Tales From The Wyrd Museum 1: The Woven Path (8 page)

After ten minutes had dragged by, Neil was wide awake and an uncomfortable, sickening chill began to prickle along his spine.

The room was uncannily silent and, with a jolt, he understood why.

‘Josh?’ he murmured. ‘Josh?’

The soft sound of his brother's gentle breathing was completely absent and, worriedly, Neil reached out for him.

The far side of the bed was empty.

Neil sat up in the bed and reached down for his slippers. His brother never got up in the middle of the night, not even to go to the toilet, and a dreadful suspicion was forming in Neil's mind.

Pulling on his dressing gown, he reached for the torch he kept by the bedside and crept into the living room.

Erratic, piggish snorts regaled him from the settee where Mr Chapman lay curled beneath a duvet and when the boy switched on his torch he was careful not to shine the beam into his father's face. Sweeping the small circle of light into the corners, then through the doorway into the kitchen, Neil could see that Josh wasn't there and, after a brief examination of the bathroom, his fears were confirmed.

‘He's gone into the museum,’ he breathed, marvelling at the youngster's courage. ‘But why? What could have induced him to go there in the dead of night? He hates the dark.’

But Neil had already guessed the answer and in a fierce hiss he spat out the name.

'Ted!’

Wasting no more time, he opened the door of the apartment and, leaving it on the latch, closed it silently behind him.

The narrow corridor beyond was black as pitch and even the torchlight made little difference in the dense darkness. Neil had never been inside the Wyrd Museum in the middle of the night, the early evening had proved to be bad enough. Now there was no telling what might be lurking in wait for him. He thought of all the macabre exhibits—what if Ted wasn't the only one that came to life? There could be many more terrifying creatures roaming the deserted building.

Swallowing nervously, and with these unsettling fears seething within him, he forced himself to take the first step down the corridor.

Before him, the torchlight bobbed and trembled unsteadily as his hand began to shake. It was almost worse being able to see glimpses of the way ahead and if there were any horrors wandering through the museum they could not fail to see him. The torch would act like a beacon to draw them close, every ghastly, unnamed spectre would flow silently and unerringly through the gloom—sailing towards him with their bloodless talons reaching out for his throat. Even now, a host of unclean spirits could be thronging around him, lured by the torch beam and the scent of his pulsing blood. Perhaps these demonic fiends were skulking behind him, keeping well out of the feeble light, letting him blunder deeper into the museum's heart where they could all pounce and feed upon his tender flesh.

Neil uttered a cry of dismay as these frightening thoughts got the better of him and he whirled the torch wildly around, shining it into the thick shadows of the corridor until he was satisfied that it was empty.

‘Get a grip,’ he scolded himself. ‘Josh has come through here and in total darkness—I can't think how he...’

The thought of his small brother pushed some of his fears aside and Neil pressed onwards.

Through the ground floor rooms he went, the torchlight picking eerie glints from the displays around him and flinging grotesque shadow shapes on to the walls.

Occasionally, the pale moonlight would burst in through the windows as ragged clouds blew through the sky and the rooms were abruptly flooded with a deathly glow that made everything it touched appear wraith-like and otherworldly. It was like being in the middle of a painfully slow lightning storm as the Georgian windows sluggishly brimmed with radiance, glimmered for a moment, then faded back to the dismal dark.

In a small, but determined voice, Neil called Josh's name, but he heard no response and his instincts told him he would not find him on this floor. His only hope was to reach The Separate Collection before Josh did.

Whatever Ted wanted from his brother, Neil was sure it was evil and dangerous. The creature hadn't been sealed in the cabinet for nothing, and he was now convinced that if Ted were ever released, something dreadful was sure to happen.

‘Maybe everything here is treacherous.’ His mind raced as he hurried for the hallway. ‘Perhaps that's what this place is for. This is where all the nasty stuff is kept, all the bad things—too perilous for ordinary buildings. That's why no one ever comes, it's like a dumping-ground of horrors—all that's foul and gruesome eventually manages to find its way here.’

This new and unwelcome thought panicked him and when the torchlight finally fell upon the panelled hall and staircase he tried to quell the terror rising to the surface once more.

‘Stop it!’ he snarled as he reached the stairs. ‘It's only a creepy ruin, there's nothing to be scared of. Just find Josh and go back to the flat!’

Suddenly, caught in the beam of his torch, Neil saw a long, glittering knife blade come slicing towards him.

The boy screamed and stumbled down the steps, flinging his hands in front of his face as a gnarled claw flew from the shadows to clutch at him.

