‘She promised me my daughter. All I had to do was bring the poppet and one of your girls.’
‘For what?’ shouted Paul. ‘What could she possibly want with one of my daughters?’
‘I don’t know,’ she wailed. ‘She just said she needed an innocent, that’s all she told me.’
‘How could you do this, Patricia? We tried to help you.’
‘I know Paul and I’m sorry but I have to try and help Emma,’ she declared and retreated from Paul and the old woman, pulling the little girl with her until their backs were pressed up against the largest of the Saracen stones. ‘You can’t stop me.’
‘I can,’ Queenie said quietly. ‘But it would be better if you handed Eva and the poppet over willingly.’ She walked into the middle of the stones and scrutinized the bare trees surrounding the clearing. It was quiet beneath the wintery branches, no bird song just the sound of the passing cars in the distance. Paul started to edge forward keeping his eyes fixed on the little girl while Queenie inched towards her from the other side of the stone.
Patricia stared wildly at them and drew back clutching Eva to her body.
A gathering sense of panic filled Queenie. ‘Patricia, you must trust us,’ she said urgently, ‘we need to leave before they get here.’
‘It’s too late, they are already here,’ Patricia replied.
It was as Queenie feared; it was too late for them to leave. Above them the skies darkened as hundreds of crows swooped down from the clouds and hovered over the trees, the sound of beating wings drowning out the noise of the traffic from the nearby road. The clamour increased as the birds descended from the sky and crashed through the branches heading for the circle of stones.
Queenie threw up her arms to protect her face, and she could see through the whirling black birds the men trying to do the same.
Paul stared across the clearing as Eva collapsed to the ground and rolled herself into a ball trying to shield her face.
‘Eva,’ he shouted and tried to fight through the flock to reach her.
Patricia stood unresisting, her arms by her side and the doll hanging limply from her hand as the birds pecked and clawed at her.
‘Patricia!’ shouted Queenie over the noise. ‘The birds! They are attacking the little girl, do something!’
Her words went unheard as Patricia was knocked to the ground by the sheer weight of the birds. She lay sprawled on the wet ground as they pecked and tore at her flesh.
‘Get off damn you!’ Queenie bawled, lurching forward through the mud and threw the birds off the child. Sharp claws tangled in her pink hair as she bent over Eva and Patricia trying to haul them both to their feet. She snatched one mid flight and dashed it against the stone where it fell to the ground, bent and broken. Queenie drew the frightened child to her and stared down in frustration at Patricia. ‘Get up!’ she ordered and tried to pull her upright.
She moaned and attempted to rise; her hands sinking deep into the freezing mud.
‘That’s it, get up,’ Queenie said and dragged her into a sitting position. She looked across the clearing at Paul and Archie who were standing back to back as the flock continued to whirl around the clearing, faster and faster until all melded into one black body; the noise was deafening and Queenie clapped her hands to her ears as the din became unbearable.
The churning throng dived and hovered for a second over the nine stones, then suddenly plunged to the ground. The mud beneath the hovering birds instantly froze and as they peeled away to settle in the bare branches of the trees three figures appeared in the circle.
The trees were now covered not in the green leaves of summer but the black feathered bodies of the witch’s familiars. All noise ceased and black beady eyes watched the witches below.
Where their feet touched the ground the ice turned black; it began to spread, snaking across the clearing towards the women and as it reached the wooden poppet thick ice crept up and over the doll fixing it securely within the icy mud.
Queenie drew in a hissing breath and stared grimly at the witches, then deliberately planted her foot on the poppet. The stout brogue instantly froze to the mud covered wooden body. From within the old woman’s comforting arm Eva turned her tear streaked face towards her father, who was helping Archie to his feet.
‘Dad,’ she called.
‘It’s okay, just stay with Queenie. She’ll keep you safe.’ he called urgently.
A look of recognition appeared on the witches faces as they spotted Paul and Archie cowering behind one of the stones. Margaret pointed a bony finger in his direction as she advanced towards Patricia. Her companions swiftly skirted the monolith and bore down on the two men.
