The Monsters of Rookhaven

by Padraig Kenny

  ‘Oh, believe me, I intend to,’ shouted Mr Pheeps without turning round.

  Jem

  Jem and Tom stood at the bedroom window. They looked out across the estate to the wall where the ravens still gathered in preparation, for what exactly Jem didn’t know. It was something she didn’t really want to consider.

  ‘We should help them,’ said Jem.

  ‘I agree,’ said Tom.

  Jem looked at him in surprise. Normally, Tom would run at the first sign of trouble. Their life on the road had always been about survival, taking what they needed wherever and whenever they could, and leaving as quickly as possible. Even so, she knew there was good in him.

  ‘You can thank Piglet,’ said Tom. ‘He showed me things, made me understand how people are afraid of each other without having any reason to be.’ Tom frowned a little, as if the words he was trying to find were inadequate for the task. ‘We have more in common with this family than we think. Piglet is kind, and his family are kind, and we owe them.’

  ‘We’re staying, then,’ said Jem.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Tom.

  There was a knock on the door. They both turned as it opened, and Eliza stepped into the room.

  ‘They’re coming,’ she said.

  Freddie

  Freddie tried his best to support Dr Ellenby in getting back into his house. It required some effort, and Dr Ellenby groaned as they entered the hallway.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ asked Freddie.

  Dr Ellenby gestured at the clothes, books and furniture that now lay scattered around the hall. ‘Only my aesthetic sensibilities,’ he said, giving a pained smile.

  Freddie didn’t fully understand what he meant, but he nodded anyway.

  Dr Ellenby fell into a chair in his study then took some cloth and bottled spirits from the side table and wiped the gashes on his face, wincing as he did so.

  ‘This Mr Pheeps, what is he exactly?’

  ‘A monster,’ said Freddie. ‘He eats souls. The souls of people like Mirabelle and her family. He says he’s been hunting them for years.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘His words have some kind of power. He can turn people against each other. I saw him do it to my dad first.’

  Dr Ellenby nodded as he taped some gauze to his forehead.

  There was the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside, and the window glowed orange from the headlights for a moment before they were extinguished. Freddie immediately stood up and clenched his fists.

  ‘More of them,’ he said.

  He looked around for a weapon, but Dr Ellenby leaned across and grabbed his hand, shaking his head. Freddie was about to protest when he heard someone call his name.

  He was already rushing to hug his mother before she entered the room.

  ‘Mum! Mum! Dad and the others, they’re headed to—’

  ‘The house, I know.’

  ‘We have to stop them!’

  His mother’s eyes were lit with a fierce light. ‘I agree. That’s why we’re going after them.’

  It took a little longer than normal for Dr Ellenby to get his aching frame into the van. He collapsed gratefully into the passenger seat. Freddie sat beside him, noticing how weary he looked. He patted him on the arm.

  ‘We’ll stop them, Dr Ellenby.’

  Dr Ellenby tried his best to smile. ‘I don’t doubt it, Freddie.’

  It was the first time Freddie had seen his mother drive the van. She crouched over the steering wheel, driving with an intent and purpose that surprised him. They pulled up when they saw the various cars and vans blocking the road. They could see the glimmer of torches between the trees and, most disconcertingly of all, the flicker of flames.

  Freddie’s mother stopped the van and she and Freddie got out. She tried to object as Dr Ellenby began to clamber out too.

  ‘Well, why’d you bring me, then? And surely, Elizabeth, I am best qualified to judge whether I can do this or not.’

  Freddie’s mother relented. The two of them supported him between them as they made their way through the trees. Freddie pointed the way. He’d made this journey countless times before. They stepped into a small clearing to be confronted by the sight of the townsfolk gathered around Mr Pheeps and Freddie’s father, some of them carrying makeshift torches. The smell of oil and burning rags made Freddie want to retch. Freddie’s father was holding the circular key against his chest while he stood looking down at the pillar. He looked desperately unsure of himself, and Freddie thought he saw a glimmer of anger in Mr Pheeps’s eyes.

