Gallows at Twilight

by William Hussey

  Jake was halfway across the glade when he stopped dead. This instinct for seeing the colour of a soul had come so suddenly and naturally to him that he hadn’t questioned it. Now he wondered if it might be something like the feel for evil that he had inherited from the Witchfinder. It was a comforting thought—maybe he was tapping into those old powers again. As soon as this idea occurred to him, however, the magical instinct seemed to fade. Pandora came forward, and the lantern-glow around her grew dimmer until, finally, it was extinguished.

  Old doubts began to whisper in Jake’s ear. Ever since he had destroyed the Door into the demon realm he had felt the powerful magic of the Witchfinder slipping away from him. He had tried his best to hold on to it, summoning memories of those times when he had sensed the magic at its strongest. Times when he had been angry or despairing, like on the night his mother had been murdered by the witch, Tobias Quilp. Sometimes these memories sparked his powers, more often they failed. His father had reminded Jake that, as a clone of Josiah Hobarron, magic was part of Jake’s genes, his DNA. All he had to do was find a way back to that forgotten place inside himself.

  Jake tried to push his doubts aside. Tonight was their first real chance to rescue Simon Lydgate. His best friend was counting on him, and so Jake could only pray that the magic would be there when he needed it.

  Two of Pandora’s arms wound around Jake’s waist. A pair of hands gripped his shoulders and another cupped his chin and lifted his face.

  ‘Really wish you wouldn’t hug me like that, Pandora,’ Jake complained. ‘It feels like I’m being frisked by a dozen cops.’

  ‘I hope that ain’t prejudice I hear coming from your lips, Master Harker,’ Pandora said in her warm, Louisiana drawl. ‘Octo-phobia is not cool.’

  Yet another hand slapped Jake lightly across the cheek.

  ‘And lookee here, Miss Rachel Saxby, always a pleasure. Please tell me you’ve been practising with that bow, Rachel honey, we’re gonna need all the help we can get tonight.’

  Rachel came forward and kissed Pandora.

  ‘Religiously,’ she nodded.

  ‘Loving the confidence, girl. Show me.’

  In one fluid motion, Rachel swept the bow from her back and reached for an arrow from the quiver. The bow was loaded, the string drawn taut, and the arrow fired with lightning speed and deadly accuracy. It thunked into the skinny trunk of a sapling several hundred metres into the forest.

  ‘Woo-eee,’ Pandora breathed.

  As Jake watched Rachel trot into the forest and retrieve the arrow, his thoughts returned to that first night back at home after the Door had been destroyed. Despite being exhausted, his father had immediately started to research the Demon Father—that dark, infernal presence that had taken possession of Marcus Crowden. Likewise, Jake had begun practising his magic, trying to hold onto his already fading powers. For her part, Rachel was determined not to be left out. She had no magical ability, but Adam told her that, when the time came, there might well be creatures fighting for the Demon Father that could not defend themselves with magic. He had taken her to his study and, after half an hour of rummaging through his collection of mystic odds and ends, he had found the bow of Nuada.

  ‘Nuada was the one-armed king of the Tuatha Dé Danann,’ Adam said, handing Rachel the beautifully-engraved silver bow. ‘They were a warrior race that, in the mists of Irish legend, might once have been gods. The sword of Nuada was called Claiomh Solais—the Sword of Light. Once drawn, no enemy could escape its sting.’

  Taking the bow, Rachel had run her fingers over its curved sapwood limbs.

  ‘After the Claiomh Solais was destroyed in battle, splinters of the blade were embedded in the heartswood of a bow. This bow.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ Rachel laughed.

  Adam had puffed out his cheeks. ‘I’ve known stranger things.’

  Jake watched now as Rachel slid the arrow back into its quiver. She’d had only a few weeks to practise and yet she held the weapon with authority and poise. He wondered if this was really the result of the magical properties of the bow or of Rachel’s own natural marksmanship. He remembered that her father, Dr Saxby, was also a crack shot.

  Pandora high-fived Rachel and then turned to Adam. She tried to hide her emotions, but Jake knew her well enough now to read the concern in her face. She hugged her old friend, careful not to brush against his wounded shoulder.

