I Am Alice

by Joseph Delaney

  I glanced back a couple of times, but although the skelts still seemed to be following us, they were not gaining on us. I needed to catch my breath, so I paused at the edge of the narrow ravine, pulling Thorne to my side, and looked back.

  The skelts seemed to have abandoned their chase. They had turned and were slowly moving back towards the steaming lake.

  Why would they give up? Perhaps they didn’t want to venture too far from their home?

  Thorne and I turned and continued at a brisk walk.

  ‘They came out of boiling water,’ I puzzled. ‘Skelts couldn’t live in such conditions back on earth.’

  ‘Things are different here,’ Thorne reminded me. ‘These are skelts that died back on earth. Different rules apply . . . Now that they’ve retreated, we need to climb again. We need to look for signs of the gate.’

  I didn’t know what she meant. ‘Are we looking for another wall of rock and a cave to take us back onto the path between the domains? Is that what you mean by a “gate”?’

  ‘No – getting out of a domain is not the same as getting in. An exit gate is so full of magic it usually gives off a beam of maroon light. It’s easy to see in the dark, but very difficult if a domain is well-lit. Don’t suppose it ever gets that light in this one, so we shouldn’t have too much trouble. But we’ll see it more easily if we’re higher up.’

  Soon, after crunching up a windy, steaming path of volcanic rock, we did indeed catch sight of it. Thorne spotted it first, but had to point it out twice before I saw it. It was a thin vertical beam of maroon light.

  We took careful note of its position, then set off down the slope towards it. We were both nervous that the owner of the domain might find us before we could get away.

  ‘Sniff it out!’ Thorne commanded. ‘And tell me what it smells like.’

  I sniffed three times, and instantly got the direction of the beam, which was invisible from our present position. There was a strong stench of rotten eggs.

  ‘Eggs!’ I cried, wrinkling my nose. ‘It’s like stinky eggs!’

  ‘That’s right, Alice. So remember that smell – it’s another way to locate a gate. Sometimes you can’t see the maroon light.’

  As we approached the gate, Thorne led me to the left and we approached it at an angle. What had been a vertical line changed first into a crescent, gradually giving way to an oval shape. When we were standing directly before it, I saw its true form.

  The gate was made up of three concentric rotating circles of maroon light floating in the air at about waist height. Through it I glimpsed another landscape – something very different to this volcanic wasteland.

  Its position made it difficult to access. I approached it nervously.

  ‘You have to dive through without touching the edge,’ Thorne instructed. ‘Catch it by accident and you could lose a limb. The edge of the gate is sharper than one of Grimalkin’s blades! You go first. I’ll follow. Once you’re through, go into a forward roll.’

  So I prepared to dive through the gate – into who knows what.

  I THREW MYSELF into a forward roll, as Thorne had told me, and hit soft ground. She came to her feet behind me, clutching her blades, looking ready for anything.

  It was night, but the air was warmer than the County on a summer’s day: there was that same damp feeling, as if, despite the clear skies, rain wasn’t far away. It was quite a relief after the dry heat of the last domain. The sky was black and seemingly clear of cloud, though I could see no stars.

  Directly ahead of us was a grassy slope; without speaking, we began to climb it. As we came to the summit, I saw a full moon low on the horizon.

  It was blood-red.

  I had witnessed such a moon before, on the night the Pendle witches brought the Fiend through a portal to our world; the same night the Malkin clan had sent their witch assassin to hunt Tom Ward down and kill him.

  Somewhere ahead, I heard seabirds calling and, before we reached the summit, another harsh, rhythmical sound – the surge and ebb of the sea on a shingle beach.

  At the top we paused and looked down. Below us was what appeared to be a large coastal town. Its huddle of narrow streets sloped down to meet the wide curve of a bay. Fishing boats bobbed at anchor or lay stranded on the beach, where a red tide was lapping hungrily at the pebbles.

  ‘Is this the Fiend’s domain?’ I asked, staring up at that scary red moon – sure that I was right and very relieved to have found it so quickly.

