Wychetts and the Thunderstone

by William Holley

  “Really?” Bill frowned. “The bottle said ‘woodspice’.”

  “With a hint of haddock,” added Bryony, grimacing as she caught a whiff. “That’s rank, Dad. Even by your normal standards.”

  “And look at your shoes.” Jane pointed at Bill’s muddy feet. “Where on earth have you been?”

  “Oh, just out and about. Wherever work takes me.” Bill smiled, then belched loudly. “Could I have a glass of water?”

  “I’ll get it,” offered Bryony, hurrying into the kitchen. She filled a glass at the sink, and handed it to Bill as he entered the room.

  “You left the house at half past five this morning.” A frowning Jane followed on her husband’s heels. “It’s gone six in the evening now. It must have been a very long day for you.”

  Bill nodded. “But gutters and downpipes don’t sell themselves, even in this weather. And I’m going to have to work even longer hours to win the coveted Salesman of the Month award.”

  Jane folded her arms, cocking her head to stare at Bill. “And I suppose that means more time in the pub?”

  “Pub?” Bill frowned, then belched again. “What makes you think I’ve been in the pub?”

  Before Jane could reply, Bill raised his glass of water and tipped it over his head.

  Jane emitted a horrified gasp.

  “Most refreshing.” Bill handed the empty glass to Bryony. “Could I please have another?”

  Although puzzled by her father’s behaviour, Bryony refilled the glass and gave it to Bill. He belched again, then tipped the second glass of over his head as well.

  “Looks like he has got a drink problem after all.” An incredulous Bryony turned to Jane. “I’ve never seen him spill two in a row.”

  Bill shook the empty glass over his head to dislodge the last droplets, then handed it back to Bryony with a grateful smile. “Lovely. Think I’ll have a bath now.”

  As Bill strode off towards the bathroom, Bryony caught sight of a freckled face peering around the kitchen door.

  “See,” she hissed at Edwin. “Inglenook got it wrong.”

  “He can’t be wrong,” Edwin hissed back. “He’s the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom.”

  Bryony shrugged. “He said my dad was in danger. But Dad’s home and he’s perfectly OK. Well…” She checked herself. “As OK as he’ll ever be.”

  “I’m not convinced.” Edwin shook his head. “I still think your dad might be in peril.”

  Bryony smiled as a stern faced Jane applied a mop to the puddle of water on the floor. “Only from your mum.”

  Chapter 4- Hardly Equipped to Go Snorkelling

  Bryony couldn’t sleep.

  It wasn’t the sound of raindrops pummelling her bedroom window, the moaning wind and crashing thunder, or even the lightning that flickered incessantly round the edges of the curtain; after three whole weeks she was used to all that.

  No, it wasn’t the weather that kept Bryony awake.

  It was the thing. The thing lurking in the back of her mind that crept out each night to devour her every thought…

  And the thing was Mum.

  Mum.

  The word repeated in Bryony’s mind, blocking out the noise of the storm.

  It had been almost four years since she’d last heard from her mum in America. Her real mum, that is. Four years. In that time there had been no letter, no phone call or email.

  But then again, Mum had another daughter now. She was probably too busy bringing up the child and juggling her hectic high profile job.

  But still. One lousy letter wouldn’t have gone amiss.

  Something was wrong, Bryony could feel it.

  It wasn’t just the thought that Mum didn’t love her anymore that made Bryony feel sick inside. Something bad was going on, and somehow Mum was involved in it.

  That note inside her soft toy Mr Cuddles, and the strange message it conveyed. Those words had been repeated by the vision of her mother at Barrenbrake Farm the night the Shadow Clan had raised that horrible field demon. The words had not only shocked Bryony, but sent her enemies fleeing in panic.

  Beware the Moon of Magister.

  Inglenook knew what those words meant, Bryony was sure of it. But the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom wouldn’t tell her anything. At first he had answered her questions with vague comments, but his riddles had only deepened her suspicion. And lately he had refused to speak of it at all, his face staring lifelessly back at her like the wooden effigy she’d uncovered that first night in the cottage.

  Inglenook knew, but he wouldn’t tell her. And because of his secrecy, Bryony felt she couldn’t trust him anymore.

  To Bryony, secrets were as bad as lies.

  Of course, Edwin thought Inglenook was wonderful. But Bryony had spoken little of her fears to her stepbrother. He couldn’t help anyhow, and would probably be even more useless than her father.

  Dad seemed unwilling to discuss Bryony’s mother. There was a time when he’d have made excuses for her, but now he’d just shrug whenever Bryony raised the matter, and say that Mum would probably be in touch soon. This vagueness angered Bryony, but then it wasn’t really Dad’s fault…

  Bryony found her mind turning towards her father.

  All evening he had been acting strange. Even for him.

