Hobgoblin

by John Coyne

  The whistle blew and Valerie stepped behind a wall tapestry, waiting for someone to enter the billiard room. She hoped it would be Tracy, but whoever it was the Lady would kill them, as long as they weren't Kelpies. She wanted to have tagged somebody by the time Scott came back looking for her. She heard heavy footsteps in the hall, and the double doors of the billiard room opened. "Shit, she's not here," she heard Borgus whisper. "Come on, then," Hank said, "let's get back to the stairs." Valerie nerved herself to leap out and tag them. It was what Scott wanted; for him, it was the only reason for the dance. But she was too frightened of the seniors. No matter what Scott said, it was dark and she was alone. They could do something to her again; they could hurt her. Then her moment passed. The door closed again and they were gone, their footsteps lost in the rush of students in the hallway. Valerie could hear them running for their second stations, pushing and shoving to be in place before the whistle. Beside her, near the tapestry, the billiard room door opened again and someone else stepped inside. "Tracy, don't leave me," a girl pleaded from the hallway. "I'm not. Let go, Betty. I can't walk with you hanging on me every step." Valerie bit her lower lip. She was grabbing her sides, keeping herself from giggling. "Where do we hide?" Betty asked. "Under the pool table, maybe. I don't know. I can't see anything in this damn dark." The second whistle sounded and both girls jumped. "Damn it, Betty, you're scaring me to death!" Valerie reached out from behind the tapestry and touched both of them on the shoulders. They screamed together, making Valerie jump as well. "I got you!" She leaped out and grabbed their arms, kept them from running. "Oh, God!" Tracy closed her eyes for a second, afraid to even look behind her. Then Valerie laughed and the three teenagers hugged each other, all frightened by the surprise. "Valerie, damn you!" Tracy pulled herself away, shivering. "What a mean thing to do." "I'm sorry. I mean, God, it's only the game." "But you didn't have to pick on us!" Valerie took out two of Scott's masks. "Well, now you get to wear these. Aren't they neat? They're zombie heads." She held up the glowing skulls. "Put them on and go down to the ballroom." Tracy pulled the mask over her head and the skull glowed in the dark. Mollified, she headed for the door, eager to find someone to scare. "Oh, Val, it's great!" Betty said, reaching for her mask. The luminous head seemed to float in the night as she too carefully made her way to the hallway, closing the door behind her. "Val!" Valerie jumped at the sound of her name. Scott had returned to the billiard room through the hidden passage. "Where's Borgus?" he asked. "Did you get him?" "No. I mean, he was here looking for me, but I didn't get a chance..." she whispered, not wanting to admit her fear. "Why was he looking for you?" "I don't know." "Well where did he go?" Valerie shrugged. "I don't know." "Damn it." "Scott, what's the matter? The game's working," she said quickly, pleased with herself. "I've already killed two people." "The game is only ten rounds. Borgus could end up getting away. Come on." He grabbed her hand. "We've got to start looking for him." "Wait," Valerie asked. She stepped closer to Scott. "I'm scared." "Of what? You're the one who everyone's afraid of." She shrugged. "It's creepy in this house, and you're always running off." "I've got to, Val. The only way everyone can hear the whistle is if I blow it from the front staircase. Let's go. We'll go upstairs and check a few rooms from the passage, then I've got to blow the whistle." "Scott, wait. Do me one favor." "What now, Val? Jeez, we're wasting time." "Oh, never mind." She brushed by him. "What?" he demanded, grabbing her arm. "You could be nice to me," she asked, whispering. "As if you liked me." "I do like you. God!" "You could show me then, like another boy would." "How?" he asked. "Well, you could try and kiss me sometimes." "I did try once and you hit me." "Oh, never mind!" She pulled away. "Hold it." Scott touched her arm and she stopped walking. He pulled her into his arms. "I can't touch you," she whispered. "I'll get all this white makeup on your costume." Down the length of the hallway, from the other wing of the castle, came the roaring sound of glass crashing. Valerie jumped. "Oh, Christ," he moaned. "Something just broke. Shit. My mom is going to kill me."

