The Whitby Witches 2: A Warlock In Whitby Read online

  Nelda untied the string from her wrist and backed away. "No," she protested.

  "Thou canst not run from me now, my love," he laughed, "we are bound together for life." He cast a disgusted look at Ben then said, "I give thee a few moments with thy human friend. For it shall be the last time thou shalt ever see him. Remember the bargain, my pearl, the upper world is denied thee now." Shuffling off, he called over his shoulder, "Seek me in my chamber, there shall I be waiting."

  Nelda watched her husband hobble down the tunnel, then she ran into Tarr's arms and, after holding him tightly, turned to Ben, tears stinging her face.

  "This is what I feared," she told him, "that day when I felt a dark fate was upon me and we would never meet again. Esau has forbidden me to leave the caves—I shall never see you, or the daylight until he dies." And sobbing, she told him how she had been forced into the marriage. Ben's heart sank, so this too was his fault.

  "I'm sorry," he told her.

  The aufwader shook her head. "It was my own rash promise that led me to this," she said, "the blame lies with me alone."

  "But if I hadn't been got at by Rowena..." Then he remembered Nathaniel, and knew this was his only chance to tell her about what had happened. Quickly he explained all that he knew and Nelda listened to his story with great interest, especially the part about Irl and the first guardian he had made.

  "Never have I heard of such a thing," she murmured when he was done. "In all our legends none speak of this. He must have hid it well indeed. What of you, grandfather?"

  Tarr frowned. "When I were a lad," he began, "I recall talk of summat girt and wicked sleepin' in the dark, but nowt of any guardian. Theer's only one in the tribe who might know of it."

  Nelda knew who he meant. "Esau?" she breathed.

  "Aye, he's the one. If'n any remember it'll be 'im."

  She looked down into the tunnel where her husband had gone. "If this is as important as you say," she said to Ben, "then I will do what I can."

  "Be careful," the boy told her.

  Nelda managed a weak laugh. "I shall. A bride in name only will I be—have no fear there. Esau may yet rue this wedding day. Now I must go." She gave Ben a hug. "Goodbye, my friend," she said sorrowfully, "perhaps one day, when you are old and Esau is no more I shall venture from the caves and seek you out—remember me."

  "Goodbye," sniffed Ben.

  The aufwader waved farewell and disappeared into the tunnel.

  Leaning on his staff, Tarr sucked his teeth thoughtfully. "Don't you go a-frettin'," he told the boy, "ah'll keep thee abreast of the news, an' bring you messages from my granddaughter. Come now, ah'll lead thee back to thy world," he smiled grimly at the boy's face—guessing what he was thinking, "theer's other ways into the caves apart from thissun. Ways that lead out on to the cliff top, tha'll not have to get so much as a toe wet."

  And so he led Ben from the entrance chamber, taking him down secret passageways and up into the wild, stormy air above.

  ***

  Esau sat on his bunk, stroking the bedclothes dreamily. Only the eldest of the tribe was ever allowed in this cavern, and for many years he had dwelt there alone, gnawing on his emptiness and slowly going mad with desire. But now he had a wife to share his life with and perhaps other things...

  It was a large place, lying beyond the throne room. Tapestries covered the walls, dating from earliest times and all the treasures of the tribe were stored in five large sea chests that he kept locked and the keys permanently about his person. The most unusual feature of the chamber however, was a circular pool set into the rocky floor. It was filled with black water, the surface of which was smooth as glass and Esau spent many long hours scrying into it.

  The curtain which hung over the doorway was drawn aside and Nelda peered in.

  "Welcome, my beauty," Esau said eagerly, "step into thy new home, what is mine shall be thine also." He shifted on the bunk so there was space enough for two but she pretended she hadn't noticed and wandered about the cave looking at everything with interest.

  "No, my rosebud!" he cried warningly. "Don't touch that!"

  Having seen the pool, she had knelt beside it—curious at the stillness of the water. Just as she was about to reach down and run her fingers through it, Esau had called out and leapt off the bunk to lead her away.

