by Robin Jarvis
"No," Aunt Alice uttered, "I'm the one who's been selfish. All these months I've done nothing but think of my own health and welfare. What a ridiculous joke that is."
Seizing her walking stick, she lumbered to her feet and a fierce, determined expression glowered on her face. "I'm not having this," she roared. "Where are these evil women?"
"Wait!" Jennet cried. "I haven't finished. I met Pear just now and she told me... she told me that they're going to kill Ben."
Miss Boston could hardly believe it. "But why?" she wailed. "He's only a child!"
"Because they think once he's dead, Nathaniel will be given back to them. I know it's crazy but they're totally obsessed and stark raving mad. They really believe it and there's nothing they won't do."
A sudden noise from upstairs signalled that Ben was awake and Jennet stared at Aunt Alice fearfully.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered.
"We must tell the lad," the old lady decided. "It's only fair he knows the danger he's in. Listen, he's coming down. In here, Benjamin!"
The boy entered the former sickroom and gave the faintest of nods to acknowledge his sister's presence before turning his attention to Aunt Alice. "When are we going to the cliffs?" he asked.
"The cliffs?" she repeated. "Benjamin, we've got something to tell you."
Ben shook his head wildly. "She's gone, isn't she?" he wept. "Nelda's died!"
"No!" Aunt Alice assured him. "This is nothing to do with her."
"Then it can wait!" he shouted, running for the front door.
Jennet sprang from the chair and rushed after him. "You mustn't go out there!" she yelled, wrenching his hand from the door handle. "You've got to stay in here!"
"Let go!" he cried. "I've got to see Nelda!"
"You can't!"
"She's dying! Get off me—you don't care about anyone but yourself! Leave go!"
"Benjamin!" Miss Boston's voice trumpeted authoritatively, "Listen to us! Jennet is right—if you step outside you might never reach the caves."
The boy stopped struggling and sensed the deadly earnestness in her voice.
"It's Nathaniel," Jennet told him. "His followers are here. They... they want to kill you."
"I know that!" he snapped at her. "They've already tried twice!"
Jennet stared at him blankly and Aunt Alice put her arm about him. "What do you mean?" she asked, stunned. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Don't know," he mumbled. "Jen's been horrid and I didn't want to worry you—'sides, I can handle it."
Miss Boston groaned in dismay. "What have I done?" she grieved. "I've alienated both of you. That's too dear a price to pay for my recovery. I wish... Oh, I don't know what I wish any more."
Ben took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. "I want to see Nelda", he repeated, "one last time."
"Don't let him go," Jennet urged.
But before the old lady could stop him, he had pulled the door open.
"Good evening, Ben," called a light, silvery voice.
The boy started and behind him Jennet cried out in alarm.
Standing alone in the courtyard, with a supremely confident smile on her lovely face—was Meta.
The witch grinned at him and tossed her golden hair over her shoulders. "How fortunate for me," she gurgled. "I was just going to call on you, but I see you're already on your way out. It's a fine evening, there'll be such a ravishing sunset later—all red and bloody."
"Come in, Benjamin," Miss Boston commanded. Then, glaring past him at the witch, "Don't step over the threshold."
Meta hooted with derision. "The threshold?" she sneered. "You old fool, that barrier was broken by my loved one long ago. I can waltz into your dingy little hovel whenever I choose."
Aunt Alice placed herself in front of the children and barred the doorway.
"Begone from this place!" she demanded. "I'll not let you harm them."
Casually, Meta admired the bangles on her slender wrists and hardly took any notice of the old lady. "It's only Ben we want," she replied as though Miss Boston was being petulant and unreasonable, "I'm afraid Jennet just isn't worthy to join us. Sorry, honey, but that's the brutal truth."
In the hallway Jennet's skin crawled and she hurried into the front room to escape the sight of Pear's hateful mother.
"I'm not leaving," Meta promised, "and I'm extremely patient—we all are."
Behind her, filing calmly through the alleyway, came Liz and Caroline, and shambling reluctantly after them was Pear. The witch-girl glanced at her mother with reproach burning in her heart and she gazed into the cottage, vainly trying to catch sight of Jennet.
