Witch Hunt

by Morgana Best

  A large crack appeared in the rocky earth, and I struggled to keep my footing. There was a loud screech, and the shadow was there again, erupting from the ground, taking a corporeal form. It screeched again, and the screech almost formed words. I was trying to make it out, and then the winged thing was upon me. It was all black apart from its eyes, deep red.

  Was this the otherworldly bat of which Aunty June had warned me?

  It came forward on short legs, using the fingers on top of its bent wings to steady itself on the ground. I screamed, held the journal tightly to me, turned and ran. I didn’t dare look back, but I could hear the thing right behind me, the almost human-like screeching, the sound of its feet and wings scrabbling on the ground.

  The ground rose, and I was at the base of the hill. Running became harder as the incline shifted into something more severe with each passing foot, with each passing inch. I kept running. I couldn’t see the building now. All I could see was a wall of rocky dirt in front of my face. The thing that looked like a vicious giant bat was hard on my heels.

  I couldn’t look back, as much as I wanted to do so. I wanted to see how far I had come, and I needed to see how close the creature was. Still, I kept my head straight, my neck bent, my gaze upward. Above me, the purple sky beckoned.

  And then, behind me, I heard a sickening sound. It was the wings, beating against the air, as the bat took to the skies. Its clawed feet gripped my arms and lifted me into the air. Below me, the book fell from my grasp, and slid a few feet back down the hill.

  As I was carried upward, I saw how close I had been to the top. Just a few yards more, and I would have been there. Now that didn’t matter. I was rising, up, into the purple sky, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Chapter 17

  I looked down at the building on the top of the hill. As I went higher, it got smaller. It was made of grey stone, all but blending in with the rocky earth. It was small, just a rectangle with a sloping roof. I didn’t know what it housed, but I knew I needed to get there.

  The bat’s claws dug painfully into my shoulders. I wanted to scream, to cry, but I didn’t do either. The warmth inside me had faded, but the coldness hadn’t returned. Perhaps my intuition knew I was in danger, and didn’t feel the need to tell me. I already knew it only too well.

  I looked up and could see the underside of the bat. It was furry, with long and coarse black hairs protruding from all over its body. I looked down again and saw I was some distance above the ground. I knew I wouldn’t survive a fall from this height.

  There was a loud screech, and this time it was not from the creature that carried me along. Another dark creature flew forward, this one almost identical to the thing that held me, but somehow, impossibly, bigger. It came at the smaller bat with its mouth wide open. The two creatures slammed into one another in mid air, and then I was falling, jostled free from the smaller creature’s claws.

  I screamed. I was going to hit the ground, and it was all going to be over. I sucked in my breath, and closed my eyes.

  I opened my eyes when I was jolted. I appeared to be alive, but there was a searing hot pain in my left leg. The larger bat was holding my leg with one clawed foot. I looked down. I was ten feet or so from the top of the hill. I twisted, and felt myself fall free once more, successfully wrenching my leg from the large bat’s grasp.

  As I hit the ground, the air was forced from my lungs. I lay dazed for a moment, seeing stars in my vision. And then there was just blackness, no more purple sky. The larger bat was diving down. It opened its mouth and screeched. “Feed!” it said, over and over. “Feed!”

  I pulled myself up from the ground and ran. The building was nearby, the stone structure with the slanted roof. There was no door, just an open space in the stone. The large bat slammed into the ground behind me, and then it scuttled forward. I threw myself through the open doorway and crawled backwards, up against the far wall.

  The bat screeched, and I rolled over, lying on my side, looking at the door. The bat was too large to enter the stone room, but it wasn’t giving up. It pulled back a little and then tried to force one wing into the room, the fingers at the top of its wing flexing menacingly. Still, it couldn’t reach me.

  I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. The warm feeling was back in my chest. I looked about the room and saw a stone arch standing in the centre. Two torches, burning brightly with a curiously yellow flame, sat in the rocky dirt at each foot of the arch.

