The Witch's Revenge (17 page)

“Slow down,” she pleaded, nearly tumbling down the stairwell. “We don't all move like Klapp demons, you know!”

“Stop whining!” the creature said with a snarl. “You're wanted and you're wanted now!”

“Who wants me?”

“You'll find out soon enough,” he snorted.

Without stopping, Tanktop dragged her to the top of the stairwell that led down to the dungeon. He wasted no
time in scampering ahead, his great feet slapping hard on the steps as he pulled her behind. Deciding she'd had quite enough of this treatment, Morag suddenly let her body relax and slid to the floor. Tanktop was abruptly yanked off his feet and hit the stairs with a yowl. He scrambled to stand and turned on her, spit flying from his lips in rage. “What are you doing, stupid girl?” he hissed, slapping her shoulder. “Get up! Get up!”

But Morag stayed put, staring back defiantly. “Let me go,” she said. “I've done nothing wrong.”

“Oh, but you have. You broke into this castle illegally.” The Klapp demon smiled smugly. He was pleased with his good answer. “You're not supposed to be here. You've got a nerve coming back to this island after what you did to Devlish.”

“You should be thanking me for getting rid of him,” she began, but got no further, for the Klapp demon grabbed her by the waist, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” she squealed as he carried her down the stairs. She wriggled and kicked, but his grip was too tight for her to break, and it became apparent that all her struggling was getting her nowhere. With a sigh, Morag gave up and allowed herself to be carried into the dungeon.

Despite his gangly frame, Tanktop negotiated the twists with agility. At the bottom of the stairs was a wooden door. Tanktop flipped his prisoner from his shoulder, dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor. While he examined the large iron lock, Morag wondered if now was a good time to try to escape. Eyes pinned to the Klapp demon, she
slowly edged aside. She took another step, then another and then …

“Ow!” she cried as his sharp nails dug into her shoulder, dragging her close to his face.

“You're going nowhere. Even if you tried to run I'd catch you,” he growled, teeth bared and eyes glinting in the torchlight. She recoiled from his horrible breath.

“Get your hands off me,” she said, slapping his grasping fingers. “When everyone in Marnoch Mor hears about this,
they'll
be the ones who come after
you
!”

He stared at her for a few seconds, then grunted and, keeping a secure hold of her, produced a small wand, seemingly from nowhere. He pointed it at the door and called out a dark Klapp demon magic spell, and a stream of purple sparks flew at the lock. There was a small click, the handle turned and the door swung open with a high-pitched shriek. Morag flinched as she found herself being wrenched through the doorway into the darkness beyond.

The door banged shut behind her. She was aware of the Klapp demon's snuffles, and could feel a dirt floor beneath her feet, but could not see it. She believed they had entered a narrow corridor, but she could not be sure. There was nothing to guide them, no torches on the walls, no chinks of light. The demon, undeterred by the pitch-blackness all around, continued dragging her onward, and Morag could do nothing but follow. As she stumbled along, she wondered if her friends had managed to escape and if they were looking for her. She wondered what had happened to Henry and hoped Aldiss and Bertie had the sense to get out
of the castle altogether and fetch Shona. Now that she had been captured, they hadn't a hope of rescuing Montgomery.

“You won't get away with this,” she said, finally finding her voice again. “My friends from Marnoch Mor will come and rescue me.”

“Ha!” laughed the demon, not slowing his pace. “They won't be able to if there's no Marnoch Mor left.…”

“They will, you know, and then you'll be sorry. I'll tell them everything: how you kidnapped Montgomery and murdered the Queen and then held me hostage and …”

But she got no further. Tanktop suddenly stopped, causing her to crash into him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

There was a flash as the wand was lit. More purple sparks poured from its tip like a sparkler on Bonfire Night. The demon barked some magic words and a doorway opened up in the darkness, flooding the passageway with a bright light. Morag shielded her eyes with an arm and recoiled. “Mistress, look what I bring you,” Tanktop hissed as he pushed Morag in front of him.

