by Mike Mannion
She rushed off so quick she seemed to vanish before Bill eyes as the door to the room was slammed violently shut. He turned and looked despairingly at Ophelia, asleep on the floor, her head bathed in an ethereal light. This couldn’t be! At that moment, staring at Ophelia’s pale waxy face with its web of tiny red veins, he knew her loved her.
*
Lilith came out of Connaught Hall. A group of students – who’d been out for a drink at the Drunken Duck – didn’t know what to make of her. She was bare foot, in her night dress, with blood smeared across her face. She looked wild-eyed and angry. When they asked what was wrong she sneered and hissed at them.
A girl put a hand on her shoulder and asked if she’d been in an accident. Lilith shoved her so hard she fell onto the floor. Then she barged her way through the crowd, knocking two burly lads flat on their backs, and set off running, disappearing into the night.
As Lilith ran she revelled in her new-found strength. She’d just knocked two huge men to the floor as if they were tiny children. Amazing! How powerful she’d become! No one could tell her what to do now. Not her parents or anyone else. She felt an urge to show this stuffy college, with its hidebound rules and snobby conservatism what a bit of anarchy looked like.
Up ahead she saw an old Victorian Manor House with yellow light glowing in the leaded windows. This place was known as the Retreat and was a dining hall used to host candle lit suppers for distinguished alumni. Lilith imagined it full of dinner jacketed snobs smoking big cigars and boasting of their achievements. Just like daddy down the golf club. She grinned wickedly. A perfect place for mischief!
Lilith stole in silently through the front door and crossed a large wood panelled reception room. A young woman in a black and white uniform came out of the kitchen carry a large tray of drinks.
“Can I help you Miss?” said the woman, a little puzzled at finding a girl in a night dress prowling about.
“I can do whatever I want!” exclaimed Lilith with a wicked chuckle.
She lashed out and knocked the drinks tray out of the waitress’s hand. Bloomers of brandy and tumblers of whisky flew up into the air and landed on the tiled floor with loud tinkling crashes, filling it with shards of broken glass.
The waitress watched in shock as Lilith walked nonchalantly past, seemingly impervious to the needle-like splinters she crunched under her bare feet.
She went down an arched passageway and could hear conversation and music coming from somewhere up ahead. She came out into a large grand looking room with a high vaulted ceiling. There was a string quartet in the corner playing classical music. Men of all ages, wearing dinner jackets, sat around three long tables arranged in a horseshoe, lighting cigars at the end of a long meal. Waitresses buzzed around clearing dessert plates and cheese boards. Lilith stared with disdain at the men’s jowly features and piggy eyes. She’d never seen such a complacent bunch of silly old duffers in her life. Even the big-wigs down at Daddy’s golf club didn’t look this smug.
“Look at you pathetic old fools!” she shouted across the room, “I’m the Grim Reaper and I’ve come to shake things up a bit!”
The men all turned and looked at her in astonishment.
“What seems to be the trouble young lady?” said one of them.
“I am a glorious servant of the mighty Arddhu Og!” she exclaimed, raising her hands dramatically, “and all you little piggies are about to join me in worship!”
“Get this woman out of here,” said one of the men contemptuously to a waitress. “She’s obviously drunk.”
Lilith grabbed the corner of one of the long tables. Despite its great weight she toppled it over without much effort. The men jumped up, getting out the way of crashing plates and cutlery. They began to shout angrily. A couple of waitresses came over to Lilith and tried to calm her down. She shoved one so hard she flew backwards and hit the floor hard. She grabbed the other waitress and tossed her up in the air and over the toppled table.
“Cool! I'm invincible,” said Lilith laughing with delight.
One of the men stepped forward. He was dressed a little differently to the others, with thick tortoiseshell glasses and a dog-collar instead of a bow tie. There was a large crucifix on a chain around his neck.
“I am the Bishop of Middenmere,” he said in a slow soothing voice, “and I implore you to fight this evil inside you. Paganism is a corruption of the soul. Be at peace. Be calm. I will ask God to give you forgiveness.” The Bishop closed his eyes and silently muttered prayers. He made the sign of the cross.
