21 The Shadow Clan
Bryony gazed at the night sky through a shattered window, and thought it looked darker than she had ever seen it before; no stars were visible, but now and then the swirling clouds parted to reveal a glimpse of the full moon, which seemed trapped behind a smothering shroud of blackness.
Inside the cottage, the lounge was barely recognisable. Chains formed of bones and skulls hung from the ceiling, whilst the walls were festooned with strands of thick cobwebs sprinkled with a grisly assortment of dead insects and other unfortunate creatures.
Light was provided by a collection of oddly shaped black candles, which cast eerie twisting shadows over the wooden face that stared blankly from the fireplace.
Bryony studied Inglenook closely, but there was no sign of life in those carved wooden features. Shuddering, she tore her gaze from the fireplace to study the strange variety of beings that had assembled in the lounge.
There were creatures with fur, creatures with scales, creatures that had fur and scales; some had three eyes, some had one, some had no eyes at all. Some hissed, some growled, and some seemed to communicate solely by breaking wind.
But these strange beings all had one thing in common; they looked, sounded (and in many cases smelt) pure evil.
They were the Shadow Clan.
“They look horrible,” whispered Edwin as he regarded the assembled fiends.
“That is true,” agreed Stubby. “But tonight is a special occasion. You should see them when they don’t make an effort.”
The Shadow Clan had made themselves feel at home in Wychetts. The kitchen cupboards had been ransacked, and Bryony saw a group of ferret faced animals tucking into a box of Jane’s horrible muesli; the fact they were eating the box, and not the muesli, came as no great surprise to her.
The family’s belongings had also been plundered. Bryony was outraged when she spotted a badger with a Mohican hair-cut wearing one of her favourite T shirts. The grown-up’s clothes hadn’t escaped either; several creatures sported woolly cardigans (mostly back to front or upside down), and a hairy ape-like monster used a lumberjack shirt to wipe his nose on. But Bryony noted (again with no great surprise) that not even the Shadow Clan wanted anything to do with her father’s socks.
The lounge floor was strewn with discarded clothes and possessions. Bryony, Edwin and Stubby had picked their way carefully through the debris until they’d found a suitable hiding place behind a pile of Jane’s knitting materials at the end of the room next to the fireplace. They had been there for over an hour, and had watched, with a mixture of fascination and horror, as the members of the Shadow Clan assembled before them.
“Who’s that?” asked Bryony, pointing to a plump, curly haired man in a glittery suit who walked into the middle of the lounge.
“Must be the warm up act,” said Stubby.
“Good evening.” The curly haired man addressed the watching crowd. “I say I say I say! Why are young witches good at English lessons? Because they have a natural talent for spelling! Hah!”
No one laughed, but that didn’t stop the curly haired man having another go.
“I say I say I say! What sort of ghost haunts a hen-house? A poultry-geist! Hah! A poultry-geist, geddit?”
Again no-one laughed. Edwin shook his head. “Not doing a very good job of warming them up, is he?”
No sooner had he spoken than one of the crowd (a green, lizard-like monster) opened its mouth and breathed fire at the curly haired man, igniting his glittery suit. The curly haired man screamed and ran round the room, whilst the crowd shrieked and hooted with laughter.
“He is now,” said Bryony.
Edwin continued to stare at the menagerie of monsters that filed into the lounge. “There are too many of them. Are you sure we’ll be able to beat them, even with Wychetts power?”
“For one of you it would be difficult.” Stubby lowered his voice as a creature with the head of a goat and legs of a toad hopped past their hiding place. “But as I’ve already said, you will have to combine your power to defeat them.”
Edwin looked at Bryony, but her attention was focussed on her wristwatch. It was ten to midnight. Just ten minutes to wait, then she would be back with Mum.
“Bryony!” Edwin grabbed her shoulders. “Are you listening? We have to wish for the same thing. We have to act together to save Wychetts.”
“Sssh,” hissed Stubby, as the crowd fell silent. “I think something is about to happen.”
There was a further moment’s pause, and then the silence was punctured by a harsh clacking noise. Crouching low behind a convenient ball of wool, Bryony spotted the Mohican badger in her T shirt knocking two long bones together.
Then the Shadow Clan started chanting:
“We are the blackest of the black,
We are as mean as hell.
We are the wicked and the damned,
As evil as we smell.
We are the ghosts that haunt your dreams,
Within the darkest night,
The mention of our name will put
The bravest man to flight.
We are the ugly and the cursed,
Revolting for to see.
We are so flipping nasty
No-one asks us round for tea.
We are the cruellest of the cruel,
Pure evil is our plan.
