Dawn of the Demontide (28 page)

It hadn’t been a dream. He
had
escaped from the river at Green Gables. He
had
flown! A flight of pure magic, powered by Oldcraft, and without the need for silly peat snakes. It had taken the fear of death to reawaken the memory, but now it flooded through him. And with it, the power returned.

The power that he had inherited from the Witchfinder?

He held out his hand …

Fingers locked around his wrist. Pain as bright as fire crackled across his shoulder as he was tugged upwards. His feet swished through the water and then the river was dropping away from him again. He looked up into the face of Mother Inglethorpe. The witch gave him a hard stare and kicked at her snake. Jake wondered how the old lady could possibly carry a nine stone teenager. Perhaps the prospect of standing before her master empty-handed had given her supernatural strength.

They passed over Waterloo station and dropped into a little gas-lit street. A sign identified this place as ‘Yaga Passage’. It was dark and dismal, the walls mottled with moss and covered with tattered old theatre posters. Mother Inglethorpe did not wait to land before she released Jake. He hit the cobbles and rolled into the gutter. The fall and the pain of his rescue was enough to make him feel sick. He got to his feet without throwing up, but his reflection in the shop window opposite did not help to steady him.

His face was gone. In its place was a crusted yellow mask with two eye slits and a hole for his mouth. Filled with horror, Jake’s hands went to the mask.

Mother Inglethorpe landed in front of him. She tapped her snake against the ground, turning the serpent back into its earthen form. Then she slapped Jake’s hands away from his face.

‘Don’t touch it or the magic will fail.’ She smiled a devilish smile. ‘You’ve been horribly burned, my child. The spell is rebuilding your scorched skin; it is keeping the pain at bay.’

One of the witches who had overtaken Montague stepped forward. She was a pretty young woman with deep blue eyes and a strong chin. A green beetle with the head of a miniature dog sat in the folds of her hair.

‘Dr Harker has been taken into the shop,’ she reported. ‘Mother, what has happened to Ambrose Montague?’

The clouds grumbled. A strip of troubled sky loomed between the houses of Yaga Passage.

‘Montague is dead.’ Esther looked west, towards the river. ‘The lightning took his life and the river claimed his body. Like the trees in the forest, all of Nature cries out against the Demontide. Still, it is most encouraging. Our Coven has never before witnessed the fourth and final Omen. The end is so very close now.’

Mother Inglethorpe’s strong fingers locked on Jake’s shoulder.

‘Come, our Master waits.’

‘Ow! What do they feed you at that old folks’ home?’ Jake cried.

Esther ignored the insult and turned him towards the bookshop at the end of the passage.

‘“Crowden’s Emporium of Forgotten and Forbidden Books”,’ Jake read. ‘Catchy name. Did your big, bad master think that up all by himself?’

‘I do so hope Master Crowden will share out the task of torturing you and your father,’ Inglethorpe snapped.

Jake shivered but managed to keep the fear out of his voice.

‘Bring it on, Mother Ugly.’

The door of the bookshop opened and a small man waved them through. As he was bustled into the shop, Jake caught sight of movement in the window of the building across the street. A monstrous and yet strangely feminine figure stared back at him. Though her face remained hidden in the shadows, her eyes shone, the light within enticing. Eight arms writhed at her sides. Before Jake could see any more the door slammed behind him.

‘You’re late,’ the little man spat. An ugly bird on his shoulder squawked at both Jake and Mother Inglethorpe. ‘The Master has heard what happened with Sidney Tinsmouth. He is not pleased.’

‘He’ll be pleased enough when he hears of our achievement tonight. Seventeen Elders dead by our hand!’

A cry of triumph rose up from the witches now assembled in the bookshop. Chirrups and squawks, hisses and barks sounded out as their demons joined in the victory call.

‘The followers of Hobarron are scattered. By our efforts the Demontide is now assured. Oh yes,
and
we have brought the Elders’ second-in-command to pay tribute to our Master.’ Esther fixed her enemy with a malicious grin. ‘And you, miserable librarian, what have you done to merit a place at our side?’

‘I have brought him news. I-I have served him faithfully!’

The Coven laughed as one.

‘Crawl back into your hole, little bookworm!’ Mother Inglethorpe bellowed. ‘There are no rewards for cowardice in the Crowden Coven!’