Morag blinked, her eyes watering in the bright light. A strong smell of decay made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

“Well! Look who it is,” a familiar voice said.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the brightness, she saw with horror who had spoken. A tall, slender woman was staring down at her.

“Well done, Tanktop, you'll be rewarded later,” said Mephista, daughter of the evil warlock Devlish, as a nasty
smile played about her lips. Morag's heart beat wildly, and she could only stare at Mephista. She had hoped never to meet her again.

The witch looked magnificent in a long silk dress of palest blue, her red hair flowing down her back like a river of fire. Around her throat, dangling from a long gold chain, was a human tooth, an incisor.
The tooth that was stolen from the museum!
Morag realized. It swung as the witch laughed in the face of the frightened girl standing before her.

“You didn't expect to see
me
again, did you?” The witch smirked.

“Where is Montgomery?” Morag demanded. “What have you done with him?”

Mephista's lips pursed before she answered. “Your concern is so sweet, and so predictable. And you wouldn't want anyone to harm him, now, would you?”

Mephista glanced behind her and for the first time Morag realized a figure was slumped in a dark corner. She squinted in the gloom and could just make out a familiar face. “
Montgomery?
Let him go! You have no reason to lock him up like this!” Morag shouted, straining to free herself from Tanktop's grip. The demon cackled and held on tightly.

“Ah, but this was the only way,” replied Mephista. “You left me no choice.”

“What do you mean?”

The witch strode toward her, bending down so that their noses were almost touching.

“I knew that in order to get you to leave Marnoch Mor,
I'd have to tempt you out. I couldn't get you out using magic, but if you chose to come of your own accord … now, that would be a different matter. So I took your precious Montgomery as bait.”

“Bait? What are you talking about?” Although Morag asked the question, she already knew the answer, and the realization made her feel sick.

“Bait for you. The great Morag MacTavish, heroine of Marnoch Mor and
murderer
of my father,” Mephsita snarled.

“I did
not
murder your father,” Morag said calmly. “The Eye of Lornish did it.”

“Oh, you can blame the Eye, but it was you, all right, and now that I've got you here you're going to pay for what you did.”

Mephista smirked, stood back and strolled away.

“Whatever you're going to do to me,” Morag pleaded, “at least let Montgomery go.”

The witch waved an arm and a section of the room, previously shrouded in darkness, was suddenly lit by three large Full Moonstones set into the wall. Morag gasped. There, lying on a white marble table, was a body covered from head to toe by a shroud. Standing behind it was a large four-armed Girallon, whom Mephista introduced as Kang. Beside the table was a wooden trolley laden with various objects, including a jade bowl, a glittering dagger and a large dusty spell book. Mephista lifted the dagger and, turning back to Morag, stroked it gently.

“Oh, I'm not going to kill you,” she said. “Not yet,
anyway. No, you're more important to me alive.” She turned to Tanktop. “Get her ready.”

Tanktop chuckled as Morag pulled and twisted against him, ignoring her kicks and screams as he tied her to a stone pillar. When he was finished, Morag could not move her legs or her left arm. Her right arm had been left free and she used it to swipe at the cackling Klapp demon.

“Let me go!” Morag screamed as she struggled against her bonds. “Let me go, Mephista, or you'll be sorry!”

Mephista, who had been making preparations for whatever she had in mind, was bemused by Morag's outburst.

“What are you going to do? Take me to prison in your little fairy kingdom? You and I know that's never going to happen. In any case, very soon Marnoch Mor will be destroyed. Even as we speak that place is imploding.”

She pointed to a round Moonstone on a stand. When Morag looked closely she saw that it was flickering, and the flickers looked like people and animals and buildings. The people and animals were running, crying, falling, and the buildings were tearing themselves apart and collapsing into piles of rubble.

“I don't know how, but Marnoch Mor and Montgomery are somehow linked,” Mephista went on. “When we captured him, the town began to fall apart. One seems not to be able to survive without the other. How
delicious
is that? I get to destroy not only you, but that place as well, and all the Goody Two-shoes who live there!”

