by Jenna Grey
“I want to believe you,” Polly replied. “Oh, God, I want so much to believe you.”
Liam looked exasperated.
“Bloody hell, do you really think I would let you go if I thought otherwise? I’d tie you up and stuff you in a cupboard to keep you safe, even if the whole world crumbled around us. I’d sacrifice myself gladly if I could to spare you this.” Polly knew that was the truth; this lovely man would take her place in a heartbeat. “We are going to get through this, I have no idea how, but we are.”
Polly suddenly felt sick.
“Oh God, don’t let Finn know any of this. I don’t think he could handle it. Please don’t tell him, not until it’s all over.”
“I promise I won’t,” Liam said. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out until the time is right.”
“You better go. Finn will wonder where you are, and I don’t want him asking questions. It’s almost time anyway. I need to get ready.”
“It’s okay, Bert has dealt with Finn. You’re going to need me to drive you anyway. I’ll give you a bit of time to get sorted out.”
Liam pulled her to him and kissed her, a kiss full of all the misery and desperation they both felt. It lasted for too long and for not long enough. Eventually, he pulled away and left the room without looking back.
Polly sat on her bed, dressed in her best dress, waiting for Bert to knock. She'd tidied her hair, and put on a little make-up, wanting to look her best. She tried not to think about how Finn would react when he found out what had happened when he saw her body. It would break his heart, and he would hate Bert forever for arranging it. The steady tick of the wall clock beat in time with her heart as she sat there waiting; she couldn’t bear to hear it ticking away the last minutes of her life, so she stood and took the batteries out.
The knock on the door was gentle. It was 1.59am.
Bert came in without waiting for her to invite him. He was dressed in his best suit, his hair Brylcreemed, his moustache combed.
“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked.
Polly wondered if her pounding heart would drown out her answer.
“I suppose I am. I had some of the cognac. I’m a bit tipsy.”
“I could give you something to help if you like, something that would take some of the fear away.”
“No, thank you, I want to keep my wits about me, well, I don’t want to lose any more of them, at least. Is Finn asleep?”
Bert gave her a reassuring smile.
“You don’t have to worry about him dearest; just stay focused on what you have to do.”
Polly was struggling to keep herself under control. Perhaps she should have something to stop her completely falling to pieces. She took another slug of the cognac, draining the last dregs from the bottle.
"I couldn't even say goodbye to Finn," she said, barely able to get the words out. "Will you do it for me? Tell him that I love him, that I'll always love him, wherever I am and if I can find a way to get back to all of you, I will." Her voice broke, and she could barely get the last words out.
“Of course I’ll tell him. Perhaps we should go now. The time is pressing on.”
Bert held his hand out to her. She took it, and he led her to the door.
Liam was already waiting by the car.
“Are you all right?” he asked, opening the car door for her.
“As all right as anyone can be that is on their way to Hell,” Polly replied, getting in the back.
Bert leaned in before she shut the door and patted her shoulder.
“Your courage truly astounds me, my dear.”
Polly had to laugh at that.
“I’m bloody terrified,” she said. “It’s nothing to do with courage. I only hope I can go through with it without making a fool of myself.”
“Oh, that could never happen. Polly Nightingale never makes a fool of herself,” Bert said, as he got in beside her and slammed the door.
The journey passed in silence; what was there to say? Liam concentrated hard on the road, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the grey river of tarmac ahead of him. Polly wondered what he was thinking, if he was thinking anything, or if like her, he had blotted it all out to replace it with a tolerable numbness. He pulled up right outside the house, the crunch of tyres over the stones the only sound breaking the silence. Polly could see the full moon through the heavy foliage above them. The trees still held onto their leaves, but soon the ground would be ankle deep in russets gold and browns; she used to love jumping through them when she was small, kicking them around and helping Nana clear them. She wondered who would clear them this year. She got out of the car, teetering on defiant legs. Liam put his arm around her, holding her up.
“Will you take care of the house for me?” she said, struggling to put her scrambled thoughts into words. “I should have left a will, shouldn’t I? I didn’t think. Maybe Jack could help sort it out, get through the red tape and sell the property for me. I’d like any money to go to the relief fund. God knows they need it.”
“I’ll see to it,” Liam said. “I can’t go any further, Polly; it would cause problems. Dad will take you from here.”
Polly wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his in the tenderest kiss she could muster.
“I love you so much, Liam. I will always keep you in my heart, no matter what. I swear I will never forget you or Finn. Take care of him and Bert for me.”
She could barely speak through the tears, choking on her words.
“It’s all going to be all right; I know it is,” Liam insisted. “Just stay strong; please just stay strong.”
He pushed her away gently and moved towards the car, and she could hear him choking on his sobs as he walked away.
“Come on now dear – they’re waiting for us,” Bert said.
The front door was already open, and Bert steered her inside. She was barely aware of what was happening now, lost in a half-drunken stupor. She just wanted it all to be over.
They walked through into the study to find the secret passage door already open. This time they didn’t need to fumble for torches, because the whole corridor was lit with candles set in sconce along the entire length of it. The golden brightness of them dazzled her.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Polly suddenly said, stopping in her tracks. “I can’t do this.”
