subedar?" I remember hearing him ask, raising an eyebrow, right at lunch. Seriously, I nodded, wiping my lips from the delicious dish I had prepared that night.

"Completely," I said, adjusting my glasses, "listen, how else could I get the truth? It’s not such a simple matter as in other countries, this is different, interesting... There is something in all this that doesn’t fit me.”

He stared at me, as if he was about to confess something, but instead he seemed to change his mind, drinking from the glass of wine he poured himself a moment ago. I couldn't help but notice that.

"Maybe you’re overthinking it," the local concluded, shrugging. “In any case, I could accompany you, in case you need help.”

Something inside me made a ring.

"No, I can manage on my own, however, I thank you for the help, Mr. Sickert," I said, shaking my head. “You've already done too much by letting me stay here a little longer, I don't want to be a particular nuisance anymore.”

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," he said, with a languid smile, causing as he shook his head, as if copying my gesture, a couple of strands of his dark hair moved as well. “The company of another man, specifically one like you, would never bother me.”

From that comment, I concluded the conversation. I wasn’t very aware of what was going to happen next, maybe because my mind was elsewhere

For this reason, that day I decided to prepare myself for the nocturnal excursion that I would give. At six o'clock, with a full stomach, I decided to start moving towards the first place where the supposed lady of the cross had been seen, seeing how they closed their doors and windows, almost as if they knew what would happen. Several passersby glanced at me, a good one, almost as if they knew I wasn't going to be seen again. I preferred to ignore that gesture, approaching the most open areas, arriving at the exact point where the night had already completely taken over the sky.

I was never a fearful man, nor do I think I ever was. The dark places, the night fields, the empty woods, none of these have frightened me as such; I wasn't even afraid of death, like a man scarred by it, I moved through life with total ease, there was nothing to produce that knot in my stomach or a flutter in my chest. However, for some reason, the restlessness that this place generated in me was inexplicable, to the point where I wasn’t able to find temperance. I tried to calm down, thinking that they were stories, but with the simple sound of my steps, I felt that I was tripping and that I would soon fall. I was about to relax completely when, suddenly, I felt that there were other footsteps besides my own in the immensity of that clearing.

With my flashlight, I decided to remain standing, fearlessly venturing to turn to the sides, not finding anything out of the ordinary. I even turned around, thinking I was just being more superstitious than usual, however, as I brought my flashlight back to the front, the light focused on black boots with gold details, along with a skirt.

I almost dropped the flashlight at the sight of it, closing my eyes as I gasped for breath, but that didn't stop me from plucking up the courage to open them once more, raising the flashlight, seeing nothing.

“What…?” I said, completely confused.

“Who are you?” said a woman's voice, in the darkness of the forest. I tried to shine the flashlight on it, but no one was there. “Stop doing that and respond!” Her shout sounded like it echoed with her, causing me to stop dead.

"Ohh, I… I'm sorry," I apologized, scratching the back of my neck, not knowing where specifically to "look", since everything was in complete darkness. “My name is Naib Subedar, and yours?”

There was a long pause after saying those words, so what was mentioned at the beginning happened, coming back here. In the light of my flashlight, which I had held in front of any tree, the face of a woman appeared. Her face was distressed, sad; her lips were painted a crimson red, as were her eye sockets, except for the left one, where there was a large burn. She saw me, she knew she was looking at me, with those dark eyes that almost glowed gold, wearing an old-fashioned black dress, with strange clawed gloves.

“And mine?” she repeated, dismayed. Something told me she hadn't been treated like this in years, which was why she made him breathe easier. She wasn't the monster everyone said she was, I actually found her very pretty, almost like a princess. “I… It's been years since no one wanted to know my name.”

“Why not?” I said, in my curiosity. It was then that I tried to replicate something I had seen in some ridiculous romantic movie, all so that she felt rather relaxed and not so scared. “I'm… sure it's one as pretty as your face.”

Somehow I was able to see a blush on her cheeks and I'm sure there was a blush on mine too, because I wasn't used to saying such embarrassing words either. I could almost remember my old colleague, Miss Emma Woods, Lady Truth, who had given up traveling and work to care for her father and soon after marrying his father's doctor, abandoning the life that now a lone wolf like myself had adapted. She used to say that I spent a lot of time alone, that I should get married... I never saw the importance of it and never thought I would, however, the presence of the girl from the forest gave me a tingling sensation that I was sure I had never felt before. Maybe I was just exaggerating…too much.

"Oh…" was the only thing that came out of her lips, taking her hair to play with it, though I couldn't stop looking at her. “I… My name… Well, I don't have an exact name, not one that a human needs to know.”

At that moment, I didn't understand anything she was saying, however I nodded, noticing more nerves than normal. She took a deep breath before speaking.

"Could you call me Norma, that's what they called me here," she smiled at me.

And, in a way, I wasn't wrong to say that her name was just as precious as she was. But there wasn't much time to keep looking at her as much as I wanted, for there was another matter that would soon interrupt us.

A sound broke the silence between us, causing me to move her light, trying to point out where that shot came from that broke the whole environment. She stopped me before I did, turning off my flashlight, putting her hands over mine, covering my mouth.

