The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child (35 page)

"I've always had to do exactly what they tell me. You think it'd be easy for me to escape from them but it isn't. It might be a cruel and hard life but it's the only one I know—I really don't think I could survive outside the coven. Oh Jennet, I loathe what they make me do, yet I have no choice. When we first came here to... to do what we must, they told me to get you on our side, but it wasn't like that—not for me.

"I really did like you, Jennet, that first day when we talked—I realised we had so much in common. I know what it's like to be lonely amongst a crowd of others. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am for all that's happened and what will happen. It'll be difficult for you to accept it at first, but you'll grow to understand, and remember that when your brother is dead you'll still have me to talk to."

She reached out to touch the other girl's hand but Jennet shuddered in revulsion and pulled herself away sharply.

"I'm not like you!" she cried. "You're as bad as all the rest—worse because you pretend to be something kind and... oh, I despise you!"

Quickly, Jennet fled from the café, slamming the door behind her.

Alone at the table, Pear's raven hair cascaded over the cloth as she bent her head and great desolate tears splashed into the dregs within her teacup.

The door of the café opened again and the girl hastily wiped her eyes as her mother sat down to join her.

"Well?" Meta demanded. "Did you do it?"

Pear nodded.

"How?"

"In her tea when she wasn't looking."

A wintry smile crept over the perfect symmetry of the beautiful woman's face. "Thank you my pet," she drawled. "I'll go and tell the sisters."

Through the narrow street Jennet pushed, but by the time she reached the cottage her temper had been replaced by a chill dread. What if Pear had purposely drawn her away from the place, whilst the rest of the coven...

Jennet fumbled with the key, threw open the front door and at the top of her voice shouted "Ben! Ben!"

A muffled thud sounded in the front room and the girl barged inside with her fists clenched.

"Why, Jennet dear! What on earth is the matter? I nearly jumped out of my skin when you bellowed like that and look—you made me drop Prudence's shield."

Standing before the mantelpiece, with one hand clutching at the empty air, the other holding a rusting spear and her face a picture of astonishment, was Miss Boston. At the old lady's feet and looking totally incongruous, the elliptical shield was still rocking on the carpet, and draped over the armchair was a moth-eaten zebra skin. The scene was almost comical but Jennet's anguish forbade any frivolity and she stared about the room before leaping away to look in the kitchen.

"Where's Ben?" she cried. "Where is he?"

Throwing down the spear and taking up her walking stick, the old lady hurried after her. "What's happened?" she called. "Jennet?"

The girl dived into the parlour and was about to race upstairs when Miss Boston caught her arm.

"Benjamin", she declared, "is in his room."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! He's been with Nelda all day, but Mr Shrimp sent him home to get something to eat. The poor boy is worried sick. We'll both be going out again later so I suggested he had a lie-down first. Now, tell me what has occurred to make you go charging around like an outraged Amazon."

Drawing the girl into the front room, Aunt Alice removed the remains of the zebra and bade her sit down on the armchair. Then, with her hands clasped behind her back, she assumed the posture of an old-fashioned and overbearing school mistress as she waited for the explanation.

Jennet didn't know where to begin, but slowly she related the whole dreadful story of how she had been ensnared—guiltily averting her eyes when speaking of the wedding day and how she had lied to slip away. But Miss Boston did not scold her and when she looked up she saw that the old lady's face was pale and strained.

Jennet paused, uncertain whether to continue. Then letting out a heavy sigh of pain, Aunt Alice sank into a chair as the full horrible knowledge dawned on her. That one of the children in her care could have been so unhappy as to even contemplate joining the coven was an awful realisation and she shivered hopelessly.

"How could I have been so blind?" her cracked, aghast voice whined. "God's grace, I might have lost you to those evil creatures! Oh Jennet, I've failed you. I was so full of myself and too pleased with my own victories that I completely trampled over your needs and drove you away. The danger that Prudence warned me of has already come and I was found wanting. You might have been killed that night on the moors—I didn't even check that you were here. Oh, forgive me."

The extent of Miss Boston's self-condemnation startled the girl and she struggled to calm her.

