Dawn of the Demontide

by William Hussey

  Wood splintered. The lock snapped. Jake staggered into the cottage, turned and slammed the door behind him.

  Through the letter box he heard the sigh of the mist. It sounded like a disappointed child.

  The phone in the hall rang. Jake snatched up the receiver.

  ‘Is that you?’ Joanna’s voice—booming, frightened. ‘Are you safe?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  He looked at himself in the mirror that hung above the phone table. ‘Fine’ was a white lie. His neck was still bleeding and blisters were forming across his face and hands.

  ‘Where are you, Aunt Joanna?’

  ‘I’m staying the night at Alice Splane’s—she’s an old friend of mine.’

  Jake remembered the bird-like woman who had lectured him about the poisonous toad.

  ‘Thought I’d better check in. This awful mist.’ Joanna gave a boisterous laugh. ‘It’s quite treacherous.’

  ‘No kidding.’ Much as he needed to play along, Jake was getting a little sick of his aunt’s games.

  ‘I think you should stay inside until the mist has passed,’ Joanna continued. ‘Could be dangerous, walking through the streets—you might get run down or something. I’ll be home in the morning. Have you seen Lollygag?’

  ‘I’ll find him, don’t worry.’

  Jake hung up. He dug out the scrap of paper on which Eddie had written his mobile number. He wanted to check that the kid was OK. Eddie answered after the first ring.

  ‘Jake! Hey! What’s the deal with this mist?’

  ‘Ed, listen to me: stay indoors, don’t even think about going out.’

  ‘Couldn’t even if I wanted to,’ Eddie said ruefully. ‘Mum’s locked all the doors and windows. What d’you think’s going on?’

  ‘I don’t know. Listen, if the mist has cleared up in the morning, can you meet me down in the bay? Say about nine a.m.?’

  ‘No probs.’

  ‘Thanks. Gotta go.’

  Jake dialled Rachel’s number. A robotic voice cut in.

  ‘Sorry, there is a fault. Please try later. Sorry, there is a fault … ’

  He slammed down the receiver and went in search of the ginger tomcat.

  Lollygag was not in his usual position on the kitchen windowsill. The mist sweated at the window and left liquid green streaks on the pane. Jake wondered why the powerful acid did not eat through the glass. Then he saw the little branch with its sharp green leaves and red berries hanging above the sink, and remembered what the old man had said: make sure you’ve a sprig of holly in your window. A quick dark catalogue reference reminded Jake that holly had once been used as protection against witches and demons, storms and tempests.

  Jake was about to head upstairs when he saw something poking through the catflap.

  ‘Lollygag?’

  The fleshy animal was stuck in the opening. Its front paws rested on the ground while its head lolled forward.

  ‘Come on, shake a leg,’ Jake smiled.

  He went over to the flap and dropped to one knee. His smile fell away. Lollygag’s eyes were fixed in a terrified stare. Jake reached out for the cat’s collar—the name tag jingled as he slipped a finger beneath it. Taking a deep breath, he pulled.

  The front half of the cat fell forward.

  There was no back half.

  It was as if the animal had been cut in two. Guts and entrails flopped out of the severed section and splashed across the kitchen floor. At the place where Lollygag had been lopped in half the hair was burnt to a crisp. Jake thought he was going to puke but held it down. He imagined what must have happened: caught outside, the fat cat had been too slow to escape the oncoming mist. It had managed to wriggle partway through the flap before the acid tentacles had caught hold of it. In his death, Lollygag had paid the price for his overeating and lack of exercise.

  ‘Poor Lolls, you should have chased the rats,’ Jake sighed.

  ‘I should have seen it!’ Crowden cried. ‘The moment he was dragged in here, I should have read it in his face. This is wonderful!’

  Three figures stood in the nothingness of the Veil: Master Crowden, Mother Inglethorpe, and Mr Grype. The toady librarian was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Crowden was also smiling—at least, Esther Inglethorpe believed he was. There was no mistaking the glee in his eyes, although with the dirty cloth wound around his face one could never be sure.

  Simon Lydgate lay unconscious at the Master’s feet.

  ‘I don’t understand what’s so important about this pathetic creature,’ Esther Inglethorpe sniffed.