Behind the net curtains of the front room, Ben's sister regarded Pear with contempt, but unconsciously her fingers reached for the necklace at her throat. With a jolt, she realised what she was doing and dragged her hand away.
Aunt Alice eyed the assembled witches uncertainly. Here, cut off from the main street, there was no one to help her.
"Reinforcements?" she asked drily. "One old woman and two children too much for you on your own?"
"Why don't you send the boy out?" Meta's syrupy voice treacled. "It'll be easier on you in the long run, and so much more convenient for us."
Controlling her anger and dread, Miss Boston tutted in the most irritating way possible. "My, my," she admonished, hoping she sounded mildly amused. "We are getting desperate, aren't we? Forced out into the open and in broad daylight too? Whatever happened to skulking about the shadows and frightening youngsters in the dark? Rowena did it so much better than you—she had the most marvellous flair for this kind of thing. I'm afraid you haven't quite got the talent for it, have you? You see it takes a lot more than a good hairdo and wacky clothes to follow the old ways. But then I don't expect a baggage like you to be interested in the correct path—you've never graduated from toad-boiling and doll-pricking!"
"Take care, old cripple!" Meta shrieked. "You'll answer for that!"
"Not today, thank you!" Miss Boston returned and with that she slammed the door.
"That was rash, Alice," she scolded herself. "We're in scalding waters now!"
Ben hurried into the front room and ran to the window. "Look," he muttered nervously, "there's more coming through the alleyway."
Jennet stepped up behind him. "The rest of the coven!" she said in dismay. "We won't be able to stop them! We're trapped in here!"
"I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve!" Aunt Alice called, dashing into the kitchen and returning with the salt-cellar in her hands.
"I could climb over the back fence", suggested Ben, "and get help."
"You'd never make it," Jennet told him, remembering the yammering chase over the moor. "Don't you see, that's precisely what they want you to do! They'd love it for us to panic and split up."
In the hallway Miss Boston was busy reciting words of protection, invoking forces to defend them—all the while scattering salt around the doorway.
Ben stared miserably at the scene in the courtyard, repelled yet fascinated.
Hillian Fogle had been the last one to join the others. Immaculately dressed as usual, she strode between Meta and Liz and held up a large bulky object that was covered in a black cloth. Carefully she unwrapped the material and there in her hands was the fishmonkey.
Aiding the coven for the third and final time, the servant of the Lord of the Frozen Wastes blinked in the failing light of day and tapped its shrivelled webbed claws together.
Within the cottage Ben instinctively drew away from the window as a pair of yellow eyes gleamed at him.
"What's that?" he cried.
The fishmonkey squirmed in Hillian's grasp and raised its spindly arms, barking instructions to the coven.
"It's horrible," Jennet murmured. "Come away from there, Ben. All they have to do is smash the glass and they're in."
At that moment Aunt Alice rushed into the room and threw salt everywhere as she called out spells of challenge. Then she hesitated and peered at the sole
mn gathering outside, scowling in consternation.
"Why haven't they done anything?" she mused aloud. "What are they waiting for?"
"Maybe they're going to send that hideous thing in after us," Jennet muttered.
Then, as they watched, the fishmonkey craned its gruesome head and gave Hillian a snarling command. At a nod from her, the other members of the coven joined hands and, to Miss Boston and the children's utter surprise, they began to sing.
"Great Glory!" Aunt Alice exclaimed. "What do they think they're doing? It's like an infernal parody of Christmas with demonic carol singers!"
Low and whispering, the weird chanting of the witches filled the courtyard. It was an ugly, monotonous discord, and as the scarlet rays of the setting sun bathed everything in a lurid hellish glare, their faces were vivid masks of excitement and cruelty.
Stealthily, like the relentless creeping flow of water, their voices rose and penetrated through the windows until the front room of the cottage echoed with their jarring music.
Ben pressed close to Aunt Alice and she put her arm about him protectively.
"I don't understand," he muttered. "What does it mean?"