  At the explosive sound of the breaking glass, Betty grabbed Tracy around the neck, clinging to the taller girl. "Betty, please!" Tracy pulled away. The paper skeleton mask had only two small holes for eyes and it was difficult to see in the dark. She stopped at the entrance of the north wing and raised the mask to look ahead. At the end, she saw someone move. "Come on, Betty, get up against the wall and hide," she whispered quickly. "When he gets close we'll jump out and scare him." "No, let's go downstairs. Zombies wait in the ballroom, Valerie said so. Come on, Tracy, we're supposed to be dead." "Be quiet!" She pushed the shorter girl toward the stairs. "Go ahead down if you want, I'm going to scare him. I think it's Bob Senese; he always thinks he's so smart. I'll fix him." She crossed the wide hallway to hide between two heavy suits of arms, then turned and waved frantically, motioning Betty away. Flattening herself against the wall, Tracy listened to her prey come down the hallway. Now she was sure it was Senese. He came slowly, banging his fist against the furniture and weaponry that lined the walls. It made a ferocious noise, and she inched forward to peep out from behind the knight's armor. It was not Bob, she realized, seeing the Black Annis. Bob had come as a woodsman, she remembered then, carrying a bow and arrow. Whoever this person was, he smelled like rotten eggs. He deserved to be frightened. She pulled the mask down over her face and jumped into the hallway. Fergus saw first the glowing skull floating freely in the dark, then the body of the girl, the white skin wrapped in a flimsy dress, and he grabbed her. "Aah, love, I've been looking for you, lass," he whispered. The paper mask shifted on Tracy's head, blocking her vision. She could not see who had her, but she swung at him with both fists, shouting for him to let her go. "Aah, love, it will be all right." He twisted her right arm and she screamed. The shrill, desperate cry rippled through the quiet halls of the castle. "Love, please." His bony hands clutched the thin white neck and squeezed, lifting her easily off the floor. He held her like a glittering snake, and she twisted in his grip. Inside the paper mask she struggled for air, and his hands tightened each time she gasped for breath. Then he dropped her, and she fell to the floor with a thump, blood filling her mouth and nostrils. She pulled at the mask, struggling to see better, and it came away with a rip. She was all right, she told herself. Whoever it was wouldn't kill her. She was trying to stand when he saw the Viking axe handle on the wall and grabbed it. She turned to run and he struck her, clubbed her hard behind the ears like a helpless baby lamb. Her skull crushed, Tracy collapsed, near death, on the carpet, while he fingered the axe handle admiringly. It had been found in Limerick, he remembered, a relic of the Viking kingdom there, and it had always been one of his favorites.

  The scream could be heard, distant but clear, even in the hidden passageway. "It's Tracy," Valerie said at once. "How do you know?" They both stopped to listen. "I know. She's hurt or something. I've got to find her." "She's not hurt. She's just scared, that's all. It's the game." "I don't care. I'm going." Valerie reached out in the tight, dark passage and felt the wall. "How do I get out of here?" "Come on, Val, you're going to ruin the game. We've got to get Borgus." "Let's go find Tracy first, then we'll find Borgus. Come on, Scott, I'm serious." "Shit!" He leaned back against the cool stone outer wall of the castle and thought for a moment, trying to decide where in the rambling mansion the scream had originated. But it was impossible to tell. The hidden passage distorted every sound, either muffling or magnifying it. Tracy might be out in the second-floor hall, or in a different wing. "Where did you send her?" he asked Valerie. "Downstairs. To the ballroom." "Come on." Scott turned abruptly, scanned the narrow passage with his flashlight, then went ahead quickly, ducking his head under the low beams. "This is Fergus's old study," he explained, opening the hidden panel door. "There's a back staircase that leads downstairs into the kitchen. Go down and look for her, then come up the main front staircase. I'll meet you there." "Where are you going?" she whispered, upset that he was leaving again. "To blow the whistle. This is the third round already and we haven't go
tten any of the football players." He sounded furious. "All right! All right! We'll get them in a minute. Don't get so mad." "I'm not mad," he declared. "Fine." Valerie pushed ahead of him and stepped into the study. "Where do I go?" She glanced around, looked for the doorway. "Here!" Scott pulled back the heavy curtain and opened the door, watched until she reached the first floor safely. Then he went across the room and carefully unlocked the study door. There could be kids outside, he knew, hiding behind any of the suits of armor. He moved quietly, but at his first step into the hallway, glass crunched loudly under his foot. Glancing around he saw the shattered display case, and the shards of Waterford sparkling in the moonlight "Shit!" he whispered. Now he was in trouble. This must have been the breaking sound he had heard earlier. Those assholes, he thought, they had done it on purpose. Treading carefully on the scattered glass, he tiptoed toward the windows to see what else had been broken. Up ahead he spotted the end of the Knight Templar's long lance sticking out of the wall. Then he stepped around the bulky trunk of the knight and saw Derek dangling motionless, his eyes wide open, the ancient lance buried in his chest. Scott screamed. A sharp cry of fear and pain. He couldn't look away from the hanging figure. He thought only of his mother. He had to tell his mom, he thought She would take care of him; she would know what to do. He stumbled down the hallway, back to Derek's office and a telephone.

