The Whitby Witches 1 - The Whitby Witches Page 17

  The church of St Mary's seemed to fill the night. The arc lights gave to its solid, square walls a warm, golden glow which made it look like a magical, gilded fortress.

  Miss Boston shielded her eyes from the bright lights and glanced round. Sister Bridget was nowhere to be seen. 'Are you sure she was here?' she asked Jennet.

  'Yes, I'm positive.'

  The old lady chewed her lip. 'Maybe she was afraid to remain in the light for too long,' she said thoughtfully. 'Unless, of course, she was seen by someone other than yourself.'

  'You mean Rowena?'

  Aunt Alice merely raised her eyebrows. 'Who can tell?' she said. 'Perhaps a group of visitors walked past and startled her.' She rubbed her eyes and wandered down the path. 'Come out of those blinding lamps, child,' she said. 'I do not wish to be seen either.'

  They walked around the church and left the arc lights behind. For a while coloured swirls danced before their eyes until they became accustomed to the dark once more. Jennet halted and stared out to sea. There by the cemetery wall stood the novice. She nudged Miss Boston and the old lady squinted keenly.

  Sister Bridget was looking straight at them. Her hands were clasped tightly before her and the look of worry on her face lifted only momentarily with the relief of seeing them. She took a few hesitant steps forward, then stopped to look around nervously.

  Aunt Alice and Jennet approached slowly, careful not to frighten her. The novice looked warily at the shadows beyond and put her hands to her mouth. 'Hurry!' she called. 'There is little time!'

  Jennet and Miss Boston were surprised by her uncharacteristic outburst and wondered what she had to say.

  'I must talk with you,' Sister Bridget told them urgently.

  'Do I take it that you have changed your mind?' asked Miss Boston.

  She nodded. 'You were right—forgive me. When I heard about the death of your friend this morning I knew that I could keep silent no longer. I do not want the blood of innocents on my hands. Too many have already died and the toll will rise if she finds what she seeks.'

  'I presume you refer to Mrs Cooper?' said Aunt Alice.

  Sister Bridget shuddered and turned her head to be sure they were alone. 'Listen to me,' she whispered in a rush. 'That woman is dangerous. Beware of her, shun her in the street, have nothing to do with her. I have looked into her heart and found it black and rotten, while pure evil courses in her veins.'

  Jennet did not like this sort of talk. She felt uncomfortable when the novice's eyes fell upon her; the urgency and dread in them was alarming. Silently she took hold of Aunt Alice's hand.

  Miss Boston listened to Sister Bridget's words but rejected her warnings. 'I have no intention of skulking about,' she declared. 'The time has come to confront Mrs Cooper. If the police refuse to listen to me I shall have to do it myself. She must be stopped!'

  The novice took hold of the old lady's shoulders. 'You must not cross her!' she cried. 'It is perilous to allow even so much as her shadow to touch you. She is too powerful an adversary for one such as you.'

  Aunt Alice took a deep breath. 'I might just surprise her if she tries to do away with me,' she snorted. 'I haven't lived ninety-two years for nothing, you know.'

  'Hear me!' shouted Sister Bridget. 'I am aware that you are not like others, but whatever talent you may think you have, whatever source you draw from, know now that Rowena Cooper is beyond your strength. She has transcended her human flesh and surrendered humanity to the powers of the dark. Take my advice, old woman: leave her to those best suited for such a task.'

  Miss Boston stroked Jennet's hair as the girl pressed closer to her. 'Are you referring to yourself?' she asked with a laugh in her voice. 'I'm sorry, but so far you have not shown much aptitude in that direction. Besides, I have faith in my gifts.'

  The novice lowered her eyes. 'I have found that faith is not enough,' she murmured. 'Not for me, at least.'

  Aunt Alice smiled and said gently, 'Did your trust in God fail, I wonder, or was it faith in yourself that you lacked?' She touched Sister Bridget's downcast face and asked, 'How long have you hidden yourself away, little one? How many years have you wept alone? A convent is no place for a child to grow up. What a wretched life you have led.'

  A tear sparkled on the novice's cheek and she hastily wiped it away. 'Then you do know my history,' she said. 'Who told you?'

  'Well, I confess that Benjamin told me some of it, but I guessed the rest.'