We are the wretched and the vile,
We are the Shadow Clan!”
There were cheers, hoots and honks. Then silence descended again.
Bryony held her breath and waited. A stark chill pierced the air, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle. The candle flames guttered, and from somewhere came a soft hissing sound.
A black mist rose from the floor, seeping sinisterly through the cracked stones to form the shape of a figure; a tall figure wearing voluminous black robes and a pointed hood obscuring its face from view.
The room remained silent, as every member of the Shadow Clan bowed before the hooded spectre.
“Greetings Brethren,” said the figure in a deep, whispery voice. “I am your Lord and Master. I am called the Dark One, but am also known as the Lord of the Night, Prince of Death, Baleful Baron of Blackness, and Hated Harbinger of Hellfire to All Humanity. But you can call me Colin.”
“Colin?” Edwin gawped. “My mum dated a bloke called Colin.”
“Is it him?” wondered Bryony.
“Not sure.” Edwin squinted at the hooded figure. “I can’t see his face.”
“That is because the Dark One has no face,” said Stubby.
“Then it can’t be him,” Edwin decided. “Mum’s Colin definitely had a face. Two, actually. At least that’s what Mum said after he dumped her.”
The Shadow Clan stood up, whilst the Dark One walked (or rather floated, because Bryony couldn’t see if he actually had any feet) to the centre of the room, where he turned and addressed his disciples.
“We, the Shadow Clan, have striven for centuries in pursuit of world domination. We have plotted and schemed, using all our iniquitous ingenuity to conjure a succession of global disasters: the Ice Age, Noah’s Flood, The Black Death, and our latest and most terrible affliction, Daytime TV. But all those will seem as nothing compared to the horrifying ordeal we will inflict upon the world tonight!”
The Shadow Clan cheered, screamed and hooted in triumph.
“Daytime TV?” Bryony shook her head. “The Shadow Clan were behind Daytime TV?”
“Who else could have thought of it?” asked Stubby.
The cheering stopped as the Dark One raised his arms, and stretched his skeletal fingers towards the shattered lounge ceiling.
“For tonight, after half a millennia of waiting, we shall seize the power of the Wise Ones and unleash it upon the world. Starting at one minute past midnight, there will be floods and famine, earthquakes and tidal waves. Fire will rain from the sky, and continents will collide in a catastrophic cataclysm. All who defy us shall perish, and the remainder will become our slaves
. And there will be a world-wide shortage of ice cream.”
More honks and cheers greeted the Dark One’s words.
“Yes!” The Dark One stabbed the air with a pointed talon. “Even mint choc chip!”
The cheers reached a deafening crescendo.
The Dark One waited for the noise to fade before continuing his speech. “But before we claim our ultimate triumph, we must give thanks to those who worked so hard for this victory. Ladies and gentlemen, lords and lizards, I give you Miss Katya Pauncefoot and Mr Jack Dawes!”
Bryony nudged Edwin, directing his attention to two familiar figures (now back in human form), who walked through the crowd to bow before their leader. Dawes still wore his tatty suit, but Katya had changed into an elegant cream coloured ball gown with brown satin gloves. The Shadow Clan cheered again. Katya and Dawes basked in their adulation.
“You have done well,” said the Dark One. “And will be rewarded for your actions. Miss Pauncefoot, you will be promoted to Vicious Vice President. Mr Dawes, you will be Executive Executioner of Evildoing. You will both get an extra day annual leave, and a ten percent increase in expenses allowance, subject to the submission of valid receipts.”
“And what about me?” rasped a voice from the window. Bryony peered through the glassless frame and saw the ugly tree outside.
“Of course,” said the Dark One. “We must not also forget the efforts of our loyal servant Twisted Bough.”
“Who’s Twisted Bough?” asked Edwin.
“Only the most evil tree in the world,” revealed Stubby.
Bryony frowned. “But what can trees actually do that’s evil?”
Stubby shrugged. “Drop acorns on your head, leak sap all over your car, that sort of thing.”
“That’s not particularly evil,” pondered Edwin.
“It’s all relative,” said Stubby.
The Shadow Clan gave Twisted Bough a polite ripple of applause, mixed with the odd grunt.
“Let us continue,” said the Dark One. “Now…”
“Hold up,” said Twisted Bough. “Don’t I get a reward for my services?”
“You got a ripple of applause and an odd grunt,” said Dawes. “What else do you want?”
“Promotion would be nice,” suggested Twisted Bough. “I could perform some function in head office.”
“Only if you were made into a desk,” laughed Dawes. “Which I wouldn’t advise, given how much woodworm you have.”