"Don't blame yourself," Jennet begged. "It was my fault. You didn't drive me anywhere, I ran there all on my own. I've been spoilt and selfish and couldn't see who my real friends were."

"No," Aunt Alice uttered, "I'm the one who's been selfish. All these months I've done nothing but think of my own health and welfare. What a ridiculous joke that is."

Seizing her walking stick, she lumbered to her feet and a fierce, determined expression glowered on her face. "I'm not having this," she roared. "Where are these evil women?"

"Wait!" Jennet cried. "I haven't finished. I met Pear just now and she told me... she told me that they're going to kill Ben."

Miss Boston could hardly believe it. "But why?" she wailed. "He's only a child!"

"Because they think once he's dead, Nathaniel will be given back to them. I know it's crazy but they're totally obsessed and stark raving mad. They really believe it and there's nothing they won't do."

A sudden noise from upstairs signalled that Ben was awake and Jennet stared at Aunt Alice fearfully.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

"We must tell the lad," the old lady decided. "It's only fair he knows the danger he's in. Listen, he's coming down. In here, Benjamin!"

The boy entered the former sickroom and gave the faintest of nods to acknowledge his sister's presence before turning his attention to Aunt Alice. "When are we going to the cliffs?" he asked.

"The cliffs?" she repeated. "Benjamin, we've got something to tell you."

Ben shook his head wildly. "She's gone, isn't she?" he wept. "Nelda's died!"

"No!" Aunt Alice assured him. "This is nothing to do with her."

"Then it can wait!" he shouted, running for the front door.

Jennet sprang from the chair and rushed after him. "You mustn't go out there!" she yelled, wrenching his hand from the door handle. "You've got to stay in here!"

"Let go!" he cried. "I've got to see Nelda!"

"You can't!"

"She's dying! Get off me—you don't care about anyone but yourself! Leave go!"

"Benjamin!" Miss Boston's voice trumpeted authoritatively, "Listen to us! Jennet is right—if you step outside you might never reach the caves."

The boy stopped struggling and sensed the deadly earnestness in her voice.

"It's Nathaniel," Jennet told him. "His followers are here. They... they want to kill you."

"I know that!" he snapped at her. "They've already tried twice!"

Jennet stared at him blankly and Aunt Alice put her arm about him. "What do you mean?" she asked, stunned. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Don't know," he mumbled. "Jen's been horrid and I didn't want to worry you—'sides, I can handle it."

Miss Boston groaned in dismay. "What have I done?" she grieved. "I've alienated both of you. That's too dear a price to pay for my recovery. I wish... Oh, I don't know what I wish any more."

Ben took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. "I want to see Nelda", he repeated, "one last time."

"Don't let him go," Jennet urged.

But before the old lady could stop him, he had pulled the door open.

"Good evening, Ben," called a light, silvery voice.

The boy started and behind him Jennet cried out in alarm.

Standing alone in the courtyard, with a supremely confident smile on her lovely face—was Meta.

The witch grinned at him and tossed her golden hair over her shoulders. "How fortunate for me," she gurgled. "I was just going to call on you, but I see you're already on your way out. It's a fine evening, there'll be such a ravishing sunset later—all red and bloody."

"Come in, Benjamin," Miss Boston commanded. Then, glaring past him at the witch, "Don't step over the threshold."

Meta hooted with derision. "The threshold?" she sneered. "You old fool, that barrier was broken by my loved one long ago. I can waltz into your dingy little hovel whenever I choose."

Aunt Alice placed herself in front of the children and barred the doorway.

"Begone from this place!" she demanded. "I'll not let you harm them."

Casually, Meta admired the bangles on her slender wrists and hardly took any notice of the old lady. "It's only Ben we want," she replied as though Miss Boston was being petulant and unreasonable, "I'm afraid Jennet just isn't worthy to join us. Sorry, honey, but that's the brutal truth."

In the hallway Jennet's skin crawled and she hurried into the front room to escape the sight of Pear's hateful mother.

"I'm not leaving," Meta promised, "and I'm extremely patient—we all are."

