Tales From The Wyrd Museum 2: The Raven's Knot (27 page)

Its massive wings furled in order to squeeze its hulking bulk down the narrow stairs, the Valkyrie was a malignant vision of despair and hopelessness.

Towering above the people huddled below, its two round, jet black eyes penetrated the shadows of the kitchen and fixed upon their petrified forms.

Her heart beating wildly, Lauren could not wrench her stricken gaze from the deformed abhorrence which stalked ever closer, and tears streamed down her cheeks as the rancorous, repulsive travesty of a face emerged from the deeper murk which eclipsed the landing.

Framed by a mane of spiked, ragged feathers, like the black petals of some sickly, poisonous flower, the mordant, misshapen head was a nauseating fusion of human features, combined with that of a monstrous raven.

Grey, scab-ridden grave-flesh crusted the grotesque, pitiless countenance that was dominated by a vicious, spearing beak which slowly opened and closed, as though savouring the fear which flowed up to greet it.

Crowned by a knotted profusion of quill and bristling hair, tangled with twigs and thorns, the abomination reached the lower steps and a bass, discordant rattle issued from the venomous gullet like the warning hiss of a cobra before it strikes.

Pressed against the dresser, Tommy threw his hands before his face and slid to the floor, cringing behind his satchel and gibbering for divine protection.

‘Gabriel, Uriel, Michael help us. Oh, sweet heaven, protect Tommy and his pals. Only angels can save ‘em now.’

But all he heard in answer was a repugnant, chilling shriek as the monstrosity eyed its victims greedily.

Quoth's bald head reared from amongst the shopping, his one eye goggling in terror at the foulness which loomed beyond the table. Sickened and scared, he saw the repellent, loathsome face move with deliberate slowness from the tramp upon the floor, over to the girl and finally at Neil.

‘Hlökk!’ the raven squealed. ‘Shrieker is here! We art already slain!’

Backed against the table, Neil stared at the savage, blood-craving horror, frozen with fear. Not since he had first witnessed Belial rise above the bombsite had he known such dread, but then The Wyrd Museum had been close by, with the blessed water of its drinking-fountain to help. This time he was trapped in a building in the middle of nowhere, with an enemy equal in ferocity and motivated only to slaughter and destroy.

The evil-brimming eyes flickered momentarily as they settled upon him and a low, menacing gargle began to sound in the dark, dry throat.

‘Master Neil!’ Quoth cried, tumbling out of the bag. ‘Beware! Beware!’

The bird's warning came too late, for in that instant the Valkyrie screeched and the kitchen became wrapped in an even greater veil of shadow as the huge wings suddenly unfurled. With shrill, murderous shrieks gurgling from the ravening beak, it lunged straight for Neil's throat.

Before the boy could dodge aside, the fiend was upon him.

Sharp, clattering quills thrashed and beat upon his face and cruel claws came ripping through the shadows to seize him by the arm and waist, smashing him violently to the ground.

Neil yelled in terror but Hlökk pinned him down, sending the table and chairs flying across the room with a careless smack of its powerful wings as it pressed a curved talon over his windpipe, to crush and choke until the boy's voice became a strangled, retching gasp.

Against the cupboards the table crashed, its legs scraping a frightful note across the quarry tiles and from its surface was flung the carrier bags and one wailing raven.

Shaking its vile head, the Valkyrie crowed in triumph then, with sadistic malice, it lowered its razoring beak to rip out the life of its wriggling prey.

As the distorted, harrowing face descended, Neil snapped his eyes shut and waited for the blow, when suddenly his attacker let out a furious screech and he stared up to see Lauren gripping the great, hideous head in her hands, battling to drag it back.

The lethal beak snapped ferociously as the creature tried to twist itself free from the girl's desperate grasp.

Lauren cried out in pain and panic. The feathers were like razors; they sliced deep into her hands and she knew that she could not keep hold much longer. Bucking and writhing before her, the apparition yammered and shrieked, bellowing a terrible outraged screech. But, as it shifted and tried to throw her off, the monster's deadly claw lifted from Neil's throat and the boy squirmed out from under it.

Now Lauren was in peril. The Valkyrie tore its head away and the girl was left clutching a handful of barbed feathers.

