Dawn of the Demontide

by William Hussey

  Jake stepped into the back room and saw the truth of those words standing before him.

  Dr Adam Harker was slumped against the wall. He was very pale and his hands trembled at his sides. A soft moan purred at the back of his throat while his head continued to rock back and forth.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ Jake shouted.

  Mother Inglethorpe laughed. ‘Nothing. This was how we found him.’

  ‘The Institute did this?’

  ‘A strange band of “good guys” are they not?’ she said. ‘No more talk now. The Master awaits.’

  Inglethorpe shoved Jake and his father through a curtained doorway and into the emptiness of the Veil.

  At first, Jake could see only the swirl of grey vapour and the door by which they had entered this dimension. The frame stood without walls while the mist tickled the scarlet curtain. The ground felt marshy beneath his feet, almost as if it was struggling to hold him up. He glanced at his father. Like the new world around them, Adam’s face remained lifeless, empty …

  ‘Welcome to my home, Dr Harker.’

  The nightmare box glided with ghostly ease through the Veil. Walking before it was a man dressed in old-fashioned clothes. The cloth that covered his face did nothing to muffle the ringing tones of his voice. He came to within an arm’s length of his guests and stopped. Two bright eyes played between Jake and his father. Then the Master’s attention switched to Mother Inglethorpe.

  ‘I hear that you have murdered Sidney Tinsmouth.’

  ‘I could not help myself, Master. His existence made a mockery of our Coven. For these last eight years we have celebrated him as a fallen martyr and … ’

  Crowden held up a hand. ‘Did I order his execution?’

  ‘Please, if you had seen him, talked to him. He spoke of demonic deceptions, of power coming from the earth … ’

  ‘Did I order his execution?’

  ‘He was a vile traitor! And the lies, Master! Magic without demons! Oldcraft!’

  ‘DID I ORDER HIS EXECUTION?’

  Crowden bellowed and the mouth of his nightmare cabinet swung open. Jake stared into the box. A deep, dark well of pain and suffering, it offered a glimpse of the demon dimension. A dimension that was about to smash its way into this world …

  Sidney Tinsmouth was inside that thing for a whole month, Jake thought, just a little boy, alone in that nightmare … Now that he began to understand what Tinsmouth had suffered, Jake’s anger raged against the cruelty and injustice of it. No longer fearful, he grabbed hold of the Coven Master and swung the monster around to face him. Caught off guard, neither Crowden nor Mother Inglethorpe reacted.

  Jake spat in Crowden’s face.

  ‘Of course you ordered his execution! The day you took him from his parents and forced him into that living demon, you condemned him to death. You twisted his soul, made him evil … ’

  It did not take long for Crowden to recover himself. His cloth mask rustled as he intoned the spell and a stream of dark magic flashed from his palm. It struck Jake between the eyes and he flew through the air. The soft ground saved him from breaking his neck. The pain that roared inside his head was almost too much to bear and it was only the crisp, cold air of the Veil that kept him from passing out. He tried to move but his body had frozen. All he could do was stare across the ground, back in the direction of his father and the witches.

  ‘Jacob Harker,’ Crowden sneered. ‘I am told that, beneath this mask, you now have a face to match your fiery spirit. Rest assured, young Harker, if your father does not answer my questions I will strip the healing spell away and burn the flesh from your bones.’ He turned back to his second-in-command. ‘There is no time to punish you just now, Mother, and if the Demontide goes as expected perhaps I will forget your little mistake. Now let us turn our attention to the good doctor.’

  Adam Harker had remained insensible throughout the attack on his son. He did not seem to see Crowden, Inglethorpe, Jake, or the Veil.

  ‘The Institute have used powerful drugs on our friend,’ Crowden said. ‘Bring him back to us, my dear.’

  Relieved to have been forgiven, Esther now jumped at the chance to impress her master. She passed a hand across Adam’s face and whispered gently in his ear. The man flinched, his hands twitched, his breathing came in gasps. It was as if he was waking from a deep sleep. His gaze fixed on Crowden.

  ‘Dr Harker,’ the Master bowed. ‘You will tell me everything you know about the Hobarron Weapon.’