  "Promise me, my bloom of the deep, that thou shalt never touch that pool." He stared down into the jet water and his voice faded to a whisper as he explained. "My Darkmirror, I call it," he breathed, "and a most hallowed thing. If I gaze long enough into its black heart a thousand sights can be seen. Places and peoples far off and days long gone—of the world that was and what the world may be. 'Tis the great secret of our tribe and only the leader of the Triad may use it, so leave well alone, my sweet wife."

  "I shall," she answered.

  Esau smiled, obviously relieved. "There's a comely, dutiful beloved," he cooed. Then, giving the pool one last glance asked, "Wilt thou swear unto me never to reveal to a soul the existence of my Darkmirror? 'Tis too dangerous a knowledge for the common folk to be aware of."

  "I swear," she said, startled at the earnestness of the request.

  "Nine times bless thee," sighed her husband.

  "There is one thing I should like to ask," she began carefully.

  Raising his hoary eyebrows he licked his single tooth. "And that would be?" he asked.

  Nelda looked at him searchingly. "Have you ever heard tell of an old legend where Irl wrought a guardian to protect Whitby from a great evil?"

  Esau's smile vanished for a moment and he said uncertainly, "There are many legends, and many concern Irl—where didst thou hear this one?"

  "The human child told me," she replied.

  Esau's face contorted into a hideous mask and he spat on the ground. "Forget about the landbreed!" he shouted at her. "He will be long dead before you set eyes on him again!"

  "But of the guardian?" she insisted. "Does it exist?"

  Esau refused to talk about it. "A hard and difficult day this has been," he muttered, "let us retire."

  Limping over to the bunk, he patted the blankets expectantly and all thoughts of Irl flew out of Nelda's head.

  "Oh no!" she cried defiantly. "A companion only shall I be! That was the bargain! Sleep well, my husband, for never will you delight in me! An empty marriage you have forced your way into!" Dragging the bedclothes from the bunk, she strode into a warm corner and made herself comfortable. "Goodnight," she said curtly.

  Esau glowered and threw his sticks down in his temper. "Curse you!" he raged, but no matter how much he shrieked, the girl took no further notice of him and closed her eyes.

  11 - The Demon And The Dog

  The storm was raging savagely against the cliff. Tremendous waves dashed themselves against the rocks and the cobles in the harbour strained at their moorings as the water came rushing in.

  On the sands by Tate Hill Pier, Nathaniel Crozier regarded the unnatural tempest with keen interest. "It would seem the Deep Ones have been stirred to fury," he told himself. A brief doubt crossed his mind. Could they be angry with him for killing Mr Roper? Surely not, the death of one paltry human would not interest them, unless of course it was one who had their favour. Clutching the plastic bag he resumed his work. It was imperative no one should suspect his involvement in this night's gruesome business. He must be above suspicion when the boy's body was discovered.

  Stooping, he looked into the carrier; it was bloated with offal and gory shreds of liver which squelched and wobbled like lumps of red jelly. "I hope this is what it's partial to," he muttered distastefully.

  By the pier wall, leading from beneath the houses on the East Cliff, a wide outlet pipe opened on to the sand. Nathaniel inspected it carefully. The grille which had covered it had been torn away and peculiar impressions had been left on the wet sand at the entrance.

  Whistling softly and encouragingly, he dipped into the bag and threw a bloody piece of meat into the dark drain.

/>   "Come on, my little beastie," he chuckled, "come to Nathaniel."

  Another gruesome piece of flesh was thrown from his hands, followed by another, until a short trail had been made leading from the opening on to the shore.

  Then he waited, patiently listening for the first signs.

  There! Nathaniel put the squashy bag on the sand and held his breath. "Don't be afraid, my pet," he murmured, "I won't harm you."

  A furtive snuffling echoed from the pipe, followed by noisy chewing.

  "There's more out here, little one," the warlock promised.

  Suddenly a scaly claw flashed from the shadows and snatched one of the bloody lumps. Instantly it disappeared back into the darkness and the loud chomping began again.

  Nathaniel smirked, not long now, if he could only look into its eyes...

  He threw some more of the offal, letting it fall just short of the drain. There came an agitated scuffling, as though whatever it was could not decide whether to venture out or not. But the scent of the blood was too delicious—cats no longer satiated its hunger and it craved for sweeter, plumper meat. It stared out at the sandy world beyond the circle of the pipe, gazing at the tantalising titbits lying there.