  ‘How are you, sweetness?’

  ‘Good. I’m good, Pandora.’

  ‘You don’t look good. You look like an ol’ mule rode half to death and then rode the other half. You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Pandora, please.’ Adam inclined his head towards Jake.

  ‘You know something, Adam Harker? For a clever man you do a fine impression of the world’s biggest dumb-ass. The boy can see you ain’t up to this.’

  Jake felt the truth of Pandora’s words. Now forced to walk with the aid of a stick, his father looked like a man aged before his time. When Marcus Crowden had cast a hex at Jake, Adam had thrown himself into the path of the dark magic. Now his skin was creased like old paper and his eyes scored with deep lines. Pandora had been treating him with arcane remedies and her potions had succeeded in holding back the worst of the magic. Despite his father growing ever weaker, Jake remained confident that the resourceful Pandora would find a cure.

  ‘I told him to stay at home,’ Jake said, flanking Pandora.

  ‘Least someone in your screwy family has some sense, then.’

  ‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,’ Adam snapped. ‘I’m not totally useless, you know. I might even be able to help.’

  Pandora rested her forehead against Adam’s.

  ‘You ain’t useless, friend of mine,’ she sighed. ‘You just ugly.’

  The joke cut through the tension and the four of them burst out laughing.

  A deep, rumbling grunt interrupted the hilarity.

  ‘You lot gonna stand there gabbin’ all night? My club’s itchin’ to bust some demon skull.’

  Pandora rolled her eyes.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Mr Brag Badderson.’

  The ground trembled as the creature stomped out of the shadows. Standing at a height of a little under ten feet, Brag Badderson towered over the company. His grey-green skin had the ridged texture of a tree trunk; a natural camouflage which might have accounted for the fact that they hadn’t noticed the giant earlier. His huge barrel chest heaved and the nostrils of his tiny, flattened nose sniffed the air. Aside from a pair of raggedy leather shorts, the monster was naked. Moss and lichen had grown in patches on his body and what looked like the remains of a bird’s nest clung to his right shoulder.

  ‘I sometimes fall asleep standin’ up,’ Brag explained, self-consciously brushing away the woven twigs. ‘Bloomin’ birds think I’m a cliff or summat.’

  ‘What is he?’ Rachel whispered.

  Brag cupped one of his tiny ears.

  ‘Eh? Speak up, girl! Wha’s she say, Pand?’

  ‘She was wondering what kind of creature you are, Brag!’

  To everyone’s surprise, Brag drew himself up to his full height, placed a three-fingered hand on his chest and began to sing in a deep, bass-baritone.

  ‘They call me Troll—Gnawer of the Moon—Giant of the Gale-blasts—Curse of the rain-hall—Companion of the—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Pandora groaned. ‘We’ve heard it all before.’

  ‘Eh? You wanna hear some more?’

  ‘I said—WE’VE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE!’

  Brag picked at one of the tusk-like teeth that overhung his bottom lip.

  ‘Some folk got no culture,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Brag’s a forest troll,’ Pandora explained. ‘And, as you may have noticed, he’s as deaf as a post. He’s also hideous, rude, stupid, and has the worst personal hygiene of any creature I’ve ever encountered, dark or otherwise. But don’t let any of that put you off. If it comes to a fight, you could do worse than have
Brag Badderson in your corner.’

  Jake took in the troll’s massive arms and the great stone club that he bounced idly against his shoulder. Pandora was right: this guy was a definite asset to the team!

  ‘Hey!’ Brag shouted, shivering a shower of leaves from the trees. ‘I may be hideous, rude, deaf and … ’ He counted the insults off on his fingers. As he had only three on each hand the tally seemed to confuse him.

  ‘And putrid-smelling,’ Pandora said.

  ‘Yup, that too,’ Brag agreed, ‘but I ain’t dumb. You said I’d be getting paid for this little gig, Pand, so where’s the gold?’

  Pandora shot Adam a sheepish look. ‘I promised him gold. Thought the big idiot would forget.’

  ‘ “You wanna cross a bridge, you gotta pay the troll,” ’ Brag said solemnly. ‘That’s the Badderson family motto.’