He raised a hand. ‘Stay back!’ he commanded.
‘Or what?’ one chuckled and watched in amusement as the men struggled to free themselves from the clinging mud and ice.
‘Would you pit yourself against us, Priest?’ asked the skinny one, her eyes glittering as she examined their pale faces. She scrambled onto the top of a smaller stone and crouched there glaring down at him. ‘Well?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I did it before so I can do it again.’
She leapt down landing just in from him, the stench from her filthy body made him gag and he swiftly raised a hand to his face.
‘You smell as bad as you look,’ he said.
‘Not for me fine sheets and scented clothes,’ she sneered.
‘I can tell,’ he replied bitterly and flinched as she raised a bony hand to strike him.
‘Stop!’ Margaret ordered coldly and turned her attention back to Patricia. An expression of contempt crossed her face as she surveyed the distraught woman.
Patricia fearfully gazed up at her. ‘I have brought the doll and the child,’ she said and gestured to the poppet beneath Queenie’s foot and the girl trembling within her arms.
The witch’s eyes flickered to Queenie who was determinedly pressing it further into the icy mud.
‘But you do not possess the doll or the child,’ she replied, nodding in the old woman’s direction. ‘She does. You seem to have forgotten our pact; it requires that you give me both and in exchange I will return your daughter.’
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Queenie put in quickly. ‘She’s lying.’
‘That old woman knows nothing,’ she scoffed. ‘You can save Emma,’ she continued persuasively. ‘Help her escape her suffering Patricia. You’re her mother; can’t you hear her screams of agony? The flames are growing ever higher and soon it will be too late.’
Queenie’s blood ran cold at the look of relish that crossed the woman’s face as she described Emma’s suffering.
‘Listen to me Patricia!’ Paul called desperately from the other side of the clearing. ‘You know that’s not true! Emma’s soul is safe. This woman is trying to trick you.’
‘Silence Priest!’ she hissed turning on him. ‘Or do you wish to test your faith against the Dark Lord?’
‘No, he doesn’t!’ shouted Queenie quickly. ‘Leave him out of this!’
The witch laughed at the fear in Paul’s face and turned back to the two women. ‘You align yourself with such pathetic creatures. If you would just rid yourself of all compassion for these mortals you could become great. Give me the doll and the child,’ she said urgently, advancing on Queenie. ‘And join us!’
‘No, I will not and I will not allow you to re-enter this world.’
Patricia tugged weakly at Queenie’s sleeve. ‘But what about my daughter?’
‘A useful creature for a moment, that is all,’ the witch smiled coldly.
‘You killed an innocent girl,’ shouted Paul, struggling to push past one of the witches. ‘And for what!’
‘You did it? You killed my little girl?’ groaned Patricia.
Margaret walked slowly across the spreading sheet of ice beneath her bare feet and stared in amusement at her stricken face.
‘We required the blood of an untainted female to open the portal from the netherworld and now
I need the doll to regain my power.’ She turned her gaze on Queenie. ‘So remove your foot and let me have the poppet.’
Queenie laughed derisively. ‘And the child?’
The witch smiled grimly and stared thoughtfully at the shivering girl. ‘An added bonus,’ she said simply.
‘Oh, I know what you intend,’ Queenie said quietly, glaring at the woman. ‘But that is not going to happen.’
She laughed. ‘Innocent blood is so powerful.’
The old woman shrugged. ‘And I suppose you are going to try and carry out the curse as well?’
‘Yes,’ she said coldly. ‘Spicer must die!’ Her eyes turned black with hatred and behind her Agnes and Dorcas scowled at the mention of his name.
‘You fool!’ Queenie sneered. ‘You’re wasting your time. Spicer is dead! Haven’t you noticed the passage of time since you last set foot in this mortal world?’
‘That is not true, he cannot be dead!’ she replied, looking dismayed. ‘We must have our revenge on him! We have suffered much at his hands; I more than most. He was a most unjust evil man, a mindless instrument of the Puritans of this town. So...’ she said drawing a deep breath, ‘if we cannot destroy him then they will all suffer. I will raze the town to ashes as I did before!’
