Gallows at Twilight

by William Hussey

  The witch called out from the mist.

  ‘My pet? Are you there?’

  The sound of claws dragging across the ground. A pair of yellow eyes glowed dully in the dust. Rachel swept the bow from her back and notched an arrow, Simon brandished the short, heavy club that he had borrowed from Razor.

  ‘No,’ Jake held out his hand. ‘Let him pass.’

  Mr Pinch hobbled between the friends, eyes downcast. Every movement caused him to whimper through the ragged, wet hole that served as his nose. Not a single tooth had survived Frija Crowden’s attack, and without them the gummy creature looked old and somehow pathetic. Injuries that would have killed any mortal were nevertheless taking their toll on the demon. Swollen to twice its normal size, Pinch’s shattered skull swayed left and right on the spindle of his broken neck.

  ‘You’re sure it’s a good idea?’ Rachel asked. ‘Letting him go to the witch?’

  ‘Quilp’s power is fading,’ Jake whispered, ‘I can feel it.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because he no longer believes in his magic or in himself.’

  The friends stayed where they were and let the dust settle.

  Ghostly in the dimness, Quilp’s face emerged from the mist. He seemed to be standing on higher ground. The dust fell another three metres and Jake saw that the witch was in fact perched on the low brick wall that surrounded the Oracle’s pit. Mr Pinch reached out to his master, like a toddler begging to be picked up. Quilp lifted the demon and laid him gently on the wall. Then he turned to his enemy.

  ‘Bravo, Jacob, bravo.’ He clapped his thin hands. ‘You have beaten me.’

  The cultured voice had lost its sneer and there was nothing mocking in Quilp’s applause.

  ‘In all my years of study and practice, I have never seen such dark magic as you conjured today.’

  ‘That wasn’t me,’ Jake said.

  ‘Is that so?’ Quilp tapped a long finger against his chin. ‘I wonder. What is the source of that righteous anger, Jacob? That merciless rage? Perhaps one day you will find out.’

  ‘We’re not here to discuss me, Tobias,’ Jake said. ‘We need to decide what’s going to happen to you. My dad will know what to do, but first you have to agree to come with us, qui etly and peacefully.’

  ‘You don’t want to kill me any more?’

  ‘Part of me does,’ Jake admitted. ‘The worst part.’

  He glanced down at the hand that had conjured the darkness. Such power …

  ‘But I can’t let you go. You’re too dangerous.’

  Jake stepped forward. As he did so, Quilp mirrored him, taking a step back towards the precipice.

  ‘Do you honestly think that I will let you take me alive?’ The witch managed one of his old bitter laughs. ‘I am Tobias Quilp, Second in Command of the Crowden Coven.’

  ‘There is no Crowden Coven.’ Jake reached out, as if to bridge the distance between them and pull Quilp back from the edge. ‘Please, if you let me I can help you.’

  ‘Help me?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Jake nodded. ‘My dad worked with Sidney Tinsmouth. He helped Sidney reclaim his soul.’

  ‘And you would help me do this? The man who butchered your mother?’

  Jake closed his eyes and saw her. She came to him, not as the headless horror Quilp had made her, but whole and vibrant and alive. Claire Harker, his mother.

  ‘Yes, I’ll help you,’ Jake breathed. ‘Gladly.’

  Silence in the portal. Silence in the square beyond, where the dark creatures strained to hear every word. Even the tentacles overhead had ceased their creaking.

  Quilp, lost and frightened, looked back at Jake.

  ‘Who are you?’ His voice shivered. ‘What manner of mortal could stretch out his hand to so bitter a foe? You should not be. You are monstrous.’

  Jake took another small step forward.

  Quilp backed up until only the tips of his shoes clung to the wall. Below, in the unlit depths of the pit, the guardians of the Oracle waited. Jake imagined their thick white bodies uncoiling, their heads reaching up and their poisonous mouths gaping wide. The witch quaked on the precipice. He pulled back his coat and reached inside.

  ‘I cannot destroy you, Jacob Harker, but it is still within my power to cause you pain.’

  Quilp snapped the string from his neck and withdrew the witch ball.

