The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child (40 page)

Abruptly the front door opened a chink and an irritated man peered out at them. But his face fell as he beheld the fiendish hound and with a scared whimper of panic he slammed the door again and drew the bolt across.

"Wait!" Miss Boston trumpeted. "You must help us!"

Closer to the doorway the huge dog stalked and the hot breath steamed from its flaring nostrils.

Cornered, Aunt Alice turned to face it, pulling the children behind her.

"Begone from this place!" she commanded, but her voice was thin and woeful and the infernal eyes became evil slits as the muscles tensed and the hell hound crouched, preparing to spring.

"Meta!" a voice cried anxiously. "Stop!"

Hurtling down the one hundred and ninety-nine steps came Pear. In her hands she clutched a bundle of clothing and she scurried over frantically, just as the immense apparition flew snapping at Miss Boston.

"No!" Pear yelled, snatching hold of the wooden beads about the dog's neck.

With a throttled yelp, the creature was dragged off balance and went toppling to the ground, tearing its claws over the cobbles. Still gripping the necklace, Pear was hauled after and for several confused moments they were a tangle of legs and talons.

The beast's powerful limbs raked the air and, mad with rage, it struggled back to its feet, gnashing its terrible jaws and twisting from side to side, trying to bite the hand which held grimly to the beads.

"No, Meta!" Pear shouted, heaving on the thread until the brute choked and the burning eyes bulged. "The killing must stop!"

Quickly she stuffed the clothes into the gaping maw, glanced at the huddled figures on the doorstep, and with a desperate plea to Jennet cried, "I might not be able to hold her—fly now! Go to your aufwader friends! Don't worry about me!"

Miss Boston needed no further prompting and she and Ben jumped from the step then headed for the shore.

Jennet hesitated before following. The two girls stared at one another. "Thank you," she said.

Pear opened her mouth to speak but an almighty yowl issued from the hound's jaws as it spat the gagging cloth on to the floor and the animal brought its teeth snapping for her arm.

"Meta!" the girl shrieked. "It's me! Come back! Meta, come back!"

Snatching up the cheesecloth dress, she threw it over the brute's head, and as it strained and scrabbled for release she called her mother's name. The hackles beneath the necklace became a rich golden colour and the sprouting hair flowed finely through Pear's fingers as the glare faded in the monster's eyes.

The witch-girl looked up from the dwindling form but the street was empty. Jennet had run after the others and with an aching heart she watched as her mother assumed her human shape.

Naked in the pouring rain, Meta grabbed her wet clothes then struck her daughter angrily.

"You little fool!" she yelled. "I had them!"

Pear touched her smarting cheek gingerly and winced at the pain. "But it's wrong!" she answered. "All this is wrong!"

"Quiet!" Meta roared, slapping her a second time. "Do you want the others to know about this? Do you know what your father will do? Just because you're his daughter doesn't give you the right to disobey his demands. You know as well as I what happens to those who fail him!"

"But Jennet..." the girl wept.

Meta pushed her roughly against the wall and in a low, threatening hiss said, "If he hears of your betrayal, Nathaniel will not balk at murdering you—what will happen to me then?"

"You?" Pear sobbed. "Don't you care about me?"

Her mother leered and spat on the ground. "You'll endure an eternity of torment," she muttered, "but you'll only have yourself to blame. You know what he's capable of—how he delights in torture. Why didn't you think of that before you let those wretches go?"

Pear sank to her knees. "What can I do?" she blubbered desolately.

With a cold, harsh expression malforming her beauty, the witch looked down at her. "Atone for your disobedience," she demanded, "show your devotion to the coven, let there be no doubt of your submission."

"H... how?" Pear stammered.

A severe smile snaked over Meta's face. "Complete the task he set for me," she replied forcefully. "Kill those three and we shall take their hearts to him as proof."

"No," the girl murmured.