‘She caused the fire?’ Archie muttered to Paul.
She whirled around and glared at him. ‘My judgement on that hypocritical preacher and his flock!’ she spat. ‘You too will feel my wrath, old man.’
Archie’s face whitened under her chilling gaze; he reeled and grabbed Paul’s arm for support.
‘Take Eva and go back to the car,’ Paul said urgently to the old man and gave him a slight push towards the Queenie.
‘Stop!’ Margaret commanded, raising a hand. ‘Nobody leaves this place without my permission.’
A creeping mist began to appear from the ground beneath her feet, it swiftly spread around the circle covering their lower legs in freezing fog. It then slowly rose vertically to the top of the trees leaving just a small patch of grey sky visible through the branches. Within minutes the glade was enclosed by an impenetrable grey curtain.
‘See,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘Now you will all witness our rise to power.’ She turned back to Queenie. ‘Give me the doll,’ she ordered.
‘Why?’ Queenie asked, trying to stay calm. ‘You cannot complete the curse; one of your coven withdrew her power.’
The complacent look on Margaret’s face momentarily faded and a hiss escaped her lips. ‘We will not speak of that traitor.’ She smiled slightly and stared across the clearing at her. ‘And indeed we have no need of her, because we have you!’
‘Oh no,’ Queenie said quickly, holding up her hands. ‘Count me out, I’m not helping you.’
‘You mistake the matter old crone, you have no choice. Everything has been leading you to this moment, where you will gift your power to us and we will finally be free.’ And she laughed at the expression on Queenie’s face. ‘It was a happy chance that the poppet came into your keeping and we could not have wished for a more formidable witch to aid us.’
Queenie drew in a deep breath and stared coldly at her. ‘And it’s this formidable old witch that is going to stop you.’
‘You cannot stand against us. We have the poppet and we have the child.’
‘As far as I can see you have neither,’ Queenie pointed out.
‘You will not stop us!’
‘I cannot do otherwise,’ she retorted.
‘Not even to save your friends?’ she asked, gesturing to Patricia, Archie and Paul. ‘For they will die if you do not stand with us.’
‘And if I do, you intend to sacrifice the child.’
‘What?’ On the other side of the clearing Paul was frantically shaking his head. ‘Don’t Queenie, save my daughter!’ he shouted. ‘You know she will kill us all anyway.’
‘My friend is right,’ Queenie said quietly. ‘Once you have the doll we will all be expendable.’
‘So be it, the choice is yours,’ she responded ominously and retraced her steps to stand with her colleagues.
The three witches linked hands and scowled across the circle towards Queenie and Patricia as they started to chant.
‘Expergiscere custodies lapidibus nos adiuvat voco.’
The ground began to shake beneath their feet and the trees surrounding the stones began to twist and bend. The frozen soil became liquid and a myriad of snaking roots appeared from the mud and began to snake across the clearing towards the women.
The ground beneath their feet became saturated and as they sank up to their ankles Queenie felt the doll move beneath her. A tangle of roots curled up through the mud and wrapped around the wooden body of the doll and began dragging it down into the ground.
She dropped to her knees in the bubbling sludge and thrust her hand deep into the freezing earth.
Her groping fingers touched the hard body of the poppet and she managed to grasp it before it was pulled out of reach.
‘Quiet root. Quiet twig. Sleep now, Guardians of the stones. Hear my call, and slumber deep, until the end of all.’
At the touch of her hands the roots slowly drew back and sank back out of sight, she grunted with satisfaction as she dragged the doll free of the mud. Queenie waved the filthy poppet in their direction.
‘Not good enough, ladies,’ she said as she struggled to her feet.
Margaret’s hands dropped to her side as she stared at the mud covered old woman, a faint look of amusement on her face. ‘Then perhaps a demonstration of what your friends will suffer is needed,’ she said as she raised her hand and extended a sharpened finger nail in Patricia’s direction. ‘With my blood and my desire, her death I require!’ she spat.