Incensed, the unclean spectre reeled about, stretching its wings out wide as it glared at her.

Bubbles of frothing spittle dripped from the enormous beak as the horror pounced. Lauren fled before its ravaging fury and Hlökk thundered in pursuit.

The girl tried to run to the door, but her enemy was swift and the way was barred by a fence of quill and feather.

In the darkness, Neil heard Lauren's piteous screams and, though his neck was bruised and the air wheezed in his throat, he snatched up one of the dining chairs. Lifting it above his head, he charged towards the horrendous mass of towering shadow.

Snarling, he brought it crashing down upon Hlökk's briar crested skull and the Valkyrie let out a deafening roar.

Still cowering against the dresser, Tommy peeped out from behind his satchel only to see the terrible bird woman rear up—its bristling, thorn-tangled hair scratching upon the ceiling.

In the gloom he could see Neil, still with the chair in his hands preparing for another strike, but with a flash of the monstrous claws the seat was plucked from the boy's hands and hurled out of the window.

The creature's shrieks were unbearable now and Tommy felt as though his brain would burst.

Rigid with terror, all he could do was watch as the foul, black shape knocked Lauren to the ground then lashed out at Neil.

Across the floor a much smaller patch of darkness scampered and hopped, wailing and yowling as it ran towards its master.

‘The Valkyrie cannot be defeated!’ Quoth squealed. ‘When host and doll art joined, all efforts art in vain. Alack and woe! Fie and damnation!’

With hideous, brutal force, a massive wing threw Neil across the room and he landed awkwardly upon the floor, his head striking one of the cupboards.

Dazed, he moved his head to see the monster lumber towards him, dragging a struggling Lauren behind it.

‘The controlling doll!’ Quoth howled, desperately flapping his wings but unable to take to the air.’ ‘Tis thine only hope. If I wert thrice and thirty times as big...’ “

With a contemptuous flick of its talons, Hlökk sent the irritating raven careering over the floor to sprawl tail upwards in a puddle of jam and broken glass.

Groggily, Neil glanced up at the devilish, corpselike face that now floated above him but this time he was too stunned to challenge or contest it.

The suffocating blackness which lay beneath its wings came crushing over his face, smothering and choking as the terrible claws closed about his side and went ripping through his shirt.

Neil winced when the talon pierced his skin and a trickle of blood oozed out, but his fight was over now—the Valkyrie had both him and Lauren and that was an end of them.

In another moment a dreadful scream resounded in the kitchen.

Picking himself out of the jam, Quoth wheeled around and saw a flurry of feathers thrashing in the darkness.

Still shrieking its nerve-shredding screech, Hlökk fell backwards. Its grotesque head cracking the quarry tiles and in a frenzied chaos of swarming, flailing wings, its clawed feet tore everything in their raking path.

His head still resting against the cupboard, Neil blearily opened his eyes to see the toppled black shape seized by violent, convulsing spasms which racked its entire, vile being. Uncontrollably, the monster twitched and jerked, the shadowy awning of its wings battering the air as it tried unsuccessfully to right itself.

Neil groaned as the pain in his head started to play tricks on him but then, becoming more alert, he propped himself up and leaned forward.

Hlökk was shrinking.

The giant, repulsive shape of the Valkyrie was dwindling, the great span of its mighty wings was already diminished and the claws which scraped along the tiles were retreating back into the scaly flesh of the splayed toes.

Amazed and relieved, Neil suddenly heard Lauren's elated voice cry, ‘Tommy—you did it! You saved us!’

Standing just out of the yammering, withering creature's reach, the old tramp blinked at the sight before him and nodded dumbly. In his large hands he held the crow doll he had torn from the monster's neck and stared down at the now lifeless cloth effigy in disgust.

Pattering over the tiles, leaving sticky, strawberry footprints in his wake, Quoth hurried over to Neil.

‘Art thou injured?’ he asked.

‘I think I'll live,’ he replied, grimacing when he ran his fingers over the bloody but shallow wound in his side.

‘Tommy's collection was what saved the day,’ the tramp muttered, patting his bag thankfully. ‘It's them what gave his braveness back. But he'll not touch this filth no more. Get gone you dirty nasty!’

Unable to bear holding the crow doll any longer, he cast the cloth image across the kitchen where it spun over the floor and was lost beneath one of the splintered cupboards.