  All of a sudden, I realised that the arch could send me home. I knew that as surely as I knew anything. I also knew that I would need the journal.

  The large bat remained at the door, trying to press its face into the room, but it couldn’t. It stopped and backed up slightly. I knew it was waiting for me, knowing that I had to come out sooner or later.

  And it was right. I knew it and the creature knew it. I had to go out; I had to find the notebook. I didn’t know what to do. For a while, I sat. Once again, time seemed to pass strangely. Did I sit for minutes or days? I had no idea. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t thirsty, but I did have a pounding headache and a growing pressure in my temples.

  Finally, a plan formed in my frightened mind. I stood. The bat creature at the doorway screeched. “Feed!” it said.

  “Not today,” I said as I moved to the arch. The bat moved forward, once more trying to come inside. I bent my knees, and wrapped both hands around one of the torches. I pulled it free from the ground.

  I hurried to the doorway, swinging the flame upwards, towards the bat’s eyes. It screeched again, and hopped back. Then I was outside, running for the direction from which I had been snatched, running towards the journal. I knew I had picked the right way to run, because the warmth was growing within me.

  I heard the creature take to the air once more, but I was at the crest of the hill. I slid down it, my feet shifting and giving way. I toppled onto my bottom and slid some more. I looked up. The creature was coming, its wings folded against its body, fifty feet in the air, angling towards me. I raised the torch just as it was upon me, and the massive creature spread its wings and shot off into the sky.

  I knew that wouldn’t be enough to keep him away permanently. I had to find the journal. I went down further. Where was it?

  There! I saw it just as I heard the bat. I raced to it, picked it up, held it to my chest and raised the torch again. I was too late this time. The creature hit the torch and slammed into the ground beside me. The torch tumbled from my hand, flipping end over end down the large hill.

  I had to run, and run I did. I made sure not to let go of the journal, keeping it clutched to my chest. The nightmarish creature was scurrying along the ground after me. I heard its jaws snap shut; I felt the air rush past me. I could smell the thing’s breath, all hot, sticky, hateful.

  Then the ground levelled out, and there was the building. I raced towards it. I was there; I was going to make it. I ducked under the low doorway, just as the bat monster slammed into the side of the building. I turned.

  “Feed!” it yelled.

  “Better luck next time,” I said. Somehow I knew just what to do with the journal. I turned and threw it through the arch. The thing glowed blue, blinding. It was gone. I did not look back at the creature; I stepped into the blue light.

  I was weightless once more, and then my feet were on solid ground, and the black nothingness gave way to my hotel room. Salty tears stung my eyes.

  I had made it.

  I looked down. The journal lay at my feet, shut. I bent and picked it up, and then dropped it. Once again it was cold as ice. I went through my luggage and pulled out a black belt. I slid it over the book and tightened it, so that it couldn’t be easily opened. I left it lying on top of my suitcase.

  I wanted to sleep. Nothing sounded better than sleep. I felt as if I had been gone for hours, days even. I went to the window and looked out. The sun was still in the sky, hanging low over the horizon, as evening came on. I turned and looked at the clock b
y the bed. It read seven twenty-one. I tried to remember when I had first sat down to look at the book. For some reason, seven fifteen stood out to me. Six minutes? The walk to the hill had surely taken longer than that. I had walked for hours. I was sure of it. But here, I had only been gone for six minutes.

  For some reason that made me want to cry. They were not tears of happiness at reaching safety; they were tears of sadness and weariness. I had fought for my life. I had almost been eaten by two different bat demons. And here, hardly anything had happened. Life had gone on, but only for six minutes. It made me feel small. I kicked off my shoes, and I crawled into bed. I thought about getting up and shutting the blinds, but the sun was falling, and it would soon be dark anyway. I closed my eyes, and I slept.

  When I awoke, the clock read three in the morning, on the dot. I yawned and sat up. I really shouldn’t have slept, but I had been overtaken by an overwhelming tiredness. I reached for my phone and called John.

