Gallows at Twilight

by William Hussey

  ‘You transformed into your demon self.’

  ‘So you say. So you say.’

  ‘What happened when you were taken to Havlock Grange?’

  ‘Darkness. All is darkness.’

  ‘You’re sure you can’t remember anything? Conversations between the Demon Father and Roland Grype? Anything you might have seen. Think—go back.’

  ‘Darkness. All is darkness.’

  Adam sighed and turned to the others. ‘I think they kept him drugged with sleeping spells. He probably doesn’t know much of what’s happened during the past few weeks. I don’t think there’s any point in pushing him further.’

  Simon gripped Adam’s shoulder. His smile became ever more wolfish and his eyes blazed.

  ‘They are coming, Dr Harker.’

  ‘Who? Quickly, tell me.’

  ‘Dark powers are gathering, drawn together by my father’s outstretched hand. They will assemble in the new coliseum. They will receive their mission from their new leader. Then they will fall like fire from the sky. At their touch, fortresses will burn, prison walls will quake and crumble.’ Simon’s gaze switched to Jake. ‘An old enemy will be released.’

  Simon fell back onto the bed. His body shook as if he was being electrocuted. Brag leapt forward to restrain the boy. For a moment, Jake thought that Simon would transform into his demon self. Gradually, however, Simon relaxed, his eyelids drooped and his head slumped to one side.

  ‘The Demon Father has commanded it, and his servants will obey,’ Simon slurred. ‘ “Kill them all,” he has said, “leave none alive to tell the tale … ” They will be here soon … ’

  Chapter 9

  Creatures of the Pit

  The roof terrace was the ideal place for a barbecue. Sitting under the shade of a wall, Jake watched Brag Badderson throw great slabs of meat onto a huge grill. Thick pork sausages, juicy beef steaks, and gigantic hamburgers spat and sizzled. Jake hadn’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours; the smell of the food should be making his mouth water, but what Simon had said during his hypnosis had robbed him of his appetite.

  Dark powers were on the move. An old enemy was returning.

  After breaking the hypnotic trance, Adam had wasted no time in making contact with Dr Holmwood and the Hobarron Institute. Jake could see the logic of the move, but the memory of the Elders trying to sacrifice Rachel and Eddie Rice was still raw.

  ‘Hey! Anyone up there?’

  A head appeared through the terrace hatch.

  ‘Wow, it’s hotter’n hell out here.’

  Simon climbed up onto the roof. He still looked tired and that haunted expression remained fixed around his eyes. He took a seat in the shade next to Jake, reached over and dragged his friend into a rough hug.

  ‘Thanks, mate.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Jake grinned.

  They drank from a jug of iced lemonade that Jake had brought up from the kitchen and watched Brag flip his burgers. To ease them into more serious subjects, Jake told Simon about the hair-raising journey he and Rachel had taken from Yaga Passage to the borderland. Simon, who had been unconscious when placed into the vine-tentacles by Pandora, showed off his ‘mystery bruises’. They laughed at the thought of him sleeping like a baby as he was flung from one dimension into another.

  Eventually the laughter dried up and they drifted into a comfortless silence. It was some time before Jake broke through the awkwardness.

  ‘Do you want to talk about what happened, Simon? If you don’t I’ll understand—’

  ‘No, it’s cool.’ Simon spoke with that familiar dry bark of words. ‘Your dad, he told me what I said under hypnosis: dark powers gathering.’ He shrugged. ‘Honestly, Jake, I don’t know what that means. Dr Harker said he’ll help me try to remember … Remember these last few weeks. Remember my mother and what happened to her.’

  Simon gazed into the rolling desert landscape.

  ‘I’m half-demon. Those were the stories your dad heard from the dark creatures—that a child had been born to a woman and a demon. I need to accept what I am. Face it. To do that, I have to find out what happened to my mother.’

  ‘After you disappeared with the Demon Father, Rachel told us some of the story you told her,’ Jake said. ‘Your memories of what happened to your mum. Simon, if it isn’t too difficult, it might help if we talked about those memories.’