  "Jesus Christ, what was that?" In the darkness near the back stairwell, Hank Simpson jumped at the sound of Scott's cry. "Shut up, Hank," Borgus ordered. They were both crouched down, hiding near the head of the staircase. "Who was that?" "Some silly girl. What the fuck do you care?" "Well, she sounded like she was in trouble or something." "Who are you, rent-a-cop? Just get your ass out of the light." Ignoring Borgus, Hank moved around the exit door and looked down toward the intersection of the two wings. "Someone's coming," he said. He could just discern a shape at the end of the hallway. "Is it Dunn?" Nick jumped up. "I don't think so. It looks weird. Hey, let's get out of here." Intrigued, Borgus took his place at the door. The strange shape was coming down the center of the hallway, moving slowly, one laborious step at a time. "Who the fuck is it?" Borgus whispered, puzzled by the figure. "What's he doing?" "Come on, Nick," Simpson urged. He grabbed Borguss arm, tried to pull him away. "He's dragging something," Nick answered. Jerking his arm free, he stepped into the hallway to see better. The figure paused. "Hey, what's up?" Borgus asked out loud. "Is that you, Senese?" "Get out of my house, you blackguards," the Black Annis answered. Borgus grinned. "What is this shit, Bob?" He stepped forward, still laughing. The Black Annis let go of his victim's hair, readying himself to do battle. When he released her, her head bounced on the hallway carpet and Nick saw that it was a girl; it was Dunn's friend, Tracy. "Hey, asshole!" Nick pulled back, stunned. The man had been dragging her down the hall by her hair. "Get away," the Annis shouted, lunging at Borgus. Nick dropped down into a crouch and caught the Black Annis with his shoulder, as if the old man was coming at him through the line. Fergus flew off Nick's shoulder and hit the wall. "He's killed her!" Nick shouted, then kicked at the old man, tried to smash his head against the baseboard, but in the dark and his excitement, he misjudged and only kicked his shoulder blades. "Hank! Help me get this fucker!" Regaining his feet, the Annis kicked Borgus in the groin and, without waiting to see the result, ran for the billiard room. Simpson dove after him, tried to catch him with a flying tackle in the doorway, but Fergus slammed the heavy wooden door shut and caught Hank on the side of the head. The big teenager yelled with pain as he tumbled to the floor. He needed a weapon, Fergus knew. Any weapon at all to fight off these anarchists. His hands groped along the billiard room wall, searching. Then his bony fingers touched a wooden peg and he grabbed the Norman crossbow and turned on the two of them. Simpson was on his feet, but staggering. "Jesus, Nick, I'm bleeding." Fergus held the heavy bow with both hands. The arrow lay in the groove; he had only to wind the bowstring back and notch it. Borgus was coming at him as he fired. At first it only felt as if he couldn't swallow, but when he tried to speak the blood gushed from his throat. He was choking, he realized, choking on his own blood. He tripped forward, smashing against furniture, and fell. "Oh, shit!" Hank cried, seeing the short crossbow arrow. It had entered Borgus's thick neck and come out the other side. Now the old man was coming at him. Fergus had tossed away the crossbow, useless without a bolt, and grabbed a morningstar, the thick-handled mace from the wall. He whipped the iron ball around his head. "Hey, lad, you want a fight, do you?" The heavy lead ball whistled in the air. Hank ran backwards, too frightened to turn his back on the man. All along the hallway, kids crept to the doorways of rooms to watch Hank Simpson run for his life.