  ‘Well then, Mr Fletcher. Let us commence. I’m sure you’re well versed in the procedure.’

  Freddie’s father held the key just above the grooves on the tor. Freddie could still see the doubt in his eyes. His hand was trembling. He laid the key in place, pausing before turning it.

  ‘Dad! Don’t!’ Freddie shouted.

  Mr Pheeps whipped round to snarl at him, but soon forgot him as the air began to crackle with what felt like invisible sparks. A sudden swirling vortex of rainbow colours formed at head height above the throng. The colours ran together, and the people took a step back in awe as everything flared to a brilliant brightness. They covered their eyes as one.

  The light vanished.

  Everyone opened their eyes again to be faced with what could only be described as a gap in the world. It was a tall rectangular window looking into the small pocket of reality that was home to the Family. They could see the white snake of a path and the walled estate up ahead.

  No one said anything for a moment. Even Mr Pheeps was struck dumb. He started to pant. Freddie saw his eyes flicker to grey. He licked his lips and clenched his fists, then he threw back his head and gave a guttural, demonic howl.

  The townspeople took this as their cue, and together they charged up the path.

  The flowers were waiting for them.

  Mirabelle

  Mirabelle held a hand to her stomach. She’d been watching from the steps of the house with some of the others, and she’d felt physical pain seeing the Glamour breached. She presumed it was fear she was feeling. Of all the things she’d witnessed recently, this was by far the worst because she knew it was possibly the end of everything.

  Gideon was by her side, one hand wrapped round her leg. She could hear him gasping as the gate was breached.

  ‘I told you to go inside,’ she hissed at him, and then felt immediately guilty when she saw the way he looked up at her so helplessly.

  ‘Now!’ she snapped.

  Gideon mewled then vanished from sight. Mirabelle felt his arm let go of her leg, and was immediately stung by his absence.

  Jem and Tom and Aunt Eliza stood alongside her, while Enoch flew above the estate wall, watching the events unfold. It had been his idea to send the younger flowers out as a second line of defence. They had been only too willing to join the fray, and Mirabelle had watched with a mixture of pride and fear as they crawled down the driveway on their roots, hissing and snarling as they went. They were as much part of the Family as anyone, she reckoned. They had as much right to defend their home.

  She tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths. She felt Jem reach for her hand and squeeze.

  And all the while the ravens watched, their feathers bathed in moonlight and flame.

  The sight of them only made Mirabelle feel worse.

  Freddie

  The path was a vision of chaos as the flowers shrieked and snapped at the invaders. Some of the people thrust their flaming torches at the plants, and the night air became rent with moist high-pitched squeals of pain as the flowers burned. Others used their guns, and green flesh plumed in the night sky as the bullets found their mark. The flowers tried to rally, but there was a fierceness to the onslaught from the villagers that took them completely by surprise.

  Freddie saw Alfie Parkin flailing at the flowers with his stick. He saw a hysterical Mr Teasdale weeping and gibbering, slashing at one flower with what looked like a poker. Mr and Mrs Smith were bo
th wielding sticks. To Freddie, each and every one of his fellow villagers looked unrecognizable, as if they were possessed.

  Freddie couldn’t help himself. He followed them, keeping one eye on his father the whole time. His father walked with the dull, loping gait of a man in a trance, seemingly unable to take in what was going on around him. Unlike the others he didn’t attack the flowers. Freddie’s mother called after him, and he was dimly aware of Dr Ellenby limping after him and trying to restrain him, but Freddie was compelled forward. He had to get to his father. He had to try to break the spell. He grabbed his father’s hand.

  ‘Dad! Dad!’

  His father turned on him, his eyes suddenly blazing.

  ‘Go back, boy!’ he shouted, and pushed Freddie to the ground.

  Freddie landed hard, and saw the look of panicked guilt in his father’s eyes.

  ‘Go back,’ he sobbed. Then he turned and followed the mob.