‘No-o-o!’ he yelled. ‘Help—Dad!’

The torch clattered on the floor as it fell from his grasp and a flickering pool of light went spinning across the room. Towering above his prostrate form, Neil beheld a ghostly figure swathed in robes.

‘Keep away from me!’ he bawled as the nightmarish apparition shambled closer and crouched over him, filling his nostrils with an overpowering reek of damp and stale decay.

Then it spoke.

‘Do you think
she
will like it?’ the phantom cried. ‘I do hope she will, I really do.’

Neil recovered himself and stared upwards. At that moment, the moon emerged from the shrouding clouds and the staircase was bathed in a pallid splendour.

‘M—Miss Celandine..!' he gasped.

With the moonlight shimmering over her plaited hair, Miss Celandine Webster jerked her head sideways and blinked her tiny bright eyes.

She was dressed in a nightgown of antique and moth-eaten lace that twirled and billowed about her like tattered shreds of mist caught on thorny branches. As she moved, a large, silver-winged insect fluttered in a drunken spiral above her head before zooming down to crawl inside a deep fold once more. A bemused and preoccupied look was on her face and the air squeaked in through her buck teeth as her gaze roved around the hallway, before finally coming to rest and settling on Neil.

Then, sucking in her cheeks and fizzing with excitement, the old woman showed him what she had clasped to her breast.

In her withered hands, Miss Celandine flourished a square of knitted wool and what Neil had mistaken for a weapon was actually one of a pair of knitting needles.

'I haven't lost my touch, have I?' she asked, holding it close to his face. ‘It took Veronica simply ages to wind it and cast on, but not me, I've forgotten nothing. My fingers never were as fickle as hers. Ha! They both thought I wouldn't be able to manage, that I wouldn't have the strength, but look—see how the threads are enmeshed ever so tightly to one another. That is how it should be, a blissful binding of one line into another. A splendid ravelling together to create the perfect weave. I'm so happy with it. I am, truly I am! Oh, to lead the willing and drive the stubborn—how glorious it was!’

Neil stared at the scrap of wool she waved in his face. It was made from different shades of green and shot through with fine strands of bright silver tinsel which sparkled and gleamed in the moonlight. Miss Celandine was obviously proud of her handiwork and pressed it lovingly to her cheek.

‘It's been so long,’ she crooned, ‘so very long. When the loom was broken I never thought I should make anything again, yet here it is. I've done it—another web, after all these years. How glad it has made me.’ She broke into a high, squawking laugh, thrusting the cherished woollen square back to her bosom, and swayed from side to side, enraptured.

Her laughter stopped when her eyes alighted upon Neil again and the toothy grin melted from her face. ‘You didn't tell me!’ she yelped in a wavering wail.

'Tell you what?’

‘
If
she
will like it? You do think she will, don't you? Oh she must, she simply must, that's what it's all for, isn't it? Nothing else matters—only her!’

‘Do you mean your sister? Is that who you're talking about?’

Miss Celandine buried her blobby nose deep into the wool and gave a low chortle. ‘Oh, this isn't for Ursula!’ she tittered. ‘How silly you are! Why, if it were, how could she cast off for me? Don't you know anything? I'm talking about the One who is to come after, the daughter that should have been mine—the mother's offspring. Ursula says that at last we can fetch her. We must, we must, for if we don't bring her here then we are all lost. The cold ones we banished will return and we are now too weak to halt them and they shall maim and wither the final root just as they did the tree.’

‘Please, Miss Webster,’ the boy began, ‘have you seen my brother, Josh?’

The old woman ignored him and continued to examine the knitting in her hands. ‘How could she not like it?’ she gabbled. We have thought of everything. Ursula has been so very clever, she can be quite brilliant when the need arises. Of course, she doesn't know where I am now. I'm not supposed to be here, you see—but I cannot disappoint my friends, now can I?’

‘Er, no,’ Neil told her, not understanding a word she had said. ‘I'm sorry, I can't stay here. I must find Josh—I'm sure whoever “she” is will love what you've made.’

‘Oh, it isn't finished yet!’ Miss Celandine clucked. There's still so much to be woven into it. I've a long way to go before the battle is over, as have you. Your path may be the most deadly of them all.’

‘Right,’ the boy muttered dubiously, ‘I'm going then.’

A gurgle of amusement issued from the old woman's wrinkled lips as he brushed past her on the stairs. ‘Good luck!’ she called after him. ‘Goodbye—and remember,
we favour the bold.’

With that she skipped from the bottom step and twirled her ragged nightdress around her as if it were a ballgown.