"You will do as I say!" her mother declared, pulling her up by the hair and sliding her fingers under Pear's necklace. "Must I beat the demon out from you? Scream your rage, daughter—do your father's bidding!"

Her strident voice rang in the girl's ears and the wooden beads pressed into her skin as the tingling began and Pear let out a frightened whine.

"Don't make me!" she wailed. "Not Jennet!"

"You have no choice!" Meta barked, hitting her brutally. "Not when the primitive side has control—and I shall unleash it!"

The hellish glow welled up behind her daughter's anguish-ridden eyes and the witch sniggered horribly.

"I'll shake the beast out of you!" she snapped, but the girl was already lost as the power of change seized her. Pear's plaintive cries vanished and a chilling growl rattled in the throat of the black hound that now stood at Meta's side.

"Come, Seffy!" the witch laughed as the beast tugged impatiently on the restraining beaded collar. "Devour the enemies of your father!"

The hound bayed ferociously and together they rampaged down on to the sands.

***

Beneath the cliffs, where the rain lashed and the gale drove the white-capped waves over the shore, the tribe of aufwaders stood in a large and solemn circle.

Over the heads of the sea wives thick black shawls were draped, and from their murmuring lips they sang the dirge of the black boat.

In the centre of the lamenting circle a narrow vessel of ebony rested against the rocks. Its shapely prow pointed towards the open sea and beneath the great, fringed awning that covered the length of the craft, Nelda lay close to death.

The young aufwader moaned in distress, for the blood that pumped through her veins was gradually turning into brine and she cried in agony as it started to burn and blister inside her.

With the rain battering his uncovered head and flooding down his craggy features, Tarr stood beside her. Reaching into the black boat, his large hands closed tightly about his granddaughter's clenched fists and he watched as she drifted ever closer to that distant shore.

His grieving tears were washed and swept away by the storm and though it murdered his soul to look on Nelda's pain he could not leave her.

"Mother!" she screamed feverishly. "Forgive me! I killed you—Oh Hesper, why did I live and she did not? Speak to me, Father. What was she like? Will no one mention her name? Aaaaieee! A furnace is blazing within me! In the caverns there are eyes that watch—I cannot evade them. Is there none to save me from Esau?"

The fisherfolk hung their heads in shame and weeping. For the first time in many years, Old Parry's pitying tears overwhelmed her.

"Grandfather!" Nelda pleaded hoarsely. "Do not let them kill my baby! Spare me this doom—let me not suffer it alone!"

Despairing, Tarr clung to her, yet he could find no words to ease her torments and he gibbered impotently into the surrounding gloom.

Nelda's pinched, contorted face jerked from side to side as the brine scalded through her body and her glazed eyes saw only the void that awaited her.

Into this sorrowful scene Miss Boston and the children came blundering. Over the ledge beneath the towering footbridge they clambered, yet even as he jumped on to the boulders below, Ben let out a dismal cry.

For an instant as the gale tore the thick curtain of rain aside, the boy saw the tribe assembled around the black boat and knew that it could mean only one thing.

"Nelda," he muttered anxiously.

Aunt Alice peered at the grim tableau and caught Jennet's arm as the girl pushed on ahead of them.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The fisherfolk," Miss Boston replied sadly. "It would appear poor Nelda is dead."

"No," Ben cried and he dashed forward, barging through the crowd until he stood at Tarr's side.

In a croaking voice that was bleak with mourning the leader of the tribe uttered, "Ah knewed tha'd come, lad. She'm not gone yet but... but theer ain't long."

The proud aufwader hid his face and his burdened shoulders shook as the weight of Tarr's grief crushed him.

Ben took up Nelda's hand that Tarr had relinquished and drew a sharp breath at the heat of the burning palm.

"Nelda," he said to her, "it's me, Nelda—it's Ben."

The large eyes rolled blindly in her shrivelling face but his voice cut through the fever and she managed a desolate smile.

"Ben," she gasped, "my human friend. So you are here at the end."