A ball of red light crackled in her hand …

‘ENOUGH!’

Strong as a gale-force wind, a blast of icy air accompanied the command. It tossed papers from the desk and threw books from their shelves. Many of the witches cringed. Other than the quiver of her bottom lip, Esther Inglethorpe displayed no fear.

‘You dare to play games at a time like this?’ There was no sign of the speaker. The arctic tones echoed out of a doorway towards the back of the shop. ‘You will join me in the Veil, Mother Inglethorpe—my nightmare box is waiting.’

At the mention of Crowden’s cabinet all Mother Inglethorpe’s bravado abandoned her.

‘Take the boy through to the office,’ Grype instructed. ‘The rest of you, stand guard.’

Inglethorpe dragged Jake behind her. Still weak from the explosion, he could not resist. They had reached Grype’s office when one of the Coven whispered under his breath, ‘Guard against what? The Elders are finished!’

Jake stepped into the back room and saw the truth of those words standing before him.

Dr Adam Harker was slumped against the wall. He was very pale and his hands trembled at his sides. A soft moan purred at the back of his throat while his head continued to rock back and forth.

‘What have you done to him?’ Jake shouted.

Mother Inglethorpe laughed. ‘Nothing. This was how we found him.’

‘The Institute did this?’

‘A strange band of “good guys” are they not?’ she said. ‘No more talk now. The Master awaits.’

Inglethorpe shoved Jake and his father through a curtained doorway and into the emptiness of the Veil.

At first, Jake could see only the swirl of grey vapour and the door by which they had entered this dimension. The frame stood without walls while the mist tickled the scarlet curtain. The ground felt marshy beneath his feet, almost as if it was struggling to hold him up. He glanced at his father. Like the new world around them, Adam’s face remained lifeless, empty …

‘Welcome to my home, Dr Harker.’

The nightmare box glided with ghostly ease through the Veil. Walking before it was a man dressed in old-fashioned clothes. The cloth that covered his face did nothing to muffle the ringing tones of his voice. He came to within an arm’s length of his guests and stopped. Two bright eyes played between Jake and his father. Then the Master’s attention switched to Mother Inglethorpe.

‘I hear that you have murdered Sidney Tinsmouth.’

‘I could not help myself, Master. His existence made a mockery of our Coven. For these last eight years we have celebrated him as a fallen martyr and … ’

Crowden held up a hand. ‘Did I order his execution?’

‘Please, if you had seen him, talked to him. He spoke of demonic deceptions, of power coming from the earth … ’

‘Did I order his execution?’

‘He was a vile traitor! And the lies, Master! Magic without demons! Oldcraft!’

‘DID I ORDER HIS EXECUTION?’

Crowden bellowed and the mouth of his nightmare cabinet swung open. Jake stared into the box. A deep, dark well of pain and suffering, it offered a glimpse of the demon dimension. A dimension that was about to smash its way into this world …

Sidney Tinsmouth was inside that thing for a whole month
, Jake thought,
just a little boy, alone in that nightmare
… Now that he began to understand what Tinsmouth had suffered, Jake’s anger raged against the cruelty and injustice of it. No longer fearful, he grabbed hold of the Coven Master and swung the monster around to face him. Caught off guard, neither Crowden nor Mother Inglethorpe reacted.

Jake spat in Crowden’s face.

‘Of course you ordered his execution! The day you took him from his parents and forced him into that living demon, you condemned him to death. You twisted his soul, made him evil … ’

It did not take long for Crowden to recover himself. His cloth mask rustled as he intoned the spell and a stream of dark magic flashed from his palm. It struck Jake between the eyes and he flew through the air. The soft ground saved him from breaking his neck. The pain that roared inside his head was almost too much to bear and it was only the crisp, cold air of the Veil that kept him from passing out. He tried to move but his body had frozen. All he could do was stare across the ground, back in the direction of his father and the witches.

‘Jacob Harker,’ Crowden sneered. ‘I am told that, beneath this mask, you now have a face to match your fiery spirit. Rest assured, young Harker, if your father does not answer my questions I will strip the healing spell away and burn the flesh from your bones.’ He turned back to his second-in-command. ‘There is no time to punish you just now, Mother, and if the Demontide goes as expected perhaps I will forget your little mistake. Now let us turn our attention to the good doctor.’

