The Devil's Serenade

by Catherine Cavendish

  No, not long now.

  He took a sip. Charlotte stood squarely in front of him. He frowned. Maybe it was the glimmer of a smile on her face. Maybe. But too late. He dropped the glass and clawed at his throat. Then at the air.

  Good to know the rat poison was still so effective. Heaven alone knew how long it had been down in that cellar. Hargest tried to stand. He staggered forward. Tried to reach for her, but she stepped back. He fell and the house began to pulsate and pound.

  Charlotte snapped out of her trance-like state. In horror, she stared at Hargest’s twitching body lying on the floor and the full impact of what she’d done hit her. His lips had turned blue. His breath rattled in his throat. The thumping grew louder, all around her. With a cry, she ran out of the room, down the stairs to the front door. Her trembling fingers wouldn’t turn the key. Behind her, footsteps thudded down the stairs. Roars from hell itself shook the house. The key turned. She raced out into the chilly night and made straight for the only place of safety she knew. The tree. Only as she hugged its trunk, did she dare to turn her head toward the house. Lights blazed through the open door. Shadows danced and flickered in a reddish light on the third floor. In that room. Not a glimmer from Hargest’s room.

  Charlotte’s breath fogged in the moonlight. She shivered. A warm blanket of calm enfolded her. The chill night air gave way to a comforting earthiness and a soft carpet of fragrant green willow leaves.

  “Nathaniel Hargest’s spirit has left his body. It has been claimed.”

  The sadness in the spirit’s voice was more tragic than anything Charlotte had heard before. It frightened her. “But now I can find my son. I can leave Hargest House and—”

  “You can never leave Hargest House. Not until you die.”

  “But he’s dead. I killed him.”

  “And that is why you can never leave Hargest House. And you will never see your son.”

  Charlotte’s tears flowed. Once again, the spirits she could not see took her arms and led her back to the hazy wall that separated her from the cellar.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Charlotte, you have sinned by killing Nathaniel Hargest. His life was not yours to take. Evil is not extinguished because the intention was good. You will have to make a choice. The demon will take a soul.”

  Charlotte gave way to sobbing. She fell on her knees, her head in her hands. “He cannot take my son. He mustn’t. There has to be a way.”

  “Then you must sacrifice another.”

  “It can take me. I’m the one who killed Nathaniel Hargest. Let it take me.”

  “No, Charlotte. It cannot be you. You have committed a mortal sin and you are no longer innocent. Payment must be made with one who is.”

  “But Hargest wasn’t innocent. He murdered so many.”

  “He paid for his wealth with his soul—and the souls of the innocent. If your son is not forfeit, the demon will accept your sister’s daughter. One day, it will send an acolyte to claim her. Until that time, no demons will plague you. The house will be yours and yours alone. You son must never know you, or the demon will come for him.”

  * * * * *

  Charlotte woke on the floor of the cellar, with no recollection of getting there. She stretched stiffened limbs and looked around. She touched the strangely veined wall behind her and flinched as a small electric shock shot up her arm. She stared in disbelief. Somehow, she must have come through that wall. She held out her hands to it once more, daring to touch it. This time no shock deterred her and she stroked the veiny surface. Impossible to think that somehow, through some power of the tree spirits, they could transform this solid wall into something porous enough for her to enter through.

  Nothing made any sense anymore. Her head ached and every limb and muscle cried out for rest, but how could she rest in this house of evil? She struggled to her feet and dragged herself up the wooden steps leading to the kitchen.

  A draft told her the front door was still open and she staggered into the hall. Ten minutes after she closed the door, the letterbox clattered and a single white envelope fluttered to the floor.

  Charlotte retrieved it and saw it was addressed to her. She recognized the handwriting. Marjorie. She unfolded it, but knew what it would say before she began to read the neat, well-formed handwriting.

  Dear Charlotte. Maddie is three years old and we have a favor to ask of you. When she is old enough—say seven or so—would you be prepared to take her during the summer holidays? We miss our safaris so much and she is a quiet, well-behaved child. I’m sure she will give you no trouble…

  Charlotte laid the letter down and stared out of the window at the drizzle misting the view.