The old lady shook her head. "Haven't the foggiest idea," she replied worriedly, "but those are desperate people out there and that makes them more deadly than ever. It might be one last malefice—a black spell from the dark path—although what they hope to achieve is... I really don't know. We must be certain the house is secure. Benjamin, you stay here with Jennet while I make sure the windows are locked upstairs."
"You're not expecting them to climb up the walls, are you?" he cried.
Aunt Alice's eyes opened wide. "I expect everything!" she stated grimly before trotting into the hallway and up the stairs.
Ben kept a close watch on the figures outside. Yet his gaze was constantly drawn to the deformed and malignant shape of the fishmonkey, and the hairs on the back of the boy's neck tingled when he saw that the foul creature was smiling straight back at him.
Behind Ben, in the shadows of the darkening room, Jennet shrank against the wall and felt the oppressive music of the coven close around her as the drug began to take effect. The girl's face was beaded with cold sweat and her flesh was trembling as wave after wave of fear and control beat towards her. Like a terrified and cornered rabbit her eyes rolled in their sockets and she opened her mouth to scream—but only a parched whimper crossed her lips.
The noise of the song was unbearable—how could Ben stand it? Why didn't he hear the terrible drumming in his head and the shrill goading that devoured her energy and conjured up repugnant images in her mind?
About her throat the necklace constricted and she gasped as it bit into her skin. "No," she whined, sinking forlornly to the floor. "Keep away from me!"
Concealed beneath the armchair, Eurydice stared at Jennet and her ears flattened against her skull as she arched her back, and with a frightened mewling cry, the three-legged cat darted from the room and raced up the stairs.
Ben had heard his sister's strangled gasp but he did not turn to see what the matter was, for in the courtyard something weird and awful was happening—the women were changing.
"This night shall be your final chance!" the fishmonkey shrieked in Hillian's arms. "Fail in this and your dream is dashed! Concentrate now, oh followers of the Black Sceptre. Put forth your joined might and destroy this base worm!"
With renewed vigour, the coven spat out the eerie, strident song, and as their lips parted to form the mysterious words, they drew them back over their growing teeth and their jaws pushed forward to form ravening snouts. The spine of each woman, including Pear, stretched and snapped, and dark fur sprouted and bristled around the large dog-like ears that tapered from their growling heads.
Ben gaped at them in horror as they assumed terrifying new forms, nightmarish half-creatures—part human, part animal.
The song changed into a bestial chorus as the witches barked and snapped out the words and the boy called fearfully to Miss Boston.
"Aunt Alice!" he shouted. "Come here quickly!"
His voice died in his throat for suddenly he became aware of a wheezing, grunting noise directly behind him and with a sickening terror clutching at his stomach, he slowly turned around.
"Jen!" the boy cried. "What's the matter?"
The girl was gagging for air as the beads pressed against her windpipe and her eyes bulged from her skull. She stared horribly at her brother, then clawed at her throat, fighting to breathe. As she struggled a name formed upon her cracked lips and she was powerless to resist. Finally she surrendered to the terrible might of the chanting coven and throwing back her head, the girl screamed.
"NATHANIEL!"
Ben fell backwards. A frantic light shone in his sister's swollen eyes and her body jerked and flinched as she tried to regain control but the coven had her now—she belonged to them completely.
In despair, she watched as her limbs began to move, driven by a will stronger than her own and though she screeched and wailed there was nothing she could do.
"Help me!" she wept to her brother. "I can't stop them! Oh Ben, help me!"
Dominated wholly by the combined wills of the coven, Jennet took a prowling step closer to the boy whilst outside the clamour of the witch hounds mounted feverishly.
"Jen!" Ben murmured, backing away from her. "Don't mess about!"
"I'm not!" she cried as her feet dragged over the floor towards the fireplace. "I really can't stop myself!"
At that moment her eyes fell on the objects which Aunt Alice had dropped and a hideous panic gripped her. "Ben!" she cried, her voice high with fear. "Run—get away from me! Can't you see what they're trying to do?"