Bert put his arm around her, holding her up.
“Of course you can. I’m here with you.”
She let Bert lead her through, hardly aware now of what was going on around her.
They came out into the chamber where the rotting corpses had been. Someone had cleaned it up, and now there was just bare floor and walls, a thin layer of lime covering everything – the stench of death still lingered, though, and probably so did their restless spirits.
They turned into the sacrificial chamber, and Polly stared at the dreadful scene in front of her. It was too much for her to process, far too much for her sanity to cope with. Perhaps it was better that way, better not to fight it and let herself slip into a psychotic break, then none of it would matter, and she could while away eternity comatose. She suddenly laughed, a slightly maniacal sound that broke the silence like an exploding firework. She felt Bert’s hand in hers, a solid warmth that somehow kept her anchored to reality.
The thirteen figures stood in a circle, arranged around the sigil, their faces obscured by the shadows of their cowls. Thirteen more innocent victims, their bodies meat suits for thirteen monsters. The room was lit by more lamps, making it not quite light enough to see everything clearly and casting sickly shadows. The room swam around her, and it was only Bert’s arm around her waist that stopped her from dropping.
One of the robed figures turned, and she knew instinctively it was her uncle; he peeled back the hood to reveal a face she didn’t recognise – a middle-aged man, nondescript, a non-entity that you would have passed in the street without even noticing. As Polly looked harder, though, she could still see her uncle there, beh
ind this man’s eyes, just as she’d been able to see Winchard’s true self.
“Polly, my dear, it’s good to see you again.” He almost sounded as if he meant it.
Polly balled her fist and had the impulse to rush forwards and punch him in the jaw, but she felt Bert’s fingers tighten in hers, and instead, she said:
“Don’t you dare speak to me, you piece of dog vomit, don’t you fucking dare. Let’s get this over with. I’d rather face an eternity in Hell than look at your smug bloody face a minute longer.”
Gaunt just smiled.
“I can appreciate that you’re less than happy to see me, but slinging insults at me is beneath you. I had thought you would have met your obligations with more dignity.”
“Leave the child alone, Gaunt. Just summon your mistress and her foul brood,” Bert said.
Gaunt gave Bert a truly malevolent look.
“Be grateful you’re here under a treaty, Fountain, or I can promise you, you wouldn’t be walking out of here alive.” Bert just stood, shoulders back, totally unfazed.
“Just make your summoning, Gaunt, and call your gods.”
“No need, they are already here,” Gaunt said, his smile spreading to a grin. Polly felt a tremor in the air and knew, just knew, that She was there. Polly turned her head towards the shadows as Hel stepped from them, a familiar form now. The goddess moved to the centre of the room, her motion a strange mixture of grace and hobble, as her two sides warred with one another. She turned and faced Polly. Polly noticed something immediately, something she hadn’t expected: Hel had lost power, a great deal of power, since the last time they had met. The creature’s shoulders were a little stooped, and there was a feeling of great weight there, as if every breath, every movement was a struggle for her. She clutched her withered arm to her body as if it were giving her physical pain. All eyes had turned to her.
“Welcome child...” Hel began, and her voice was weaker too, a tremble to it that hadn’t been there before. “I’m so sor―”
Polly didn’t let her finish. She snatched her hand from Bert’s and took a step forward, fists balled, furious. She was sobering up now, the anger killing off the effects of the alcohol.
“Don’t you dare say sorry, I fucking hate you, you bitch!”
“I suppose I deserve that,” Hel said. “Nevertheless, I am sorry.” Hel hesitated and turned to face someone or something coming out of the darkness. “Welcome, Father.”
From the corner of her eye Polly could see another figure emerge from the obscuration, an old man, dressed in tattered robes. He was larger than any man Polly had ever seen, perhaps eight feet tall, but so emaciated that his skeleton seemed to have no muscle cover at all, just a parchment of skin covering bone. His hair, silver, not white, hung down over his shoulders, down, down, like a cloak around him. It was his face, though, that made Polly’s heart stutter, not the cadaverous skull, or the rictus grin, but those white film-covered eyes that seemed to stare right through her. Was this really the great trickster god, Loki? Surely it couldn’t be.
“Loki,” Bert said. “I’m surprised you’ve shown your face here. About time you admitted your culpability in all of this.”
The creature moved forwards a little, a shuffling gait, and regarded Bert with some curiosity.
“Do you think I need to answer to you, human? For all your power, you are nothing to me,” he said. Loki turned back to his daughter. “Soon now, dear daughter, soon.” And the smile he gave her was terrible.
There was a slithering sound behind her and Polly knew who it was before she turned. She caught a glimpse of yellow scales from the corner of her eye and turned to see the great golden snake slither from the shadows, undulating and gliding its way towards the centre of the room. She instinctively stepped back, away from the monster that almost filled the room. How it had got there she had no idea; perhaps it had just broken through the veil between realities and materialised here. Polly felt Bert’s arm around her waist pulling her to him protectively, as if he expected the creature to attack. The serpent merely reared its head and scanned the faces of the humans around him with a cold, appraising stare. It moved around the circle, tongue flicking out, tasting the air, its bright amber eyes alight with emotionless intelligence, taking in every one of them and devouring them with its gaze. Then it reared upwards, stretching to its limit, and with almost imperceptible lethargy, it transformed. Stubs of arms sprouted from its scaly side, the top half morphed into a humanoid form, still serpentine, eyes still burning amber; the slitted pupils narrowed, and the lipless mouth became nothing more than a thin line dividing its face. It weaved on that serpentine tail, moving with disturbing, but graceful glides from side to side as it took centre stage.
