by Davies, Neil
The Professor thought for a moment before nodding.
“Yes, I suppose it’s logical. Something they brought back could have somehow led to these creatures taking root in Byre. I’d need to do a lot more research before I could give a definitive answer, but your reasoning is logical, as I say.”
Tim laughed. “Looks like it’s all my family’s fault.”
“Hardly,” said Mr. Crosby. “You can’t blame yourself. Your family were good people, respected around this area. Even if what you say is true, they would hardly have done it deliberately.”
“Even so,” said Tim. “I’ve a horrible feeling it’s up to me to end it all somehow.”
For a moment there was silence, and then Susan nodded.
“Mr. Galton? I’m glad you’re on our side. And Dad?” She turned to look at her father. “Just so you know, I’m no longer a sceptic.”
3
Janie, Candida and Jimmy stood nervously outside the old Galton house. The death of Brian still weighed on their minds. Not the loss of him, but rather the way he died. They had known that Katrina Bayley, their Principal and leader, had powers, but they had never seen them used like that before, especially on one of their friends. It reminded each of them that they were dispensable, continuing to live only on Katrina’s whim. It was an unnerving and frightening thought.
“We could just leave,” said Jimmy, more worried about Candida than himself, although he would never have admitted it out loud.
“And how far do you think we’d get?” said Candida, scowling. “She’d track us down and kill us in an instant.”
“The way she killed Brian was creepy,” said Janie. “She just sort of commanded his heart to stop and it did. That’s fucked up.”
“Very fucked up,” agreed Candida. “That’s why I’m not going to risk trying to get away. And let’s face it. It’s better to be with her than against her. No one in this village has a chance of standing up to her. I want to be on the winning side.”
“A wise choice,” said Katrina, stepping from the shadows behind them with Mark at her side.
The three teenagers were suddenly afraid, looking towards the ground, not making eye contact. How much had she heard? How long had she been standing in the darkness?
“I’m pleased you’re here on time,” said Katrina. “We have a lot to do. Oh, and Jimmy?”
Jimmy looked up nervously. “Yes Miss Bayley?”
He suddenly doubled over in pain, gasping, unable to cry out as his chest tightened, the pressure on his heart almost unbearable.
“You can never leave. Is that understood?”
The pressure eased and Jimmy, slowly, straightened up, still clutching his chest, his face white.
“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes Miss Bayley.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” said Katrina, smiling. “Now, I have an important job for you three, and this time don’t mess it up.”
4
Steve Ives hurried through the village centre, heading from there towards the old Wesleyan chapel. He had to tell Tim about Katrina. Warn him.
At first he had enjoyed teasing Katrina with Tim’s return, but the more he thought about it, the more worried he became that his old adversary had no idea what he would be getting himself into. Katrina had changed, almost beyond recognition. This Village Witch thing had taken control of her. He wasn’t at all certain she was quite sane any more.
His step faltered as he saw something lying in the road ahead. A mound of darkness without clear shape or detail. Some fly-tipped rubbish perhaps, or a bundle of old rags. It was only as he drew closer that he could tell it was a body.
Hurrying now, in case there was some spark of life still there, he reached the body and quickly knelt at its side, his right knee sinking into the pool of warm, congealing blood around the head. It was not difficult to see he was too late to be of any help.
Warily he turned the body over, half closing his eyes against what he imagined would be a gruesome sight. He was not wrong. The girl’s face was smeared with grime, her hair matted with filth, her clothes ragged and dirty, but the bullet hole in her forehead was fresh and still oozing. As her head lolled to one side, gelatinous worms of brain matter slipped from the exit wound at the back of her skull.
Steve gagged, turning away. The only blessing was that he didn’t recognise her. If it had been someone he knew...
“Hey Steve,” called a woman’s voice from out of the darkness. “What’ve you found there?”
Steve stood up as two girls approached him, spiked hair catching the dim light thrown by a nearby streetlamp. He recognised them as sixth formers from Katrina’s college. He was not surprised that they knew his name. Everyone who used the ferry knew his name.
“Best stay back girls,” he said. “This is not nice.”
He pulled his mobile out from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Who are you going to call?” asked one of the girls as they continued to approach.
“The police,” said Steve. “Now I really think you should keep away. You don’t want to see this.”
“No need for that,” said a boy’s voice at his ear, surprising him.
Before he could turn he felt a sharp pain in his kidneys and staggered away. The boy, another sixth former from the college, smiled and lifted a bloody blade in front of Steve’s astonished eyes.
Steve Ives, confused but understanding enough to know he had been stabbed, tried to run, but the two girls stood in his way. One of them punched him in the stomach and he looked down, puzzled as to why there was blood on his shirt until he saw the knife she held in her fist.
“Miss Bayley sees everything, you should know that,” said the girl with the knife. “And she doesn’t like it when someone tries to betray her.”
Steve, finally understanding, fell to the ground alongside the body of Christina as Janie, Candida and Jimmy stabbed and stabbed and stabbed...
