The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child (13 page)

Now the street was deserted and she tapped her watch grimly until the sound of furtive footsteps drew near and Miriam recognised the ridiculous noise at once.

"Dear little Quas," she snapped, "about time too."

Rising, she emerged from the gloom and unlocked the door just as Susannah was about to tap upon the glass.

"Get in," Miriam ordered. "It's nearly midnight—what have you been doing?"

Susannah hurried inside the building and tried to peer into the darkness. "Is Hillian here yet?" she asked. "Have I missed anything?"

"No and no," came the curt response. "Oh, don't just stand there like a Belisha beacon for everyone to see—go upstairs."

From her greater height, Miriam looked down upon the red-haired woman who stood awkwardly in full view of the window and pulled her towards the spiral staircase.

"Take that horrible coat off first and leave it on the chair—don't spill that tea! Now come this way."

The cast-iron steps shivered and groaned as the owner of the bookshop stomped over them, but when Susannah followed it was as if a ghost had floated by.

On the tiny first floor Miriam had cleared all the books to one side and created a reasonable space in the centre of the carpet where three black candles were flickering.

"You have been busy," Susannah praised her. "Did you shift those shelves by yourself? 'Tis a strong arm you have."

Miriam let out an offended snort and promptly primped the frills that covered her muscular shoulders.

"I hope there's enough light up here," she said archly. "I don't want you tripping over everything, do I?"

Susannah shifted with unease and wished that Hillian would arrive soon. She never felt comfortable around Miriam—especially if they were alone together. The woman seemed to delight in making her feel small and inadequate.

"Your nose has gone purple," Miriam commented.

'"Tis mighty cold out there."

"You're blinking again, Susie darling," the other remarked, forcing a horrible smile on to her broad face. "Maybe if you tried a little make-up you wouldn't look so peculiar. I'd let you have some of mine but I detest waste in all things. You should stop biting those nails too—it looks repulsive. I'm sure it would quite kill my appetite to see those chewed-up stumps serve me an iced bun or whatever it is you sell over there."

Susannah felt as though she was being scrutinised under a magnifying glass and she could not bear it. "Have you heard from any of the others?" she blurted, trying to change the subject. "How goes it with them?"

"Each has a part to play/" rapped the answer. "All will be gathered in the end—how many times have you been told this? Can't you remember anything?"

"I wish we weren't all scattered, that's all—we work best together."

Miriam waved her large hands airily. "Blame that on Hillian," she said. "This is her great plan. I only hope she knows what she's doing—I would have done it very differently."

"Ah," crooned Susannah, "but then you weren't chosen to lead us, were you?"

The large woman glared at her, but before she could spit out the gall that had bubbled inside her they were both disturbed by a knock upon the door below.

"Here she is," Miriam sneered, moving towards the staircase once more, "and I think we'll just wait until we are successful to see who'll lead the sisters."

Susannah leaned over the rail and pulled an insulting face at the great descending back. Then she heard the door open and Hillian's excited voice speaking breathlessly.

"I have it!" she cried. "The contact is made. Where is Susannah?"

"Upstairs."

Nimbly, Hillian pattered to the first floor and when Miriam caught up with her, proudly showed them both the wooden chest that the sea had given to her.

"Straight here have I come," she said, kicking off her mud-caked shoes and placing the box in the centre of the three candles.

The chest looked ancient. It was made of black wood, carved with images of the deep oceans and bound around by two wide bands of rusting iron.

Susannah did not lean forward admiringly like the others; the box reminded her of those ugly relics that Nathaniel had so cunningly acquired during his lifetime. Usually they had been foul artefacts stolen from some primitive tribe or taken from museums and her skin always crawled to see them.

"Open it," Miriam urged, "quickly!"

With the candlelight picking out a frenzied glint in her eyes, Hillian tore at the two iron clasps then carefully lifted the lid.

A musty smell filled the room and Susannah swallowed as she blinked nervously and wrung her hands together.

The chest was filled with dry straw and the three witches exchanged surprised glances.

"Is there anything else in there?" Susannah ventured.

"Only one way to find out," said Hillian, beginning to part the straw and search inside.

"Perhaps it's a snake," Miriam said, "or a nest of scorpions."

Hillian's fingers twitched gingerly as she contemplated these suggestions but dismissed them quickly. "No," she whispered, as her hand touched something round and hard. "Is it a dried gourd? No! See, my sisters!"

Reaching in with both hands, she brought out what she had found and emitted a short, delighted laugh.

Miriam's almond-shaped eyes shone and her sharp tongue peeped between her lips and licked them in rapture.

"Delectable," she purred. "Let me touch it."

"Look, Susannah!" Hillian exclaimed, showing her the contents of the box. "What a dainty we have been given."

The red-haired woman looked at the thing which her coven-sister held in her hands and shivered.

It was a horrible, mummified creature and Susannah instantly wished she was far away. The wizened nightmare was part fish, part monkey.

Over the small ape skull a brown, papery skin still retained its features although they were shrivelled and withered by great age. Below the domed forehead two scrunched up circles indicated where the eyes had once been and a grimacing beast-like mouth scowled from the shrunken jaws.

This foul head was perched upon a spindly neck which had contracted around the bones of the spine that protruded along the creature's humped back, ending in a small brittle tail fin.

It was like a preserved freak of nature that had crawled from the pickling jar, and two emaciated arms were locked in a perpetual gesture of aggression and clawing attack.

Almost as if the abhorrent specimen were a young child, Miriam cooed and stroked the clumps of fur which still clung to the parchment-dry flesh.

"What a sweetheart," she murmured, preening the tangled hairs and blowing it kisses.