  Poor little girl. But I will make sure you enjoy your summers. We shall have such fun together. Until the time comes…

  * * * * *

  Later, Charlotte went up to her room. She opened her desk drawer and took out her diary and her Book of Shadows. There were entries in here that Maddie mustn’t find. Incriminating. Frightening even for a little girl and little girls were so inquisitive. They couldn’t keep secrets either. And Marjorie would never understand.

  Charlotte turned over the pages, re-read the entries and slowly began tearing pages out. She crumpled them up, threw them on the fireplace and struck a match. She waited and watched as the flames licked at the dry paper and her words flew up the chimney and out into the air.

  So mote it be.

  Maddie

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What’s that tune, Auntie?”

  “It’s called ‘Serenade in Blue’, Maddie. Glenn Miller and His Orchestra used to play it a lot during the war. It was one of my favorites. I’ll sing it for you…”

  Another barrier began to disintegrate in my mind. I clapped my hands to my ears, and squeezed my eyes tight, but I couldn’t shut it out. The piano, my aunt singing, the sound drifting up from downstairs.

  The song. That song. A sentimental forties love ballad. But not on that day. On that day, the sunny memories of my childhood summers ended. And it had all started when Aunt Charlotte played “Serenade in Blue” and the birds stopped singing. Now I remembered. I knew why the sound of it chilled me to the core. The song ended. The phantom piano gave one final flourish and was silent. I opened my eyes. Veronica was gone. Behind me, the creaking began.

  The rocking horse, still impossibly standing amid all this devastation. Still moving back and forth on broken rockers.

  The door slammed shut.

  I screamed.

  A fierce cold froze the blood in my veins, as a swirling black mist formed on the far side of the room. A figure began to take shape. I backed away, terrified. I couldn’t reach the door. To do so, I would have to go right past that mist.

  The mist began to settle and take form. The figure of a man emerged. A tall man in a long black coat, carrying a walking stick with a lion on a silver top. I screamed again. The door flew open.

  A familiar figure. Aunt Charlotte looked first at me and then at the man. His face began to dissolve, to change from the figure I recognized as Nathaniel Hargest. I shrank back still farther, until I almost touched the rocking horse. It stopped moving.

  Hargest’s face lengthened, lost definition. The eyes became blazing fires of red and yellow, the nose disappeared and the mouth opened, to reveal massive, vicious fangs. The gaping maw grew. I screamed and shrank from it.

  Aunt Charlotte stepped forward. She pointed at the demon. It bared fangs at her. A loud wheezing, like an orchestra of bellows, echoed around the room.

  More figures entered the room. They clustered around Aunt Charlotte. I knew them all. Veronica, Sonia, Thelma, and Tom in his gray pullover. They said nothing, just formed a silent, defiant group as the creature morphed. It reared its head and I saw it was covered in tree roots. Its eyes had sunk into a bark-like trunk, behind masses of writhi
ng, snake-like tendrils.

  A scarecrow, Neil had said. This thing would scare a lot more than crows.

  Every nerve in my body tensed.

  Aunt Charlotte gathered her group of my imaginary siblings closer. As one, they pointed at the beast. It began to fade.

  Once it had gone, they turned and, without a glance at me, walked quietly out of the room. Only Aunt Charlotte remained. I opened my mouth to speak, but she silenced me with a finger to her lips.

  “Now you will remember,” she said, and left me alone.

  I have no idea how long I stayed there, trying to understand what had happened. Above all, wondering when those memories would come flooding back to me. And fearing what those recollections would reveal. I didn’t have to wait long.

  * * * * *

  “The child isn’t yours.”

  The voice drifted into my dream. It didn’t belong there. I was dreaming of sunshine and a picnic with people I didn’t recognize, but in this dream they were my friends. The sun shone, a few puffy clouds drifted across the sky. Birds sang. Champagne glasses clinked. Laughter rang out across the field where we sat on checkered cloths. I reached behind me for more wine. That’s when it all changed. Everything stopped. The sky grew black. The people had vanished. My hand held empty space where the bottle should have been.

