The Power of Dark

by Robin Jarvis

  When she passed Whitby Gothic, she saw a large sign in the window that read:

  SOLD OUT!

  Of everything!

  Closed until further notice.

  Lil hurried home. The East Cliff was silent. There were no sounds of any cars and no music or TVs blared out. All she could hear was indistinct chanting.

  ‘The till never stopped ringing,’ Mrs Wilson explained when she arrived home. ‘It was a feeding frenzy! And, the bizarre thing is, all the customers were from this side of town. No one from the other side even came near. The day trippers couldn’t get a look in.’

  ‘We need to order fresh stock,’ added her husband.

  ‘I should get busy with my wool then,’ said Lil.

  And so she spent the evening in her room with her yarn and needles, but she wasn’t making things for the shop.

  Sally nuzzled next to her, licking her hand whenever it was within reach. By one o’clock in the morning, Lil was ready. Her parents had gone to bed earlier than usual and she figured it was safe to creep out. It was time for the phantom knitter to strike again. Whitby’s whalebone arch was about to get a colourful makeover.

  Wrapping a black cloak round her shoulders, she left Sally sleeping soundly on her bed and made her way down the stairs, closing the safety gate behind her. This time she was going to need a stepladder, so she took one with her.

  The East Cliff was in darkness. All the street lights had gone out and Lil wondered if there had been a power cut. Carrying the awkward ladder and a large bag, she crossed the bridge to the other side. The West Cliff was a complete contrast: every street lamp was lit and it seemed even brighter than usual. Here and there, flaring in gardens and yards, she saw stuttering blue flashes as if from welding torches, although she couldn’t think why anyone would be using them at this hour. She began to wonder if tonight was really the best time for phase two of her plan. But she saw no one as she wandered up through the Khyber Pass, towards the corner of the cliff where Cook’s statue and the arch stood.

  With her heart in her mouth, Lil set up the ladder beneath one of the whalebones and took a long length of stripy knitting from her bag.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said.

  By half past two, she’d sewn both sleeves in place on the archway and she scrambled down the ladder to admire her handiwork.

  The whalebones looked fantastic; resplendent and jolly in a bright woollen rainbow. A delighted chuckle escaped her lips as she anticipated the commotion it would cause in the morning. Now for a speedy getaway . . .

  ‘That’ll make plenty of eyes pop out, kid,’ a voice behind her said.

  Lil jumped and spun round as Cherry Cerise came sauntering from the shadows.

  ‘What are you doing out here at this time of night?’ Lil asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t that be my line?’ the woman replied, peering over her sunglasses. ‘’Cept I’ve been watchin’ you so I know already.’

  ‘You been spying on me?’

  ‘Darn right I have. I love what you’ve been tryin’ to do for the town, I really do. But it’s too little too late.’

  ‘Too late for what?’

  ‘Do you really have no idea what’s goin’ on right now? No clue at all?’

  ‘How’d you mean?’

  The woman glanced around cautiously. ‘You got problems, honey. I am talkin’ huge. We need to talk. But not here. It ain’t safe. Come back to my cottage.’

  ‘Er . . . no!’ Lil refused, taking up the stepladder and walking away.

  ‘It’s on the way back to your place anyways,’ Cherry urged, catching up with her. ‘Just five minutes. There’s stuff you gotta know.’

  ‘It’s gone half two in the morning. I’m going straight home.’

  ‘Straight home . . . through the old part of town which has turned into a badly dressed horror flick. Or didn’t you notice Hallowe’en has arrived mega early to the East Cliff ? And this side has turned into a cockamamie sci-fi convention via thaumaturgy. And you think everything’s hunky-dory and you’re just happily tootlin’ on with your yarn thing. Land sakes – wise up, kid!’

  Lil halted and chewed her lip as she gazed around them, taking in all the oddities. It was like she was seeing Whitby for the first time. Cherry was right; there was something really strange going on. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to it?

  Intrigued, she said, ‘OK, five minutes.’

  ‘Believe me, kid, they’ll be the most important five minutes of your life.’

  And so they walked over the bridge, then through the darkened streets of the East Cliff. Behind them the colourfully sleeved whalebone arch reared high and graceful over the town.