Lilith grinned as she muttered the incantation of Og, then leapt forward and sunk her teeth deep into his throat. The flesh on the Bishop’s scraggy neck was torn open and blood gushed into her mouth.
She thought turning a bishop into a servant of Arddhu Og was a very funny joke.
Professor Nox and Father Figgs were not far away, sitting at the top table. They looked on in horror as Lilith finished attacking the Bishop. As she released her grip he fell to the floor unconscious.
“This is an outrage! A disaster!” exclaimed Father Figgs. “Look how wild and reckless this creature is. The poor Bishop, cursed! It’s blasphemy of the highest order!”
“I have never seen such brazen evil,” said Professor Nox in a deep voice. His huge presence dominated the cowering Father Figgs.
“What about our guests? Is she going to curse them all?”
“The creature acts like a wild dog. It can mean only one thing. She must have been bitten by Lord Valentine. The method of resurrection... he’ll become an Iamia Daemonium. This poor girl is showing all the symptoms of that terrible manifestation of the curse. It must be stopped! It will spread like a plague.”
“Yes, she is not like the others, who do not declare themselves, that hide in everyday lives. She is brazen and dangerous.”
Professor Nox nodded his agreement. Iamia Daemonium! He looked calm and implacable but was actually furious. He wasn’t angry at the girl – although she was a great inconvenience – but with the boy William Blackthorne. He was potentially their greatest weapon in the fight against the Devil’s Bane, he can see the Bestia Marcam, can identify every last one, but he was proving to be a difficulty. Frank had collected him from his room in the morning with the other boy, the one who had been allowed to be his friend, but they’d disappeared. Frank had arrived at Chapel empty handed. The identikit pictures were never made. And now, thanks to their soft methods of handling William Blackthorne, the girl was now found but the plague had begun its inevitable spread. Professor Nox decided a new stance was needed with the boy. He was to be forced to have his nightly treatments. The drugs to regain his memory were to be injected without his consent. The side effects were of no consequence. He needed to remember as soon as possible, so he could start his very important task...
“She has the strength of an ox,” said Father Figgs. “How are we to escape?”
“Don’t worry. I know a way.”
Professor Nox led Father Figgs to the back of the room. This was lined with old books. He pushed a stave of wood on a bookcase and it moved with a clicking sound. A narrow section of books turned inwards. It was a hidden door to a secret passage.
“We must go quickly and get the Chorals,” said Professor Nox.
Father Figg's eyes lit up with evangelic zeal. “We must get the ether! A net!”
“We shall need more than one net, Father – remember our poor friend the Bishop of Middenmere. And maybe everyone else in the room if we are not quick enough.”
*
Bill and Arthur pulled Professor Jareth gently to her feet. Her skin was the colour of sour milk and she was shaking. Right across her forehead was a nasty looking gash full of dark congealed blood.
“Are you okay?” said Arthur, who thought she looked like a frail old lady who’d been viciously mugged.
“Don’t fuss boy!” snapped the Professor. “We must save Ophelia. Get her onto the bed, quickly now.”
Ophelia was still lying
on the floor unconscious. Bill put his arms under her, lifted her up and placed her gently on the bed. Arthur found the Hex Box and put it back on the bedside table. The Professor switched it on and it began to hum gently.
“Saints be praised. It’s still working,” said the Professor as she grabbed the plastic tube and examined it carefully. The clear liquid was still inside. “Roll up her sleeve.”
Bill pulled the velvety material half way up her arm. The Professor lent forward and, with an effort to control her shaking hands, pushed the needle deep into a vein.
As Bill held Ophelia’s hand he saw her eyes flicker and open. At first she was confused and frightened but then noticed the needle in her arm and understood what was going on. She looked straight at Bill and he returned her gaze. He could see her pretty young face, her soft and vulnerable eyes and a full mouth that was slightly open. But he could also see a mass of spidery red veins, dark pointed teeth and gimlet yellow eyes – fiercely intense and utterly alien. Bill was quaking under her terrible gaze but he smiled and forced himself not to turn away.