AELLO
She raged, darting about the graveyard. She would destroy them all. They had killed her servant. They threatened her physical rebirth. It was time for this Village Witch, this mere mortal that she had nurtured, tutored, to demonstrate the innate abilities that had first brought her to Aello’s attention. Working through the Village Witch, she would raise the mightiest army of Zeus’s demons that had been seen since the time of Heracles.
And where was Zeus all this time? It had been many centuries since she had seen any sign of Zeus’s influence on the land of mortals. Could the new gods have destroyed Zeus? These singular gods of the West and East, could they really have triumphed over the many gods of her world? Perhaps Zeus slept. Well, she would wake him. His demons still answered her summons, she knew this. She had proved this. Now she would wake so many that not even Zeus could sleep through the slaughter that would follow. Last time she had relied purely on her own recovering powers. This time she would combine with the Village Witch. The Village Witch would be the conduit. The followers, everyone who had taken part in one of their sabbats, their gatherings, their orgies, whether they believed in the witchcraft or not, would be the hosts.
The rest were victims!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1
“My parents’ house is connected to all this in some way, I know it.”
Tim stood at the living room window, a cup of tea rapidly cooling in his hand, his eyes and mind some miles distant across the dimly seen fields opposite.
“You can’t know that for certain,” said Mr. Crosby, shifting slightly in his chair.
“Yes I can,” said Tim, turning back to the room. “I don’t know how, but I know. My ancestors bringing illicit treasures back from their travels, that boy getting killed, the girl disappearing and now reappearing at the head of some phantom army. It’s too much to be a coincidence. The house is connected. Perhaps it’s even the centre of everything. Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Undoubtedly all too much to be a coincidence, as you say,” said the Professor around the pipe stem h
eld in his teeth. The pipe itself was unlit, in deference to those others in the room, but he still found it a comfort, and an aid to thought. “But there’s no proof it’s at the centre of it all. I would have thought that perhaps the school, with Miss Bayley at the helm, is a more likely culprit.”
“That’s something else I’m having difficulty with,” said Tim, shaking his head. “I really can’t believe that Katrina is this Village Witch you all talk about.”
“How can you not believe that bitch...” Susan fell silent at a warning glance from her father.
“I know you hate her, for some reason,” said Tim, looking pointedly at Susan. “And I know the rest of you believe in this Village Witch business. But Katrina?” He shook his head again. “I’ve known her all my life pretty much.”
“You were away for quite a few years,” said Mr. Crosby quietly.
“I could do with talking to Steve. He can fill in the gaps for me.” He turned back towards the window. “I wonder where he is? He said he had something to tell me.”
“How can we convince you?” said the Professor. “I know it can’t be an easy thing to accept, but all the evidence points to your Miss Bayley as the next Village Witch and very much involved in everything that’s going on.”
For a moment Tim said nothing. He lifted his cup to his lips, felt the first touch of cold tea and quickly lowered it again. Like everything else going on at the moment, the tea was wrong.
“I need to talk to her.”
“What?” Susan was incredulous. “She’s already tried to kill you once tonight.”
“You can’t prove she was behind that attack.”
“I don’t need to prove it. I know.”
“There’s no good to be had arguing amongst ourselves,” cut in the Professor as Tim and Susan held eye contact longer than either felt comfortable with, but both too stubborn to be the first to look away. “Even if you really do want to talk to her, we’ve no idea where she might be at the moment.”
“The old Galton house,” said Ethel, struggling back from the edge of sleep. “It’s where she’s always going, her and that Mark Bullough. Creeping there at all times of night, dragging black sacks full of God knows what. They think no one sees them, but we do. People round here might be afraid to do anything about it, but they’re not blind.”
“Perfect,” said Tim. “I can check out my parents’ house and talk to Katrina at the same time.”
“If you get there alive.” Susan looked away, mumbling under her breath.
“No reason I shouldn’t,” said Tim. “That girl and her... friends... attacked us because Ethel here rescued you from those kids earlier. The girl’s dead and the others ran away. I don’t think they’ll be back in a hurry.”
“The others?” Susan looked up again, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Her friends? Are you really so stupid that you’d deny the evidence of your own eyes? Just because it doesn’t fit with what you know? Those things we faced were not human, and you know it, even if you pretend otherwise to yourself.”
“Susan,” said the Professor, but his daughter would not be stopped.
“No. He needs to be told how ridiculous he’s being.”
“Look,” cut in Tim. “I don’t know quite what attacked us out there. I’m not denying what I saw, I’m just not certain it wasn’t all some kind of mass hallucination. I know we were attacked, I’m just not sure by who or what.”
“Susan,” said the Professor again. “Remember, until tonight you were very much a sceptic yourself.”
“I know, but there’s sceptic and then there’s stupid. And he’s just being stupid.”
Tim said nothing, but walked to the large sideboard on the opposite side of the room, taking a small key from his pocket and unlocking a drawer. From inside he pulled a black holster, clipping it to the belt of his jeans on his right side. Next he drew out a Glock semi-automatic and a fully loaded ammunition clip.