  Stepping out from behind a parked car, Tracy Evans stared at the woollen decorations with contempt.

  ‘Tat!’ she said with a sneer.

  Drawing closer, she reached up to tear them down.

  ‘Do not touch the arch,’ a voice told her.

  Tracy’s face lit up and she hurriedly fished out her phone.

  ‘That you?’ she asked, staring intently at the blank screen. ‘I can’t see you. Does it need blood again?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Mister Dark said. ‘But soon, soon there will be blood, rivers of blood. At first light, this town shall be swept away and all will die. The only protection is to stand within the seal of the Lords of the Deep and Dark. Look closely at this device. I will show you the triangle, the circle and the square. You must copy them exactly, without mistake. Draw them upon the ground around you and I will dictate the words of power to inscribe within.’

  ‘When it’s all done,’ Tracy said, breathless with excitement. ‘When it’s all washed away and gone, we’ll be together, yeah? You and me? Just us two, forever?’

  Mister Dark laughed softly.

  ‘When the cataclysm destroys the town and only you remain alive, yes, I shall appear before you, within the seal.’

  ‘And you will have new life,’ Tracy said, elated.

  ‘Yes, new, sweet life will be mine to enjoy and be refreshed by.’

  ‘Then show me what to draw,’ the girl urged. ‘I’ll do it perfect, no mistakes. I can’t wait!’

  ‘What a delicious darling you are,’ said Mister Dark. ‘But you must be swift, for I have an appointment elsewhere this night and it is an encounter I must not miss.’

  ‘This is it,’ Cherry said when they came to the entrance to one of the yards leading off Church Street. Moments later she was opening a brightly painted yellow door.

  ‘Leave your steps out here; they’re not gonna run away – unless someone from the West Cliff has been fiddlin’ with them.’

  Lil leaned the ladder against the wall and looked curiously at the cottage. It seemed no different from the others in the yard, except it was more cheerful. A profusion of plastic flowers was crammed into two hanging baskets and the window boxes were festooned with even more. There were crystals dangling in the windows and pouting red lips were painted round the letter box, above which a stone with a hole worn into it was suspended by a violet ribbon. Lil recognised it as a hagstone, a traditional charm to ward off witches. Cherry took it down and invited her in.

  The girl stepped inside.

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed.

  Cherry had snapped on the lights and Lil experienced a sudden explosion of pink. The walls were pink, the ceiling was pink, the woodwork, even the carpets – all vibrant shades of pink.

  ‘Bit much?’ Cherry asked. ‘Pink is my go-to colour. It kinda gets carried away with itself.’

  Lil took several deep breaths.

  ‘It even smells pink in here!’ she said in astonishment. ‘I mean proper pink: candyfloss, blossom, Verne’s mum’s nail varnish, strawberry milkshakes, cupcakes, roses, bubblegum, marshmallows, Turkish delight, babies . . . that’s just mad!’

  ‘Yeah, I can tone it down if you want. Lavender any better? I never liked mauve; sounds too much like Mavis and I ain’t no Mavis.’

  Lil blinked. The colour was changing, softening,
turning cooler as paler hues rose up from the skirting board and mingled across the walls until every trace of pink had been muted. The inside of the cottage was now the mildest milky purple and the air was rich with the scent of lavender fields at dusk.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘How did you do that?’

  Cherry waved at a chaise longue covered in a flowery throw. ‘You might wanna sit down before I tell you,’ she suggested.

  Lil frowned but did so and glanced about the cosy room. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. The TV was moulded white plastic, shaped like a space helmet. Next to that was a smoked-glass coffee table bearing a bowl of artificial fruit and an orange Trimphone.

  An old-fashioned stereogram dominated one wall and on the mantelpiece, beneath a painting of a green-faced Chinese woman, two lava lamps were glowing and glooping.

  Cherry eased herself into a large wicker chair shaped like half of an egg suspended from the ceiling and stared at Lil through her sunglasses.

  ‘Do you know who owned this place before I moved in?’ she asked.

  ‘That was way before I was born.’