  Freddie got up and dusted himself off, gripped by a new fierceness. He followed the crowd and didn’t flinch as they blasted the flowers, stabbed at them, set torches to them. Now his eyes were set only on one figure, that of Mr Pheeps, noticing how the mob formed a protective horseshoe shape around him, keeping him from the reach of the flowers.

  His mother grabbed him by the arm. He wheeled round to her and pointed at Mr Pheeps.

  ‘Look at him, Mum. He’s just a coward. He’s using everyone else to save his own skin.’

  The shrieking of flowers had died down. Now there was only the odd sickening thud and dull grunt as people battered the last remaining few to the ground, and to Freddie that somehow seemed much worse.

  Mirabelle

  Mirabelle was crying, but they were tears of rage. She watched the devastation wrought on the Path of Flowers and felt utterly helpless.

  ‘I think that’s nearly the last of them,’ said Tom, his voice hoarse and low.

  Mirabelle looked to where Eliza had been standing only a few moments ago. She wiped her tears viciously with her hand. She could hear roars of victory rising up from the path.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said defiantly. ‘Time for the next line of defence.’

  Freddie

  Freddie was revolted by the fury and savagery of the villagers. He’d watched in horror as they’d cut into the flowers and brutalized them with every available implement. The victory roar that now went up from the villagers was even more sickening. His mother was crying, and Dr Ellenby looked stunned by the devastation.

  Mr Teasdale was standing over the squirming body of a flower as it hissed and rattled, breathing its last. He raised the poker above it, ready to plunge it through the flower’s soft flesh.

  ‘Mr Teasdale!’ Freddie’s mother roared in disgust.

  Mr Teasdale blinked for a moment, like a man suddenly roused from a dream. He looked dazedly at Freddie’s mother, a look of shame eventually crossing his face. He let the poker drop by his side, then turned away from the flower to join the throng now gathered before the gate.

  Mr Pheeps was clapping.

  ‘Very well done, very well done. You are all to be congratulated.’

  People were breathing hard, the night fogging with their breath. Each of them seemed dazed, half asleep, as if caught between waking and dreaming. Freddie saw his father look at his own hands in incomprehension.

  ‘They did well,’ said Pheeps, turning to Freddie and the others.

  Freddie glared at him. Mr Pheeps clasped his hands together gleefully. ‘This is your moment – there is nothing to stop you now! Exact your punishment—’

  ‘I think Eliza might have something to say about that,’ said Dr Ellenby, pointing.

  Between the two stone pillars of the gate a black cloud rose up, hissing and roiling.

  Mr Pheeps laughed. ‘I very much doubt tha—’

  The cloud rolled forward with impossible speed and then broke up into its constituent parts and the villagers found themselves confronted with a wave of thousands of spiders.

  Mr Teasdale shrieked as the mass of spiders spun up his legs, covering his body in a fizzing layer of black. He danced about and flapped his hands, trying to dislodge the spiders, but they held fast.

  Most of the other villagers found themselves dealing with the same problem. Freddie watched in delight as Constable Griggs batted at spiders with his helmet, while Mr Carswell pitched headfirst into a hedge, his face covered with the creatures.

  Mr Pheeps screamed at the people, urging them to pull together in the face of Eliza’s attack.

  Freddie felt a small twinge of hope. Dr Ellenby put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘She’s just buying them some time,’ he said.

  Jem

  Jem watched in admiration as Eliza attacked the villagers. A small part of her hoped that this would make the difference and force them to turn back, but she knew it was a vain hope.

  Eventually the wave of spiders pulled back, like a black tide heading away from a shore. The people were still reeling, so Eliza had time to reconstitute herself as she made her way back up the driveway, but she was limping and Jem’s heart lurched as Mirabelle’s aunt reached the steps and she saw the gaps in her face. Even so, Eliza tried her best to smile. She sat on a low stone pillar to rest and regain her strength.

  ‘She did very well,’ said Odd.