Behind her, filing calmly through the alleyway, came Liz and Caroline, and shambling reluctantly after them was Pear. The witch-girl glanced at her mother with reproach burning in her heart and she gazed into the cottage, vainly trying to catch sight of Jennet.

Behind the net curtains of the front room, Ben's sister regarded Pear with contempt, but unconsciously her fingers reached for the necklace at her throat. With a jolt, she realised what she was doing and dragged her hand away.

Aunt Alice eyed the assembled witches uncertainly. Here, cut off from the main street, there was no one to help her.

"Reinforcements?" she asked drily. "One old woman and two children too much for you on your own?"

"Why don't you send the boy out?" Meta's syrupy voice treacled. "It'll be easier on you in the long run, and so much more convenient for us."

Controlling her anger and dread, Miss Boston tutted in the most irritating way possible. "My, my," she admonished, hoping she sounded mildly amused. "We are getting desperate, aren't we? Forced out into the open and in broad daylight too? Whatever happened to skulking about the shadows and frightening youngsters in the dark? Rowena did it so much better than you—she had the most marvellous flair for this kind of thing. I'm afraid you haven't quite got the talent for it, have you? You see it takes a lot more than a good hairdo and wacky clothes to follow the old ways. But then I don't expect a baggage like you to be interested in the correct path—you've never graduated from toad-boiling and doll-pricking!"

"Take care, old cripple!" Meta shrieked. "You'll answer for that!"

"Not today, thank you!" Miss Boston returned and with that she slammed the door.

"That was rash, Alice," she scolded herself. "We're in scalding waters now!"

Ben hurried into the front room and ran to the window. "Look," he muttered nervously, "there's more coming through the alleyway."

Jennet stepped up behind him. "The rest of the coven!" she said in dismay. "We won't be able to stop them! We're trapped in here!"

"I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve!" Aunt Alice called, dashing into the kitchen and returning with the salt-cellar in her hands.

"I could climb over the back fence", suggested Ben, "and get help."

"You'd never make it," Jennet told him, remembering the yammering chase over the moor. "Don't you see, that's precisely what they want you to do! They'd love it for us to panic and split up."

In the hallway Miss Boston was busy reciting words of protection, invoking forces to defend them—all the while scattering salt around the doorway.

Ben stared miserably at the scene in the courtyard, repelled yet fascinated.

Hillian Fogle had been the last one to join the others. Immaculately dressed as usual, she strode between Meta and Liz and held up a large bulky object that was covered in a black cloth. Carefully she unwrapped the material and there in her hands was the fishmonkey.

Aiding the coven for the third and final time, the servant of the Lord of the Frozen Wastes blinked in the failing light of day and tapped its shrivelled webbed claws together.

Within the cottage Ben instinctively drew away from the window as a pair of yellow eyes gleamed at him.

"What's that?" he cried.

The fishmonkey squirmed in Hillian's grasp and raised its spindly arms, barking instructions to the coven.

"It's horrible," Jennet murmured. "Come away from there, Ben. All they have to do is smash the glass and they're in."

At that moment Aunt Alice rushed into the room and threw salt everywhere as she called out spells of challenge. Then she hesitated and peered at the solemn gathering outside, scowling in consternation.

"Why haven't they done anything?" she mused aloud. "What are they waiting for?"

"Maybe they're going to send that hideous thing in after us," Jennet muttered.

Then, as they watched, the fishmonkey craned its gruesome head and gave Hillian a snarling command. At a nod from her, the other members of the coven joined hands and, to Miss Boston and the children's utter surprise, they began to sing.

"Great Glory!" Aunt Alice exclaimed. "What do they think they're doing? It's like an infernal parody of Christmas with demonic carol singers!"

Low and whispering, the weird chanting of the witches filled the courtyard. It was an ugly, monotonous discord, and as the scarlet rays of the setting sun bathed everything in a lurid hellish glare, their faces were vivid masks of excitement and cruelty.

Stealthily, like the relentless creeping flow of water, their voices rose and penetrated through the windows until the front room of the cottage echoed with their jarring music.

Ben pressed close to Aunt Alice and she put her arm about him protectively.