  Grype’s face twisted with rage.

  ‘She is trying to undermine me, Master!’

  ‘Hush, Grype,’ Crowden said soothingly. ‘No one can take this momentous discovery away from you. Least of all those who, in recent times, have failed me.’ Eyes as hard as flint bored into Esther. ‘You shall have your reward, my faithful librarian.’

  Grype flinched at the hated word. It came as something of a relief to Esther that the Master had laced his praise with a pinch of cruelty. To build a man up and cut him down in the same sentence was an art Crowden had perfected over many centuries.

  ‘Forgive my stupidity,’ Esther said, ‘but if Grype could describe once more what happened last night, I might begin to make sense of it.’

  ‘Willingly.’ Exaggerating both his courage and his magical ability, Grype made a four-course meal of the simple story … ‘A binding spell held the door while I ran to inform Master Crowden of the boy’s metamorphosis. Ambrose Montague and Georgina Fleck arrived within minutes and aided me in pacifying the … creature. It was a difficult task.’

  ‘Really?’ Mother Inglethorpe shrugged. ‘From what you’ve described, I can’t imagine why three witches should have had any trouble with a simple werewolf.’

  ‘You show your ignorance, Mother!’ Crowden sneered.

  Grype’s grin spread further across his ugly face. Esther could do nothing except bow her head.

  Crowden sank to his knees, like a man worshipping at an altar. He ran his gloved hands through the sleeping boy’s hair.

  ‘No, Simon Lydgate is much more than a mere werewolf.’

  Esther forgot about her fear and embarrassment. She knelt beside her Master.

  ‘What is he?’

  ‘Can you not guess?’

  ‘A magical being—something that wears human skin as a disguise?’

  ‘More than that. This thing does not even remember its true nature. It thinks it is human.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I believe someone has fooled it. Erased its memories, hidden its past.’

  ‘Why would someone demean it so?’ There was something like pity in Esther’s voice. ‘To deceive it into thinking it is a mere human being. That is cruelty.’

  ‘Perhaps it was done out of misguided love.’

  ‘Even so, this makes no sense,’ Esther protested. ‘Simon Lydgate lived close by the Hobarron Institute. He was practically sleeping on their doorstep. The Elders would have brought him in, questioned him.’

  Grype chipped in. ‘Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat.’

  Crowden turned a withering look on his librarian.

  ‘You have seen the true nature of this thing. How can you doubt its power? No, the Elders would not have tolerated its existence. If they had known, Simon would certainly have been locked away.’

  ‘Then why didn’t they act?’

  ‘They can’t have known about him,’ Grype said.

  ‘They must have,’ Esther insisted. ‘They have Seers of their own. Their magic protects everything within a five mile radius of the tower. Quilp and I had to work powerful charms before he could enter the town without being detected.’

  ‘Someone knew,’ Crowden said. ‘An Elder, an employee of the Institute, someone was protecting the boy. But why?’

  Several minutes passed in silence. The utter and chilling silence of the Veil.

  ‘I have a question,’ Esther said at last. ‘The green mist h
as settled over the Hollow—the Second Omen has come. As intriguing as this mystery is, how does it have any relevance to the Demontide?’

  ‘It has no relevance,’ Crowden laughed. ‘Not yet, at least. But this poor “boy” has been sent to us as a blessing. Surely you see that?’

  ‘I confess, I do not. How can he be used?’

  Grype’s chest puffed out. ‘At Master Crowden’s request, I have looked into his future. It is … hazy.’

  Esther rolled her eyes.

  ‘But—but I have seen—he will play a vital role in the Demontide.’

  ‘As our ally or our enemy?’

  ‘He cannot be our enemy,’ Crowden purred.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because of what he is.’

  ‘Not a werewolf,’ Esther said. ‘Not a vampire. What then?’

  ‘He is Evil, Mother Inglethorpe.’ Crowden grabbed a handful of hair and raised Simon’s face to the light. ‘Evil incarnate.’

  The door of the nightmare box swung open. A grey mist poured out of the cabinet and banked up in front of Marcus Crowden. It formed into a kind of oval screen or mirror. Magical energy crackled across the surface.