  'Benjamin?' repeated Sister Bridget. 'That is the boychild's name? He searches with the aufwaders along the shore, does he not? Have the prime laws altered? Do humans consort freely with the fisher folk now? Was all my suffering in vain?'

  Jennet pulled herself away from the folds of Aunt Alice's cloak. She did not understand. Did Sister Bridget have the sight too? 'What do you know about my brother?' she asked. 'Have you seen him tonight—is he with those things again?' Miss Boston tried to shush her, but Jennet would not be kept quiet. 'One of those creatures tried to kill him. If you know where he is, you must tell me.'

  The corners of Sister Bridget's mouth twitched into a slight smile. 'I do not know where your brother is,' she said.

  For some reason Aunt Alice began apologising to her. 'I'm so sorry,' she said hurriedly. 'Jennet does not know. I'm sure she would not have—'

  The novice held up her hand and broke in. 'It is nothing. I have heard worse descriptions and from those with wiser heads on their shoulders.'

  Jennet looked at Aunt Alice, confused by all this—had she offended the woman in some way?

  Sister Bridget smiled at her. 'The time has come to cast aside all pretence,' she said. 'I shall hide no longer. If Rowena Cooper succeeds, then such secrets are useless. The world that remains if we fail will not care who I am.'

  Miss Boston put her arm round Jennet and drew her back a little. The novice raised her hands and methodically removed the pins which kept the white veil in place. She threw them to the ground and, with a great, glad sigh, she tore the veil from her head.

  Jennet gasped in amazement while Miss Boston clapped her hands gleefully. 'Welcome back,' she said.

  Sister Bridget stretched out her arms and let out a cry like nothing the girl had ever heard. Centuries of torment and fear roared into the night, released at last. The hair which she shook loose was a thick tangle of dark green that grew far back on the top of her head. She swept the heavy, seaweed-like hanks over her shoulders and, as she did so, Jennet saw the scales beneath her scalloped ears glisten in the moonlight.

  'You... you're not human!' she stammered.

  'Tut tut, Jennet,' chided Aunt Alice. 'Don't be so rude.'

  'Do not be afraid, child,' assured the novice. 'I will not harm you.'

  'Of course she won't,' said Aunt Alice. 'Remember that story Benjamin told us—the one about the aufwaders?'

  Jennet could not think clearly and shook her head.

  'I stand before you the first and last of my kind,' Sister Bridget told her. 'My father was a fisherman. A good soul, yet cursed with the sight. Cursed because it ruined his life. He saw and fell in love with an aufwader and together they defied the wishes of the Lords of the Deep.' She turned and stared out to the calm black sea. 'I was the result of their union,' she said. 'The sin of my parents was borne out in me. A freak of nature I am, a hideous crossbreed that should never have been allowed to draw breath.'

  'Well, I think you look marvellous,' piped up Aunt Alice, unable to conceal her enthusiasm any longer.

  The novice shrugged. 'Then you are the only one,' she said. 'Even Oona, my mother, could not bear to see me once my father was taken to the deeps. It was she who entrusted me to the care of the nuns, leaving me outside the convent gates as an infant. Never had they seen such an ugly child. In those times they believed that inner evil was betrayed in the flesh. I must have seemed like the very devil to them. Still, they were as kind to me as their courage allowed. I was fortunate they did not burn me for a witch's brat.'

  Jennet felt her eyes pric
k with tears; she felt so awful about calling the aufwaders 'creatures' and 'things'. 'I'm sorry,' she cried. 'I didn't realise.'

  'It matters very little now,' Sister Bridget replied. 'The years have taught me much; there were many bitter lessons to learn and I survived them all. But the hatred of mankind was easier to bear than this yearning for the sea which binds my heart. Do you know what it is to ache for what you cannot have? All my life I have been mesmerised by its beauty. It plagues my dreams and torments my soul—if indeed I possess one,' She closed her eyes and said softly, 'How well I know the sights and smells of the sea. How many times have I watched it, that slumbering beast which waits for me? Yes, it is waiting—it knows that the day will come when I can resist no more and must give myself to the waves. Perhaps that moment is coming. For many long, weary years I have tried to suppress my desire and have prayed for redemption. Alas, my attempts to keep away have failed. I fear that one day soon I may walk into the water and not return.'

