The Whitby Witches Trilogy

by Robin Jarvis

  Snatching up the cheesecloth dress, she threw it over the brute's head, and as it strained and scrabbled for release she called her mother's name. The hackles beneath the necklace became a rich golden colour and the sprouting hair flowed finely through Pear's fingers as the glare faded in the monster's eyes.

  The witch-girl looked up from the dwindling form but the street was empty. Jennet had run after the others and with an aching heart she watched as her mother assumed her human shape.

  Naked in the pouring rain, Meta grabbed her wet clothes then struck her daughter angrily.

  "You little fool!" she yelled. "I had them!"

  Pear touched her smarting cheek gingerly and winced at the pain. "But it's wrong!" she answered. "All this is wrong!"

  "Quiet!" Meta roared, slapping her a second time. "Do you want the others to know about this? Do you know what your father will do? Just because you're his daughter doesn't give you the right to disobey his demands. You know as well as I what happens to those who fail him!"

  "But Jennet..." the girl wept.

  Meta pushed her roughly against the wall and in a low, threatening hiss said, "If he hears of your betrayal, Nathaniel will not balk at murdering you—what will happen to me then?"

  "You?" Pear sobbed. "Don't you care about me?"

  Her mother leered and spat on the ground. "You'll endure an eternity of torment," she muttered, "but you'll only have yourself to blame. You know what he's capable of—how he delights in torture. Why didn't you think of that before you let those wretches go?"

  Pear sank to her knees. "What can I do?" she blubbered desolately.

  With a cold, harsh expression malforming her beauty, the witch looked down at her. "Atone for your disobedience," she demanded, "show your devotion to the coven, let there be no doubt of your submission."

  "H... how?" Pear stammered.

  A severe smile snaked over Meta's face. "Complete the task he set for me," she replied forcefully. "Kill those three and we shall take their hearts to him as proof."

  "No," the girl murmured.

  "You will do as I say!" her mother declared, pulling her up by the hair and sliding her fingers under Pear's necklace. "Must I beat the demon out from you? Scream your rage, daughter—do your father's bidding!"

  Her strident voice rang in the girl's ears and the wooden beads pressed into her skin as the tingling began and Pear let out a frightened whine.

  "Don't make me!" she wailed. "Not Jennet!"

  "You have no choice!" Meta barked, hitting her brutally. "Not when the primitive side has control—and I shall unleash it!"

  The hellish glow welled up behind her daughter's anguish-ridden eyes and the witch sniggered horribly.

  "I'll shake the beast out of you!" she snapped, but the girl was already lost as the power of change seized her. Pear's plaintive cries vanished and a chilling growl rattled in the throat of the black hound that now stood at Meta's side.

  "Come, Seffy!" the witch laughed as the beast tugged impatiently on the restraining beaded collar. "Devour the enemies of your father!"

  The hound bayed ferociously and together they rampaged down on to the sands.

  ***

  Beneath the cliffs, where the rain lashed and the gale drove the white-capped waves over the shore, the tribe of aufwaders stood in a large and solemn circle.

  Over the heads of the sea wives thick black shawls were draped, and from their murmuring lips they sang the dirge of the black boat.

  In the centre of the lamenting circle a narrow vessel of ebony rested against the rocks. Its shapely prow pointed towards the open sea and beneath the great, fringed awning that covered the length of the craft, Nelda lay close to death.

  The young aufwader moaned in distress, for the blood that pumped through her veins was gradually turning into brine and she cried in agony as it started to burn and blister inside her.

  With the rain battering his uncovered head and flooding down his craggy features, Tarr stood beside her. Reaching into the black boat, his large hands closed tightly about his granddaughter's clenched fists and he watched as she drifted ever closer to that distant shore.

  His grieving tears were washed and swept away by the storm and though it murdered his soul to look on Nelda's pain he could not leave her.

  "Mother!" she screamed feverishly. "Forgive me! I killed you—Oh Hesper, why did I live and she did not? Speak to me, Father. What was she like? Will no one mention her name? Aaaaieee! A furnace is blazing within me! In the caverns there are eyes that watch—I cannot evade them. Is there none to save me from Esau?"