  The familiar woman’s voice echoed around me. “The child isn’t yours.”

  I peered through the gloom. I could see nothing.

  Some unconscious part of me wrenched myself from my dream. It took me a moment to realize where I was—lying, fully clothed, on my bed at Hargest House with no recollection of leaving the junk room or how much time had passed. Pale moonlight cast shadows in the room. I listened, not daring to move. The voice had sounded so close, so real. Aunt Charlotte’s voice. In the distance I heard music and put my hand to my mouth.

  “Serenade in Blue”.

  It drifted up from downstairs. Someone was playing the piano.

  I moistened my dry lips and padded barefoot to the door. Out in the corridor the sound of the music was louder. The melody played on. I grasped the banister and began my descent.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs. Still the music played.

  The door of the living room was slightly ajar. Behind it, the piano played on. I hesitated. Should I throw it open, or try and creep around it? I took a deep breath and pushed.

  The door swung back. The room was full of a swirling gray smoke. The piano played on. No one was seated at it. Someone grasped my hand from behind. The familiar voice spoke.

  “The child is not yours.”

  Suddenly I was on the other side of the room, standing next to the piano. It was daylight outside.

  The sun streamed through the window as Aunt Charlotte played first “Spanish Eyes” and “Misty”. The windows were wide open and birdsong filtered through. An enthusiastic blackbird kept up a constant refrain, so that whenever Aunt Charlotte stopped playing, his pure trill sang his summer song.

  The first few notes of “Serenade in Blue” changed everything. She cried out. “No, I won’t play that. Why can’t I stop?” Her eyes were wide, terrified. “Maddie. I can’t stop playing this and I mustn’t. Not today. Not anymore. Ever.”

  “But you told me it’s your favorite song.”

  Aunt Charlotte shook her head. Her face muscles tensed as if she was battling for control. “No. It was all right before. When you were younger. But tomorrow is your birthday and it becomes his song. It becomes the devil’s serenade. I must never play it again. Never. It will bring him here. I thought I’d be able to stop, but I’m playing it. I don’t know how…it’s not my doing. Please believe me, Maddie. I never wanted any of this. I was so scared.”

  “But, I don’t understand.”

  Aunt Charlotte’s lips were set in a thin line, as she fought to stop playing. I tried to pry her fingers off the keyboard but they refused to move. Her stiff fingers somehow managed to play the melody as beautifully as the composer could ever have wished.

  I heard a noise behind me, gagged at the reek of sulfur, and stared at Aunt Charlotte as her fingers finished playing the song and the piano lid crashed down, narrowly missing them.

  “Today’s the day he comes back.”

  I spun around. A scream sliced through the air and I realized it was mine. The blackbird stopped singing. All the birds stopped. When the echo of my scream died away, only the wheezing of the thing that had once been Nathaniel Hargest punctuated the unnatural stillness. I looked down at my feet and realized. I recognized the black platform sandals I had saved up for weeks to buy. I was sixteen years old again. Back in that summer. Or remembering it. But I had perfect recall of being my adult self, as if I was possessing my body as a young girl on the day everything changed.

  The swirling smoke parted and I gasped. A tall man in a black morning coat and top hat emerged. My adult self knew him instantly. Nathaniel Hargest had returned from his evil underworld.

  Aunt Charlotte’s voice was strong. “The child is not yours. You shall not take her.”

  The man’s expression turned angry. His eyes flashed red. I shrank closer to my aunt, feeling all the emotions of a teenage girl in danger.

  “Why does he want to take me?” My voice didn’t sound like it came from me. More like that of a little girl.

  He pointed at me and I flinched still farther.

  “It is time, Charlotte. You bargained with the master. Your son for her.”

  “I revoke the bargain,” my aunt said and reached under the sheet music on the piano next to her. She brandished the willow wand.