Jennet's voice choked as she realised the evil truth and her legs buckled beneath her, forcing the girl to stoop down. Like a spider her hand leapt out and seized hold of the rusted African spear and, with tears streaming down her face, she lifted the ghastly weapon and aimed it at her brother.
Ben let out a petrified yell then whipped round and fled into the hall where he ran straight into Miss Boston.
"Benjamin!" she declared. "What..?"
Her gaze passed beyond him to where Jennet stood framed in the doorway with the spear gripped tightly in her hands.
"Jennet?" the old lady asked in dismay. "Is that you? Put the weapon down, please."
"Aunt Alice!" the girl sobbed wretchedly. "Make them stop! Make them stop!"
"This is monstrous!" Miss Boston roared. "Leave the child be!" Flinging open her arms she drew a holy symbol of exile and banishment in the air but the coven's control over the girl was absolute.
Jennet cried piteously as she was compelled to stumble on and the point of the spear came slicing and stabbing towards the old lady and Ben.
"Avaunt!" Miss Boston bellowed as she stood her ground.
"Get away from me!" Jennet beseeched them. "They'll make me kill you!"
Muttering one last spell Aunt Alice shoved Ben up the stairs out of danger then called the girl's name over and over.
"Cast them out, Jennet!" she urged. "Free yourself—Jennet, listen to me!"
The blade came sweeping down and the old lady only just dodged aside in time.
"I've tried!" Jennet wept. "Look out!"
Again the spear thrust out and Miss Boston knew her efforts were in vain. Nothing could save the girl from the coven's influence.
"Benjamin!" she cried. "Go to my room—hurry!"
The boy darted upstairs but on reaching the landing he stopped and stared over the banister at the awful scene below.
In a savage attack, Jennet dived at Miss Boston but the old lady made a grab for the spear and tried to wrench it from her.
Into the kitchen they crashed, slamming against the sink, and the dishes were thrown to the floor as they fought with each other.
The girl possessed an unnatural strength and Miss Boston was no match for her, yet Jennet slithered on the broken crockery and, seizing her chance, Aunt Alic
e pushed her away.
Still clutching the spear, the girl slid into the table and Miss Boston headed for the kitchen door locking it behind her.
Breathless after the struggle, she shouted through the barrier, "Are you injured, Jennet?"
Inches from her face the wood splintered and flew into the hall as the spear came punching through the door and Jennet's terrified voice rang throughout the cottage.
"It's no good!" she howled. "Forgive me, Aunt Alice—forgive me!"
Miss Boston stepped back from the quivering door as Jennet pounded upon it and the frenzied assaults of the spear tore and gouged great rents in the crackling panels.
The old lady edged towards the stairs. The hallway became littered with sharp shards of shattered wood and the broken door quaked in its frame as Jennet struck it one last time.
With a thundering crash the tattered remains flew off the hinges and smashed into the opposite wall. Screaming in abject terror, the girl leapt over the debris and came charging up the stairs.
Fleeing before her, Miss Boston sped over the landing, shoved Ben through into her bedroom and slammed the door in Jennet's anguished face.
"There's no key for this lock!" Aunt Alice cried, putting her weight against it as the girl pushed and kicked. Desperately, she looked about the room. "Benjamin!" she called urgently. "The dressing-table, try to bring it over here!"
The boy heaved at the old oak dressing-table. It was incredibly heavy and he jumped in alarm as an angry miaow issued from beneath it.
"Get out of the way, Eurydice!" he yelled and the cat scooted around the room, searching for a new hiding place. Grunting, Ben managed to waggle and pull the dressing-table close enough for Miss Boston to help him.
Together they pushed it against the door handle and Jennet's insane hammering ceased, only to be replaced by the vicious blows of the spear.
"She'll get through!" Ben wept. "There's no escape from here—we're cornered!"
Aunt Alice watched impotently as the blade came snapping through the wood—the boy was right.
In the courtyard the fishmonkey's amber eyes blazed with fiery malevolence. "Louder!" he screeched, inspiring the coven and spurring them on. "Give the child your strength, slay the insolent boy! In the name of my almighty master—kill him, kill him!"