  The fisherfolk hung their heads in shame and weeping. For the first time in many years, Old Parry's pitying tears overwhelmed her.

  "Grandfather!" Nelda pleaded hoarsely. "Do not let them kill my baby! Spare me this doom—let me not suffer it alone!"

  Despairing, Tarr clung to her, yet he could find no words to ease her torments and he gibbered impotently into the surrounding gloom.

  Nelda's pinched, contorted face jerked from side to side as the brine scalded through her body and her glazed eyes saw only the void that awaited her.

  Into this sorrowful scene Miss Boston and the children came blundering. Over the ledge beneath the towering footbridge they clambered, yet even as he jumped on to the boulders below, Ben let out a dismal cry.

  For an instant as the gale tore the thick curtain of rain aside, the boy saw the tribe assembled around the black boat and knew that it could mean only one thing.

  "Nelda," he muttered anxiously.

  Aunt Alice peered at the grim tableau and caught Jennet's arm as the girl pushed on ahead of them.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "The fisherfolk," Miss Boston replied sadly. "It would appear poor Nelda is dead."

  "No," Ben cried and he dashed forward, barging through the crowd until he stood at Tarr's side.

  In a croaking voice that was bleak with mourning the leader of the tribe uttered, "Ah knewed tha'd come, lad. She'm not gone yet but... but theer ain't long."

  The proud aufwader hid his face and his burdened shoulders shook as the weight of Tarr's grief crushed him.

  Ben took up Nelda's hand that Tarr had relinquished and drew a sharp breath at the heat of the burning palm.

  "Nelda," he said to her, "it's me, Nelda—it's Ben."

  The large eyes rolled blindly in her shrivelling face but his voice cut through the fever and she managed a desolate smile.

  "Ben," she gasped, "my human friend. So you are here at the end."

  "Don't say that," he sniffed.

  The aufwader shuddered as the pain convulsed through her then she coughed and in a distant, wandering whisper bade him goodbye. "Don't grieve for me," she wheezed. "Remember our friendship in happier days. When we trawled the coast for the moonkelp. Do you remember that?"

  "Yes, me, you and Hesper."

  "Hesper, yes, she will be there waiting for me. Oh Ben, hold my hand—it's so dark—hold me please."

  The boy looked down at their entwined hands and as a further spasm racked her, Nelda gripped him fiercely.

  "I burn!" she wailed. "It is eating me alive! Me and my child are wasting out of existence!"

  Respectfully, Miss Boston stepped forward to try to comfort Tarr, and the barren lamenting of the tribe rose around them.

  Left behind, unable to witness the tragedy unfolding before her, Jennet waited uneasily. She watched as Aunt Alice consoled the empty air and saw her brother crying with his arms outstretched, but of the fisherfolk and the black boat she saw nothing.

  Feeling awkward she looked away, turning her head back in the direction they had come, and a horrified breath rushed from her lips.

  On the beach, loping over the sands, two figures were rapidly approaching.

  Jennet stared at them in fear, then glanced quickly back to Aunt Alice and Ben. But as she opened her mouth to warn them, a strange resolve reared within her and a determined expression settled over the girl's face. Without a second thought,
Jennet climbed back over the ledge and ran through the whirling rain to confront Meta and the black hound which bounded at her side.

  Across the beach Jennet bolted, and holding up her hands she yelled, "Get back! Don't come any closer."

  Meta pulled on the beast's collar and it barked in savage frustration as the witch slowed to a standstill.

  "Patience, Seffy," Meta crooned. "Let the fool come to us."

  Its eyes blazing, the hound strained to break free. But the witch held it firmly and spouts of wet sand were hurled into the air as frantic claws scrabbled to leap at the defenceless figure racing towards them.

  Breathing hard, Jennet drew near and Meta chuckled loudly.

  "I'm touched," she said. "You simply can't get enough of our company."

  The horrific dog barked viciously, but the girl ignored it and looked the witch straight in the eye.

  "It's over, Meta," she said flatly. "I'm not afraid of you or your precious Nathaniel any more."

  "Then you're more stupid than I guessed," sneered the witch. "Do you know what could have been yours? Do you realise the ravishing life that you have spurned?"