  But to my dismay, Thorne shook her head, looking tense; I thought I saw fear in her eyes. ‘I’ve never been in the Fiend’s domain so I don’t know what to expect,’ she explained, ‘but I do know where we are now . . . This is one of the most dangerous domains of all. It’s where most of the human dead who belong to the dark congregate. It’s full of dead witches and abhumans, not to mention daemons and other entities that prey upon them. This is where I first came when I died. I got out of here just as quick as I could!’

  ‘It was the blood-moon that made me think this place belonged to the Fiend. It’s like the scary one we all saw that night he came to earth,’ I said.

  ‘That moon never sets here – it’s fixed in one position. It’s always dark. This is a terrible place . . .’ Thorne murmured.

  ‘Ain’t no point in going down there, then, is there? Best thing we can do is follow in your footsteps,’ I told her. ‘We need to get out of here right away.’

  But Thorne shook her head. ‘I wish it were that simple, Alice . . . I do know the way out. There is only one in this domain – but it’s down there in that ugly, dangerous town. If we want to leave this domain, we have to go down into those streets.’

  This was bad. A town full of such entities offered a whole range of threats. And if the place scared Thorne – said by Grimalkin to be one of the bravest people she’d ever met – it certainly scared me.

  ‘I could have lots of enemies down there,’ I told her. ‘Will they know I’m here? I did my best to cloak myself.’

  Thorne nodded. ‘Even with the most powerful cloaking imaginable, there are still ways, especially as you’re still alive. It’s very rare to see a living person here. It sends out strange ripples into the dark, and some of the dead will be skilled at sniffing out where you are.’

  ‘Wouldn’t like to meet up with Bony Lizzie . . .’ I said. She was the first of many enemies who came to mind. There were lots of things that witch would like to pay me back for. I remembered how I’d helped Tom escape from the pit near Chipenden where Lizzie had imprisoned him. That had led to Old Gregory capturing her and throwing her into a pit in his garden. But she wasn’t the only one I needed to fear.

  ‘And there are others whose days I’ve ended or helped to end. They could all be waiting for me,’ I told Thorne.

  Thorne wouldn’t meet my gaze. She bit her bottom lip and turned her back on me.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  She swivelled round to face me. For a moment I thought I saw her eyes glisten with tears, but then I wondered if it was just a trick of the light. That strange moon had made it look like they were filled with blood.

  ‘There’ll be plenty waiting for me too,’ said Thorne. ‘I helped Grimalkin for several years, and there are a fair number whose lives I ended with just my own blades. That’s all the more reason to move quickly. Let’s make for the gate without further delay.’

  What she said made sense. The longer we waited up here, the more likely it was that our enemies would be able to sniff us out. So we began to descend the slope towards the town.

  As we walked, I decided to bring up the subject of the dead drinking blood. There were things that I needed to know, and I also wanted to make up for my reaction when Thorne had drunk the skelt’s blood. It was best to get it out into the open and find out what the situation was.

  ‘So the dead need blood. What happens if you resist and don’t drink it?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s impossible to resist.’ Thorne’s voice was full of passion, and
I knew she must have struggled to fight against it. ‘The hunger for blood just grows and grows until you can’t resist it any more.’

  ‘So what about me?’ I asked. ‘Is the rule different for someone who enters the dark while still alive?’ I had felt no urge to drink the blood of that dead skelt, only disgust. ‘The truth is, I ain’t hungry for food at all. I just get thirsty from time to time.’

  ‘I’ve got bad news for you, Alice. All you can do is drink water. You can’t afford to eat anything here. If you drink blood or eat anything at all, you can never go back to the world of the living. That’s just the way things are here – one of the rules that you have to follow. It’s not likely that you’ll feel any urge to eat. But the truth is, at the moment you are using up your body’s life-force. That’s what’s feeding you. You’re drawing on your own reserves. Stay in the dark too long and you’d use it all up. You’d return a dry husk and wouldn’t live for more than a few weeks – or even days. So that’s all the more reason to find what you need quickly and get out of here.’