“Oh Bill,” she moaned, “I feel strange. I can hear a voice. I’m scared. Please help me!”
*
Eight students from the Choral Society – including Frank – backed Lilith into a corner. She glared at them with wild eyes, baring her teeth like a rabid dog. All the students, except Frank, were absolutely terrified. They’d seen the devastation this girl had wreaked on the dining room, how the guests had looked battered and beaten as they were led away to safety. They’d pledged allegiance to the Apostles, vowed to protect the university from the scourge of the Devil’s Bane. But this was the first time they’d actually met one of them and capturing it was proving to be a very difficult job.
Frank unfurled the net and gave one end to a huge rugby playing student called Dave. They held it up and charged towards Lilith, throwing the net over her. She lashed out furiously but her thrashing only seemed to get her more tangled up. She fell to the floor and let out a terrible, high pitched screech. The students looked at each other and grinned. They’d done it. Their first piece of action!
Professor Nox was holding a cloth full of ether over the mouth of a bespectacled, middle-aged man – the Bishop of Middenmere – muffling his appeals to God for mercy. After a few seconds, the Bishop stopped struggling.
Professor Nox released the Bishop, placing him carefully onto the floor, and went to join Father Figgs, who was standing behind the students watching Lilith struggle in the net.
“My word!” said Professor Nox. “This is the worst case I’ve ever seen.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any semblance of human control left.”
“I’m afraid she is lost to us. I will dose the ether.”
Professor Nox tipped up a brown bottle and emptied some of its contents onto the cloth, then stepped forward. Before Lilith knew what was happening, he had the cloth clamped tightly over her nose and mouth. Within a couple of seconds, she’d stopped struggling. Professor Nox released his hand slowly, checking that she was unconscious. The students gathered round, gazing with curious fascination at Lilith – like big game hunters who’d shot an elephant.
Professor Nox put his arm around Frank’s shoulder and led him away from the other students. When they were out of earshot the Professor said in a quiet voice, “The girl creature must disappear, and so must our poor friend the Bishop of Middenmere. They will be taken to Brimstone Manor. The girl will be questioned as to the whereabouts of Lord Percy, and then ... she must be destroyed.”
Frank gulped but said nothing.
“We’ve dallied too long, been too soft. We shall gather our forces and stamp out this plague of Iamia Daemonium before it spreads far and wide. I have a job for you, Frank. Go and find the boy, and do not worry about using force. He is to have his first treatment.”
“Yes Professor,” said Frank with relish.
*
Professor Julia Jareth was finding it difficult to walk. Her spine ached and the slightest movement of arthritic fingers caused agonising pain. She desperately needed a fix of Vita Dantis, so went into her bedroom, took the second Hex Box out of the other black bag and placed it on the bedside cabinet. Hands trembling almost uncontrollably, she opened the small ebony box, took out one of the phials and poured the clear liquid into the bowl on the top of the machine. Attaching the needle to the end of the plastic tube, she lay down on her bed, rolled up her jacket sleeve and stuck the needle into her forearm.
She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Guilty feelings rose up. In a desperate bid to bring back her beloved Simon she’d ruined the lives of two young girls. Ophelia had taken Vita Dantis, so would at least be spared the horror of Og's whispered commands, but was destined to live her life in an increasingly debilitated manner, suffering arthritis, back pain, depression, to grow old before her time. Lilith was gone before she could be helped. God only knows the fate of that poor child.
Her mind turned to Lord Percy, holed up in one of the Courtyard Cottages. How stupid of her to believe that having taken Vita Dantis he was going sit tight and do nothing, just wait passively to her to return with news of Rowena's fate. He’d brought Lilith to him and cursed her. What else was he planning?
She realised what she must do. Tomorrow morning she had to go back to the cottage, find Lord Percy and murder the poor wretch. It’s not like this strange man from the distant past should even have been here, she told herself. He was an abomination from a bygone era that must be returned to ceare. This terrible situation was all her fault and she owed it to the girls to put things right. But the Professor was a civilised and learned person, and this was murder.