  At the sight of the dull green orb, Jake felt something stir within. It was a similar sensation to that which he had experienced in the village of Starfall. The power of Preacher Hobarron’s hidden object had been identical to the surge of energy now pulsing from the witch ball. They were twins, Jake realized. Brothers.

  Signums.

  Jake thrust out his hand and the ball sparked into life. Brilliant green, its light flared across the cavern walls. At the sight of it, Quilp almost toppled back but managed to regain his balance.

  ‘It answers you. How … ?’ The witch shook his head. The time for questions had passed. ‘The power contained within this talisman can send the Demon Father hurtling back into his own dimension. It can destroy any Door to the demon world. But more than that, it can restore your father to health. No sorcery wielded by man could bring him back to you now, Jacob, but with this he can be plucked from the jaws of death.’

  Quilp held out the witch ball.

  ‘My last act in this world,’ he smiled. ‘To strike at the very heart of you.’

  He threw the witch ball to Mr Pinch, stretched out his arms, and fell back into the pit.

  Jake darted forward.

  ‘Don’t!’

  As Jake reached the wall, Mr Pinch staggered around to the far side, the witch ball clutched in his talons. Despite the pain of his injuries, the demon managed a low, rasping snicker. Jake shone his torch over the edge of the pit. The blue flame of Oldcraft was in his hand but it was already too late. He saw Tobias Quilp plummet the last few metres and hit the ground.

  One of the Oracle’s largest pets, a fork-tongued monstrosity with a scar running across its nose, bit down into Quilp’s right leg. The witch screamed. Another giant serpent fastened its fangs into his left arm. The snakes lifted Quilp into the air, wrestling his broken body between them in a hideous game of tug-of-war. The once powerful sorcerer did not even try to summon his magic. He looked up and with his free hand pointed at Jake.

  ‘Curse you!’ he shrieked. ‘Curse you and your fath—’

  The scarred snake cut Quilp short. With a final, bone-breaking, skin-splitting tug it ripped the dark witch in two. Quilp’s guts dropped out of him like the contents of a shopping bag turned upside down. The large snake then slithered into a corner, opened its great mouth and slowly began to swallow the still-writhing top half of Tobias Quilp.

  Mr Pinch echoed his master’s final scream. Flames erupted around his body as he was dragged back to his own infernal dimension. Jake saw the danger and ran. Simon joined him, pelting around the side of the pit. Rachel loosed an arrow in an attempt to dislodge the witch ball from the creature’s grasp. They were all too late. With a final victorious shriek, Mr Pinch disappeared into the demon world, taking the Signum with him.

  Ash spiralled through the air.

  It was all that remained of the monster.

  Jake fell to his knees. He heard Simon’s roar of ‘No!’ and Rachel’s frustrated cry. For his part, Jake could not think, could not speak, could not feel. He just sat there, listening to the sound of the snakes feasting in the pit. It took several minutes for his senses to return.

  ‘Jake, can you hear me?’

  The gentle tones of Pandora. She was standing in front of him. Such sadness in her eyes Jake thought his heart would break.

  ‘It’s your father … ’

  Chapter 33

  Twilight

  The news passed around the square like an ill omen. Many dark creatures in the crowd owed Adam Harker their lives, and so they bowed their heads in mute respect when Jake passed. A few even wept at the sight of the boy: a silen
t, dignified presence that reminded them forcibly of his father.

  Razor and Simon walked on ahead, barking people out of the way. Flanking Jake, Pandora and Rachel held his hands. He wanted to run, but thought that his heavy heart would not stand it. He might trip, fall, and never be able to drag himself from the ground again. And so he strode across the square, the last of the sunlight in his eyes.

  It was in passing that he noticed the nightmare box had disappeared. Had it returned to the Demon Father? He found that he did not care.

  At the door of the Grimoire Club he was met by a long-faced Mr Murdles.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jake. If there’s anything—’

  ‘Nothing. Thank you.’ His voice faltering, empty.

  He was led to the red leather door of Murdles’s private apartment. Razor stayed in the corridor to make sure no one disturbed them.

  ‘Brave heart, boy,’ the Cynocephalus grunted, and turned his face away.

  His friends accompanied Jake to the bedroom door and hugged him, each in turn. They spoke his name in broken voices and he felt their hot tears against his skin. Jake could not cry. Tears seemed so silly to him. So small.