Adam Harker had remained insensible throughout the attack on his son. He did not seem to see Crowden, Inglethorpe, Jake, or the Veil.

‘The Institute have used powerful drugs on our friend,’ Crowden said. ‘Bring him back to us, my dear.’

Relieved to have been forgiven, Esther now jumped at the chance to impress her master. She passed a hand across Adam’s face and whispered gently in his ear. The man flinched, his hands twitched, his breathing came in gasps. It was as if he was waking from a deep sleep. His gaze fixed on Crowden.

‘Dr Harker,’ the Master bowed. ‘You will tell me everything you know about the Hobarron Weapon.’

Crowden snapped his fingers and Jake rose into the air. Another gesture and the boy swept towards his father. Stopping a few metres in front of Adam, Jake’s arms shot out from his sides. It felt as if invisible ropes had been lashed around his wrists and pulled taut. Pain throbbed in Jake’s chest and shoulders.

‘Speak,’ Crowden commanded, ‘or watch your child be torn apart.’

Adam stared into his son’s eyes. His words came in calm waves.

‘Listen to my voice, Jake. Only to my voice. You cannot hear Master Crowden. You do not feel any pain.’

‘What’s this?’ Crowden laughed. ‘Hypnotism? Whether or not he feels pain, he will still die unless you tell me what I want to know. What is the weapon, Dr Harker? How can it threaten the Demontide?’

The invisible ropes strained. Jake heard his joints crackle and a sickening jolt of agony ran through his arms.

‘Dad, it hurts!’

‘Listen. Look at me.’ Adam managed a smile. ‘It doesn’t hurt. It isn’t real.’

It felt real. The sweat pouring out of Jake began to dissolve the healing mask. It came away in yellow flakes.

‘Tell me!’ Crowden hissed. ‘This is your last chance. At my next command his arms will be torn from their sockets. Save your son, Dr Harker. TELL ME!’

Adam’s eyes bored into Jake.

‘Remember, Jacob. Remember, Josiah. Comic books and horror stories. All those tales I told you, every one of them designed to reawaken the past. Devils and vampires, werewolves and witches, spells, incantations, potions, poltergeists and gremlins. Ghosts and demons and monsters. Remember your dark catalogue. Remember the days of your forgotten life, before you were Jacob and when you were Josiah … ’

Cracks appeared in the magic mask.

Piece by piece, it fell away.

Master Crowden caught sight of what lay beneath and cried out.

‘No! That—that cannot be!’

‘Remember the Hollow, the cavern, the Door, and the Demontide. Remember when you were first there. Remember Tiberius Holmwood and Marcus Crowden and all those innocent people you saved. Remember that you have faced the darkest horrors of this world and triumphed against them. Remember that I love you and that I believe in you. You are my son … ’

Memories raged around Jake. He felt as if he was drowning in a past both recent and centuries old. He gasped for breath. It glimmered before him …

Terrifying.

‘You are Jacob Harker.’

Impossible.

‘You are the Weapon.’

Beautiful.

‘You are Josiah Hobarron.’

The truth.

‘
You are the Witchfinder.
’

The last crumb of Jake’s mask fell away.

He turned a startled face towards Marcus Crowden.

The witch master recoiled.

‘It
is
you … Josiah Hobarron!’

Jake shook his head. It was impossible. How could
he
be the long-dead Witchfinder?

‘You have returned to face me once more,’ Crowden said. He managed a bitter laugh, though fear quivered at its edges. ‘The original Hobarron Weapon!’

The master and his favourite witch began to step back into the mists of the Veil. In retreat, his dark spell was broken. The invisible ropes around Jake’s wrists melted away and he fell to the ground. Adam caught hold of his son and broke his fall. A look passed between the Harkers and, like a pair of hunters closing in upon a dangerous prey, they followed the witches.

‘You appear a little younger than you were,’ Crowden observed, ‘but there is no mistaking your face. How have the Elders conjured you from the grave? Such strange and powerful magic … ’

Crowden came to a stop. He held out his hand in warning and the Harkers paused.

‘But you do not know what you are—
who
you are. If you did, you could have broken the binding spell I cast upon you just now.’ The Master crooked his head to one side. ‘Why have the Elders kept your identity a secret, old friend?’ His gaze flickered to Adam. ‘Perhaps it is because this new version does not possess the powers of the old Witchfinder. Let us see.’