Morag watched helplessly as the witch strode to where Montgomery lay and crouched beside him. She grabbed his
hair and pulled his head back. Morag was horrified to see how swollen and bloody it was.

“It took me some time to get the right information out of him, but he told me … eventually.” She let Montgomery's hair go and his head banged off the stone floor with a sickening bump. Mephista stood up and swept over to the collection of objects.

“Let him go,” Morag pleaded. “Please. Do what you will with me, but let him go.”

“How very noble of you, my dear,” said the witch, taking up the dagger again with the jade bowl, “but it's too late. You see, after I've taken what I need from you, you and your friend over there will be disposed of and there's nothing you can do or say that will change my mind. I'll be glad to get rid of you both.”

“You will pay for this, Mephista!” the girl raged. “I have friends and they'll come and get you!”

The witch laughed and raised the dagger.

Morag's heart skipped a beat as the witch bore down on her. She could not tear her eyes away from the knife that glittered menacingly in Mephista's hand. The witch smirked as she drew closer, pleasure gleaming in her eyes. Morag's breath quickened and she fought to control it.

“What are you doing?” Morag's voice sounded small and far away.

“I'm taking back something you took from me,” the witch replied. She nodded to Tanktop. “Hold her still while I make the cut.”

Morag struggled even more, but she was bound tight. She tried to pull away her free hand, when Tanktop gripped her wrist. The creature laughed as he twisted her arm round to expose her wrist, which glowed white in the light from the Moonstones. It was all too easy to see where a
knife wound could make the most impact. She looked around desperately for someone to help her, but apart from the unconscious Montgomery, there was no one. Even Henry was gone.

“Montgomery!” she called as Mephista raised the dagger above her head and began to chant an incantation.

“Montgomery!” she screamed again as Mephista stopped chanting and brought the dagger down to her arm. Morag looked away, screwing up her eyes. Then … nothing.

She opened her eyes.

She could feel the cold steel against her skin. Fearful, but trying not to whimper, Morag watched as the witch drew the blade across her wrist. Tiny beads of scarlet immediately burst forth and the last thing Morag felt was the spreading burn of pain. She blacked out.

When Morag came round again Mephista was pouring something into the little jade bowl. Wincing, Morag looked at her throbbing arm and saw a two-inch slash. Blood was oozing out and dripping to the floor. She pulled her arm to her side, smearing blood all over her coat as she made a feeble attempt to stop the flow.

The witch smiled when she saw that the girl had wakened.

“Ah, Morag, so glad you could join us for the main event,” she sneered. “Watch as I say the final words that will bring
him
back to me, and restore the true ruler of Murst. You had the
one
vital ingredient I needed.”

“I did? I don't understand.…”

“Your blood. It was the one thing missing from the spell. Without it, I couldn't complete it.”

She carried the jade bowl over to the body under the
shroud. In one sweeping motion she pulled the covering off, causing Morag to gasp. For lying there, ghastly pale and shriveled, was the body of Devlish. Mephista stroked his cold, pinched face.

“I needed the blood of the one who killed him,” the witch said as she prized open her father's mouth, carefully pouring the contents of the bowl down his throat.

She whispered the last magic words and gently closed the dead man's mouth. She passed the bowl to Kang, stood back and watched. Silence fell on the room as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Morag too, horrified and fascinated at the same time, could not keep herself from staring at the dead warlock.

But nothing happened.

Mephista frowned. She looked questioningly at Kang and Tanktop, but they looked back at her blankly. She turned to her father's body again. “Tanktop, you promised me this would work!” were the only words the witch managed before she noticed a strange look on the Klapp demon's face. Tanktop was staring at his master, opening and closing his large mouth like a fish out of water. He pointed to Devlish. Mephista turned to look, her eyes shining with hope as she saw Devlish blink. She ran to his side, slipped an arm under his and helped him sit up.

“Father!” Her voice was breathless and full of emotion. “You've come back to me. You're alive.”