"Hush," she whispered into that blackness, leading me deeper into the woods, putting us behind a bush.

I thought for a few seconds about screaming, asking for help, wondering why I had trusted her so easily, if it weren't for the fact that a silhouette in the mist looked familiar, discovering then that it had been the person I had been living with all along. Walter Richard Sickert had a gun in his hands, with a very stubborn look, clenching his jaw. The surprise left me completely silent, thankful that Norma's hand was on my mouth, because she prevented me from saying his name in a stupid reflex. Soon he clicked his tongue.

"I didn't think he would be so quick to sneak away," he thought aloud, then continued on his way, until he was out of sight, although we're sure he'd hear us if we just moved an inch.

My mind didn't work, even now if I tried hard to remember, everything from that moment is black. Instead, what I can remember is that we arrived at a rather dark area of the forest, where we could barely see, to which she put me on a log, where soon she also entered. When we made sure that we were in a safe place, it was then that she spoke again, looking me in the eye.

"I didn't mean to harass you or anything, I just... I wanted to warn you, everyone really," she admitted, sighing. “Whenever I tried, they all ran away…”

I still couldn't believe anything she said, but not because I doubted the information, but because it just seemed crazy to me. I’ve never found anything that didn’t have any logic in the square world in which I live, it was difficult for me to fully understand it. Just as she was about to say something, a light thunder made its presence in the distance, announcing an early rain just before she started to speak.

“But… how is it that you are here? You were…” My voice trailed off, thinking it would be too harsh to mention.

"Murdered?" She completed almost in cold blood, although in the bitter tone in which she said it, she almost even looked resigned. “Yes, but… I don't know how much is known about me to explain the facts to you… Actually, I've tried for years to do it but… Something always happened.”

Subtly, she looked away, letting me understand that she was referring to Mr. Sickert, so I cleared my throat and, recalling my notes, began to explain the whole story I had heard from the adults and elders. With each word that came out of my mouth, her gaze seemed to darken, having memories of her, along with various things in her head, hugging her legs. I thought about how sad she looked right at the moment she started talking.

"Some of the things that are said about me...are misrepresented," she mentioned, playing with some rocks. “They regard me as a murderer but in reality... That man has always found a way to come back to do the same.”

Little by little she began to complete the story that was only half done during my entire stay, with the luxury of details that her solitude had allowed her to remember. As she spoke, the rain began to fall, causing me to get a little distracted, however, the essential details were still in my head, just as she said. She told me that her life was simple, easygoing... She was a woman in the fifties trying to advance as best she could despite the damage that the post-war left on her and her family. Everything began to fall apart when she began an affair with a powerful man who was captivated by her beauty, who was consequently named Sickert. She developed the kind of relationship they had, how he busied himself taking everything she had from her, her strength, her innocence, even her purity, until by some absurd mistake, an event she didn't even remember, she ended up crucified and cremated, grotesquely put on the spot. a cross, as the villagers counted.

"I somehow came back that time, when it was late at night and my body was buried," she said, playing with the hem of her dress. “I can't even see my face, the mirrors don't reflect me even if I wanted to and the fact that I'm here in the body is just a blessing that a woman who called herself Nemesis bestowed on me.”

At the time she hadn't mentioned it, but the name  Nemesis reminded me of the fact that various gurus and mediums had tried to contact her. It wouldn’t be a surprise to me that an entity, a God, would take care of saving a soul in pain, at least not taking into account that several of these sorcerers work with divinities to achieve purposes. Still, I resumed my active listening for more information.

"The point is… that bloodline has harmed not only my family, but innocent people," she lamented, pressing her lips together. “Whenever I wanted to try to get closer, everyone fled, so much so that I had no other choice but to... Isolate myself here, among the trees…”

"So... That's why you were surprised that I didn't want to be away from you." She nodded.

"How horrible do I look?" She asked, sounding extremely vulnerable. “Is it so bad that everyone runs away?”

I didn't know why specifically, but at that moment I had the urge to slowly raise my hand, caressing her face. The area of her skin was somewhat different, with a rough relief to the touch, product of the burns. They were a reminder of who she used to be, of the fire that consumed her, of who she was half a century ago. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, so much so that even when I touched her, I could feel her shiver under my fingers, unaccustomed to a light, delicate touch on her skin.

"You don't look bad," I confessed, keeping in my memory the way she looked at me, captivated. “You only have a scar, a burn… But that doesn't make you hideous.”

The darkness and the rain were perfect, the gloom covering any feelings of shyness between the two of us. Even now, when I'm driving down the road, I think that I should’ve kissed her that night, because I had the chance, because I could... However, instead I turned my eyes to the hole in the trunk and let out maybe a train that could have done some of the very different things.

"Wouldn't it be better if we got out of here? Maybe the rain made him give up,” I confessed, wondering what I was doing with a woman who was supposed to be a ghost. She, too, seemed abruptly surprised by the break between our gazes.