  Crowden snapped his fingers and Jake rose into the air. Another gesture and the boy swept towards his father. Stopping a few metres in front of Adam, Jake’s arms shot out from his sides. It felt as if invisible ropes had been lashed around his wrists and pulled taut. Pain throbbed in Jake’s chest and shoulders.

  ‘Speak,’ Crowden commanded, ‘or watch your child be torn apart.’

  Adam stared into his son’s eyes. His words came in calm waves.

  ‘Listen to my voice, Jake. Only to my voice. You cannot hear Master Crowden. You do not feel any pain.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Crowden laughed. ‘Hypnotism? Whether or not he feels pain, he will still die unless you tell me what I want to know. What is the weapon, Dr Harker? How can it threaten the Demontide?’

  The invisible ropes strained. Jake heard his joints crackle and a sickening jolt of agony ran through his arms.

  ‘Dad, it hurts!’

  ‘Listen. Look at me.’ Adam managed a smile. ‘It doesn’t hurt. It isn’t real.’

  It felt real. The sweat pouring out of Jake began to dissolve the healing mask. It came away in yellow flakes.

  ‘Tell me!’ Crowden hissed. ‘This is your last chance. At my next command his arms will be torn from their sockets. Save your son, Dr Harker. TELL ME!’

  Adam’s eyes bored into Jake.

  ‘Remember, Jacob. Remember, Josiah. Comic books and horror stories. All those tales I told you, every one of them designed to reawaken the past. Devils and vampires, werewolves and witches, spells, incantations, potions, poltergeists and gremlins. Ghosts and demons and monsters. Remember your dark catalogue. Remember the days of your forgotten life, before you were Jacob and when you were Josiah … ’

  Cracks appeared in the magic mask.

  Piece by piece, it fell away.

  Master Crowden caught sight of what lay beneath and cried out.

  ‘No! That—that cannot be!’

  ‘Remember the Hollow, the cavern, the Door, and the Demontide. Remember when you were first there. Remember Tiberius Holmwood and Marcus Crowden and all those innocent people you saved. Remember that you have faced the darkest horrors of this world and triumphed against them. Remember that I love you and that I believe in you. You are my son … ’

  Memories raged around Jake. He felt as if he was drowning in a past both recent and centuries old. He gasped for breath. It glimmered before him …

  Terrifying.

  ‘You are Jacob Harker.’

  Impossible.

  ‘You are the Weapon.’

  Beautiful.

  ‘You are Josiah Hobarron.’

  The truth.

  ‘You are the Witchfinder.’

  Chapter 24

  A Desperate Experiment

  The last crumb of Jake’s mask fell away.

  He turned a startled face towards Marcus Crowden.

  The witch master recoiled.

  ‘It is you … Josiah Hobarron!’

  Jake shook his head. It was impossible. How could he be the long-dead Witchfinder?

  ‘You have returned to face me once more,’ Crowden said. He managed a bitter laugh, though fear quivered at its edges. ‘The original Hobarron Weapon!’

  The master and his favourite witch began to step back into the mists of the Veil. In retreat, his dark spell was broken. The invisible ropes around Jake’s wrists melted away and he fell to the ground. Adam caught hold of his son and broke his fall. A look passed between the Harkers and, like a pair of hunters closing in upo
n a dangerous prey, they followed the witches.

  ‘You appear a little younger than you were,’ Crowden observed, ‘but there is no mistaking your face. How have the Elders conjured you from the grave? Such strange and powerful magic … ’

  Crowden came to a stop. He held out his hand in warning and the Harkers paused.

  ‘But you do not know what you are—who you are. If you did, you could have broken the binding spell I cast upon you just now.’ The Master crooked his head to one side. ‘Why have the Elders kept your identity a secret, old friend?’ His gaze flickered to Adam. ‘Perhaps it is because this new version does not possess the powers of the old Witchfinder. Let us see.’

  A red flame sparked between the Master’s fingers. His eyes darkened until they resembled two black suns.

  ‘When last we met you fought me with the most ferocious, primal magic I have ever known. Now you return in the form of this child and hope to beat me again?’

  The Master’s gloved hand reached up to his cloth mask.