  After spilling his drinks in the kitchen, he had disappeared into the bathroom for two hours. Jane was cross because supper got burned, but she was even crosser when she went to the bathroom and found him sitting in the bath with all his clothes on.

  When Jane finally managed to persuade Dad to get out of the bath, he went and sat in the kitchen sink instead. Added to all this, he had refused to eat a morsel of supper. But Bryony thought she saw him grab a passing fly and sneak it into his mouth.

  Inglenook had said that Dad was in peril. Whilst Bryony didn’t trust the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom to get everything right, she had to admit there was something wrong with her father.

  It could be his new job. The long hours and stress probably weren’t helping.

  Or maybe it was one pub lunch too many as Jane seemed to think.

  But whatever the reason, Bryony was sure it would sort itself out. There was no need to worry. That wooden brained Inglenook didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Determined to snatch a few hours sleep, Bryony rolled over and clenched her eyes shut. She had managed to push all thoughts of her parents aside, but now the sounds of the storm took their place as an encore. It sounded worse than ever tonight, and she wondered if the cottage’s thatched roof could withstand such a beating.

  Then Bryony heard another noise.

  Not pummelling rain, howling wind or rumbling thunder.

  It was more a sort of gurgling.

  Probably the gutter. She tried not to let it bother her. No doubt Dad could get them a new one at a special discounted price.

  But as the gurgling noise continued, Bryony realised it wasn’t coming from outside.

  She sat up in bed, cocking her head to listen. The storm was so loud that she couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like the gurgling was coming from inside the cottage.

  Intrigued, Bryony slipped out of bed and padded onto the landing. The gurgling noise was louder, and was definitely coming from downstairs.

  She reached out and flicked the landing light switch. Nothing happened. Probably another power cut caused by the storms.

  She thought about waking her father, but then decided against it. The weird mood he was in, it probably wasn’t worth the hassle. She might as well check this out herself.

  Taking care in the gloom, Bryony tiptoed barefoot down the winding stairs. The crooked steps were tricky enough to negotiate at the best of times, but in the darkness it became a perilous descent into the unknown. She clung to the hand rope, probing the blackness below with her toes until they found the next step. And the next, and the next. Until eventually her toes touched something that wasn’t a step. Something cold that made her gasp from shock…

  Wat
er.

  It was difficult to tell in the gloom, but it looked like the hallway was flooded.

  But how? The cottage stood on top of a hill, and they were miles away from the nearest river.

  Better tell Dad, Bryony decided. Even in his current state of weirdness it was best he knew about this. But as she turned to head back upstairs, Bryony heard splashing from the hallway.

  She looked round and caught movement in the shadows.

  “Dad?” A whiff of stinky fish aftershave made Bryony suspect it was her father. “Is that you?”

  The shadows were still, and there was no response except more watery gurgling. And then another noise…

  At first she thought it was thunder. But as it sounded again she realised it was more like burping.

  “Dad?” Bryony grew concerned for her father. “Dad, are you OK?”

  The burping stopped, and all she could hear was gurgling.

  Bryony stood on the stairs debating what to do. Dressed in her nightclothes she was hardly equipped to go snorkelling, but she felt she should check whether Dad was all right.

  So Bryony took a deep breath, then stepped from the stairs.

  The water only came up to her ankles, but felt cold as ice against her bare feet. Gritting her teeth to stop them chattering, Bryony paddled cautiously down the hallway. In the darkness she had to feel her way along the wall, and all the while the gurgling got louder.

  “Dad? Are you there?”

  A shivering Bryony splashed her way into the kitchen. Fumbling behind the opened door she found her father’s torch he kept hanging there for ‘emergencies’. Thinking this was probably such a case, she switched on the torch to illuminate her surroundings.

  The water seemed to be getting deeper, now half way up her shins and rising. Torch in hand, Bryony waded towards the kitchen sink. And there she found the cause of the problem.

  The tap was running, and someone had left the plug in the sink.

  Bryony tried to turn the tap off, but found it was stuck. She dipped her hand into the sink and tried to remove the plug, but it had been wedged so tight she couldn’t pull it free.

  Then Bryony caught a whiff of fish, and heard a splash from behind her. She wheeled round to shine the torch at the figure in the doorway.

  Bill recoiled, raising an arm to shield his eyes.

  “Sorry.” Breathing a relieved sigh, Bryony lowered the torch. “The tap is stuck. You reckon you’re a bit of a handy man, you must have some tool for this sort of thing.”

  “We have come for you,” said Bill, taking a step towards Bryony.

  “A wrench, or some kind of spanner?” Bryony was too worried about the overflowing tap to notice her father was speaking in a weird gulping voice. “Or maybe just hit it with a hammer. That’s what you normally do if something doesn’t work.”

  “We have come for you.” Bill reached out a hand towards Bryony. “We have come for you, Guardian of Wychetts.”