  Jem jumped with fright. Odd had appeared by her side, and he smiled when he saw the look of astonishment on her face.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, but appearances can be deceptive,’ he said. ‘I walked here.’ He frowned. ‘Although “crawled in complete agony” might be a more apt description.’ He turned to look at Eliza. ‘You did very well, Aunt. We’re all very proud of you.’

  Eliza raised half a hand weakly in salute.

  Odd winced and held his side.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here, Odd,’ Mirabelle said.

  ‘Where else would I be except here to watch the destruction of a centuries-old dynasty to which, I reluctantly admit, I have at times been proud to belong.’

  ‘You’re very convincing, Odd,’ said Eliza wryly.

  He stumbled slightly, and both Jem and Mirabelle caught him. He tried to smile.

  ‘I know what you’re both thinking. The situation is dire, and perhaps Odd can do something, but I confess I am too weak, and even if I could transport everyone that thing would eventually find us.’

  They all turned to watch as the crowd slowly began to recover. Silhouettes by the gate picked up weapons they’d dropped in the panic, readying for their next advance.

  Nobody said anything. Jem felt sick with fear. Her mind was spinning. Surely there was some way they could help themselves. All she’d seen was pain and destruction and violence, and there didn’t seem to be anything to counter it.

  Except . . .

  She turned and went into the house. Mirabelle called after her, but Jem shouted back over her shoulder and said she would be back as quickly as she could. She found the twins in the hallway, both peering fearfully out the window. She tried to grab one by the shoulders, feeling foolish when her hands went right through her.

  ‘Dotty, I need your help. I want you—’

  The girl pointed at the other twin. ‘That’s Dotty, I’m Daisy,’ she said, looking disgusted.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jem. She turned to Dotty. ‘Dotty, I need you to get the key to Piglet’s room and meet me there as quickly as possible.’

  Dotty looked terrified. ‘I can’t do that. Enoch will be angry.’

  Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘Just do it, Dotty. It probably won’t matter very soon.’

  Dotty looked unsure for a moment, then nodded at Jem.

  Jem didn’t waste another second. She ran as fast as she could down into the depths of the house, to the eerie silence of the corridor outside Piglet’s room. She was both relieved and terrified when she saw Dotty already standing there waiting for her. Dotty pointed at the ceiling.

  ‘I got the key from upstairs then I took a short cut.’

/>   Jem gratefully took the key from her and inserted it in the lock. She took a deep breath then turned it. There was a dull, heavy clank as she felt the lock give. She looked to her left, but Dotty was gone. She grabbed the door and pulled it open. It wasn’t as heavy as she’d thought, but she was panting now, more from fear than exertion. She strained her ears in an attempt to listen to what might be going on both outside and within Piglet’s room.

  There was nothing but silence.

  She crossed the threshold, feeling the cool damp air on her face, her arms outstretched as she tried to feel her way. She inched forward slowly. She couldn’t see anything, but the space before her seemed somehow vast.

  ‘Piglet?’ she whispered, her voice echoing in the darkness.

  There was no response.

  ‘Piglet? Are you there?’

  She thought she heard something like a low, quiet moan.

  ‘Piglet? Is that you?’

  Something lumbered past her in the dark, and her heart started to pound. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

  ‘Piglet, please, we need your help.’

  There was another moan.

  ‘Your family needs you, Piglet.’

  This was greeted with a groan. It was a weary sound, filled with a sense of defeat.

  ‘I know you miss Bertram.’

  Something huge suddenly thrashed about in the dark, and there was a great clanging sound followed by a bellow of pain and anguish. Jem froze.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered again. ‘Your family needs you.’ There was nothing but silence now. Jem waited. The silence stretched on and on. With each passing moment the faint stirrings of hope she’d felt when she hit upon her idea started to fade. She shook her head and started to turn towards the door. She could feel the telltale sting of approaching tears. She stopped and shouted, ‘Mirabelle needs you!’

  There was the sound of something like a great unfurling of wings, the grand movement of a giant fin in the depths of the ocean, panting like the hot breath of a dragon. Then two red eyes suddenly blazed in the dark.