Hillian put the creature on the carpet, then took from the box three small pouches of dark red cloth.

"Incense," she commented, opening one of the bags and taking a wary sniff. "Each one is the same and look, there is a bronze dish to burn it in."

Susannah ran her fingers through her coarse hair. "I don't understand," she muttered. "How can that dried-up thing possibly help us?"

Miriam patted the fishmonkey's head and regarded the woman haughtily. "Really!" she tutted.

"None of that!" Hillian rebuked the owner of the bookshop. "You are as puzzled as she. Even I am not certain how we are benefited by this novelty—charming though he is. Now, I think we had all best sit on the floor. That's it—form the circle."

"With only three of us?"

"It will have to do, Miriam. There, I take the dish and pour one pouch of incense on to it." Hillian closed the box and lifted the mummified creature on to the lid, then she placed the burner on the carpet just in front and lit the powder with a match.

At once the incense spluttered and red sparks spat into the air.

"A little damp perhaps," Hillian mumbled, as a thread of sickly green smoke began to rise from the crackling substance.

"It's a dreadful smell that stuff has," Susannah said. "Like rotten kippers and old seaweed—and it stings my eyes."

Miriam beamed across at her. "Now you really do have something to blink for," she leered.

"Hush!" breathed Hillian. "See what is happening!"

The fine stream of smoke rose ever upwards, yet it was not dispersed by the heat of the candle flames, nor by the draught of the three witches' excited breathing. Up the smouldering trail steadily climbed until it reached a point just above the fishmonkey's head, and then the acrid fog curled down and began to flow over the shrivelled form.

Around the frozen limbs it wound, under the spiny fins, covering every inch of wafery skin and engulfing the disfigured head in an impenetrable cloud.

Into the pinched, flattened nostrils the smoke pushed, washing over the wizened eye sockets and filling the frightening mouth.

Miriam stared in beguiled fascination, smearing her immaculate lipstick as she pressed her lips together and felt the familiar glamour of coven business steal over her.

No one dared speak, for even as they watched a rasping gasp issued from the creature's mouth whilst the smoke poured into its lungs, and soon it began coughing shrilly.

Then, inhaling the noxious fumes of the incense in one great breath, the papery eyelids snapped open and two yellow eyes shone in the candle-light.

Susannah covered her mouth in case she screamed as the hideous head twisted upon the scrawny neck and the fishmonkey stretched its puny arms to pull itself up and glare at each of them in turn.

The wrinkled mouth fell open and a vicious cluster of needle-like teeth was revealed to them. For a short while it continued to gasp and stare at its surroundings, then in a cold, sharp voice the mummified creature spoke.

"I am the mouthpiece of the Allpowerful," came the chilling declaration. "He has heard your entreaty and does consent to bestow upon you your dearest longing."

Three cries of joy issued from the witches and even Susannah forgot her fear of the disgusting apparition.

"Through this animated vessel alone," it continued, "the master can give you aid, for his hand must not be recognised in this work. Spies are all about and watchful eyes are trained on this place.

Only when the tide of fate turns shall the danger be past—till then secrecy is all."

The fishmonkey fixed them with its beady eyes. "Is that understood?" it demanded.

"Perfectly," Hillian answered. "None here will betray the identity of your lord."

The creature gave a reedy hiss of satisfaction. "Then hear me now, oh disciples of the Black Sceptre," it croaked. "Thrice only am I permitted to assist you. Should you fail to complete your part of the bargain then your dreams shall be lost."

"The coven has never failed before," Miriam assured it. "Tell us what task your master asks us to perform."

"'Asks'?" the fishmonkey shrieked. "The Allpowerful does not 'ask'—he demands. Listen to me, woe-filled children of the mortal lands, and know the commands of the great lord."

Hillian shot her sister a warning look that told her to keep quiet and the large woman ground her teeth in silent anger as the creature continued.

"There is, in this town, great danger—a heinous threat which can throw into confusion all our designs. Here, living amongst your kind, is one who has the strength to destroy us all should he be permitted to live."

"Then your master must destroy this menace at once!" Susannah interrupted. "What manner of dreadful power does this person wield if even the..."

"Fool!" spat the creature. "Name him not! The enemies of the mighty one are all around us. Let not thy careless tongue give proof to their ears."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was not thinking."

The fishmonkey squirmed round to face her fully and the yellow eyes narrowed as it glowered at her.

"Then know this," it uttered in a sibilant whisper. "The mortal wretch of whom I speak has touched the treasure of the deep kingdoms. Never before have human hands held the most precious prize of the sea and thus the old laws now protect the loathsome worm. No power of the world can be seen to cause grief or hurt to that insect and so is my master foiled."

"Then we are to be his agents in this," stated Hillian flatly. "It is no great matter for us—we have killed before."

"Many times," mumbled Susannah.

"Remove this base obstacle," the fishmonkey vowed, "and the reward is thine."

To atone for her earlier mistake, Miriam forced a sickening smile on to her face. "Honour me with this glorious mission," she begged. "Let me be the one who brings death to the upstart. I don't care what method you choose, I adore them all. But, if I might proffer a suggestion, I always find poison most agreeable. A slow, lingering agony that eats away inside or a quick and sudden end that cuts the thread of life in a moment. Both ways have their merits; in the past I've had considerable success with venomous chocolates."

"Webs and hatchings!" the creature snapped impatiently. "A poisoner! Is that the sum of thine ambition and scope of thy petty mind? There is a much simpler method of despatch, for the way has been chosen and the hand of no one shall be in suspicion in the grey light of day that heralds this timely death."

Miriam's face set like stone as her temper boiled within her,yet she fought to remain calm although she could not bring herself to curl her lips into a smile.