  ‘You will fail, Witchfinder.’

  He tore the mask away.

  Jake had expected a horrific vision to be revealed. Instead, the face of Marcus Crowden was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. A strong jaw, sharp cheekbones and a delicate nose: features that might have been carved by angels. The only imperfection was around the mouth, which was distorted by a permanent sneer. Deep in his memory, Jake found an echo of this face. He had seen it before, lit by candlelight in the dank depths of a cavern.

  Mother Inglethorpe stared open-mouthed at her master.

  ‘You wonder why I keep myself covered?’ Crowden caressed his features. ‘It is because this face is a pale reflection of who I am. My true self is a thing of darkness!’

  Crowden thrust out his hand and a scarlet stream of light soared towards Jake. Automatically, Jake held out his own hand. Just before the pulse hit, Adam rushed forward and pushed his son out of its path. Landing on his side, Jake glanced back in time to see the hex strike his father in the shoulder and spin him round. A scent of burnt skin, similar to that which Jake had smelt when Ambrose Montague had been hit by the lightning, filled the air. Adam crumpled to the ground.

  ‘No one to save you now, boy conjuror,’ Crowden smiled. His fist crackled with fresh energy. ‘Tell me, where is your fire? Where is the magic of old?’

  At that moment, the sound of battle broke out from beyond the curtained doorway. Glass shattered, voices shrieked and cursed. In his surprise, the magical light disappeared from Crowden’s hand. The curtain was ripped aside and Mr Grype hurried into his master’s presence.

  ‘Monsters,’ he panted, ‘they’ve broken into the shop. Dozens of them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’ve come from Yaga Passage. She is their leader. They have already killed most of the Coven and are breaking their way into the back office. We must flee.’

  ‘But these are dark creatures!’ Crowden exclaimed. ‘Why do they fight us?’

  ‘They fight for him!’

  Grype pointed at Adam, still unmoving on the ground.

  ‘For once, the librarian is right,’ Mother Inglethorpe said. ‘We must make haste to the Hollow. There is less than an hour until dawn.’

  ‘What about him?’ Crowden stared at Jake with a mixture of hatred and wonder.

  ‘If you are to survive in the living world, you must conserve your magic,’ Inglethorpe said. ‘If you weaken before the Door is opened then you will be dragged back to this prison. Grype and I will conjure the portal. Come!’

  The three witches turned their backs on Jacob Harker. Grype’s vulture-demon fluttered down to perch on his shoulder; Miss Creekley rustled free of her mistress’s dress; Crowden’s cabinet hovered behind its master. Joining hands, the witches pooled their magical forces. They whispered a few words and the mist before them formed into an oval gateway. At the edges, it took on the hue of rough, reddish stone. Grype entered first, followed by Inglethorpe. Before joining them, Crowden looked back at Jake.

  ‘Do not attempt to follow.’

  He stepped forward and the portal dissolved around him.

  The strange woman that Jake had seen in the window when he arrived in Yaga Passage now helped to carry his father back through the curtained doorway and into Grype’s office. Between them, they lifted the unconscious Adam onto an old sofa. Then the woman disappeared for a few minutes before returning with a bowl of water and some bandages.

  ‘It’s real deep,’ she said, cleaning the wound at Adam’s shoulder. Her voice was low and sweet, and put Jake in mind of the great open prairies and misty bayous of the American South. ‘The magic that did this is some of the darkest I have ever seen.’

  The creature leaned over Adam. A concerned expression pinched her brow. Even when standing, she moved like a dancer, her hips swaying, her eight arms writhing, as if she was responding to some unheard music. Apart from those impossible arms, her appearance was that of a beautiful middle-aged woman with rich ebony skin.

  ‘Why did you help us?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Because, long ago, your daddy helped me. He has aided many of my kind over the years.’

  ‘What are you?’

  Two hands were busy bandaging Adam’s arm while another covered him with a blanket and a fourth smoothed his brow.

  ‘We are the so-called “dark creatures”. We live at the border between the world of Man and demonkind.’

  ‘Are you demons?’