“Jormungand ‒ how nice of you to join us,” Hel said.
Jormungand gave a sibilant sigh, his forked tongue flicking out, tasting the air.
The air around him crackled with his energy; dark arcane power that had levelled cities. He turned and looked at Polly, just for a moment, and then moved across the room to perch beside his father.
And then the last of the unholy quartet appeared, already in human form; a large man, but not as large as Loki; he towered over Polly as he moved past her. There was something distinctly feral about him; his heavy features reminded her very much of a wolf. Bert had told her that these creatures could take human form, but still, they couldn't completely hide their true selves. Fenrir gave her a canine grin and went to stand beside the rest of his family. That was it then, everything was in place, and it was time.
“One big happy family,” Polly said, trying to keep her voice from shaking too much. Hel seemed to be finding it harder and harder to stay upright. Maintaining her presence in this reality was draining her, taking every ounce of her willpower. Polly guessed that it must be having the same effect on the rest of her family.
“My release will mean their freedom as well,” Hel said.
Bert stepped forwards, seemingly totally unintimidated by the power of the creatures before him.
“Time to get down to business then. You’ve seen the contract and read it?” Bert asked.
“I have, and I agree to all of your terms,” Hel replied without hesitation. “I will cause no more mischief in the world. I am content that I’m free.”
“And the others must agree as well,” Bert said, tipping his head towards them.
They all agreed in unison.
Gaunt turned to Hel, his face thunderous.
“That’s not what we agreed. I already have a contract with you. You promised me power if I freed you.”
Bert cut in before Hel could reply.
“You don't need to worry Gaunt, provisions have been made in the contract for all obligations to be fulfilled. That doesn’t mean, though, that as soon as this is over, I won’t be coming after you.”
Gaunt looked mollified, but beneath that apparent acceptance Polly could see the malice, and she knew without a doubt that her uncle had terrible things planned for Bert. Polly felt her legs begin to weaken and she forced her knees to lock so that she didn't collapse. She had to stay strong; she wouldn't allow herself to die a coward. She looked across at the altar, laid out ready for her body. The knife looked blessedly sharp. She wouldn't even feel it, would she?
“Then the contract is settled,” Bert said. “Are you ready, Polly?”
“You haven’t won, you know,” Polly said. “None of you will get anything but misery from this. The Powers That Be won’t let you get away with this blasphemy.”
Her uncle just smiled.
“Do you really think they care? If they cared, do you think they would have let it go this far? Foolish child.”
“Enough,” Bert said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Gaunt turned towards the twelve and began to chant a litany, the air ringing with the chorus of responses from the rest of the circle. It washed over Polly, just a string of unintelligible sounds that merged into a chaos in her head.
“Take
my hand,” Bert whispered, stretching out his hand. Polly took it, using it to steady herself and stop herself toppling. “Don’t be afraid.”
Polly had gone past fear now; she was in a stupor, hardly aware of what was going on. The chanting filled her head, swirling around like a whirlpool and blotting out everything else. Bert moved forwards into the centre of the room, leading Polly towards the sacrificial table. All eyes were on her, greedy, burning with expectation.
They were almost at the table when there was a sound behind them.
For a moment she just stood, aware that something was happening, but too far removed from reality to register it. Then she half turned to see Liam and Finn standing in the doorway.
Polly stared at them for a moment, bewildered, more than bewildered, but no more so than everyone else in the room, gods and humans alike. Everyone in the room froze, apart from the two intruders who stretched out their hands to show the two small stones – a red one in Finn’s hand and a black one in Liam’s.
Polly heard Hel say, “No.” And there was such fear in her voice that it sounded more like a death rattle than a word. It was all happening so fast that Polly couldn’t take any of it in. This was madness. Liam and Finn mumbled something under their breath, an incantation that Polly recognised, that she had used herself, pressing the two stones together. Polly heard Hel scream. There was chaos as people tried to flee, a stampede of black robes, movement and sound that totally overwhelmed her senses. Bert was clutching Polly’s hand so tightly she thought her bones would break.
The gods just vanished, just blinked out of existence in a microsecond. Then the black-robed figures dropped to the ground, just dropped as if they had been hanging on invisible strings, and someone had cut them. Polly had her eyes fixed on her uncle's face as the spell hit him, and she could see the stark terror in his eyes as he finally understood. He fell, face forward, and Polly knew he was dead. She stared around, just stared at the impossible scene before her and finally managed to ask:
“What just happened?”
She looked at Liam and Finn, still standing in the doorway, holding onto one another, barely upright. They looked dazed, in shock. Polly turned her attention to Bert, begging him to give her answers.