  It was Jennet's turn to laugh. "You're the stupid one!" she told her. "It's you who's chained to that vile man, not me. You can't see it, can you? I finally know how lucky I am. I have a real family, but that's something you'll never have."

  "I have my beloved when he wants me," the witch cried, "and Pear."

  Jennet glanced at the hell hound that snapped at Meta's side. "You have nothing," she said with a shake of the head.

  "And neither will you," Meta retaliated, "when Seffy has torn out your brother's heart!"

  The girl took a step backwards but no fear showed on her face—the coven had lost that power over her.

  "I won't let you harm Ben," she said simply, "not this time—I'm his sister and I love him. I'll always be there to protect him."

  "The boy must die," Meta spat, "and so must you. If you wish to make a futile gesture trying to save him, that will merely make it more... entertaining."

  Jennet chuckled and an odd, confident look lit her face. "Oh, I don't know," she muttered threateningly, "you might not find my efforts so futile after all."

  The witch blinked, disconcerted to see a familiar red gleam rise in the girl's eyes, and she pulled the dagger from her belt.

  "I'm not the same child who idolised you and your daughter!" Jennet declared with a hard, growling edge in her voice. "And I don't need your beads to give me strength. I warn you, Meta—go back to your pathetic friends."

  Meta loosened her grip on the hound's collar and paced towards Jennet, holding the glittering dagger before her.

  "I'm going to relish carving you," she hissed, "and your little brother!"

  Jennet let out a defiant howl. "I won't let you harm my family!" she roared and with that she sprang. As the girl leaped towards the astounded witch, her shape blurred and suddenly a monstrous, chestnut-coloured hound was in her place.

  Meta screamed and stumbled backwards, pushing Pear forward.

  The black dog pounced on the other and the two ferocious creatures went tumbling over the sand, locked in a fearsome duel—snapping and snarling for each other's throat.

  Savagely they wrestled and lunged, their terrible jaws striking and tearing out raw clumps of flesh and fur. Into the cascading night the brutal yammering echoed and they rolled headlong in a mass of claw and muscle into the thrashing waves.

  Leaping out of their frantic path, Meta watched the deadly combat anxiously. In her hand the blade glittered ready to strike, but the confused jumble of tussling hide that bayed and splashed in the water raged so violently that she could not get close enough.

  "Get her, Seffy!" she shouted as they clawed back on to the shore. "Kill her!"

  Beneath the cliff face, the fisherfolk lifted their faces, amazed at the dreadful clamouring uproar, and Miss Boston gazed fretfully at the place where she had left Jennet.

  "No," she breathed.

  Leaving Ben and the aufwaders behind her, she scurried hectically over the boulders and climbed over the concrete ledge to the beach beyond.

  The terrible conflict was still churning the sands and the frenzied yowling filled the old lady with horror as she hastened towards the battling hounds.

  As the snarling brutes vied with each other, Meta hopped from side to side. It was impossible to tell which of them was winning; both seemed evenly matched and the dreadful struggle bowled tempestuously around her.

  Then, with a vicious snap of her huge jaws, Pear bit deeply into her opponent's flesh and Jennet yelped shrilly.

  "Now!" Meta cheered, excited and enthralled by the gruesome outcome. "You've got her!"

  The wounded creature fell back, whining forlornly as the other pinned it to the ground and the demonic eyes shone upon the exposed throat.

  Saliva dribbled from the black snout and the teeth that were already stained with blood glistened as the lips drew back over the gums.

  "Kill her, Seffy!" Meta urged, flushed with a delicious thrill. "Drink her hot blood and tear the tender meat from the bone!"

  Her daughter growled menacingly at her prone, sprawling victim, but as she brought her powerful head down to rip and rend, the hellish glare dimmed in the beast's eyes.

  "What are you waiting for?" Meta screeched. "Butcher her!"

  Yet instead of slaughtering the other animal, the hound's pink tongue unfurled and tenderly it licked the whining dog's large brown face.

  Meta shrieked in disgust. "Must I do it all myself?" she cried. "Get off, you disobedient fool!"

  Harshly, she kicked Pear aside and her daughter gave a startled bark as she was pushed on to the sand.