  It was usually good to know the truth, but every new piece of information made my situation appear worse. However, there were many more reasons other than my own survival to hasten my return to the County.

  ‘You’re right, Thorne,’ I told her. ‘I have to get back with the dagger in time to complete the ritual at Halloween. Grimalkin may be powerful, but she can’t keep the Fiend’s head out of the clutches of his supporters for ever. There are too many of them and they’ll catch up with her one day. I need to get back before that happens. Is that one of the reasons why you’re helping me, Thorne – to help Grimalkin?’

  By way of reply, Thorne gave a barely perceptible nod. She had died at the hands of the Fiend’s servants. No doubt revenge was another of her motives. Then I thought of another question. It was something I didn’t really want to dwell on, but I had to know the worst.

  ‘What happens to those who die here in the dark?’

  ‘If the dead die again here, they crumble away to nothing and cease to exist – it means oblivion. After a while some of the dead don’t struggle to survive any more. They’d rather be nothing than exist in eternal torment here in the dark. That would be my fate. But I don’t know about the consequences for you, Alice. I’ve seen no other living people here. Maybe there are others who know what happens . . .’

  I hadn’t intended to linger in the dark longer than necessary anyway, but none of this was good to hear.

  It was then, as we drew closer, that I noticed something about the town below us. It was mainly formed of a network of narrow streets and small houses that led down to the shingle beach, but there were a few larger buildings. One of these looked a bit like a castle, and there was at least one church and a couple of what looked like warehouses which, back on earth, might have been used to store grain.

  ‘Is that a castle?’ I pointed at the largest structure that was set on the very highest of the streets.

  ‘No. That’s the basilica – it’s a big church, like a cathedral back on earth,’ Thorne replied.

  I frowned in puzzlement. The only cathedral I’d ever seen before was the one in Priestown, the most important church in the County, which had a really tall steeple. This building had a square tower rather than a spire, but its size was impressive. What would a big church like that be doing in the dark?

  ‘Do people go to church and pray in the dark?’

  ‘Yes, they pray,’ replied Thorne. ‘But it’s not like back on earth where folk say their prayers to God. As you know, the dead here mostly worship the Fiend, though some pray to other dark deities like the Morrigan or Golgoth, the Lord of Winter. Well, there are altars to all of them in the basilica.’

  ‘There must be some who don’t bow to any god – some who are enemies of the Fiend here too?’ I was wondering if somebody might be able to protect us as we travelled through this domain.

  ‘There are a few who might just help us if we get into serious trouble,’ Thorne told me. ‘We do have friends here that we could call upon if our need is great enough. But I wouldn’t count on it. We can only do that if our situation is dire – we’d be putting them in serious danger.’

  I could only hope that it wouldn’t come to that. But I would do whatever it took to get the dagger back to Tom. ‘So whereabouts is the exit from this domain?’ I asked Thorne next.

  ‘The gate never stays in the same place for long; it drifts around; I know that some of the stronger entities here can manipulate its location. Sometimes they charge a price for using it. We’ll have to search for it. We’ll sniff it out eventually.’

  ‘But you left this domain once before, Thorne. Did you have to pay a price then?’

  Thorne nodded. ‘Blood is the currency here. I paid them in blood.’

  I didn’t like to think about what she’d been forced to do, but I had to question her. I thought I should know all the details of what I might have to face. But before I could speak, Thorne had turned her back on me and was striding along at a rapid pace.

  We came to the foot of the slope, and the ground levelled out. Between us and the first buildings, which showed no lights in their windows, was an area of flat soggy ground with a few dead trees and tufts of marsh grass. Thorne led the way and we squelched forward, our pointy shoes sinking deeper into the marsh the further we walked.

  In the distance I could just see a few figures. The moon was behind the buildings and it was hard to make them out in the gloom, but there were both men and women. They walked along, apparently aimlessly. One was going round in a circle; I heard a faint muttering but couldn’t catch any words.

  ‘They’re known as “the Lost”,’ Thorne explained. ‘They don’t know that they’re dead, and their memories of earth are muddled. They’re the easiest prey of all – their blood is easy to take so they don’t last long.’