With her precious knitting clutched tightly in her other hand, she let the empty darkness lead her into the middle of the hall where, with her head tilted whimsically on one side, she slowly began to dance.

Neil watched in fascination. The woman was obviously reliving some joyous moment from her youth and his heart went out to her. Once, an age ago, she must have been pretty enough to warrant many men coming to court her and yet she never married.

Flitting in and out of the shadows below, turning from one imagined admirer to another in her tatty nightdress, Miss Webster's tired figure now looked like a swirling bundle of dirty washing.

‘Oh you sea captains and heroes of old,’ she murmured, spinning round and around, clutching desperately at the vacant air as she hummed snatches of half-remembered tunes, ‘Whence did you depart? Why was I left to fall under the yoke of that infernal device? Where are the children that should have been borne unto me?’

Reeling out of control, she lost her balance and fell against the wooden panels, where she dug her nails into the splintering grain as hot tears coursed down her time-ravaged face.

‘All are gone,’ she whimpered, sliding to the floor, where she sprawled in a sorrowful and wretched heap, ‘age has taken them and I am lost and barren. I have nothing, nothing at all! There is n-nothing. Why have I not died? Let me perish with the rest... please... pleeeeeaaase!’

Upon the stairs, Neil looked away as her bitter sobs echoed pitifully from the shadows, and he hastened to the landing with his hands over his ears and more anxious than ever to find his little brother.

Enveloped by the murky gloom of The Separate Collection, Josh stood before the cabinet that contained Ted and stared in through the glass.

The little boy was both frightened and excited. He had dared the extreme darkness and found his way back to this most fabulous of places. It had been a breathless, exhilarating night quest, something he had never dreamed he could accomplish but the bait that spurred him had banished his terror of the dark and now here he was, face-to-face with it again.

‘Knew you'd come back, kid,’ that incredible voice spoke from the shadow-filled display, ‘now that's what I call gutsy.’

Josh's already goggling eyes shone eagerly as a small, furry shape emerged from the darkness and came swaggering towards him, pressing a leather nose against the glass.

The moonlight was weaker in The Separate Collection but the little boy could see the toy's face quite clearly. The round ears were waggling at him and the corners of the mouth had rucked, forming a pleased and benign smile.

‘Gotta congratulate you, Shortstop,’ the bear cried, “you done kept your part.’

A jubilant grin split Josh's face. ‘You are magic!’ he rejoiced, jumping up and down. ‘I knew it—I told Neil, I did!’

‘He ain't as smart as you, General, older brothers don't know it all.’

Josh could only gaze at the creature, enamoured of every movement he made and every syllable he uttered.

‘You an’ me know what's cookin’, don't we?’ Ted continued, rubbing his paws together. “Course there's magic in the world, what am I, chopped liver? Didn't I tell you I was good at all this hocus-pocus stuff? Didn't I promise I'd do some for yer?’

The boy nodded keenly. ‘Can you?’ he cried. ‘Can you do it?’

Ted wagged a reassuring paw at him. ‘Does Temple make you wanna chuck?’ he replied. ‘Relax, kid, I gave my word and you know that magic teddy bears always keep their promises. Why, I'd be drummed right outta Toyland if’n I welched on the deal. You do trust me, don'tcha?’

‘Yes,’ Josh breathed.

'Then all ya gotta remember is to do exactly what I tells yer. Unnerstand? Swell! Now, what'll happen might look like a little kooky and strange but ya gotta put some jazz into this kinda stuff, we just don't do the corny glitter routine any mores—that's deader than Lincoln after the theatre!’

Josh could hardly contain himself. ‘I love you, Mr Teddy!’ he cried. ‘Quick, do it now!’

The bear stared for a moment at Josh's upturned, trusting face then wrinkled his nose and coughed uncomfortably. ‘’at’s a smart kid,’ he eventually muttered. ‘You just do what I says an’ you'll get all I promised.’

Josh beamed at him and Ted raised his stubby arms into the air. Sneaking a sly glance at the doorway, a peculiar, knowing smirk stole over his fleecy face before he looked back at Josh and winked encouragingly.

Then the bear threw back his head and in a surprisingly loud voice, yelled, “You hear me? I've done it—the kid's here. Open up! Tear it apart—let me go back! Let me go back!’

Ted lowered his arms and peered cautiously about the darkened room. ‘C'mon,’ he whispered impatiently, ‘Where is it? Them dames better be fast.’

Beside the cabinet, Josh followed the enchanted toy's gaze around The Separate Collection but could see nothing.