"Maybe he'll just…He'll try to kill you," she said heavily, almost as if she didn't want that to happen. “I... I just want all this to stop, no one deserves to die here, not like this, not by him or all the things he has done to my family…”

My mind stopped thinking about that for a few seconds, not noticing that I was also enjoying my fingers on her skin still, feeling her features. We needed evidence that could somehow put him behind bars, but how would we do it?

"Do you think there is anything that can make your case clear?" I asked, in an attempt to bargain with her, which stopped her thinking.

"Maybe… There's something we can do…" She mentioned, nodding several times, before telling me her plan.

• • •

Still under the rain, with some courage, I decided to return home, moving as quietly as possible to return to the place where we came from. Norma's cold hand was on mine, guiding me, until we were at the door. She said that she would be there if I needed her, so I entered the house, noticing that it was in the dark. I stealthily moved through the construction, knowing it well enough to reach the second floor without making more noise than necessary, seeing the doors that I had never investigated, just because of the little curiosity I had with the owner of the house, my serious mistake.

At the last door, I managed to find what I was looking for, the room being illuminated more than anything else by the lightning that occasionally struck not far from there because it is a rural area, with freezing rains, with winds that whistled through the trees, houses and others. In the library, the dark and terrifying atmosphere was much more latent, so much that I had to stomach to move, pointing my flashlight between the spines, until I reached a different, particular one. That was it, that was what I was looking for: Keigan's diary.

Keigan Nicholas Keogh was a reporter who just a few months ago, like me, had been invited to investigate Norma's case. That woman had managed to approach her, however, after trying to get out of the forest, the rain was not on her side and she was soon found dead with several scratches, as well as suffocation, with the peculiarity that no kind of DNA was found in her, being another "victim" of Norma. Indeed, that guy had been being secretly investigated by Keigan herself, writing down every report of him in her diary, which was soon discovered by Sickert, who didn’t hesitate to finish her off. And with that diary in my hands, I thought I had the ticket out... However, a voice in my ear stopped me.

"It's not polite for guests to pry through the landlord's things," Walter said, causing the flashlight to fall from my hands, illuminating our feet. “Did you think it would be easy for you to get away with it, Subedar? Incredibly careless of you to assume so early that this is how history should go.”

Something deep in my heart told me that he would have some kind of dagger, something he would hurt me with, so I used my army training to defend myself, so that said dagger landed on one of the booksellers, while I, after stepping aside, began to fight with him. Some parts were very confusing in that fight, the darkness was very thick, too thick to see each other's faces unless some lightning allowed us, which is why I tried to avoid it as best as possible, dodge, block every blow in my direction... Until my wet feet stumbled, falling backwards, leaving me completely at the mercy of that sick man.

"Ahh... I was beginning to like you," he lamented, looking me in the eye, because he knew very well that it was so. “You almost left empty-handed, if only you had given up... Maybe your family would see you in the eye again, don't you think?”

"Believe me… I doubt very much that I'm going to die in a place like this," I replied, trying to kick his crotch, but not really succeeding, because of the difference in size. That made Walter laugh.

"Those are very curious words to be the last," determined before kicking me, holding his dagger firmly. “I'll see you, maybe, on the other side.”

Just before that happened, I closed my eyes, thinking that the idea of the existence of someone like Norma was too ridiculous to be true. And as soon as that passed through my head, a sudden shock took me by surprise, noticing how the figure of the woman, much taller and more monstrous, found herself holding Walter by the neck, pressing him firmly.

Distantly I heard Norma's voice yelling something at him, but exhaustion was taking over my body completely, without knowing why. Dizzy, I couldn't help but close my eyes, passing out in the process, seeing everything in black, that being the last thing I remember.

It was hours later when I finally woke up from that strange feeling, looking everywhere. Although it was cloudy, the light managed to sneak in through the library window, which impressed on me why I was there. My back hurt, however, it took a back seat when I noticed that there was the guy who tried to kill me, bound and gagged in various ways, along with Norma, who seemed to watch him as she watched me wake up.

“Naib!” She received me, without measuring the distance, hugging me. I didn't mind the gesture, though the blush was fairly obvious in the light.

I didn't answer right away, I just caressed her back, a little enraptured, then watched her walk away from me carefully. She had a nice smile, although she looked exhausted, just like when we were in the tree trunk. She seemed to be turning off, but I didn't say anything, I just caressed her face the same as the night before, to later notice how nervous she was trying to look away.

"I managed to go through a bit of the diary, it's all noted and verified, it even has references to the paperwork here," she explained carefully, putting herself in a better position. “I… I just want to thank you, I really don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me… You set me free and it feels so… Good.”

Before I was able to mention that it wasn't so necessary, that beautiful woman placed a kiss on my lips, stealing my word, fading before my eyes as if nothing had happened. Just like that, she just left… She, the precious lady on the cross, who with her slight charm seemed to take her nearness as to make it unavoidable enough to think of her, wherever she went, whatever the case I solved. Present in every detail, every illogical response, being able to open my eyes more than I used to complain so much before. Because yes, that woman would change in a couple of days something that I would never believe would happen and that was to believe in a supernatural, real, inexplicable and perfect fact. Just as she was.