Lauren gazed down at the melting darkness that had been the Valkyrie. Already it was human again and she knelt beside the now motionless figure of her stepmother to see if she was alive.

Dressed in the torn, ragged fragments of her clothing, Sheila lay unconscious upon the floor and nothing the girl could do would wake her.

‘I need light,’ she said. ‘There's matches and a few candles in the drawer over there. Could somebody get one?’

Clutching his side, Neil moved to the drawer and rummaged in the shadows until he found what he sought.

But, in the heavy darkness which lay beneath the cupboard where Tommy had thrown the crow doll, a faint glimmer of red light was already sparking into life.

Upon the sinister creation's calico apron, the thread which formed the embroidered letters of the evil spirit's name began to shine brightly as the indwelling, malignant force roused itself and the glass beads glittered with hatred.

With a slow, jerking movement, the doll turned its head to view its victims and, flipping itself over, began to worm its way out of the dusty space.

Fumbling with the matches, Neil lit one of the candles and set it upon one of the few remaining saucers, but before he could give it to Lauren he heard Quoth's dismayed voice squawk out in alarm.

‘Gadsbud!’ the raven yelped.

From under the cupboard the crow doll had dragged and heaved itself and even as they all turned to stare, it tottered to its twiggy feet and purposefully advanced towards them.

‘Defend us, defend us!’ the tramp wailed. ‘Tommy's braveness is gone again. He has to get himself to the tower—he has to go!’

Incapable of facing any more horror, the old man lurched for the door and scuttled outside.

‘Tommy!’ Lauren called after him. But it was no use, clinging to his precious satchel the tramp hastened over the gravel and was gone.

Watching the small crow doll approach from the shadows, with the fiery letters emblazoned across its apron, Quoth scratched the ground, as an impetuous and brash desire raged within him and the bird bullishly lowered his head only too pleased to have a foe more suited to his own size.

‘Woebegotten spirit of evil design!’ he growled, flexing his primaries and jutting out the lower part of his beak. ‘Prepareth thou to be unstuffed!’

Whooping at the top of his croaky voice, he recklessly barged forward to butt the eerie mannequin in its soft stomach then stamp upon its foolish straw hat and unpick the raddling thread which held it together.

When the crow doll saw the raven charging towards it, the creature dodged nimbly aside and spun sharply around to catch Quoth on the back of the head with its stick fingers.

Quoth cried out in astonishment for the blow was more than he had reckoned with. The effigy was possessed of a terrible strength which sent the hapless bird sailing, beak over claw, through the air, to land in a sorry, dishevelled heap.

‘The fool's bolt is soonest shot,’ he groaned mourning for his bruised dignity.

Rotating upon its spindly feet, the doll whirled about to proceed upon its way, back towards the unconscious woman it had claimed as its host.

Into the flickering circle of candlelight the animated cloth mannequin waddled and, to Lauren's distress, she saw that the twigs were already shooting from the checked sleeves—snaking out to wrap about her stepmother's neck and knot within her hair.

‘No, you don't!’ Lauren yelled, diving across to snatch up the infernal creature, just as it leapt at Sheila's head.

‘This time you're definitely for the fire!’ the girl declared, gripping the wriggling object tightly in her hands. ‘Bring me that candle.’

Neil came forward, but in doing so, the candle glow fell upon Sheila's face and the boy beheld the woman for the first time.

‘Quick!’ Lauren snapped and she turned her head to see what was keeping him. The boy was staring at Sheila, utterly thunderstruck, although Lauren could not begin to guess why.

All Neil's senses withdrew from his surroundings and the saucer shook in his wavering hand as he peered long and hard at the woman's pale, weary features.

‘Mum,’ he whispered.

*

There upon the floor, Lauren's stepmother, the human host of Shrieker who only minutes ago had tried to butcher them all, was Neil's own mother, Sheila Chapman.

Since abandoning her family over four months ago, this was the first time the boy had seen her and a raw, empty numbness consumed him. What should he feel? His mother had left them to live with a man she had met at evening classes. He recalled that day with surreal clarity. She had coldly lined him and Josh up to inform them that she was going, and that dreadful moment had, up to that point, been the worst of his young life.