‘Where is it?’ he murmured in disappointment. ‘I can't see...’

‘Kid!’ the bear warned, glaring up at the ceiling. ‘Hey!’ he roared. ‘All I see is a fat load o’ nothin’. Jeezus! If you don't make it soon this whole show'll be wasted. Stop foolin’ around! Where's the gate? Where is it? I ain't been wastin’ all these years fer you to louse it up now!’

‘Mr Teddy. . .’ Josh began, but even as the words tumbled from his lips the young boy's hair was ruffled by a faint breeze and, when he saw this, Ted leaped up and gave a cheer.

'That's it!’ he crowed. ‘She's on her way, oh baby, she's on her way!’

Josh looked around for the window that must have been left open. The breeze was growing stronger. It tugged at his pyjamas and streamed in his eyes. The black drapes which covered a nearby case began to flap like great dark wings and the paintings on the far wall swung on their chains.

“What's happening?’ Josh howled as the unseen forces whipped about the room, growing stronger with every second. Now the breeze had become a gale and it charged fiercely between the cabinets, thundering through the winding aisles and battering against the panels.

‘C'MON!’ Ted shrieked. ‘OPEN HER NOW!’

A terrified whine squealed from Josh's mouth and he screwed up his face, grimly holding on to the display case as the furious storm plucked and tore at him. The uproar had become deafening and the violence of the unnatural tempest raged uncontrollably about The Separate Collection. Quaking cabinets started to slide across the floor, with a crash and an explosion of splintering glass, one of them toppled over, spilling its contents into the greedy wind.

The flapping black drapes were snatched up and sent thrashing through the tormented air, churning the shadows and swarming into the gloom.

Josh screamed in terror at the chaos that engulfed him but Ted's voice rang above the din, exultant and triumphant.

‘Look, kid!’ he bellowed, hammering on the glass and pointing to the far corner. ‘Do you see it? Just there!’

The boy dared to open his eyes and peer into the darkness.

‘You wanna see hocus-pocus, kid—well here it comes!’

High above the tops of the tallest cases, the darkness was shimmering. Like muddy black water, turgid ripples wound out through the storm, whirling and lashing the very air itself.

'This is the magic, kid!’ Ted declared. This is what you wanted to see. Take a good long look, this is what I been waitin’ fer. God knows it's been a long time! Ain't it beautiful?’

As Josh watched, the disturbance grew, forming a spinning whirlpool in the tumultuous atmosphere that hovered high overhead.

With a deep, forbidding rumble, the spiralling vortex quivered and began hurling itself against the walls, flinging paintings, spears and trophies to the ground as its flailing might beat mercilessly upon them.

‘Hey!’ Ted yelled at the ceiling. ‘Hold her steady, can't you control this thing?’

Suddenly, the madly spinning rim of the ferocious cyclone burst into flames and a wheel of purple fire spluttered into crackling life, dripping amethyst-coloured sparks on to the floor where they sizzled and singed the wooden boards. Like a vast and lethal Catherine wheel it revolved insanely, then, within the livid blaze, the throbbing air seemed to buckle and warp until it actually began to stretch backwards. Swiftly, it penetrated the shadows, drilling beyond the panels, spiralling out of the room, far into the furthest expanse of the deep, black night.

A searing flash of violet lightning streaked abruptly from the immense depths of the swirling vortex's heart and snaked viciously about the ceiling, blistering huge gashes in the plaster. Jagged bolts of energy rampaged about the panelled walls, lacerating and mutilating the varnished oak, gouging ugly, smouldering scars deep into the blasted wood that glowed with intense, purple embers. Pillars of green smoke spilled from these charred wounds, then the panels shuddered and out of the cinders grew large buds that sprouted and branched into the room, smashing through the nearby cabinets until The Separate Collection resembled a wild forest caught in a hellish maelstrom.

'There you go, kid!’ Ted bawled as vivid lightning flared about them. ‘What are you waitin’ fer?’

Josh's face was white with fear. Holding on to the display case he stared round at the devastation the whirling portal had caused, then up at the dreadful, blazing horror itself.

A desolate wail blared from his mouth but his petrified shrieks were drowned in the calamitous roar of the storm. Overhead, the lightning boiled and rivers of flame gushed down around him. The boy shivered in fright and threw his hands before his face to hide from the terrible sight.

Ted glared at him, his impatience boiling into anger. ‘Don't just stand there!’ he screeched fervently. The gateway's waitin’!’

‘I can't!’ Josh gibbered. ‘I-I scared!’

The bear snarled in frustration and gave the glass a terrific thump. Throwing the entrance a nervous glance, he barked at Josh all the more harshly.