  "Where's Tracy?" Valerie asked, grabbing Betty in the almost empty ballroom. Betty shrugged. "I don't know. Upstairs, I guess." "Didn't you hear her scream?" Valerie shook the girl's arm. "And take off that stupid mask." "Well, you gave it to me!" Betty complained, yanking off the paper mask. "Anyway, we can't play any more. The man who runs this place just told Tami and Judy that we had to quit." She turned away, as if to leave. "Wait!" Valerie grabbed her arm again. "Is Tracy upstairs or not?" "I guess so. I left her there. She was going to scare Bob Senese." "Valerie, where's Scott?" Bill Russell came into the ballroom from the small office next to the reception room. "He's still upstairs, Mr. Russell. He's about to blow the whistle for the next round." "Well, we have to quit, I'm afraid. Mr. Brennan told some of the girls the game was over." "Why? We can't quit now." Tears of frustration flashed in her eyes. Scott would just die, she knew, if he couldn't get the football players. She had let him down, too, running off looking for Tracy when she should've been after Borgus. The teacher shook his head. "I don't know, Val," he answered nicely, seeing she was upset. "I haven't spoken to Mr. Brennan myself yet. But let's find Scott. It's time to start dancing again anyway, right?" He tried to sound positive. And then they heard Hank Simpson yell.

  Scott saw his mother at once. "Mom!" he said, then stopped, baffled at the strange sight of her curled up on the long conference table. Then he realized what had happened and for a moment he couldn't focus his feelings. It was as if his nerves had overloaded and burned out, and he gasped and vomited on the office rug. Slowly he went forward, circling the body, looking for her face, afraid to touch her and unable not to, needing to know for certain if she, too, was gone. He thought of the day the headmaster told him his father was dead. He had thought then that nothing else in life could ever hurt as much. Her body was cold and his hand jumped away, trembling from the touch. He stepped back to the door and shut his eyes, willing himself to blot out what he had seen. But the image of his mother's body could not be evaded, no matter how his mind twisted and retreated. For a long moment he stood helpless, searching inside himself for a strength he did not have. And then, almost with a feeling of surrender, he remembered. He was Brian Boru and his task was vengeance. The Nuckelavees had killed his mother and turned her body to stone. The boy who called himself Brian Born unsheathed his sacred sword and went to do battle at Ballycastle.

