She stopped and turned to face him, smiled and nodded. “They’ll be fine… You should worry about what you have to face.” She smiled again. “I know my sister well… and believe me when I say that she’s more than a match for anything the shadow master can throw at her.” She then turned away. Mylon walked back to Henry and then looked back in Sophia’s direction. “She sure is a beautiful creature,” he said, as if he was thinking out loud. Henry frowned. “I wouldn’t know… she’s my aunt.” Mylon smiled and slapped him on the back. “Let’s get this over with… Enough time has been wasted.”
Mylon then went about rounding up his men and said his goodbyes to Alk, Bert and the others. Henry didn’t go over to the others; instead he watched as Mylon, his aunt and a number of his men set out. It didn’t feel right to say goodbye: it seemed so permanent, as if he would never see them again and that’s one thought he couldn’t face. He already missed Mylon’s smiling face, Bert’s bluntness, and of course grumpy Ben… And they hadn’t even left yet. Mylon stopped briefly to give Henry a wave and a nod of reassurance. Henry put up his hand to wave and stood and watched until they were out of sight. He felt so alone. Bree was off somewhere with his mother hunting the black creature that stalks the woodlands, and now his friends and aunt had gone off to help them. Alk, Bert, Ben and Walt also left at the same time, accompanied by four troopers, to retrieve the spearhead from his uncle. He sighed, already feeling empty. “We go now, too, master,” he heard Nog say somewhere behind him. He turned but nobody was there. “Over here, master,” he heard him say again. This time it was to his right. He turned and was relieved to see Nog standing only a few feet away from him. “How do you do that?” he said. By now, Grog was standing just behind him. “We have skills, master,” he said. Henry turned around fast. “I’m in no mood for bloody games!” he shouted.
Poor Grog looked mortified. “Just showing master our skills… so you see that we are not helpless,” he said sheepishly. “Yes… just showing master our skills,” Nog repeated, just as upset by his master’s outburst. Again, Henry instantly regretted shouting. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to shout… but a lot has happened… and I have no idea how I’m going to get through the next few days… So forgive me if I’m not in any mood for games,” he said sternly. He paused as he watched Nog walk around to his brother, then said in a more simplistic tone, “You must understand… I’m finding all this… this magic stuff frightening and hard to come to terms with… so little games like those don’t help me one little bit.” Grog stepped a little closer. “No games, master.” Nog surprisingly said nothing. “Just showing you that we are not what you first see.” Nog started to dance happily on the spot. “Do you want to see more, master?” he said, almost singing. “No… no, I don’t… not just now… and stop calling me master… It’s Henry… just call me Henry.” Nog stopped dancing. “You are our master… we must call you so,” he said. “Yes, master,” Grog said in support. “We have always served the host master… it’s who we are.”
Henry didn’t respond; instead he just stared at them, wondering what to say next, but Grog continued. “We live to serve the host… that’s what we are.” He now sounded a little concerned. “It’s what we do, master… We waited a long, long time for the host to come… and now you’re here,” Nog confirmed. Henry really wasn’t up for another debate or argument, so instead he took a deep breath, sighed and said, “Well, if that’s the case, we had better be on our way… you can tell me about yourselves on the way.” Both Grog and Nog gave a big smile; despite himself, he couldn’t help but smile back.
Henry senior sat up in his bed and held his head. The pain had eased a little but was still there. It took him a few minutes to come around enough to realise that he was now sat in his bed. The last thing he could remember was a shooting pain in the head and then passing out on the bathroom floor, but now… he was neatly tucked up in his bed with his bedcover pulled over him. He glanced around the room: nothing seemed out of place. Then, in a darkened corner of his bedroom, sitting on his dressing chair, was a dark figure.
Henry froze. He knew that he was not strong enough to call on his powers for protection, so all he could do was just sit and hope for the best.