  It was too much; the creature could bear it no longer and crept cautiously out, its luminous eyes blinking in the darkness and its nostrils questing for danger.

  Nathaniel was fascinated. As the fish demon slowly emerged from the outlet he marvelled at its ugliness. The finned head appeared first, the eyes glowing like pale round lamps and the mouth gaped open to reveal the three rows of needle-sharp teeth. Then came the pot-belly and, with a rustle of its spiny fins, the hump-back followed. The last of the Mallykins crawled warily forward, then lunged ravenously at the slimy entrails which glistened on the sand.

  "Bon appetit," the warlock said with some amusement.

  The creature glared up at him. Hissing, it held the offal to its chest and scampered back to the mouth of the drain, lashing out with its other claw.

  "Stop!" Nathaniel commanded. "You need not fear me—I shall not hurt you."

  At once the fish demon froze, its primitive mind utterly dominated by the warlock's will. Letting the rancid guts splash around its clawed feet, it turned and trotted tamely over to the evil man, where it bowed in an almost comical manner—blood still staining its hideous jaws.

  "Excellent," Nathaniel cooed, patting the foul monster on the side of its head, "if you serve me well you shall gorge on daintier meat than cats and butcher's left-overs." Crouching down, he looked into the Mallykin's dish-round eyes. "Be my instrument this night," he instructed, "perform one small task for me and I shall be forever grateful."

  The creature flapped its stunted arms eagerly and hopped madly about the warlock's legs, like a dog keen to please its master.

  Nathaniel scratched it beneath the chin, covering his fingers in blood from the offal as he did so. "Now my pet," he said lovingly, "follow this scent and devour what you find at the end of it." From his pocket he took a woollen glove and thrust it under the fish demon's snout. The glove belonged to Ben.

  Gurgling, the Mallykin snorted the garment, memorising the smell, then it sniffed the air and snuffled along the ground hunting for the trail.

  "There's my fine animal," gushed Nathaniel, "go seek him out, find the boy and kill him. He must not stand between me and the second guardian." He paused, perhaps he should take the beast to Miss Boston's cottage and break a window for it to climb through. No, this way was better, he would be absolved from all blame.

  The fish demon quivered as an electric shock passed through its misshapen form. The fins opened out along its head and back and it began to jabber excitedly.

  "He's caught wind of something," said the warlock, vastly impressed, "go now, my destroyer, rend the child limb from limb and eat your fill of his puerile flesh."

  Emitting a shrill squeal of delight, the Mallykin leaped into the air and bounded away, up the steps of the pier, then into the dark alleyways of the East Cliff, obeying its new master and pursuing its thirst for blood.

  On the shore, Nathaniel threw back his head and laughed. Once the boy had been dealt with, the second guardian would be his.

  ***

  Danny Turner inhaled deeply on the cigarette, letting the curling blue smoke issue from his mouth and nostrils.

  "You look like a dragon," Mark told him. "Give me ago.

  The cigarette was handed over and the other boy puffed eagerly on it, but Mark was not as practised a smoker as his friend. Spluttering and coughing, he retched and passed it back.

  Danny laughed at him. "Yer baby," he said scornfully, "y'ain't a man till yer can smoke, yer know. I've been doin' it fer nearly a year now." He took another great lungful of nicotine and offered it to Mark once more.

  They were sitting beneath a lean-to on the grassy cliff side. It was a favourite hang-out of theirs; the sloping field was only used by grazing horses, so nobody ever bothered them. Danny would often slip out of doors late at night to sit under this sheet of corrugated iron and experiment with cigarettes. Tonight he had persuaded Mark Stribbet to do the same and the pair of them had spent a raucous hour sniggering at the day's events.

  "Did you see that Cret's face when he saw us?" snorted Danny. "I bet he papped hisself!"

  Mark was too engrossed in the cigarette to answer, he was trying to expel the smoke through his nose without swallowing it and was feeling rather queasy.

  "Still," Danny continued, "I give that sister of his what fer didn't I?" He pulled a blade of grass from the ground and chewed the end of it reflectively. "She's a stuck-up dog she is, and did you catch the look she give me? Barmy as her kid brother. Just wait till tomorrow, first chance I get I'm gonna get her again. I might pinch me Mam's scissors and snip off some of Laurenson's hair—what do you think?"