  ‘Badderson, Badderson … ’ Adam clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘Of course! Got it!’ He took the mobile phone from his pocket and dialled. While he waited for the call to connect, Adam winked at the confused forest troll. ‘Ah, hello? Yes, this is Dr Adam Harker speaking … Yes, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How are you? The wife? Good, good. And the other wife? Ah, ran away with a Bulgarian ogre—I’m sorry to hear that … How many kids now? My, you have been busy, Mr Badderson.’

  Brag, who had been cupping his ear and listening carefully, looked thunderstruck.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, sir,’ Adam continued. ‘I’m just calling because I have your son here. I was telling him about the old days. You remember the time when I helped to smuggle your family out of Scandinavia during the troll-hunting season … ? Indeed, it was quite an adventure. Well, I was telling young Brag that I needed a favour, but he seemed quite reluctant to help out, and so I thought … Yes, he’s here.’ Adam held out the phone. ‘Daddy wants a word, Brag.’

  The troll gulped. He took the phone, which looked like a baby’s toy pinched between his formidable fingers.

  ‘Hi, Dad … Yeah, but … but the family motto … The family motto’s horse dung? That’s not what you say when you’ve had a few on Sammal’s Eve … No, please don’t put Mum on … OK, I will … Said I will, didn’t I? No, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, tell her I put a fresh pair on this mornin’ … Yeah, g’night, Dad.’ The troll returned the phone and looked down at his feet. ‘I’m very sorry, Dr Harker. My dad says I’m to do whatever you tell me and to keep my big, fat, ugly mouth shut.’

  Pandora slapped the troll playfully across the knee.

  ‘Well, that’s that sorted. Shall we get this show on the road? By the way, Brag, try to keep that great melon of yours below the trees—we’re not in the grounds yet, but we don’t want to warn them we’re coming.’

  The reinforced company struck out, moving ever deeper into the forest.

  Adam tried to keep his voice low but Jake heard him whisper to Pandora:

  ‘Is the troll all you could muster? I was hoping you could bring at least ten dark creatures with you. Maybe more. Loads of you fought against the Crowden Coven.’

  ‘Times have changed, honey. It ain’t just witches we’re facing these days. Rumours are spreading like wildfire among the dark creatures: something has been released from the demon realm—’

  ‘But he’s not here,’ Jake cut in. ‘Your contacts, Pandora, they said he’s abroad.’

  ‘Boarded a plane this mornin’,’ Pandora confirmed. ‘But when he gets back and finds out what we’ve done … Listen, even I thought twice about coming tonight.’

  ‘I guess we should be thankful for small mercies then,’ Adam muttered. ‘But just what is the Demon Father up to? Weeks have passed since he came through from the demon world, but he still hasn’t made a move against us. And all these short trips abroad: the US, Japan, Egypt, Australia, and now Spain. Who’s he visiting?’

  ‘Beats me,’ Pandora said. ‘All we know is that, wherever he goes, his trident mark turns up a day or two later: burned into cornfields, graffiti tagged onto monuments, even scratched into the earth of the Australian outback. Last night, one of my contacts in Tokyo saw it as a red neon light flashing high above the city streets.’

  ‘Whatever he’s doing, I’m just glad that this time Pandora found out about his travel plans in advance,’ Jake said. ‘This is our first real chance … ’

  He reached for Rachel’s hand.

  ‘It’s now or never. We have to rescue him tonight. Simon’s counting on us.’

  Adam gave a weary sigh. ‘Jake, I know we’ve had this argument before, but are you sure about this? The Demon Father will have left behind powerful protections to guard the boy. Simon is his son and—’

  ‘I owe him,’ Jake said through gritted teeth.

  ‘But you have to consider: he may no longer be the boy you knew. He’s half-demon, Jake.’

  ‘He’s my friend.’ Jake locked eyes with his father. ‘My best friend.’

  Adam nodded. ‘Very well, then we better get moving.’

  They marched on for another ten minutes or so before coming to a break in the forest. A fence, four metres high and covered in barbed wire, cut through the trees. The metal sign attached to the chain-link rattled as they approached.