  Simon kept his eyes on the glistening horizon. When he spoke, his voice was as dry and as empty as the desert. He told Jake the story of a strange, bleak childhood: how his mother, terrified of her son, had kept him locked in a cellar. Time and again, she had told Simon that he didn’t have a soul—that he was evil. Then, one day, she had opened the cellar door and her scream had cut the air like a knife. After that, there were no more memories until he had come to live in New Town.

  ‘I think I’d changed,’ Simon said. ‘I think I killed her.’

  ‘You can’t know that,’ Jake protested. ‘And anyway, I don’t believe you could kill anyone.’

  ‘I can betray people though, can’t I? By saving my father, I betrayed you. Sidney Tinsmouth knew I would. He told me to fight against my nature, but I was too weak. I’m dangerous, Jake, I shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘We want you here. All of us. We risked our lives to save you, Simon. Anyway, my dad can show you ways to control your … other self.’

  At length, Simon gave a reluctant nod. ‘Rachel said she’d practise the exercises with me. But if I changed—if I ever hurt any of you, I swear—’

  ‘That’s why Brag’s here,’ Jake grinned, trying to lighten the mood. ‘You go all fang-boy on us, Brag is allowed to get busy with his club. Isn’t that right, Brag?’

  The troll looked over, his mouth full of half-cooked burger.

  ‘Huh? Oh, yeah, right. One hairy toe out of line and—bam!’ His giant fist slammed the wall and the whole roof terrace shook.

  Simon blinked. ‘OK. That’s good. I guess.’ He took a long drink of lemonade. ‘So, Jake, what’s been happening with you?’

  ‘Not much,’ Jake shrugged. ‘Magic practice, mainly. Course, we’ve had Rachel staying with us. Her dad calls all the time, but she won’t speak to him—can’t say I blame her, he did try to use her as a human sacrifice … It-it’s been really great, having her around.’

  ‘She’s an amazing girl,’ Simon murmured.

  ‘She is.’ Jake swallowed hard. ‘Actually, I’ve been thinking of asking her out. You know, on a date. Just have to work up the courage first, I guess.’

  Silence, but for the sizzle of meat and the rattle of sand.

  ‘You should ask her out,’ Simon said at last. ‘She’s a great girl.’

  And with that, he rose to his feet and disappeared back down the hatchway.

  * * *

  During the following two weeks, Adam attended several meetings with Dr Gordon Holmwood at the Hobarron Institute. Jake steadfastly refused to accompany his father. He knew that his dad didn’t want to deal with Holmwood, but that it made sense from a practical point of view. With their connections and resources, the Elders might be able to make sense of Simon’s warning and help to unpick the Demon Father’s plans. After a fortnight of sharing information and pooling resources, Jake had to admit that, although much remained hidden, the Institute had at least helped them to track the Demon Father’s movements.

  The demon had returned from Madrid the day after Simon’s rescue. Hours later, a new trident symbol had been found burned into a Spanish hillside. The demon had then remained in England for almost a week before flying to Paris. He had stayed in the French capital for only a few hours before travelling back to Havlock Grange. Seconds after his plane departed, the French authorities had found a strange trident shape scorched into the main runway of the Charles de Gaulle airport. Since then, the Demon Father had not strayed from the Grange. He waited there, like a spider in the centre of its web.

  For his part, Jake had spent some of the last two weeks practising his magic; focusing on memor
ies of those times when he had felt the Witchfinder’s power. Try as he might, however, his magic remained weak. He didn’t have much time to worry about it, though. Every day he would get up before dawn, strike out across the square, and head for the road back to Yaga Passage and London. He had managed to avoid Mr Murdles’s requests for a magical display by saying that he wanted the show to be a surprise, both for the assembled crowds and Murdles himself.

  ‘Fair enough,’ the ghostly manager had conceded. ‘But I expect great things, Mr Harker, and so will my guests. Many will have travelled a long way to see you—if you disappoint them … Well, we’ve had bloodshed in the square before.’