  "She's loony," commented Mark flicking ash on the ground, "I wouldn't touch her again if I was you. Nutters don't care what they do—she might grab them scissors off you and stab 'em in yer."

  "Wouldn't give her the chance," protested Danny taking the cigarette back, "besides, I'm not scared of her."

  "Never said you was."

  "Good."

  The next few minutes dragged by in silence as Danny sucked in the smoke and Mark stared at the glowing end of the smouldering tobacco. He had touched a nerve. Danny was afraid of Jennet, he hadn't forgotten the bloody nose she had given him. As a bully, he wasn't used to retaliation and the shock of it had taken him completely by surprise. He was only used to the frightened, smaller children who obeyed him out of fear and this obnoxious, defiant girl was becoming a problem. It had taken six of them today to get her. What were they to do if she came after them when they were on their own?

  "At least we got this," Mark said to break the pondering silence. Holding up the guy, he shook it violently and threw it at Danny.

  The Turner boy laughed. "If this were that Cret," he said, "I'd do this to 'im!" and he pounded the figure against the corrugated iron—the resulting sound was like peals of thunder rumbling over the cliff. "Then I'd break his arms like this," he crowed wrenching at the stuffed sleeves and tying them behind its back.

  "You've split the head open!" remarked Mark in a mock scolding voice. "Mind you, there's prob'ly a lot more in there than there is in the real Cret's bonce!"

  Danny guffawed and hurled the guy out of the lean-to. "We're gonna have an ace bommie tomorrow," he said. "'Ere, what if we lob some bangers through the Laurensons' letter-box? We could even throw one at her if she opens the door."

  Mark hooted, "Can you imagine her face?"

  "An' if that old bat what works in the post office answers it so much the better. My old man give me a right what for after she'd been round. Me ear's still ringin' where he walloped me."

  "That was Laurenson's fault. Looks like a snitcher she does."

  "P'raps we could put a banger in her pocket," Danny mused in all seriousness.

  Mark eyed him doubtfully. That was goi
ng too far, surely even he wouldn't do something so crazy? "She'd end up in hospital wouldn't she?" he ventured.

  "Serve her right too," spat Danny, "she belongs in one—only wi' padded walls." He rubbed his nose muttering to himself, then he giggled and hunched over, pulling a Quasimodo face. "Who's this?" he cried, slurring his words and sticking his tongue out. "Nelda! Nelda!"

  Mark tittered then hauled himself from under the lean-to. "Beggar!" he grumbled, staring over at the church clock. "It's quarter to one. If I don't get back soon I'll be knackered in the morning. You comin'?"

  Danny sneered. "I can stay out a bit longer," he said loftily. "I ain't no baby, why I could be out all night and creep back first thing. I'd be fresh as a daisy an' me folks'd never catch on."

  Mark shrugged, "Well mine would. See yer in the mornin' then—you callin' fer me or what?"

  'S'pose," Danny replied.

  Mark waded through the grass and headed for the hundred and ninety-nine steps.

  Alone, Danny finished the cigarette and smiled to himself. He was pleased that the other boy had gone, he didn't want to share what he had brought out with him. Diving in his pocket he took out a can of lager. He tugged on the ring-pull and the froth spat over his shoes.

  "Yer don't know what yer missin', Marky boy," he chuckled, sipping at the foam, "but then you'd most likely choke on this an' all. Too good to waste this is." The boy guzzled from the can and belched contentedly. "I think I will put a banger in her pocket," he decided, "an' mebbe a rocket too!"

  Suddenly he became aware of a peculiar hissing coming from outside the lean-to. The boy scowled, if that was Mark back again, it was just too bad, he couldn't have any drink. The strange noise persisted and a knowing grin spread over Danny's face—his friend was trying to scare him.

  "Pathetic," he breathed, "that's no way to do it. If he thinks I'm frightened he's loony as well!" Putting the can down, he crawled forward. "He should have crept up and banged really loud on the roof," he muttered, "that's what I would've done. But now—he's the one who'll be wettin' himself. I'll jump out an' bawl at him!"