  ‘Adam regained consciousness just before sunset. When I left he was still breathing, but he may already have … ’ Pandora gasped. ‘He hung on for you, Jake. Just to see you one last time.’

  Strong, proud, fearless Pandora broke down.

  ‘He loved you too, Pandora,’ Jake said.

  Then he turned away from his friends and opened the door.

  The dark blues and bruised purples of the desert sky shone through the big, wide window. Twilight shades, they softened the haggard face of the man in the bed. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Jake knelt beside him and lifted the open book from his father’s chest. Before setting the heavy tome on the floor he caught a glimpse of the title—The Codex Tempus.

  He took his father’s hand.

  ‘I knew you’d come back to me, Jake. I read it. I was with you, you see, every step of the way.’

  Adam’s eyes remained closed. He drew Jake’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

  ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  Jake’s tears came at last. Tears that could drown the world.

  ‘I failed you, Dad.’

  ‘How have you failed?’ Adam chuckled weakly.

  ‘I couldn’t save you. I tried so hard, but in the end I couldn’t.’

  Jake rested his head beside his father and felt those comforting hands stroke his hair. They were always so strong in his memories: the hands of a giant picking him from the ground and holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

  ‘You fought against evil, Jake,’ his father sighed. ‘Evil without, evil within, and you triumphed against it, as you always do. As you always will. And now, at the end of your long journey, you must face the hardest truth of this world—that there comes a time when the fighting must end. When twilight draws in and you must lay down your arms. That’s not failure, Jake, it’s wisdom.’

  ‘I don’t want to be wise,’ Jake said quietly. ‘I just want you to be here, with me.’

  ‘I’ll always be with you, Jake. In the light and in the darkness.’

  A rattle of sand against the window. The insistence of heartless time passing by. Inside the room, a silence so deep that the little sounds could make themselves heard. Breathing and the thud of hearts—one young and strong, the other approaching its final beat.

  ‘Son?’

  ‘Yes, Dad?’

  ‘Stay with me, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘I feel the dark drawing in. The twilight’s fading. It’ll be night soon, Jacob. My son. My Finder … ’

  Chapter 34

  Hellbound Hopes

  Rachel poked her head around the study door. Her gaze ran over the dozens of books that Jake had pulled from the shelves.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Jake glanced up from a huge, leather-bound volume.

  ‘Just trying to keep busy.’

  ‘Jake, you haven’t taken a break since your dad … Well, it’s been hours. You need to eat, rest.’

  ‘I know,’ Jake muttered. ‘But I have to do this first. It’s important.’

  ‘OK, but there are some things we need to talk about. Things that have happened since you’ve been away. Impossible things.’

  Jake straightened up in his chair. ‘Give me an hour?’

  ‘All right.’

  Rachel closed the door behind her and Jake returned to his reading.

  The need to find out what had happened to those he had left behind consumed him. Piece by piece, he had put together their lives from the dusty books that lined the shelves.

  History showed that Preacher John Hobarron had served the village of Starfall until his death in December 1645, only a few months after Jake’s departure. No cause of death was given. Mrs Hobarron had been allowed to stay at the rectory, but she had not been the only occupant of the house. A Miss Frija Crowden had been her companion.

  Next, Jake turned his attention to Leonard Lanyon. The only mention of the vicar appeared in a slim book called Great Witch Trials of England:

  Lanyon, Leonard. Involved in the famous trial of sorcerer Josiah Hobarron, who came to the town of Cravenmouth wreathed in a ball of blue fire, and who later escaped execution by mysterious means. After fleeing the town, Lanyon was tracked down by the untiring Witchfinder General, Matthew Hopkins. He had been hiding for many months in the county of Kent under the alias of Master Jacob Harker. Although tortured, Lanyon would not confess to witchcraft. Hopkins, however, had gathered sufficient evidence to convince a jury of the man’s guilt, and the vicar was duly hanged on 17th March 1646.

  Jake closed the book with a heavy heart and turned to Hopkins himself. The history books confirmed his vague memory of the Witchfinder’s fate. Only two years after his persecution of Jake in Cravenmouth, Hopkins had died, probably of tuberculosis. Jake remembered that dry little cough and the blood on Hopkins’s lips; the monster’s death, although unpleasant, hardly compared to the torment he had inflicted on others.