  Chapter 2

  Blades of Her Ancestors

  ‘There’s an old legend about the Crowdens of Havlock Grange,’ Adam said, staring up at the sign. ‘Marcus was the youngest of the family, and the only boy. He had three older sisters—Miss Drude, Miss Lethe, and Miss Frija. Some say that these Crowden sisters would lure orphan children to the house with promises of food and shelter. They pretended to be kindly spinster women, but after a few weeks of fattening the kids up—’

  ‘They’d eat them,’ Rachel said in a hollow voice.

  ‘Bloody witches,’ Brag grunted.

  ‘Aren’t trolls supposed to eat people, too?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Not women and children!’ The troll looked offended. ‘Only men. Bad men … mostly. We ain’t monsters, you know!’

  ‘Well, we’ve learned two things about the Demon Father already,’ Adam said. ‘He knows his history and he has a twisted sense of humour.’

  ‘ ’nough gabbin’.’

  Brag strode up to the fence and raised his club.

  ‘Let me handle this, troll boy,’ said Pandora. ‘All mortals present, please stand well back.’

  Her hands reached around and disappeared into a fold at the back of her dress. She drew out eight silver daggers from their hiding place and proceeded to juggle them through the air. The thick blades, curved at an angle of about twenty degrees, dazzled in the moonlight. The speed of the daggers made it difficult to see the designs on the hilts, but Jake thought he could make out images of multi-armed men and women dressed in battle regalia.

  ‘These are the weapons of my ancestors,’ Pandora called, her voice just audible over the swish of the knives. ‘You guys ready for a show?’

  Still juggling the daggers high, she ran like the wind towards the security fence. Jake watched the first blade descend towards the wire. The dagger cut through the chain-link and a mini-lightning bolt shot out from the fence. It wrapped itself around Pandora, sparking and fizzing as it locked her in a lethal embrace. A second bolt, and then a third, struck the woman, rooting her to the spot. Before the eyes of her friends, Pandora blazed and burned.

  They were powerless to help. To touch her, even to approach, would mean certain death. Rachel screamed and hid her face in the crook of Jake’s shoulder. Like a great bear, Brag Badderson dropped onto all fours and, with his back arched, hollered at the fence as if it were a living creature. Aside from drenching the others in phlegm his outburst achieved nothing. Wreathed in jagged blue light, Pandora’s body continued to writhe.

  Jake thrust out his hand. If he could stop the current, somehow interrupt the flow or, best of all, blow the damn fence to Kingdom Come, maybe there was still a chance to save his friend. He went back to those memories of anger and despair—the sight of his mother’s death, the grin
ning face of Tobias Quilp, the powerlessness he had felt before his connection with the Witchfinder—hoping that they would prompt his magic. With Pandora dying in front of him it was difficult to concentrate. He stared at his cupped palm and willed the blue flame to spark into life.

  Nothing.

  He screamed inside. He cursed. He screwed his fury into a white-hot spear of energy and visualized it racing along his arm and breaking between his fingers.

  Nothing.

  He summoned the face, the voice, the presence of Josiah Hobarron in his mind. What he saw was a dim reflection of the Witchfinder, and so he conjured …

  Nothing.

  ‘Please,’ Jake murmured. ‘Just this once, please … ’

  Pandora shrieked inside her deadly cage of light and energy. Very soon now she would burn up. Her eyes would melt in their sockets, her hair would crackle to a crisp, flesh would roast and peel from her bones. All that would remain was a charred skeleton; a blackened, smoking testament to the failure of Jacob Harker.

  Jake couldn’t bear it. His eyes misted with tears and he turned away. He and Rachel stood together, arms wrapped around each other, caught in the flickering light of Pandora’s last moments …

  And then Jake felt a hand on his arm. He glanced up at Adam and, to his surprise, saw that his father was smiling.

  ‘Look closer.’

  ‘But she’s dying. Dad, I can’t help her.’

  ‘Look,’ Adam instructed. ‘See.’

  Jake wiped away the tears with the back of his hand and forced himself to look back at the fence. To really look at the blazing figure of his friend.