  ‘Your mom never mention it?’

  ‘Why would she?’

  ‘Cos the old broad in question would’ve been right up her street. She was a witch – a real one. And this town has everything to thank her for. She saved it from obliteration a bunch of times.’

  ‘Is that seriously what you brought me here to tell me?’

  ‘I ain’t crazy, kid, but I am losin’ my patience. You need to realise that witches exist. I’m not talkin’ about people like your folks, who enjoy dressin’ up and gettin’ down with nature, but people with special gifts, special powers, special responsibilities. They can see and do things that other folks can’t. The old dame who lived here before me wasn’t the first genuine witch to live in Whitby. This funny little town always has to have one in residence; it’s a law that goes back thousands of years. This place needs protectin’, guardin’.’

  It was obvious from Lil’s face that she didn’t believe a word. ‘Are you drunk or something?’

  Cherry carried on. ‘The very day that old lady died, her successor turned up, out of the blue. She didn’t even realise why at the time, just thought she’d run out of dough and had been dumped in the back end of beyond by her louse of a manager. But she figured it out eventually. It was all part of the great plan.’ She leaned forward. ‘Brace yourself, you’re not gonna like it, but that dumbo was me. I’m a witch.’

  Lil rose. ‘I’m going,’ she said. ‘You’ve had your five minutes.’

  ‘You better start believin’ honey and ditch the denial, cos the lives of everyone you care about are at stake. This town is in danger again and this witch ain’t strong enough to fight it on her own.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ Lil said with stern finality as she made for the door.

  ‘Wait, wait!’ Cherry begged. ‘Haven’t I already proved it by changin’ the colour in here?’

  ‘Clever lighting and air-fresheners,’ Lil insisted. ‘My mum and dad are always rigging the shop with cheap tricks like that.’

  ‘Sheesh, you’re a tough crowd.’

  ‘Why don’t you just get a broomstick and fly over the abbey?’ Lil asked sarcastically. ‘Mum’ll let you have one at a discount when she gets her new stock in, if you tell the papers where you bought it. I’ll believe you then.’

  ‘I can’t fly. Not many witches can. We all have different talents, different ways of focusing our powers.’

  ‘You’re a bit rubbish then,’ Lil said as she pulled the door open.

  ‘Are you so scared I can prove you wrong?’ Cherry challenged her. ‘Worried there really is magic in the world after all? Don’t want your blinkered view turned upside down? That it? Can’t deal with the truth? You really that feeble?’

  Lil closed the door again and faced her.

  ‘Go on then,’ she demanded. ‘Show me.’

  Cherry grinned. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Now, have you got somethin’ colourful on you?’

  ‘I’ve been sneaking about in the dark,’ the girl reminded her. ‘You don’t wear neon for that.’

  ‘Nothin’ in your pockets?’

  ‘What sort of a witch are you supposed to be, for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘I’m a colour witch. My power works through wavelengths and frequencies of light. The stronger the colour, the more energy I can channel. That ain’t easy in this town. Colours are a primal force of nature, kid. How many times have you heard someone say they’re “feelin’ blue”, or “green with envy”, “seein’ red” or “in the pink”? They don’t realise it, but they’re tappin’ into one of the most ancient forms of magic.’

  ‘That’s the daftest thing I ever heard,’ Lil said flatly.

  She had been rummaging through her pockets and pulled out the bundles of red and yellow wool she had used to stitch the sleeves on to the whalebone arch.

  ‘That the best you got?’ Cherry asked. ‘Guess it’ll have to do.’

  ‘Wait,’ Lil muttered. Reaching further down, her fingers closed on two small objects she had forgotten were there – the fragments of her Lucky Duck. She hadn’t had the heart to throw them away.

  ‘Now you’re talkin’!’ Cherry cried when she saw the pieces of aquamarine glass on the girl’s palm. ‘Put your other hand on top and clasp them tight together.’

  Feeling foolish, Lil obeyed.

  Cherry took a deep breath and drew herself up. She removed the sunglasses and Lil was startled to see how fiercely those pale blue eyes were shining. Cherry raised her arms. The colour of the walls seemed to reflect off her hands, shining brighter and brighter.