  He didn’t answer. I was annoyed. I knew it was late, but his phone should have woken him, and he should have known that if I was calling, it would be important.

  “Where are you?” I said to his voicemail. “I found the journal, Lucas Wallace’s journal. I went into the portal. I was almost killed there…” My voice trailed away, and I pulled the phone from my ear. “I was almost killed there, but I made it,” I said aloud to the empty room. And I began to laugh.

  A whole plane of existence removed from the situation, and with sleep between me and the bat creatures, I thought it was almost absurd. I had survived. Survived being eaten by giant bats spawned from some sort of hellish place, creatures that crawled out of the ground, but still cast shadows in a sunless world. I laughed and laughed. I was worried I was laughing so much and so loudly that someone would complain, but no one did.

  And then the laughter died down and I was crying. I couldn’t stop. The bats weren’t so funny now, just moments later. They were terrifying again. And the fact that I was on my own, with my abilities yet with hardly any help and hardly any knowledge, made me upset.

  I sniffed back my tears and went into the bathroom. I turned on the light and looked at myself in the long mirror. I had just woken up, but I looked tired. I always looked tired now, ever since I had become Keeper of The Orpheans. I needed help, and I wasn’t getting it. I took one more look at myself and then reached over and turned off the light again.

  In the darkness, I went to my bed and sat on the edge of it. I was still wearing all my clothes, and I figured I would get dressed for bed and try to sleep some more. I peeled off my clothes and dressed in pyjamas, all in the dark. I didn’t want to see anything. The only light came in through the window. As I drifted off to sleep, I did my best not to think of the creatures, how unnaturally horrendous they had been. I slowly fell asleep, and I thought of them still.

  Chapter 18

  My chest tightened as my emotions ran wild. John hadn’t answered his phone. I threw the straps of my handbag over my shoulder and walked down the corridor towards John’s room. When I got to his door, it was partially open. I slowly pushed the door open and walked inside.

  Even though it was very early in the day, the room was a bit dim and eerie. I scratched at a tickling sensation that crept up my neck. “Hello? John? Anyone?” I called out, noticing that his belongings were still there.

  “Yes?” a strange voice responded, startling me. A short, older woman dressed in white walked out of the bathroom. “I was just tidying up while the room was unoccupied. Should I leave now?” she asked.

  I shook my head and sighed. “No, that’s fine.”

  I walked back down the long corridors, wondering where John could be and why he hadn’t returned my call. As I continued, I felt as if I were being followed. Or was that just paranoia, given what I’d been through? My breathing became laboured and I was having trouble fending off a full-blown panic attack. I walked faster and faster, looking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure that I wasn’t being followed.

  As I turned the last corner before my room, I collided with someone with such force it felt like I had been thrown from a horse at full gallop. “What the!”

  “I’m so sorry.” Julie extended her hand to help me up.

  I looked up to see the mail lady once again. “Why are you running around corners like that?”

  She pulled me to my feet. “I said I was sorry. I was looking for you, and even though I didn’t mean to run into you, I was hoping I would. Well, just in a more figurative manner,” she added.

  I frowned. “Why were you looking for me?”

  “I was just talking to John. He said something about his phone not getting reception, so he asked me to find you. He said it’s very important that he talks to you soon,” Julie explained.

  “Where is he?” I asked, unclear why John would trust Julie with something that he considered so important. Perhaps he was desperate.

  “John said he’ll be waiting for you down in the Boiler House Café. I have no idea what he has to tell you, but it sure did seem urgent. I’m not all-knowing, you see.” Her lip curled.

  “Okay, well thank you. Not for the tackle, but for the news from John,” I said.

  “No need to thank me. Oh, and here’s your bag,” she said, picking my handbag off the ground and handing it to me. “I need to get back to my room.” Julie hurried away in the other direction.

  How strange. I wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened, but I had no option but to head down to the Boiler House to see if John was really there. As I walked towards the café, it dawned on me that my bag seemed a bit lighter than it had been moments prior. I looked inside. Where was Lucas Wallace’s journal?