“I’m not that stupid,” he said, sliding the clip into the gun and holstering the weapon. “I’m not going out there unarmed or unprepared.” He began to push other fully loaded clips into his pockets. “I still want to talk to Katrina before I accept what you’re saying about her, but just in case it’s true, I’ll be ready for whatever happens.”
2
Katrina could sense that Tim was near. His was a strong, easily identifiable presence, made even more acute by her confused emotions and thoughts about him. It would seem he had allied himself with the enemy, and yet she could not deny that she felt... something... for him. Love? She had long ago discarded love as a weak, worthless hindrance. Power was all that was important. In her weak youth she might have loved him, but not now. It was not an emotion she would allow. It threatened the necessary actions to be taken.
Around her, the others were making the hallway ready for the ceremony to bring Aello back into corporeal existence. Messages had gone out. Her many followers in the village would be on their way to take part in the momentous, world-changing event. Mark fussed about the room, his excitement barely held in check.
She should be immersed in the preparations. But when she had sensed Tim’s approach, everything else had faded. He was almost at the house and he was alone. The only thing she wasn’t sure about was why he had come.
3
The walk through the village and towards the old house was eerily quiet. Tim saw frightened faces peering out from behind curtains as he passed.
He had noticed with only mild surprise that the body of the girl had been removed from the roadway. Her blood was still there, as were some fresher trails, but he did not see that as anything worth worrying about.
In the distance he saw small groups of people, all hurrying in the same direction as he was. He wondered whether their destination was the same. It certainly seemed to be, although he was unsure why.
It did not take him long to come within view of the house and for a moment he stopped and stared. This was his childhood home, the home he shared with his parents before the accident. Looking at it now, as an adult, it was tall, sprawling, undoubtedly old and also undoubtedly abandoned. Its silhouette reared up against the dark grey night sky, Gothic, reminiscent of some old Hammer Horror movie or Norman Bates’s house. As a child he had simply accepted the place. It was all he knew. Now he saw both its ugliness and its beauty. Much as he’d come to recognise the ugliness and beauty in his life.
The step that began his journey into his past was a difficult one to take, and he almost turned and ran away from the memories, and from whatever Katrina might say, if she was there. Nevertheless, as he had been taught in the army, he worked through the fear, the anxiousness, and began a purposeful stride towards the old place.
There were more people about now, mostly in small groups, some on their own. All looked at him nervously, furtively, as though they knew what they were doing was wrong, but could not resist. They carried bundles of clothing and, when one slipped slightly, Tim saw they were red robes, robes just like those worn by the inhabitants of his dreams. His step faltered but he forced himself forward.
What were these people doing here? And if they were here, was Katrina? How did she fit into this strange gathering? He felt no affront at their use of his old house. He had long ago accepted it was empty of all that was important to him. He was only curious. He thought about the robes. He thought about his dreams. Could what the others said about Katrina be true? Was this gathering, like his dream, some strange occult ritual?
The people were heading around the side of the house to enter by the back door, but Tim headed for the front. It might hold no emotional connection for him, but legally it was still his house and he’d be damned if he’d skulk around the back with the rest of these night time wanderers.
He was at the steps leading to the porch when the door opened and Katrina stepped out. She already wore her red robe, its silk-like material clinging to every curve of her body, caressing her erect nipples and the soft curve of her belly. A rope-belt hung loosely arou
nd her, resting on her hips. That she was naked beneath was obvious to Tim, but he tried to concentrate on his reasons for being there. It was not easy. She was, as always, stunning.
“Hello Tim,” she smiled. “Have you come to join us?”
“Given that I have no idea what you’re all up to or who us is, I guess the answer’s no,” said Tim, focussing his gaze on her face to ensure he was not distracted.
Her smile broadened. She was laughing at him. It was no accident that she appeared on the doorstep dressed as she was. Katrina had always been acutely aware of her body and how to use it to get what she wanted.
“These are my followers Tim, my congregation, or perhaps coven would be a more appropriate word. And tonight is the main event. Tonight we bring Aello back to life to rule at my side.”
“Aello, the Harpy,” said Tim, remembering the Professor’s words from earlier that evening. It was good to concentrate on facts and not on the barely restrained mania he saw in Katrina’s eyes, or the way she reminded him less of the girl he fell in love with all those years ago, and more of the dictators and maniacal despots he had led missions against during his days with Special Forces.
“I’m impressed,” said Katrina. “You’ve done your homework.”
Her eyes fixed on Tim’s, and suddenly those eyes were all he saw. They filled his vision, his mind. They had always been beautiful but now they shone with a power he did not understand. He felt an urge, a need, to do whatever the owner of those eyes commanded. To abandon his freedom of thought and follow her.
“Join me Tim,” said Katrina. “You could rule at my side with Aello. We could be lovers for eternity. We could share such power.”
For a brief moment Tim felt an urge within his belly to step forward and take her hand, allying himself with her, but then his innate sense of right and wrong, of duty, of responsibility crushed that urge and he did not move.
He could see that his resistance angered Katrina. Her mouth drew down into a snarl. The eyes that he had, just moments before, thought so beautiful, narrowed and seemed to darken.