  Lil flinched. She felt a wriggling twitch between her closed palms. A blue light welled through her fingers and a tingling heat radiated out. Then the brilliant glow faded – from her hands, from Cherry, from the walls, from the carpet. A mellow orange flowed down from the ceiling to replace it and the air smelled of peaches and warm honey.

  Only Cherry’s eyes still blazed blue and she stared fixedly ahead as though blind.

  ‘Take a look, kid,’ she said.

  Lil’s hands were trembling. Cautiously she peered inside.

  The Lucky Duck was whole again – and it was moving. It was alive! It swam about the pond of Lil’s palm, the cartoon-like eyes blinking while the tiny beak opened and closed. Then it gazed up at the girl, winked and gave a high-pitched quack.

  Lil cried out and almost dropped it. Cherry laughed and her eyes became pale once more. The Lucky Duck’s movements ceased and it was just an ornament again.

  ‘How’s that for clever lightin’?’ she said, putting her sunglasses back on.

  Lil stared at the inert duck, speechless and dumbfounded. After several, incredulous moments, she murmured, ‘Can I have a cup of tea? I think I need to sit down.’

  ‘I know, kid,’ Cherry said sympathetically. ‘And I wish I could say you’ll get used to it, but you never do. And you’ll be seein’ a lot more unbelievable stuff real soon. Fact is, you’ve been seein’ plenty already, but you’ve been too pig-headed to let yourself admit it. Ain’t easy when the world you think you know is blown apart. I’m sorry you got snarled up in all of it.’

  Still struggling to comprehend, Lil returned to the chaise longue. The walls were slipping from orange back to pink. She gazed at them blankly. The one solid, unshakable foundation of her entire life – that there was no such thing as magic – had been demolished.

  ‘Is it any wonder I never usually let anyone in here?’ Cherry said, nodding at the fluctuating hues. ‘Every house has an atmosphere and the folks who live in it charge it like a battery with their own unique energies. In a witch’s home, those vibes are way more powerful. Me being a colour witch, well, it’s like livin’ inside one of those mood rings. Suits me fine, but other folks would freak. Mind you, when I’m in a brown funk, even I have to get outta here!’

  Lil was too shocked to answer. The whole experience was
so weird, she felt dazed and light-headed.

  ‘I’ll get you that tea,’ Cherry said kindly. ‘Best magic potion there is.’

  She disappeared into her kitchen, chattering lightly the whole time.

  ‘So what made you start the knitting thing in the first place?’ she asked. ‘Whatever it was I approve wholeheartedly and there’s somethin’ about it you really oughta know . . .’

  ‘I’m going to sabotage the Goth Weekend,’ Lil said. ‘These were just trial runs.’

  Cherry returned, bearing two mugs of green tea. ‘Supposed to boost the brain,’ she said. ‘And right now we need to be extra smart. Sabotage how?’

  Lil clasped the mug under her chin. The fragrant steam started to revive her.

  ‘I was going to knit grave cosies,’ she said.

  ‘What the heck are they?’

  ‘Same as tea cosies, but bigger – for headstones. Bright grave cosies to put over as many headstones in the graveyard as I could.’

  Cherry spat out a mouthful of tea as she honked with laughter. ‘Oh, I love it!’ she cried. ‘All those pretend vampires and zombies gaggin’ to have moody photos taken in the gloomy churchyard. Imagine the annoyance on their grey faces!’

  ‘I reckon I could get about fifteen or twenty cosies done by then,’ Lil said.

  ‘I wish you’d thought of it sooner. Cos, you know, there won’t be any Goth Weekend this year.’

  ‘I hadn’t heard it’s been cancelled.’

  Cherry’s face grew serious. ‘Honey, Whitby has been cancelled. This little town simply won’t be here in a few weeks’ time. It’ll be drowned beneath the sea and the rest of us with it if we don’t clear out.’

  ‘What? ’

  ‘You got some serious heavy-duty blinkers.’

  Lil sank back in the seat as she began to piece together the strange occurrences of the past few days.

  ‘The name Scaur Annie clangin’ any bells?’ Cherry asked.