‘Don't you want adventure?’ he cried.

The boy nodded.

‘Well, it's just through there! Listen! If you don't go, then the gate'll vanish!’

Through his blubbering tears, Josh gazed at the whirling, fire-ringed vortex and his sobs eased.

At that moment a figure burst into the tempest-battered room and stood stock still as it beheld the dreadful devastation and the churning, lightning-brimmed portal above. Neil stared at the awful scene, aghast. The Separate Collection was filled with purple flame and putrid smoke, yet through the reek he could see his brother standing by Ted's cabinet and the youngster was looking intently at the fiery eye of the evil storm.

‘JOSH!’ he yelled. ‘GET AWAY FROM THERE!’

The little boy glanced round at him but Ted's voice rang loud and defiant in his ear.

‘Listen to me!’ he raged. ‘Just run to the gateway and you'll be slap-bang in Toyland Square. Trust me, kid!’

To his dismay, Neil saw his brother move away from the cabinet out towards the blistering heat of the spinning whirlpool.

‘No!’ he screamed, leaping over a fallen case and dodging a column of dripping flame.

‘Go, kid!’ Ted commanded. ‘If you don't, then you'll never see the panda acrobats or the flower pixies. This is your only chance!’

Edging closer to the centre of the tumult, Josh's face was lit with the livid fires and his eyes were filled with wonder. Then, as he stepped beneath the dazzling wheel, the room flashed and a bolt of energy leaped from the curdling depths and streamed towards him.

Neil stumbled and froze as he saw his little brother hurled violently across the room by the lightning. The crackling energies flung the screaming child high into the air, slinging him from corner to corner, casting his small body through blinding sheets of withering flame.

The savage lightning wrapped itself around Josh's arms and legs, bearing him ever upwards, to draw level with the twisting gateway. Soon his eyes were staring straight down into the vast, immeasurable depths of the spiralling chasm. It was like looking down a gigantic dark throat. The fathomless coils gurgled and gaped before him and the child could feel it pulling him closer.

Now the electric flames that circled the burning portal were all about him and he was powerless to resist the almighty forces that dragged him on.

With a final shriek, Josh was snatched over the blazing threshold and flew headlong into the consuming darkness.

Beneath him, Neil cried out—but it was no use. Already, Josh's tiny figure was spiralling far down the whirling tunnel and in a moment he had disappeared from view, then his howling voice faded and he was lost.

‘JOSH!’ Neil screamed. ‘JOSH!’

‘No use squawkin’, kid!’ Ted thundered. That won't do him no good.’

Neil spun round and glared at the bear still trapped within the cabinet.

‘You killed him!’ he shouted. ‘You killed my little brother!’

‘Hogwash!’ Ted snorted. 'The runt ain't dead.’

'Then where is he? What have you done?’

‘You should'a listened to me the other day. I didn't wanna involve him like that but ya left me no choice. I hadda get you here somehow. The kid's gone a long way back, but if you don't get after him then he won't be comin’ home.’

‘What do you mean—back where?’

The bear gave a casual shrug and shook his head. ‘Ain't got time fer all that, if'n you don't go now the gateway’ll close and that really will be the end.’

Neil glared at the spinning entrance to the yawning tunnel that had swallowed Josh and prepared to launch himself at it.

‘Ah-ah!’ Ted growled. ‘You ain't goin’ nowhere without me! Listen, kid, the only way you can save little Joshy is by takin’ me with you! I know where he's gone and how to find him—so set me free!’

‘No!’ Neil snapped.

Then your brother's already dead! Get me outta here quick! The gateway won't stay open long!’

Neil stared at the dreadful creature as he wildly considered what he should do. Then his doubts ceased and he wrenched free the splintered leg of one of the destroyed cases and, shielding his eyes, threw it with all his might at the glass.

With an explosion of sparkling slivers, the cabinet rocked backwards and the front pane cascaded on to the floor.

Ted picked himself up out of the gas mask where Neil's violence had knocked him and popped his head through the jagged hole.

'Pick me up!’ he demanded, then his mouth dropped open and a look of panic burst upon his furry features. ‘Dammit!’ he yelled in alarm. The darned thing's collapsin’!’

Neil stared up at the crackling portal. Ted was right, the flames that had blazed about its rim had dwindled and were now spluttering feebly. As they watched, the spinning gateway wavered in the air and went crashing into the table which held the two preserved ravens. Feathers flew everywhere and the ancient exhibits shot from their shattering domes, flying one last time into The Egyptian Suite.