  ‘No. Pure demons can only exist in your world as demonic familiars—servants to witches—a position they secretly loathe. Some of us dark creatures are related to demonkind. Vampires, for example, are demon cousins, and few of them can resist their evil heritage. For the most part we are just like human beings—some are bad, most are good. Your father knows this and he has helped to protect us.’

  ‘From the Hobarron Institute?’

  ‘Them, and others. We thank him by keeping an eye on the Crowden Coven. When I saw you arrive here tonight, I decided to call in a few friends and crash the party … ’

  ‘Thank God you did, Pandora.’ Adam blinked up at them. His hand went to his shoulder and he grimaced. ‘Could you leave us for a few minutes? I must speak to my son.’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Oh, and Pandora? We will be needing a portal. Perhaps your friends can rustle something up? Quick as you can.’

  Pandora nodded and went to the door. Before disappearing into the shop, her gaze fell upon Adam. The worried look in her eyes made Jake feel uneasy.

  Adam propped himself up on his good arm and smiled sadly at his son.

  ‘So, I guess you’ve got a lot of questions.’

  Jake went and sat behind Grype’s desk. He took a moment before he spoke.

  ‘I am Josiah Hobarron, the Witchfinder?’

  ‘Yes … And no.’

  ‘Dad … ’

  ‘I’m not trying to be mysterious, but the fact remains: he is you, but you are more than him.’ Adam sighed. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. If I know my son, you’ll have tracked down Sidney Tinsmouth and worked out a lot of the story for yourself.’

  Jake nodded. He would tell Adam about what had happened to Tinsmouth later. Now was not the time.

  ‘Good.’ Adam took a deep breath. ‘Luke Seward was the best friend I ever had. When I became an Elder, and was told why he had been sacrificed, I decided I had to find another way to stop the Demontide. The problem was this: in the beginning, just a smear of blood from a child descended from Josiah Hobarron was enough to seal the Door. But, as the blood weakened with every new generation, the Elders found it took more and more to keep the Door closed. Not only that, but the Door itself was a living thing and, over the centuries, it had grown hungry for the blood of children. It was difficult to see how we could ever seal the Door again without a sacrifice.

  ‘And then a thought struck me: one person had managed to lock the Door without a drop of blood being spilled. The Witchfinder had sealed it with magic.
The solution was obvious—we had to bring Josiah Hobarron back to life. But how?’

  The sound of voices casting a spell came from outside the office door. Jake barely heard the chant.

  ‘By this time, I had taken my degree in psychology and I was working at the Institute. In my first few days there I met a young scientist called Claire Peterson. We clicked immediately. She was funny, clever, beautiful … ’ Adam’s voice tightened. ‘As we became closer, Claire started telling me more and more about her work. She was a genetic biologist and—’

  ‘Genetic? I knew Mum studied biology before switching to engineering, but—’

  ‘We’ll come to that. Through Claire’s knowledge of genetic science, I began to see a way in which we might bring the Witchfinder back. If it could be done, then it would be the miracle the Elders had been searching for. With Dr Holmwood’s approval, I told Claire about the Institute’s secret mission. She needed a lot of convincing!’ Adam laughed. ‘But finally she came on board and we started work.

  ‘When the Witchfinder originally sealed the Door, he had used some kind of freezing spell. It seemed that the spell had got out of control, backfiring on Hobarron and freezing him in a block of ice. Unlucky for him, but fortunate for our plan. We took a team of scientists to the cavern and started drilling.’

  Jake nodded, remembering the hole he had felt in the ice block.

  ‘We reached the body and managed to scrape away a number of skin samples. Now our experiment could begin.’

  Dimly, Jake started to see the truth. He felt the first stirrings of dread and disgust.

  ‘We had to be careful,’ Adam continued. ‘What we were planning was against international law, and yet I thought it was worth the risk. I won’t bore you with all the complexities of the science. To put it simply, we took an egg from your mother and removed the nucleus—that’s the genetic material that comes from the mother. Then we implanted cells taken from Josiah Hobarron’s skin into the egg. The egg was then transferred to a machine that fused and activated it. Finally, we implanted the egg back into your mother where it developed into a healthy baby boy. The experiment was very complicated. We had to use magic to stabilize the process and—’