  It was the last three words that made Bryony realise something was wrong. Dad didn’t know anything about Wychetts’ magic, so why would he say such things?

  “Are you OK?” Bryony shone the torch at Bill’s face again.

  But it wasn’t Bill’s face that stared back at her. His features were strangely contorted, his eyes round and bulging, his mouth widening to display rows of thorn like teeth.

  Bill screeched as though in pain, shrinking back from the light.

  Bryony screamed too, and almost dropped the torch as she departed the kitchen in a flurry of frantic splashing.

  “Help!” she wailed. “There’s a monster in the house! Everyone wake up! There’s a…”

  A hand grabbed her wrist as she reached the hallway. Bryony shrieked, but her terror subsided as she heard a familiar voice close to her ear.

  “Hush,” crooned Jane. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “But he’s a monster,” gasped Bryony. “Dad’s a monster.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your father,” said Jane.

  “But it’s true,” insisted Bryony. “He’s an actual monster. With pointy teeth and stuff. And he…”

  Bryony choked as a foul smell burned her nostrils.

  “Are you wearing Dad’s aftershave?” she spluttered at Jane. “You stink of fish.”

  “We find your scent revolting,” said Jane. “You reek of iron and of smoke.”

  “I do not. It’s called ‘Summer Meadow’ shampoo, and it’s… hey.” Bryony realised how tightly Jane was holding her wrist. “What are you…”

  “We have come for you.” Jane started speaking in gulps. “We have come for you all.”

  Jane grabbed Bryony’s torch with her free hand. Only it wasn’t Jane’s hand, but a scaly webbed appendage tipped with long claws.

  The torch was wrenched from Bryony’s grasp and hurled against the wall, smashing on impact and plunging the hallway into darkness…

  Chapter 5- An Invasion!

  Bryony prised the webbed fingers from her arm; but as she took a breath to scream for help, another voice cried out in the darkness.

  “Bryony!”

  Pocket torch in hand, a pyjama clad Edwin came haring down the stairs.

  “Bryony, what’s going on?” Edwin slowed as he saw the flooded hallway, and then froze as his torch picked out the scaly monster holding Bryony.

  “A fish alien!” Edwin yelped with fright, but the monster flinched from the torchlight and bellowed an angry belch. Seizing her chance, Bryony squirmed from its clutches and threw herself at Edwin as he leaped from the stairs.

  Her right foot slipped on the submerged hallway floor, but Edwin caught her in his arms as she floundered in the deepening water.

  “You OK?” Edwin hauled a drenched Bryony to her feet.

  Bryony expelled a mouthful of water, nodding her thanks to Edwin.

  There was a splash as the monster dived at the children, but Edwin shone his torch at its face. The monster retreated, shielding its bulbous eyes.

  “What is it that thing?” Although nervous, Edwin took the chance to study the fish like creature.

  “It was your mum,” explained Bryony, sweeping a lock of wet hair from her face. “Then she turned all scaly.”

  “Don’t be dumb.” Edwin scowled. “How could…”

  There was splashing to the right, and Edwin swivelled to reveal another fish monster in the beam of his torch.

  “There’s two of them.” Bryony nodded at the second creature that had emerged from the kitchen. “That one was my dad.”

  “I don’t believe these creatures are your parents.” A small head with a whiskered snout emerged from Edwin’s pyjama top pocket. “They are far too good looking to share your respective gene pools.”

  Bryony stared at Stubby. “You sleep in Edwin’s pyjamas? That’s weird. And unhygienic.”

  “I understand your concern,” conceded Stubby. “But I haven’t caught anything off him so far.”

  There was a threatening belch from the monster Jane as it charged at the children. Again Edwin stopped it with the torch, but the monster Bill now came at them instead.

  Edwin flicked the torch from monster to monster, freezing each one in turn. But as soon as the torch light shifted from them, each monster crept closer, and Edwin knew he could only delay the inevitable.

  “We need Inglenook,” he whispered. “He’ll know how to beat these things.”

  “I thought he would have done something by now,” grumbled Bryony. “I bet he’s fast asleep as usual.”

  “Or perhaps these creatures have found a way of blocking his magic.” Stubby twitched his whiskers thoughtfully. “We need to get to the lounge.”

  “Agreed.” Edwin held Bryony’s arm. “Are you ready?”

  Bryony felt far from ready. Her legs were stiff with cold, and the rising water had now reached her waist. She knew Edwin couldn’t swim, so how come he was being so brave?

  “Inglenook will help us.” Edwin tightened his grip on Bryo
ny’s arm. “But you’ll have to guide us there.”

  Edwin backed down the hallway, flicking the torchlight from monster to monster as Bryony peered over his shoulder.

  “Keep going,” she instructed, relying on frequent bursts of lightning to illuminate the way. “Straighten up a little. More to the right. No, my right not yours, dimbo. Now another three steps…”