  Raising the dagger, Meta stooped over Jennet, whose glimmering eyes gazed up at her piteously. But the witch was unmoved and brought the blade swiftly down.

  With a tremendous, baying cry, Pear sprang at her mother and Meta yelled in alarm as the huge black hound cannoned into her. The witch was thrown down, but in her astonishment and without realising what she was doing, the dagger plunged deep into Pear's ribs.

  The witch's daughter let out an agonised howl and collapsed on top of her. A fount of blood was gushing from the horrendous puncture in the beast's furry skin and it thrashed its legs, unable to stand.

  "Seffy!" Meta shouted, dragging herself out from under the writhing animal. "Seffy, get up!"

  But the hound could only whimper and as she watched, its panicky struggles became increasingly laboured. With a mighty effort, the stricken beast raised its head and its outline rippled and dwindled.

  Upon the blood-stained sand Pear regained her human form, but her life was ebbing away and she looked imploringly up at her mother.

  Meta stared at her in horror and disbelief. "Pear," she breathed, desperately putting her arms about the girl's naked body and trying to staunch the spurting blood. "What have I done? Oh, what have I done?"

  "It had to end," Pear murmured. "The killing had to stop."

  "Hush," the woman wept, cradling her in her arms. "Oh Pear—oh my baby. Help me, someone—God help me!"

  Around Meta's neck the string of beads broke and with her dead daughter in her arms a grotesque and hollow scream issued from the woman's lips as she felt the full torment of what she had done.

  "PEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!"

  Shivering on the sands close by, a cruel bite bleeding on her shoulder, Jennet felt the tortured cry cut right through her and she buried her face in her hands.

  "Jennet," a gentle voice said close by, "I'm so very sorry."

  The girl threw herself into Miss Boston's arms and the old lady covered her with her cloak.

  "Pear!" Jennet wept. "Oh Pear!"

  Aunt Alice held her tightly. "That's it," she told her, "you let it all out."

  "She... she was... was... she was my friend!" the girl sobbed. "She was my best friend."

  The old lady hugged her and looked sadly at Meta. The distraught woman clutched her daughter's lim
p body to her breast and sixteen years of wasted love came mewling from her broken heart.

  "Come now," Miss Boston said gently to Jennet, "put on your clothes and we'll see to that nasty wound."

  But from the direction of the cliffs Nelda cried out with pain and the old lady knew that the dangers were not yet over and that the night's sorrow was not yet complete.

  14 - At The End Of All Things...

  With her head cocked insolently at the coven, Rowena Cooper stepped from the dark water of the pool and cackled hideously.

  "I wasn't expecting a brass band and parties in the streets," she remarked sarcastically, surveying the witches with careless disdain, "but a glad smile or two wouldn't go amiss. Look at you all, gaping at me like dummies in a shop window! My, what a rag-tag bunch the coven is—I had forgotten.

  "Hillian, dressing to impress as usual—how marvellously funny you still appear. But ah, your scarlet war paint suits you—let's hope the scars never heal, they give your drab olive face that certain panache it never had. And where is Snivelling Liz—is she scuttling around somewhere at the back? We do seem to be depleted, don't we? No Mannish Miriam or Potato Sack Judith? What, not even the stunning Meta—has the harlot deserted us at last? Has she found comfort in another man's embrace—or just his money? Whatever the case, I pray she has dragged that stinking brat with her."

  Tossing her head dismissively, Rowena then turned her full attention to her husband. "And what of you, my dearest?" she crooned ironically. "Are you not overjoyed to see me back? So often have my despairing thoughts turned to you as I wandered in the lonely void."

  A resentful sneer crossed Nathaniel's face. "If you thought about me at all," he said doubtfully, "it wouldn't be with affection."

  Rowena pouted with feigned injury. "I haven't forgotten those early days in Nairobi," she drawled. "Do you not remember when it was just we two? Those were fine, adventurous times, in that Masai village where you took command and the tribe yielded the secret of change to you. How many infants did we murder that hot night? I know I slew three but you did enjoy it so, didn't you—I quite lost track. Do you know, darling, I think that must have been one of the happiest times we had together."