  At last the ground became firmer. As we left the marsh, however, I suddenly started to feel as if I was being watched, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. Twice I looked over my shoulder, but there was nobody there. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.

  ‘There’s something over there to our left . . .’ I kept my voice low. A shadowy thing had seemed to rise up from the marsh but had disappeared as soon as I’d glanced at it.

  ‘Just keep walking and don’t look at it directly,’ Thorne advised. ‘Don’t worry – the things that inhabit these dark dwellings and the outer marsh are usually the ones that aren’t strong enough to survive in the town. It’s most likely a glipp.’

  I had never heard the term, but Thorne explained: ‘It’s a low-level elemental that likes mud and stagnant pools. A daemon would gobble it up in an instant, and it’s probably nervous of us, but I know that sometimes they get really hungry, and that can make them desperate.’

  We reached the first of the buildings – a two-storey house with cracked windows and tattered lace curtains. It was dark inside, but I spotted a curtain twitching, and then something thin and grey moving away, back into the front room.

  ‘That’s probably nothing to worry about, either,’ said Thorne. ‘As I said, the most dangerous entities congregate either near the waterfront, or in and around the basilica.’

  I could only hope that she was right. She was the only friend I had down here.

  We were now walking along a narrow alley between two stone buildings, but I could see lights ahead and hear the murmur of voices. Moments later we emerged onto a busy cobbled street that sloped upwards, away from us. Candles flickered behind windows, and there were torches on wall-brackets on the dark side of the street, which was untouched by the baleful glare of the blood-moon. But this was like no place on earth.

  For one thing, rather than being grey, as they usually were in the County, these cobbles were black and shiny like cobs of coal. But the most sinister thing was the drain channel that ran beside the street, close to the houses on our left. A dark liquid trickled along it towards us. I gasped as I realized that it
looked like old blood – the stuff that is swept from the floor of a butcher’s shop when the day’s business is over. I could smell it; there was a sickening coppery taint in the air.

  There were people too – the dead, who shuffled along with their eyes fixed on the cobbles. Mostly their clothes were in tatters, their shoes down-at-heel. One woman with dark, matted hair had a red gash in her throat, from which protruded the hilt of a dagger; blood was trickling from it and the front of her dress was saturated.

  I glanced sideways at Thorne. Her mutilated hands were still bleeding too. So, the manner of your death was carried over into the dark domain of the dead . . . If I was right, then I might soon see far worse horrors than these.

  ‘Fix your eyes on the ground!’ Thorne hissed. ‘Otherwise you’ll draw attention to us!’

  I glanced sideways and saw that she was walking with her head bowed. I did the same, though I wondered why it mattered.

  ‘Everyone is looking at the ground anyway, so how can they notice how we carry ourselves?’ I whispered back.

  ‘There’ll be more time for questions later, Alice.’ Thorne muttered this so low I could hardly hear her. ‘It’s not these folk we have to worry about. These are what we call the downcast dead – poor weak souls who are mostly just prey. What do you think the strong feed on? These dead are just a source of blood – that’s the currency here!’

  WE TURNED A corner, and another similar street stretched ahead, still continuing upwards. There were more of the same shuffling dead, and more candle-lit windows too – behind which I sensed unseen hostile eyes watching us.

  Suddenly I heard an eerie screech in the distance. I shivered, filled with dread. I knew I had heard that sound before . . . Where was it?

  The cry came again. This time it was much louder. Whatever had made it was travelling fast and heading our way.

  The third time it echoed along that narrow cobbled street, I realized that it was coming from the sky. And instantly I knew what it was. It was the screech of a corpsefowl, sometimes called a nightjar; a bird that flies by night in the County. I’d used that eldritch cry myself as a secret night-time signal when I wanted to contact Agnes Sowerbutts. How could I have forgotten? Then a chill went down my spine as I remembered someone who’d had one as a familiar. Someone whom Grimalkin had killed and sent here to the dark: Morwena, the most powerful of the water witches and another child of the Fiend.