"Don't say that," he sniffed.

The aufwader shuddered as the pain convulsed through her then she coughed and in a distant, wandering whisper bade him goodbye. "Don't grieve for me," she wheezed. "Remember our friendship in happier days. When we trawled the coast for the moonkelp. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, me, you and Hesper."

"Hesper, yes, she will be there waiting for me. Oh Ben, hold my hand—it's so dark—hold me please."

The boy looked down at their entwined hands and as a further spasm racked her, Nelda gripped him fiercely.

"I burn!" she wailed. "It is eating me alive! Me and my child are wasting out of existence!"

Respectfully, Miss Boston stepped forward to try to comfort Tarr, and the barren lamenting of the tribe rose around them.

Left behind, unable to witness the tragedy unfolding before her, Jennet waited uneasily. She watched as Aunt Alice consoled the empty air and saw her brother crying with his arms outstretched, but of the fisherfolk and the black boat she saw nothing.

Feeling awkward she looked away, turning her head back in the direction they had come, and a horrified breath rushed from her lips.

On the beach, loping over the sands, two figures were rapidly approaching.

Jennet stared at them in fear, then glanced quickly back to Aunt Alice and Ben. But as she opened her mouth to warn them, a strange resolve reared within her and a determined expression settled over the girl's face. Without a second thought, Jennet climbed back over the ledge and ran through the whirling rain to confront Meta and the black hound which bounded at her side.

Across the beach Jennet bolted, and holding up her hands she yelled, "Get back! Don't come any closer."

Meta pulled on the beast's collar and it barked in savage frustration as the witch slowed to a standstill.

"Patience, Seffy," Meta crooned. "Let the fool come to us."

Its eyes blazing, the hound strained to break free. But the witch held it firmly and spouts of wet sand were hurled into the air as frantic claws scrabbled to leap at the defenceless figure racing towards them.

Breathing hard, Jennet drew near and Meta chuckled loudly.

"I'm touched," she said. "You simply can't get enough of our company."

The horrific dog barked viciously, but the girl ignored it and looked the witch straight in the eye.

"It's over, Meta," she said flatly. "I'm not afraid of you or your precious Nathaniel any more."

"Then you're more stupid than I guessed," sneered the witch. "Do you know what could have been yours? Do you realise the ravishing life that you have spurned?"

It was Jennet's turn to laugh. "You're the stupid one!" she told her. "It's you who's chained to that vile man, not me. You can't see it, can you? I finally know how lucky I am. I have a real family, but that's something you'll never have."

"I have my beloved when he wants me," the witch cried, "and Pear."

Jennet glanced at the hell hound that snapped at Meta's side. "You have nothing," she said with a shake of the head.

"And neither will you," Meta retaliated, "when Seffy has torn out your brother's heart!"

The girl took a step backwards but no fear showed on her face—the coven had lost that power over her.

"I won't let you harm Ben," she said simply, "not this time—I'm his sister and I love him. I'll always be there to protect him."

"The boy must die," Meta spat, "and so must you. If you wish to make a futile gesture trying to save him, that will merely make it more... entertaining."

Jennet chuckled and an odd, confident look lit her face. "Oh, I don't know," she muttered threateningly, "you might not find my efforts so futile after all."

The witch blinked, disconcerted to see a familiar red gleam rise in the girl's eyes, and she pulled the dagger from her belt.

"I'm not the same child who idolised you and your daughter!" Jennet declared with a hard, growling edge in her voice. "And I don't need your beads to give me strength. I warn you, Meta—go back to your pathetic friends."

Meta loosened her grip on the hound's collar and paced towards Jennet, holding the glittering dagger before her.

"I'm going to relish carving you," she hissed, "and your little brother!"

Jennet let out a defiant howl. "I won't let you harm my family!" she roared and with that she sprang. As the girl leaped towards the astounded witch, her shape blurred and suddenly a monstrous, chestnut-coloured hound was in her place.