The Professor heard a loud thud. Her eyes flicked open. Then there was another, with the sound of deep male voices. It was coming from outside! Someone was trying to break into her rooms!
She pulled the needle carefully out of her arm and went into the study. There was a loud cracking sound and she saw the door to her rooms move, splintered wood and plaster fell from the frame. She knew who was trying to break in and it was no use fighting. They were very strong and could do what they liked to a feeble, arthritic woman. She sat at her writing desk, took out a piece of paper and quickly scribbled a note. Then she went back into her bedroom, sat on the bed and waited.
She heard the door give way. There was the sound of many footsteps and a few seconds later her bedroom door opened. In marched four uniformed policemen, truncheons held in their hands.
Inspector Ferret followed. He was carrying a brown jug and a grey cloth. “Hold her down,” he said.
The policemen grabbed the Professor’s arms and legs and pinned her to the bed.
“I’ll tell you what I don’t understand,” said the Inspector as he tipped liquid from the jug onto the grey cloth. “How could we have been so bleedin’ thick? I mean, you, a fully-fledged member of the Apostles, made the pledge and got the tattoo on your arm, the full works. And all the time... a dirty stinking pagan! And we never realised! I’ll bet you laughed your little socks off at our stupidity.”
“What are you going to do to me?” said the Professor.
“I could tell you, Prof,” said Inspector Ferret with a slow smile, “but you really don’t want to know.”
He clamped the grey cloth over the Professor’s face and waited for her to stop struggling.
Part Three
In which family and friends are ripped from the hearts of their loved ones
Chapter Thirteen - Percy’s Servants
Yesterday, at around 10 in the evening, a rocker gang raised hell in Market Square. Property was destroyed and people were threatened with flick knives. The police were sent in but failed to stop it. The youth of today are out of control. We must bring back National Service before the country goes to the dogs.
– Extract from Rocker Gang Runs Wild in Market Square, The Middenmere Gazette, July 1971.
Lord Percy rode Beauty past Conatus Chapel, through the gates and out onto the main road.
He’d travelled up and down this street many times when he was last alive, but a span of a hundred years had changed it greatly. The gas lamps, with their lamplighter and his long pole, had long since gone, replaced by taller lamps with a strange orange glow. The road had lost its dirt and dung and was now hard and black with a white broken line down its centre. There were many horseless carriages parked at the kerbside and Percy wondered how many people still had the good sense to keep a trusty horse like Beauty.
He heard the hum of machinery, like a milling machine, grow steadily louder. Suddenly, one of the wheeled metal monsters sped round the bend, swerving to avoid himself and Beauty, who was greatly startled by the brightness of its carriage lamps.
“Whoa girl,” he said patting Beauty on the neck and glaring at the machine as it sped off into the distance. “We shall take Old Road through the woods, if it’s still there. I do not like the speed of these confounded contraptions.”
Lord Percy cantered up the road past the College and turned at a junction bounded by lights on poles than turned red, yellow and green. Claude followed closely behind. He trotted on as the road skirted around the back of the college. He could see Wych Elm Wood to his right and knew that Old Road came out a little further along. Everywhere was quiet and very still.
Then he heard the whispering inside his head.
That bawdy young wench was keen as Mister Fox a’hunting chickens. Look now and find more like her. She has a feisty nature I like.
Percy knew the voice of madness was here to stay – it was silenced only by the Good Doctor’s Vita Dantis. He shook his head in a bid to clear his thoughts but realised he was trapped by the grip of a will that would not let go. His eyes searched desperately for human life, forced to obey its orders. Drinking Lilith’s blood had fired a psychological hunger inside him that could not be argued with. Claude sniffed the air and detected the pungent aroma of human sweat, not far away. Lord Percy also perceived this – knowledge somehow passing from the dog’s mind into his own. Claude looked up at his master, perched high on Beauty, and whimpered.