  My hands trembled with the realisation that it was missing. I was certain that I had taken it with me before leaving, since showing it to John was one of the main things I had wanted to do after finding him, plus I was hardly going to leave it alone. Despite being so sure, I decided to head back to my room before going to the Boiler House Café. If it wasn’t in my bag, it surely had to be there.

  My synapses processed. Everything became clear. Julie had stolen the journal. Julie and Douglas were somehow connected. No doubt either or both of them were involved in Lucas Wallace’s murder.

  I hurried back to my suite. I swiped the card and pushed the door open. There, sitting on the Persian rug, were Douglas and Julie. They held each other’s hands, their eyes shut, the journal of Lucas Wallace sitting open on the floor between them.

  I could not discern the words they were saying, but it was obvious it was an incantation. Were they reading passages from the book?

  I ran into the room and threw myself on the journal. I slammed it shut.

  “What are you doing?” Julie shouted. “You were supposed to go to the café and give us time.” Her eyes blinked rapidly and her nostrils flared. “Now, you’re going to become a casualty of your own stupidity.” She leapt on me and held me down.

  I tried to scream, but Julie’s fingers covered my mouth and partly obstructed my nose, making breathing difficult. I struggled and glared at Douglas, hoping he would come to my aid.

  “How do you two even know each other?” I asked when Julie removed her hand from my mouth, and mercifully stopped sitting on me.

  “It’s a long, complicated story.” Douglas stood up and walked towards the window.

  “Long indeed,” Julie sneered. “I told you I had two jobs, didn’t I? I’ve worked for the Black Lodge for years. You never had any idea who I was, did you?"

  Her voice changed. She seemed to become taller somehow. All of a sudden, a dark, ominous energy emanated from her. "I am the High Witch of the Black Lodge." Her words echoed around the walls of the small room.

  I suddenly felt very insignificant. "You're the, the High Witch?" I sputtered.

  "And you had no idea," she spat at me. “You thought I was simply a parcel delivery lady. Let me tell you, I got the job as the parcel delivery lady in your area so I could keep tab
s on you. I knew you were the heir to the Keeper of The Orpheans.”

  I sat against the wall, trying to take it all in. Julie was the High Witch of the Black Lodge? I didn’t even know there was one, not until now, but Julie? I could scarcely get my mind around it. "So, Douglas works for you?"

  She shot him a contemptuous look. "Yes, he does. He's worked for me for many years.” She laughed. "I manifest just with my mind. I don't need candles and spells like you do. Some witches like you work with the earth, with candles and spells to manifest, whereas I am what you might call a sorcerer." She sneered at me. "I use a different type of energy to manifest.”

  I have no idea where she was going with this, but I had no choice but to sit and listen.

  She raised her arms skyward. "I am the High Witch of the Black Lodge," she called. "They need me."

  "Is Craig a witch too?" I asked her.

  Julie's jaw fell open. "Of course not! I married him solely to keep an eye on you. He owned the mail run for the area. What better way to keep an eye on you than to marry him and become your parcel lady? It was a stroke of genius."

  I thought it was the silliest plan I had ever heard.

  She pushed on. "Plus, he's twenty years younger than I am, so that certainly encouraged me to marry him too.”

  I wondered how she had managed to attract Craig, but then I realised she was a witch. She probably put a spell on him—or whatever she did to get him to marry her since spells apparently were beneath her.

  Julie was still talking. “How does it feel to know that so many things you believed were nothing more than lies?”

  “Okay, so Craig isn’t a witch, but is he in on this too?” I asked her.

  A slow red flush travelled up Julie’s cheeks. “Craig? That slob? He’s nothing but a nobody who sits around wasting my hard-earned money on video games and wine. Have I ever told you that his family doesn’t like me? Why? And even if he were a part of this, what would it matter? We can’t be stopped, and you’re about to learn that firsthand,” she said, grabbing my arm once more.