  Hargest laughed. “Do you think that will protect her? That trinket?”

  He raised his hand and the wand flew out of my aunt’s hand. It ignited, and hovered in mid-air. Hargest’s laugh rasped and turned to a cry as the burning wand arrowed toward him, piercing his chest. He stumbled and fell to his knees, staring at my aunt in disbelief.

  “Never underestimate the forces of the light,” Aunt Charlotte said.

  A few feet away, Hargest appeared to be recovering. He staggered to his feet. “And you should never underestimate the forces of darkness. They saved you once, from your miserable life. You knew there was a price to pay.”

  “And I paid it. I have never seen my son. The son you made me bear and took away from me.”

  Hargest shook his head. “Not I, Charlotte. The master.”

  Behind Hargest, the smoke swirled again.

  My aunt’s hand pushed me. “Get behind me, Maddie. Don’t look in its eyes. Don’t let it see you.”

  Something was tugging at my mind. Some force pulled me, tried to drag me out of the body of my sixteen-year-old self. The swirling black smoke pulsated and throbbed. A roar shook the house. I crouched down behind Aunt Charlotte and turned my face to the wall.

  “The master has come to reclaim his own.”

  “She does not belong to him.” I had never heard Aunt Charlotte speak so forcefully.

  “The bargain was clear. On the girl’s sixteenth birthday, her life and soul would be forfeit to the master. You were happy for it then.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Aunt Charlotte had traded my life and soul for her son. I was too shocked to cry, but despair and terrible loneliness gripped me. The pounding and roaring grew. I crammed my hands against my ears. This couldn’t be happening. I would wake soon and find I had dreamed it all.

  But I didn’t wake up. The stench of sulfur was overpowering and I started to cough.

  Hargest laughed.

  “He will take her. Tomorrow at the appointed time. He will return.”

  “She will not be here. She is going away and will never return.”

  “But, dear Charlotte, that cannot be. She will return.”

  “I have the forces of light to help me.”

  �
��They can only hold off the inevitable. If they can even do that.”

  “No, they are strong and will grow stronger. I will stay here in this house. I will help them grow.”

  A massive roar silenced my aunt. A sudden rush of heat shot into the room. Instinctively, I looked. A hideous pair of clawed, scaly feet stood a yard or so away. A tail with a snake’s head coiled, uncoiled, pounded the ground. I cowered farther back and put my head in my hands. I peered between my fingers. The demon moved forward.

  Aunt Charlotte cried out, “Lord and Lady, protect us!”

  A strong smell of peaty earth mingled with the stench of sulfur.

  Others had joined us. They were chanting in some language I didn’t understand. The chanting grew louder. They were moving toward us. The creature roared again.

  The house trembled.

  My aunt spoke. Despite everything, her voice remained even, controlled. “The tree spirits have shown you what they are prepared to do. It must be enough.”

  Hargest paused. “The master is pleased. A sacrifice will be made, but he will be generous. You must bring the girl to the place of assembly tomorrow at midnight, but he will not take her. Not this time.”

  Aunt Charlotte’s voice wavered for the first time. “How do I…how do we know that it…he will keep his word?”

  “He is the lord and master. Do not doubt him.”

  * * * * *

  The scene melted in front of me and I was outside. The night was chilly. Black. My sixteen-year-old self held my aunt’s hand. We stood near the river, a few yards from the tentacle tree. Alone.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, shivering, though not from cold.

  “We must wait, Maddie. You must be very brave.”

  “But, Aunt, I don’t understand. That man said you had a son and that you chose to save him and give me to him instead. I thought you loved me.” Tears coursed down my cheeks.

  In the gloom I caught the glistening of tears on my aunt’s cheek. Her voice quivered. “I do, Maddie. When I made that stupid bargain, I’d never met you. I was so scared. Desperate. I would have done anything to save my son. I offered myself, but I was not pure enough. You came here that first summer and I began to love you as the daughter I had never had. Would never have. I knew I couldn’t give you up, so I asked the spirits for help.”