“I told you that you should have had that head of yours seen to,” the dark figure said. Henry immediately recognised the voice and was relieved to hear the familiar London accent. “James…” Henry managed to say. James sat forward so that Henry could see his face illuminated by the bathroom light. However, for some reason, something didn’t feel right: he had a sinister… almost darker look to his face. “What are you doing here?” he said, trying to sound composed. “Why… helping you of course,” James replied, but Henry could hear the change in the tone of his voice… and it didn’t sound friendly. He tried to get up but the pain in his head got worse, so he sat back down and rested his head against the soft, padded headboard. “Now, boss,” James said with an even more sinister tone. “Where do you keep it?” Henry’s heart sank… James was after the spearhead and that meant only one of two things… He was one of the shadow master’s servants… or, more unlikely, a guardian. “Where’s what?” Henry replied, trying to sound ignorant. “Now, Mr H… we ain’t gonna play no games now, are we…? I mean, look at ya…You’re in no fit state for nothing now, are ya?” James got up from the chair and walked over to the bed and leant over him. His face was still in the dark and now only inches away from Henry’s. “I’ll ask ya just one more time… where is it?”
Henry had to think fast. He knew that if he handed the spearhead over to James or anyone else, he would no longer hold a bargaining chip to help him stay alive. “I’ll have to show you,” Henry managed to say. James pulled away and stood upright. “Well, Mr H… in that case Ya gonna have to get up and show me… The spearhead is needed and we ain’t got no time to mess about.” Henry sat up and slung his legs over the bed, holding his head as the pain shot through it. “My master sure got inside ya head… ain’t he?” James laughed. Henry didn’t reply, but gave James a wicked look. “Now, Mr H… just a joke.” James had let it slip when he said, “My master.” Henry had to think fast but he knew he was too weak to try and attack him … but he couldn’t let James get his hands on the spear.
Suddenly he had an idea. It would require the use of his powers… but only a little. “I need a hand to stand,” Henry said whilst holding out his arm. James hesitated a moment, then smiled. “Why not, Mr H…? I don’t want ya falling over again… now, do I?” he said as he took hold of Henry’s outstretched arm. Just as James took hold of his arm, Henry immediately grabbed James’s wrist whilst simultaneously sending a powerful shock wave down his arm and into James. James screamed with pain but Henry kept hold of his arm, forcing more and more shock waves into poor James’s body, but the pain got too much for Henry’s head, forcing him to stop. Too tired to do anymore, the pain was excruciating, but he managed to stay conscious. James, however, didn’t: he dropped to the floor, hitting his head with such force that it knocked the lamp off the table.
For some time Henry did nothing other than just sit on the edge of his bed looking down at the lifeless body of James. He had a strong feeling of remorse. He had known James for a number of years now, and he had always been fun to be around. Never… in his wildest dreams would he have suspected him of being involved with the dark one. Questions rushed through his mind: was James serving the shadow master when he was first employed…? Or had he been subverted by it since? Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn’t mean to kill him… simply render him helpless, but due to his weakness and poor use of his powers, he had inadvertently used too much.
Henry was tired and put everything he had into the attack, but he was obviously stronger than he thought. But still, it took him some time before he could compose himself enough to get up off the bed, having to hold onto the footboard of the bed for a moment, giving his head time to stop pounding. He thought back to what James had said earlier: “The master’s sure got into his head.�
�� What did he mean by that? The shadow master did try and get into his head. Was the pain from the accident as he always thought, or was it because of his encounter with the dark one? If that was the case, he needed help and he knew that the kind of help he needed could only come from one of his sisters, and he’d never liked asking them for anything.
However, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made to him. When the shadow master dug deep into his mind, perhaps it did more than just read it… Panic surged up inside… Did it mean that he, too, would eventually go over to the darkness? His heart raced with the mere thought of it. He would need to find his sisters in order to find out what the mind probe had done to him… and he’d need to find them soon.
He gingerly stepped over James’s lifeless body and headed straight to the bathroom. He rushed over to the sink, turned on the cold water tap, letting it run as he leant over the sink and was violently sick. He then washed his face with the cool water and looked up at himself in the mirror. “What on earth have you done…? You bloody idiot,” he said to himself in temper. He sighed and placed his hands under the cold running tap again, enjoying the fresh, cool sensation of the water. He bent over the sink to splash the water over his face and then looked back into the mirror, allowing the water to drip off his face and run down onto his chest. For a while he just stared at the mirror, cursing the reflection that looked back at him.