  ‘Ah, excellent,’ the Coven Master crowed. ‘My spy from the Hollow is coming through.’ He turned to Mother Inglethorpe. ‘Perhaps you would like to meet her?’

  Chapter 15

  Whispers in the Dark

  The picture in the smoky mirror began to take shape.

  Crowden waved a hand at Grype. ‘Take the creature back to its cell.’

  ‘I wonder if I might stay,’ the librarian squeaked. ‘Perhaps I can be of service.’

  ‘Mother Inglethorpe will render me any service I deem necessary. Now hurry along.’

  Grype flushed red. ‘But I have earned my place here. My discovery—my … ’

  ‘Do not be foolish. Go now before my patience runs dry.’

  Grype avoided the laughing eyes of Esther Inglethorpe. He took hold of Simon Lydgate under the arms and dragged him roughly towards the curtained doorway.

  ‘Take care with my prize, little librarian,’ Crowden snapped. ‘Very soon, I shall be sending him out into the world. To use a modern phrase, it is time to shake things up.’

  The witch and the boy disappeared and Crowden turned back to the mirror.

  ‘My spy arrives.’

  Feature by feature, a face formed out of the shadows. Long, blonde hair—fair complexion—cupid’s bow lips—sea-green eyes. The image of the girl haunted the mirror.

  ‘I am here, Master Crowden.’

  ‘And what have you to tell me?’

  The spy’s gaze flickered between Crowden and Esther Inglethorpe.

  ‘You can speak freely,’ Crowden said. ‘Come now, your time in my mirror is short. What have you learned of the Elders’ plans?’

  A pained expression gripped those beautiful features.

  ‘If you wish to avoid the fate the Elders have plotted for you, then tell me what you know.’

  ‘It’s difficult. Jake’s my friend. I haven’t known him long, but I … ’

  ‘What do you mean, you haven’t known him for long?’ Esther cut in. ‘You go to school with the boy, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes … but I … I care about him. I need to know—will you hurt him?’

  Crowden smiled. ‘Oh yes. I plan to torture him.’

  The figure in the mirror gasped. Tears swam in her eyes.

  ‘I will torture him with every shred of dark magic at my disposal,’ Crowden continued. ‘And, as Master Harker writhes in agony, I will make his father watch. For only then will Adam Harker reveal the secret of the Hobarron Weapon. There are but a few days remaining before the Demontide. I must know what hidden device the Elders have at their command.’

  ‘If you plan to hurt him, I won’t tell you what I know.’

  ‘Oh, I think you will. Remember how you came to me, desperate and afraid? How you pleaded for me to save you from the sacrificial knife? I will honour the promise I made to you, my dear. I will protect you from the evil of the Elders. But only if you tell me everything. You have five seconds in which to speak. Tick-tock, tick-tock … ’

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you!’

  The girl crumpled under the weight of her betrayal. She took a moment to compose herself.

  ‘I overheard them speaking on the phone,’ she said. ‘Dr Holmwood is bringing Adam Harker to the Hollow. They’ll come through Wykely Woods at around midnight the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘This is excellent news. And now I have a task for you, my child.’ Crowden gestured with his hand and the smoke mirror drifted towards him. The girl shrank back as the Master’s eyes bored into her. ‘You must arrange for Jake Harker to be present when his father is driven through the woods.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I leave that to you, but know this: if you fail me, you need no longer fear the Hobarron Elders. I will cut your pretty throat myself.’

  A beautiful summer morning had broken across Hobarron Bay. The sun sparkled on the sand, waves wrinkled the sea. The gulls, flying in circles overhead, had returned to their nests. It was as if the madness of the green mist had never happened.

  Walking down to the beach, Jake had noticed that the trees and bushes showed no sign of the vapour’s acid touch. Even the burns he had suffered had healed overnight. Only an old bicycle dumped in the lane and a tiny grave in the back garden told him that his recent experience had been real. Last night, the second Omen had come to Hobarron’s Hollow.

  How long now until the Demontide? How long until the Elders made him their sacrifice?

  Eddie Rice raced across the beach. He reached Jake and doubled over, hands on his knees, panting.

  ‘Hey, Jake! I’ve brought Rachel with me. Hope that’s OK.’