“I’ve contributed as much as you in all this,” insisted the ugly tree. “I’ve been keeping a watch on the cottage for the last five hundred years. Like to see either of you sit here for that long.”
“Oh come off it,” said Dawes. “It’s not like you had to cancel a back-packing holiday in the Himalayas, is it? You’re a tree. That’s all trees do. Stand around.”
“Perhaps I’m not the quickest,” accepted Twisted Bough, “but without my support this operation would never have succeeded.”
Dawes croaked disdainfully. “The only thing you can support is fungus.”
“Of course you will be rewarded,” said the Dark One. “Twisted Bough, I hereby proclaim you Head Tree of the Fetid Forest of the Damned.”
“Oh,” said Twisted Bough.
“What do you mean ‘oh’?” asked the Dark One.
“Well,” said Twisted Bough. “I was hoping for something a little closer to home. You see I’m not too keen on commuting.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” muttered Dawes.
“Enough of this,” hissed the Dark One, waving a clawed hand impatiently. “We have more important matters to attend to.”
“But before we begin,” purred Katya, “I would like to make a special presentation to you, oh great and merciless Dark One.”
“Please call me Colin,” said the Dark One.
Katya smiled, and drew her left arm from behind her back. A collective gasp went up from the crowd, and the Dark One leaned forwards to inspect the two tiny human figures in Katya’s gloved hand.
“I don’t believe it,” whined Edwin. “It’s Mum!”
“And Dad,” gasped Bryony. “They’ve shrunk our mum and dad!”
“Be quiet,” snapped Stubby. “They’ll hear.”
But no one was listening; all eyes in the room were focussed on Bill and Jane as they squirmed in Katya’s grip.
“What are these creatures?” asked the Dark One, curiously.
“The Guardians of Wychetts,” said Dawes. “For you to do with as you will, Colin.”
“Let us go,” shouted Bill. “You have no right to enter our home and treat us like this.”
“This is your fault,” Jane screamed at Bill. “If you hadn’t bought this stupid house in the first place…”
“Oh belt up,” snorted Bill. “I’m fed up with you going on and on and on…”
“I can’t believe they’re still arguing,” sighed Bryony. “At a time like this!”
The Dark One hissed with delight. “You have excelled yourselves, my Brethren. I will leach the life from these Guardians and feast on their power.”
“We’ve got to do something,” urged Edwin.
“But we can’t,” said Bryony. “Not without Wychetts’ magic.”
Another chorus of cheers and squeals sounded as the Dark One’s clawed fingers reached out towards Bill and Jane.
“I have a plan,” revealed Stubby. “And a very clever plan, if I may say so. Perhaps the cleverest plan devised by a mouse since one of my distant ancestors thought ‘I wonder what that stuff called cheese tastes like’.”
“Well?” asked Bryony, expectantly.
“It’s simple,” began Stubby. “All we need to do is...”
But before Stubby could explain his masterstroke, a desperate Edwin had taken matters into his own hands. He ran from their hiding place, waving his scrawny arms and screaming at the top of his voice. “Hey! Over here! It’s me you want. I’m a real Guardian!”
“What’s he doing?” gasped Bryony.
“The fool,” muttered Stubby. “He’ll ruin everything. Wait there while I bring him back.”
Bryony watched as Stubby galloped towards Edwin. But it was already too late.
All heads in the room had turned to look at the tiny ginger haired boy, and a stunned silence fell.
“You don’t want to eat them,” yelled Edwin, pointing at Bill and Jane. “I’m the one with the power. Eat me instead.”
“What is this?” hissed the Dark One, his hooded head twitching back to Bill and Jane. “I thought these were the Guardians.”
Katya’s green eyes widened as they spied the minute figure of Edwin.
“That was only a joke,” she said, tossing Bill and Jane away. “We knew the real Guardians would turn up. It was all part of our plan.”
Bryony opened her mouth to scream as Bill and Jane fell from Katya’s hand, but her horror turned to relief as they landed on a tangled heap of orange wool lying close by her.
Bill and Jane bounced safely on the wool, while Bryony left her hiding place and ran towards her father.
“Oh Dad,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around Bill as he got shakily to his feet. Bill staggered back, as shocked by his daughter’s reaction as he was by the fall. Bryony was still hugging him when she heard Jane’s scream.
“Edwin! Nooooooooo!”
Bryony looked up to see the forlorn figure of Edwin cowering beneath a giant chocolate coloured boot.
“I’ll crush you,” purred Katya. “Crush you like the insect you are.”
Jane screamed another warning, but Edwin stood frozen in terror as Katya’s boot came stamping down…
Wychetts Page 20