‘What?’ Patricia wailed then reeled towards Queenie as blood began to spurt from the corners of her eyes and nose. ‘Queenie!’ she screamed as it flooded into her mouth making her choke. ‘Help me!’
‘See how it do flow!’ the witch closest to the two men cackled with glee and began capering about in front of them. ‘Her life force be ebbing away.’
‘Silence fool,’ scolded the other but she too stared mesmerized, her lips parted in anticipation of Patricia’s demise.
With their attention on Patricia Paul, seizing the opportunity, leapt forward and slammed his hands into the flat of the fool’s back thrusting her head first into the nearest stone. She screeched as she fell forward and cracked her head on the sandstone monolith. As she lay struggling on the wet ground he snatched at Archie’s arm and dragged him free of the clinging mud.
‘Quick,’ he urged and quickly struggled across the circle towards Queenie and his daughter.
Leaving her fallen sister, her companion scuttled around the stone and lunged towards them; her fingertips just brushed Archie’s sleeve before he batted her hand away.
Thwarted she turned on her wounded sister. ‘Get up fool,’ she said scathingly, watching coldly as the dazed witch dragged herself up on the stone and stumbled forward.
An angry scowl descended on her simple face as she saw the men safe beside Queenie.
Paul snatched up his daughter, holding her close while he stared in disbelief at Patricia’s bloody face.
‘Daddy,’ wailed Eva, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, ‘I want to go home.’
‘I know, I know’ he said hurriedly. ‘We’ll go home soon.’
The witches began to advance across the clearing towards the small group.
‘Queenie, do something!’ he said desperately.
With her foot she quickly scraped a circle in the mud around them all. ‘A circle of safety here I cast; my will to hold me fast, a shield of light before and behind. To all within no harm will come. I call upon the power of three, maiden, mother, crone, with its sacred light surrounding me. As above and so below, blessed be,’ she quickly uttered.
A howl of anger came from Margaret as the blood stopped spurting from Patricia’s nose and eyes and they halted in confusion jus
t feet away from the protective circle.
‘You have stopped them,’ said Archie, with relief.
Queenie gave him a little wink then stared triumphantly at Margaret.
She nodded thoughtfully, ‘You are indeed a worthy adversary,’ she stated. ‘Methinks you should change your mind and join us.’
‘Methinks I won’t,’ Queenie responded.
‘Then you and your friends will die,’ she said and motioned one of the women forward.
She shambled towards them, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it as a purple bruise blossomed on her forehead.
‘So who are you? Agnes or Dorcas?’ Queenie asked.
‘Dorcas,’ she muttered and grinned foolishly. ‘And that’ll be the last name you’ll ever hear, crone.’
Queenie slowly shook her head. ‘I doubt it,’ she replied, a look of pity on her face as she examined the pathetic creature advancing towards them. ‘Don’t do this Dorcas,’ she appealed. ‘She’s using you, don’t you realise that if you get this wrong then you will be the one to suffer, not her?’
Dorcas glanced back doubtfully at the two women and a look of contempt crossed Margaret’s face.
‘Do it,’ she ordered.
‘But...’
‘You forget, miserable creature, how I helped you when you were persecuted and beaten by the good people of the town, how they put you in the stocks and tormented you. Now I ask something of you in return.’
‘Ay,’ Dorcas said slowly. ‘I remember.’
‘Then do it,’ she said coldly. ‘And show your loyalty to your coven.’
A look of fear crossed Dorcas’s face as she slowly raised her skinny arms to the sky.
‘Don’t do this,’ Queenie urged. ‘You will fail!’
She hesitated for a second then began in a thin wavering voice, ‘Come Abaddon. Come, I call upon you Knight of the Underworld...’
‘Oh darn!’ breathed Queenie.
‘Darn? Darn?’ Paul shouted. ‘What do you mean darn?’ He clutched at her sleeve and gave it a shake. ‘This is bad, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. She is trying to summon the Angel of Death, and once called he will not go back empty handed.’
‘What are we going to do?’ stammered Archie. ‘Can we make it to the car and escape?’
The Doll Page 21