  The girl walked across the shingle. Her expression unnerved Jake. Was she angry with him?

  ‘I tried calling you last night,’ he said.

  ‘My battery was dead. Can I have a word? Eddie, stay here a minute.’

  Rachel led Jake a little way up the beach. Out of earshot, she turned and said:

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘’M sorry?’

  ‘Eddie told me you wanted to meet him down here. Why?’

  ‘I wanted him to show me a cavern in the bay. A place called Crowden’s Sorrow.’

  ‘Have you heard the story of what happened in that cave?’

  Jake nodded. Rachel made a disgusted sound.

  ‘So let me get this straight: you want a twelve-year-old boy to show you the place where his uncle was murdered? How insensitive can you get?’

  ‘I don’t want him to go into the cave, Rachel. If he could just point out where it is, that’s all I need.’

  ‘It’s still a hideous idea. Why do you want to see the place at all?’

  Because it was here that the Witchfinder was frozen in time, Jake thought. Because inside that cave might lie the secret to holding back the Demontide.

  ‘If I thought you’d understand, I’d explain it,’ he said.

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Then I’m coming too.’

  ‘What?’

  Rachel stalked back across the beach.

  ‘Eddie!’ she shouted. ‘Jake wants you to show us where this cave is. Crowden’s Sorrow. You OK with that?’

  ‘Sure,’ Eddie said. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? Come on.’

  Something in Rachel’s face told Jake that a smug smile would not be wise. He shrugged instead, and jogged alongside Eddie. The boy headed to the far side of the bay, making for a line of large, jagged rocks.

  It was cooler here, in the shadow of the cliffs. Darker, too. Coming out of the brilliant sunshine, Jake had to blink the beach back into focus. The jumbled line of rocks started halfway up the shore, ran alongside the cliffs and plunged into the sea. It was obvious where the boulders had come from. Over hundreds of years, the wind and the rain had qua
rried the great red stones from the cliff face.

  Eddie climbed up onto one of the boulders. He pointed to a spot roughly halfway along the mouth of the bay.

  ‘Crowden’s Sorrow,’ he announced.

  Jutting out from the cliffs, the entrance to Crowden’s Sorrow reminded Jake of a wolf’s gaping jaws. The impression was strengthened by the fang-like rocks ranged across the cavern roof. Otherwise tranquil, the sea lashed before the cave, leaving foam around its lips. This wolf was hungry.

  For a while, no one said a word. They just stared into the darkness, each imagining the terror of being dragged into the cave. Of dying there …

  ‘Eddie, I want you to stay here,’ Jake said.

  ‘What? No way!’

  ‘Listen to me. We need a lookout, right?’

  Eddie didn’t look convinced.

  ‘OK, buddy, I’m gonna level with you. There’s a good chance we’re being watched right now.’

  ‘Who by?’

  Jake hesitated. ‘Can I trust you?’

  ‘Course.’

  ‘OK. There’s stuff I haven’t told you, either of you. Before I came to the Hollow I had some … weird experiences. Things I can’t explain. Not yet. But I can tell you this—something evil is coming to this village. Maybe it’s already here. The mist last night was an omen of its presence. Anyway, it’s possible that there are answers to be found in that cave. This force—this evil—it has people working for it, Eddie. Bad people. I need you to keep watch while me and Rachel check out the cavern. We can’t do this without you, mate.’

  Eddie’s eyes glistened with excitement. ‘Cool.’

  ‘Keep your eyes on the clifftops,’ Jake instructed.

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Anything strange.’

  Jake and Rachel started across the boulders.

  ‘Good work with the James Bond stuff,’ she whispered. ‘That ought to keep him occupied.’

  ‘I meant every word.’

  The girl paused. ‘Jake, what’s going on here?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  It was a tricky climb. The rocks leading to Crowden’s Sorrow were jagged and seaweed-slick. The further out they got the more the waves pounded against the cliffs. The spray rained down on Jake and Rachel and they were soon soaked to the skin. On the other side of the bay, the sun blazed. Here, under the shadow of the mountainous cliffs, an autumn-like chill sank into their bones. It took almost a quarter of an hour of clambering to reach the cavern.