  'That would be a tragic waste,' said Miss Boston.

  'No,' murmured the sister, 'it would merely mark the end of my life. No one would mourn my going and the Deep Ones will rise to drag me to their dark realm.'

  Aunt Alice touched her hand sympathetically. But it was not pity that Sister Bridget wanted. 'I have dared all tonight to bring you here,' she said. 'Now that I have surrendered my secret the number of my days is short, but before I take the cold road I must be certain that Rowena Cooper is thwarted.'

  'May we know now what she said to you that night?' asked Miss Boston. 'What was she after?'

  'She is a desperate woman,' the novice replied; 'inside she is eaten away. The pain I feel for the sea is nothing compared with her lust for greater power—it is that which she seeks. That is why she attempted to enlist me in her service, first with promises she could not fulfil and then with threats. I would never have aided her—you did not have to fear that. What she wanted was too much for any mortal.'

  Aunt Alice held Jennet tightly. 'And what did she ask?' she ventured.

  The sister fanned out her fingers and spread her hands before her, motioning to the invisible horizon of the sea. 'She seeks the moonkelp,' she answered simply.

  'But that's what Ben's looking for!' exclaimed Jennet. 'He said it was to save the aufwader tribe. What can she want it for?'

  'The moonkelp is a great treasure,' returned Sister Bridget. 'The Lords of the Deep would pay any reward that is in their power to get it back. Rowena undoubtedly has a deadlier prize in mind than the lifting of the Mothers' Curse.'

  Miss Boston peered at the novice with twinkling eyes. Quietly, she said, 'You know when and where it will bloom, don't you?'

  The sister nodded. 'There are many memories one carries from childhood—who knows, perhaps a halfchild can recall more than most. I remember when my father was alive, before the day he set sail to cast his nets and caught only death.' She paused and a strange light glimmered in her eyes as she cut through the centuries of adulthood. 'I can still hear the rain battering against the walls and hammering on the roof,' she began. 'The noise of the thunder was frightening and to allay my fears, Mother sang to me. Her face was lovely; I remember the softness of her cheeks and the scent of her hair as she held her face against mine to lull me to sleep. That memory of that precious afternoon when I was loved and cared for is the one thing that I have clung to down the years. The following day my father set out in his boat and was lost.'

  'What did Oona sing to you?' asked Miss Boston.

  'Rhymes of lore, chants to raise the tide and stir the waves. Everything she knew she put into song to ease her child. You see, she must have loved me that day.'

  'And one of the songs was about the moonkelp,' said Jennet.

  'Yes, only she knew the time and place of its flowering.' The novice looked at them both and lifted her head proudly. 'It is time to share that secret with you,' she said. 'See how the moon rides full in the sky; soon it will be at its height and then we must be ready. For the treasure of the Deep Ones blooms tonight!'

  For a moment Jennet and Miss Boston were speechless. 'Tonight?' the old lady repeated eventually. 'Gracious, what can we do?'

  'We must claim the wish and lift the Mothers' Curse. That way Rowena Cooper will never achieve her goal.' Sister Bridget glanced down at the shore and moved quickly back to the path. 'Come, we dare not delay any longer, for the moonkelp will not wait. If we miss its flowering tonight then never in our lifetimes shall we see it again!' With her robes billowing behind her she hurried to the steps, followed by Jennet and Miss Boston.

  Jennet tugged at the old lady's cloak. 'She can't go into the town looking like that!' she said. 'Why doesn't she put her veil back on? People will stare.'

  'Do you still not understand?' Aunt Alice asked. 'None of that matters now. The moonkelp is the only thing that can stop Rowena from growing more powerful. If she gets her evil claws into it and her wish is granted then I shudder to think what will happen. There are more important things at stake here than I think you realise, and Sister Bridget has sacrificed her secret to help us. I do not think she will ever wear that veil again.'

  As they reached the church steps Jennet muttered, 'I wish I knew where Ben was.'

  The churchyard was still, but in the wells of darkness behind the arc lights, two narrow slits gleamed.

  'There's a tidy bit o' news,' croaked a sneering voice. 'So daft old Hesper were reet all along. I'd better tell 'er sharpish.'