  Jake put off thinking about the prospect of being pulled limb from limb by hordes of disgruntled monsters. He kept his attention focused solely upon his father’s cure. He told Adam that he spent his days practising magic in quiet corners. In fact, he was scouring the many occult libraries that lie hidden in the old city of London. Pandora had already investigated most of them. She provided Jake with a list and, on some occasions, would accompany him to these strange, crumbling buildings tucked away down side alleys or secreted under the earth. Most of the time, however, she was too busy caring for Adam. And so, after two weeks of mouldy books and fantastical librarians, what did Jake have to show for his research?

  Nothing. It seemed that Pandora was right—there was no cure.

  At the end of another exhausting day, a footsore Jake slouched back to the Grimoire Club. Grimy from the dust of old tomes, he wanted a shower, but decided to cheer himself up by dropping in on Simon first. The friends had quickly fallen back into their old routine of jokes and banter. Still, that haunted expression had not left Simon’s eyes, and he often woke in the night believing that he had heard his mother’s voice. Adam had continued their hypnosis sessions but with no real success. It seemed that Simon’s secrets would remain hidden.

  Jake knocked on the bedroom door and walked in.

  He was about to make some lame joke when he saw Simon and Rachel sitting together cross-legged on the bed. Their eyes were closed and they were holding hands. Their breathing came in steady waves. Although he knew that they were just practising one of the control techniques Simon used to master his ‘other self’, Jake felt a twist of jealousy.

  They came out of the trance together and a smile flashed between them. Then Rachel noticed Jake in the doorway.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, getting awkwardly off the bed. ‘Any luck today?’

  ‘Nope.’ Jake slumped into a chair. ‘If you’re under a gypsy curse, suffering from lycanthropy, eaten a devil’s-head mushroom by moonlight or are being plagued by poltergeists, then come see me, I’ll know what to do. But if you’ve been hexed by a coven master? Sorry, can’t help.’

  ‘That’s it,’ Simon said. ‘Tomorrow, we’re coming with you. Three heads might be better than one.’

  ‘Mate, are you sure?’

  They all knew Simon’s fear: that his demon half might suddenly take over. That he would transform in a public place.

  ‘The control techniques are working, I can feel it.’ That familiar, crooked smile faltered. ‘Anyway, Dr Harker, he’s— well, he’s—’

  ‘Getting worse,’ Jake sighed.

  ‘If there’s a cure, we’ll find it, Jake. Tomorrow we’ll—’

  ‘Why wait for tomorrow?’ Rachel interrupted. ‘We can start work tonight.’

  ‘Strange as it sounds, occult libraries seem to keep regular hours,’ Jake yawned. ‘They’ll all be closed.’

  ‘The ones in London, yes, but what about the one just along the corridor? The private library of the Grimoire Club?’

  ‘Come on, Rach, don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Murdles won’t let humans into the library. Anyway,’ Jake gave a wry smile, ‘the door’s always locked.’

  ‘Can’t you use magic to open it?’

  ‘Tried. It must have a spell guarding it.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not magically sealed at all,’ Simon said. ‘Maybe it’s just a simple lock. And if that’s the case, I could be your man.’

  They had all heeded Murdles’s warning about wandering the corridors alone at night. Simon had not yet left the apartment, and Jake and Rachel had always been escorted in and out of the club by Razor or one of the other doormen. This was the first time they had ventured into Grimoire alone. Before they left the safety of the apartment, Rachel retrieved the bow and quiver from her room.

  Jake eased open the apartment door and peeked into the corridor.

  ‘All clear,’ he whispered.

  The three friends crept into the hallway. Reaching the library door, Simon dropped to his knees and planted an eye on the keyhole. He took two straightened paperclips from his pocket and started jiggling them inside the lock.

  ‘Simon … um … how do you know this stuff?’

  ‘Best not to ask, Rach.’ Simon winked. ‘Wouldn’t want you to think any less of me. Ah—got it!’

  The lock clicked. Simon pocketed the paperclips, got to his feet and grasped the handle. He was about to turn it when a voice whispered behind their backs:

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Jake gasped, Rachel shrieked, Simon barked out a swear word.

  They turned to find Mr Murdles floating behind them. The friends stepped aside as Murdles came forward and pushed lightly against the library door.