  In all of these histories Jake was unable to trace the one person he longed to find. Where was his Eleanor of the May? He guessed that she must have returned to Starfall with Frija, but there was no mention of her in the parish records. Despite this, he knew that she had lived on and that she had given birth to her child, Katherine. If she had not, then Rachel would have been wiped from the pages of history. Jake guessed that, when he had met Eleanor, she had in fact been pregnant with Josiah’s child, but had not been aware of it. It was the only solution that fitted the facts.

  He scanned all the books on the shelves. Somewhere in that long stretch of time, Eleanor was hiding.

  They were waiting for him in the lounge—Pandora pacing up and down, Rachel sitting on the corner of the sofa biting her fingernails, Simon flicking through the hundreds of channels on Murdles’s huge flatscreen TV.

  ‘They’ve taken your father down to the cellars,’ said a red-eyed Pandora. ‘Razor will stand guard over him. Adam didn’t leave any instructions, but I thought … ’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not my decision, of course.’

  ‘Go on, Pandora,’ Jake said.

  ‘A pyre in the square. It’s the funeral rite for so many dark creatures and Adam, well, saving dark creatures was his life. And if we do it here many of those he saved will be able to attend.’ Her smile was as weak as water. ‘It will be a big funeral.’

  At that moment, the apartment door burst open and Brag Badderson came lumbering into the room. At the sight of Jake, the troll dropped his club and scooped the boy up into his arms.

  ‘I just heard,’ the troll sobbed.

  After several bone-crushing squeezes, he set Jake back down.

  ‘Thanks, Brag,’ Jake panted.

  Pandora snapped out of her grief for a moment and became her old, cool-headed self.

  ‘Brag’s been keeping in touch w
ith my contacts while I was nursing your father,’ she explained.

  ‘I’ve just come back from Yaga Passage,’ Brag grunted. ‘Had to smash my way through a bloody landslide. Half the portal roof’s caved in. I told Murdles that the London road needed a bit of repair, not that that old skinflint would spend a penny on it.’

  ‘Brag,’ Pandora barked.

  ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, I spoke to Drake Polidori—’

  ‘A vampire,’ Pandora cut in. ‘Lives in one of the houses in Yaga. A thousand years old, so he tells anyone who’ll listen.’

  ‘Drake says that she’s finally sent out the DREAM agents.’ Brag shivered. ‘They’re scouring the country, bringing in anyone who fits the bill. And that’s not all: they’ve set up a camp on the south coast. Anyone taken in by DREAM will be sent to the camp for “processing”.’

  ‘My father?’ Rachel asked.

  Brag shrugged. ‘Sorry, I don’t know. But if I had to bet the family gold on it, I’d say he’s there. Dr Holmwood, too.’

  Jake held up his hand. ‘Whoa. Camps? Agents? Dream?’

  ‘More like a nightmare,’ Pandora said. ‘A lot’s happened since you’ve been away, Jake. Not here. Not in the borderlands, but out there, in the human world. I’m not sure how much time has passed for you, but here it’s been two months since you left on the Scarab Path. Two months and everything’s changed. Simon?’

  Simon took up the tale.

  ‘In a way, it started when I went looking for answers. About myself and about my mother … ’

  He told the story of how he had left the Grimoire after his dark self had betrayed Jake’s whereabouts to the Demon Father. Determined to find answers, he had returned to the cottage where he had grown up. After defeating a mob of vampires sent by the Demon Father to reclaim him, Simon and the others had forced the group’s leader, a creature known as the Claviger, to tell them what she knew of Simon’s history. Her story had shocked everyone to the core.

  First it was revealed that Simon was not the son of the Demon Father. His mother, who he had always thought of as an innocent, had in fact been a powerful dark witch, and the Demon Father himself had been her familiar. Together they had plotted schemes for what would happen after the Demontide. In that time of upheaval, the demons would need a slave race to help them build their new world. And so Simon’s mother had experimented on her own son, trying to produce a stronger, better human. It took several years, but eventually she succeeded in regressing Simon back to a stage in human evolution when mortal men had shared common traits with their cousins, the Cynocephali. Traits like incredible strength.