  A dark shape emerged from the shadows. The evil aufwader who had tried to murder Ben shot a poisoned glance at the sky. 'Gonna be a deadly night,' he cackled, before darting between the graves to run in the direction of The Hawes.

  12 - Once In Nine Hundred Years

  Ben's feet were soaked, so he sat down on the sand and emptied the water from his shoes. Ever since leaving Jennet fast asleep at Aunt Alice's house, he had spent hours searching for Nelda and Hesper. At first he had gone directly to the agreed meeting place but found that deserted. There he had waited till long after the light failed. He assumed that they had abandoned all hope of seeing him again and no longer came to check whether he would turn up.

  So Ben had decided to go looking for them, but so far he had been unsuccessful. He could not see the little aufwader boat on the water and he had hunted far along the shore of the West Cliff. But all he found was a courting couple who chased him away. Now it was getting very late.

  Ben had only wanted to tell Nelda that her father was alive, and had intended to slip back to the cottage without Jennet realising that he had been out at all.

  'She's bound to have woken up by now, though,' he mumbled sadly. 'She'll be so mad. I bet she tells Aunt Alice on me. Prob'ly won't see Nelda ever again.'

  The boy kicked the sand wretchedly as he walked home. It was no use hurrying as he was already in so much trouble that being late would not matter. His ears were filled by the soft sound of the waves as they washed over the shore and dragged away the sand in their retreat.

  It was a beautiful night. When the moon appeared through the clouds, it shone with brilliant silver fire. Long, tapering shadows were cast along the beach and the wet sand glittered about Ben's feet, mirroring the moon's rays in a magical way. It was like walking on a carpet of tiny stars and he grinned broadly at the wonder of it.

  He turned his head. A great silver road shimmered and sparkled over the sea. The gentle waves absorbed the light and, as they broke against the land, the moonbeams fractured and scattered a million pearls in the air.

  Ben was enthralled and stared breathlessly at the moon; the enchanted light glimmered on his face. Then, through the sighing rush of the sea, another sound began. It was the sweetest music he had ever heard and he looked round to see where it was coming from. Abruptly the sound was snatched away and the light was extinguished. Another cloud glided before the moon and the shadows swallowed the glowing sands completely.

  Ben was in the dark. It was a shock to his senses and he stumbled forward blindly. The wor
ld seemed to have been plunged into black despair and he longed to see that mysterious light once more. He shivered in his damp shoes and wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing.

  The shore was grim. Now that it had been deprived of the moonlight it was a dismal place and even the lapping of the waves sounded harsh and cruel.

  Slowly the boy began to realise what was happening. The light and the music had been a signal, like a herald's fanfare of trumpets. The time had come—the moonkelp was in bloom.

  With a yell, Ben jumped up and down and danced on the sand. At last, somewhere out there the marvellous treasure was flowering. Once in nine hundred years Hesper had said and that was tonight.

  Ben became serious. 'I've got to tell them,' he said to himself. 'They have to find the moonkelp before it's too late.'

  He began to run over the sand. There was only one thing to do: the aufwaders must be told and that meant venturing into their caves, ignoring every warning.

  Ben was not certain exactly where the caves were, but he knew from what Hesper had said that beneath the East Cliff there was a warren of tunnels and grottos. He had to find the entrance: if he failed then the tribe was doomed to extinction.

  Desperately he stormed across the harbour and dashed on to Tate Hill Pier. He felt ready to burst as he scrambled down the old stone wall and dropped on to the flat, slippery rock below.

  The sea had not yet flooded the shore beneath the cliff face, but already its creeping outriders were filling the rock pools. It was a treacherous place to be caught by the tide and even the strongest of swimmers had met their end there. But Ben was too inflamed by the importance of his news to think about the danger and he ran into the deep cliff shadow, calling at the top of his voice, 'Nelda! Hesper! Can you hear me? It's Ben!'

  Behind him the water gurgled up through the channelled rocks and flowed ever closer, while in front the sheer wall of shale reached into the night sky over the boy's head. It contained many clefts and crags that in the darkness resembled eyes and mouths. They seemed to stare down at him balefully, laughing at the little voice which went unheeded in that lonely spot. It was as if the whole cliff was mocking him and he felt microscopic compared with its black vastness.