  Brian stepped onto the balcony and saw that a melee had begun. Knights, sea monsters, Bugganes and ladies-in-waiting had rushed into the hallway, shouting, wailing, running for safety. A Giant Troll stood on the second-floor landing, fighting in single combat with a Black Annis. The Troll had borrowed a shield from the Lombard knight and he held it high, trying to protect himself from the whirling mace. It was useless, Brian knew. The Troll did not have enough armor class to withstand single combat against an Annis. He would be killed before the next round. Behind the shield, Hank Simpson called for help, shouted to the students who lined the second-floor banisters. The crazy man had driven him to his knees, and he didn't know how many more blows he could withstand. His attacker moved in and swung. The mace struck the metal shield with a crash. It sounded as if the house itself was being wrecked. "Get back, you Annis," Brian Boru shouted, pushing through the crowd, his sacred sword held high. "Get back to Groagh Patrick or your entrai
ls will stretch from here to Dingle Bay." "Ah, it's another of you terrorists," Fergus shouted in Gaelic. Spinning away from Hank, he turned to face his challenger. Brian Boru circled the man on the wide balcony. "Listen, you boorish cur," he shouted, "I'll cut your yellow hair from your head, and strip the clothes off your back." Around the perimeter of the circle students began to cheer Scott on, rallying him against the Black Annis. Brian lunged forward, aiming at Fergus's neck, when the old man slipped, weary from hauling the heavy mace, and Scott tumbled over his shoulder. "Ah, there you go, lad." Out of breath, Fergus leaned against the wooden banister as Scott went sprawling. "Conor, where are you?" he gasped, speaking in Gaelic. "Where is Maeve, my lad? I'm tired of all these people." His head hurt. The pain began in the spot above his ear, where Nightfall had kicked him, where Conor once had struck him, that last grand party after the war. He had survived them both, but oh, the pain was worse than it had been in all the many years. Then his eye caught Valerie Dunn. She had run halfway up the stairs, hoping to reach Scott, when the Annis suddenly lurched toward her. Bill Russell called out, "All right, that's enough. You kids have taken this fantasy stuff too far. We're calling it quits." As he spoke, he tried to mount the stairs and pull Valerie back, but Fergus was there before him, whirling his mace to keep everyone at bay. Amazed by what was happening, Russell was forced back into the wide circle of students standing out of range of the heavy ball. The two other chaperones, Arlene Banks and Kristin Chase, ran to his side, both at a loss to know what they should do. "Now what's your name, lass?" he crooned. "The-picture of Nuala O'Neill, you are." Valerie stood poised, confused by the melee. She felt the danger, but didn't know where it came from, or why. Then she remembered where she had seen this creature before. She recognized the long yellow hair, the strange dress and the foul smell of the Black Annis. "Scott!" She looked wildly around the tight circle of students. "Ah, lass," Fergus lowered the mace, let the ball drag across the hardwood steps as he came for her. "Don't," she pleaded, backing off. "Scott!" She had backed herself up against the wall when Fergus grabbed her arm in his bony fingers, seized her before she could flee. "No, please!" Over the Annis's shoulder, Valerie saw Scott push through the students. He was brandishing his sword, thrusting it forward, as he had done down by the barns. "Stop him, Scott!" she pleaded. "Surrender, you recreant," Brian Boru demanded, placing the point of the long sword at the back of the Black Annis's neck. Fergus felt the sharp blade beneath his ear and swung the mace wildly. The chained ball whipped around, taking Scott by surprise. His heavy cape absorbed much of the impact, but the lead ball still struck his wrist hard enough to send the sacred sword flying. At the sound, Fergus was off and down the stairs, dragging Valerie behind him, his fingers like iron on her slender wrist. Bill Russell leaped forward, but before he could reach Fergus, the circle parted and he was gone, out the front door and onto the lawns of Bally castle. As if released from a magic spell, the crowd of students on the second floor unfroze and came streaming down the stairway, shouting to their teachers. Mrs. Chase went up the steps to Hank Simpson, to see if he was all right. He got to his feet shakily and came with her to the first floor. "Mr. Russell," someone shouted, "he's not leaving. He's running around the side of the house." "Lock all the doors, front and rear," Russell told Arlene Banks. "Don't forget the French doors in the ballroom. We've got to keep him outside. I'm calling the police." He went into the front office and dialed nervously, wondering how the hell he would explain what had happened at Ballycastle that night. "State Police. Please state your name and address before proceeding to give any other information," the dispatcher said. "Ah...This is...My name is William Russell. I'm telephoning from Ballycastle off Route 12. We have a deranged student...a deranged man threatening the lives of students." "Sir, we have that report," she interrupted. "A state trooper has been dispatched. The nearest available vehicle was several towns away, but it should be arriving shortly." "Oh." Russell stopped, confused. "You mean someone already telephoned?" "Yes, sir. At 8:06. Derek Brennan, executive director..." "Fine! Okay!" So Derek knew. Russell sighed, "Thank you." Already, faintly, he could hear the police siren. They would arrive in a few minutes, he realized. All he had to do was keep the kids safe until then. He rushed back into the front hallway, shouting for everyone to get into the ballroom, into the brightly lit room overlooking the lawns and the terrace.