  ‘I really wouldn’t enter the Grimoire Club’s library if I were you … ’

  The door swung back to reveal a room the size of a broom cupboard. Two rickety bookshelves had been nailed to the wall and a mangy old mop was propped in one corner.

  ‘ … it really is such a dull room. Now, Mr Harker, I did ask you not to wander around my club unescorted.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  Murdles’s face softened. ‘Ah well, I cannot stay mad at my boy conjuror. Not when he has promised me such a spectacular show! But tell me, what are you doing here?’

  Jake explained that they were hoping to find a book of magical cures. He told Murdles that he was concerned about his father’s health and had exhausted most of the occult libraries of London.

  ‘Dr Harker does look rather deathly, and I should know,’ the ghost laughed. A look from Jake mopped up the manager’s merriment. ‘Ahem, yes, well I cannot have my boy conjuror distracted from his magic. If you wish to find a cure you should stop hunting through boring old libraries. You must go and consult the Oracle.’

  ‘The who?’

  ‘The Great Seer of the borderland,’ Murdles said. ‘The Pythia Priestess. The Oracle of the Pit. If there is a cure for your father, she will tell you how to find it.’

  ‘And how can we find her?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘I will take you to her. The Oracle is my neighbour.’

  Five minutes later, Jake, Rachel, Simon, and Mr Murdles had crossed the moonlit piazza and were standing inside the teardrop doorway—the road back to London. A cold desert wind howled through the tunnel like a mournful spirit.

  ‘Let there be light,’ Murdles said.

  They lit the oil lanterns they had brought with them from the Grimoire Club. Three steady flames shone out; thumbprints of illumination in the unending darkness. They picked their way across the tunnel floor, a rough terrain of beaten earth pebbled with bricks that had fallen from the roof. High above, the lantern light touched the fingertips of the swaying tentacles.

  Murdles led them to the pit that Jake had glimpsed on his first journey through the tunnel. It was circular, like a huge wishing well, with a low stone wall running around the outside. Carved around the wall was the legend:

  ‘I seldom have use for signs and prophecies,’ Murdles said, ‘and so I leave you here.’

  The ghost floated towards the pale-eyed doorway.

  ‘But what do we do?’ Jake shouted.

  His question boomed around the tunnel and made the tentacles rustle.

  ‘You can read, can’t you?’ Murdles said irritably.

  The ghost drifted away.
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  Jake turned to Simon and Rachel. ‘I don’t like this. You guys go back to the club.’

  ‘You don’t get rid of us that easy,’ Simon grunted. ‘Anyway, I owe you a death-defying rescue. You get into trouble, I’ll be there.’

  ‘Rachel—’ Jake began.

  ‘Come on, boy conjuror,’ she said, jumping up onto the wall, ‘let’s go see the Seer.’

  Rachel leaned over the edge of the pit, lantern held at arm’s length. The well plunged down beyond the range of her light. Slick with moss, a narrow staircase descended in a spiral around the inner wall. This was their path to the Oracle.

  ‘There’s something down there,’ Rachel said.

  Jake joined her on the wall. Far below, shapeless forms moved in the shadows.

  ‘I saw them when we first flew over. What do you think they are?’

  ‘A welcoming committee,’ said Simon. ‘Well, let’s not keep them waiting.’

  Jake stepped off the lip of stone and into the jaws of the pit. The smell of stagnant water and rotting vegetation rose up and made him splutter. With one hand tracing the damp wall, the other pushing the lantern forward, Jake started the descent. Round and round, he spiralled down, Rachel behind him, Simon bringing up the rear. Each well-worn step crumbled a little beneath his foot and there were places where two or three had collapsed completely. At those points, Jake and his friends were forced to jump across tiny chasms, hoping that the step on the other side would hold.

  Halfway down, Simon lost his footing on the wet stone. He slipped and teetered at the edge of the staircase. Rachel heard his cry, spun round and grabbed his hand, pulling him back from the brink. Simon panted his thanks.

  It had taken almost twenty minutes, but they were now nearing the end of their journey. The stench of filthy water was stronger here at the base of the abyss. Three metres or so from the bottom, Jake craned his lantern over the staircase.