Eventually he turned off the tap and walked over to the shower and turned it, allowing it to run as he laid out clean clothing on his bed. He carefully picked up the dirty clothes he had disregarded earlier from the floor and put them into a basket. He had no idea of time, or how long he was asleep, but he did know it must have been for quite some time. He grabbed a towel and walked back into his bedroom expecting to see the cold, lifeless body of James on the floor, but to his surprise in his place lay a grey, colourless, hideous-looking creature. It was long and wiry, with a skin like leather. Gingerly, he stepped closer to have a better look at its face. On seeing it he reacted by stepping back and holding his hand over his mouth in shock. Its face was blank, except for a small line where the mouth should be, and two tiny dots in place of its eyes. Immediately he knew what it was, “a shape-shifter”, not that he had ever seen one before but it could be nothing else. Again, all sorts of questions rushed through his mind.
Was it James that he had had a conversation with in the lodge earlier… If it was, is he still alive…? And how long has it been here? One thing was for sure: it must have been in the town before he got home because it would have never got through the barrier his sister had put up to follow him. However, he was relieved to know that he hadn’t in fact killed James, but he needed to see if he was alright, so he stepped into the shower. Enough was enough, he thought. It was bad enough that he was forced to wreck his lovely, expensive car… and barely survived in the process, then the encounter with the shadow master. He held his head with the mere thought of the pain, then to top it all off, he had to endure the discomforts of the running around through the woodland soaking wet and scared witless. But now… being attacked in his own home by a servant of the shadow master was the last straw.
He was going to take back at least some control over his life. For years he’d always been his own boss, the one at the top, and he expected people to do what he told them and was used to getting his way. So why, he asked himself, can’t he do that now? He was feeling a lot better for having a hot shower and now dressed in dry, clean clothes more appropriate for the outdoors and ready to do whatever he could, regardless of the consequences to get the spearhead, he had reasoned with himself that once he had it in his own hands he would feel safer… Safe enough perhaps to go and find his sisters for help. It was, however, his only chance of survival.
Helping the dark one was now not an option, he knew that he would have to fight… but this time on the right side. After all, he was a guardian and it was about time he started to act like one. His sisters and others didn’t trust him and hadn’t done so for many years now. They saw him as a selfish man, only out to get what he could out of life… Perhaps they were right. However, things had changed and he needed to win back their trust, and the only way to do that was to hand them back the spearhead. But first, he would have to check in on James to see if he was okay: the shape-shifter might have taken more than just his identity – it might have taken his life.
Now he was comfortably dressed in light brown, water-resistant trousers, soft woollen shirt, hiking boots and a black, all-weather jacket. There was a strong possibility that he would be living in the elements for the foreseeable future, so he decided to make sure that this time he at least would feel more comfortable in doing so.
He went back into the bathroom and opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink, reached in and pulled out a small, plastic bottle of pills. He didn’t have time to have his head seen to. Besides, the police might still be looking for him, so for now he would have to make do with off-the-shelf painkillers. He ran the tap and filled a small glass with water, took two pills from the bottle and downed them in one, pulling a face as he did so. He had never liked taking pills, but on the odd occasion he had, he had always found them difficult to swallow and hated the nasty taste they left in his mouth. Pulling a face, he poured the rest of the water down the sink and placed the glass on the side. He then put the remainder of the pills in his pocket and walked back into his bedroom. He paused to give the creature on the floor one more look and then left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Without hesitation, Henry senior made his way down the stairs; which were a grand affair, wide, heavily carpeted with dark, wooden balusters all carved with trees which acted as supports. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs he walked across the large, tastefully decorated hallway to the largely unused contemporary kitchen, grabbed a packet of plain biscuits and a handful of chocolate bars, and shoved them in his jacket pocket. The pain in his head was still there but a little more bearable, but it left him feeling dizzy and a little sick. Plain biscuits were possibly the only thing he would be able to hold down right now. He took a second to look around at his lovely home: who knows when he would be able to return home again. He sighed again, left the house via the back door, and walked across the lawn to the lodge to check in on James.
The lodge lights were still on but there was no sound of the TV or signs of movement. When Henry reached the door, he was about to open it, when suddenly James shoved it open, making Henry jump back. “Mr H,” he smiled, “are ya feeling any better?” he said, looking Henry up and down. “Ya sure is cleaner,” he frowned, “but still look a little white to me… How’s ya head?” Henry smiled, relieved that he was okay. “Come in… come in,” James beckoned, opening the door further and standing to one side. Henry hesitated but decided that he could spare a moment: he was just pleased that James was alright. “Don’t have many visitors… you’re the first, Mr H,” he said. “Come, sit down… I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.” Henry did as he was asked; he was still tired and a cup of tea sounded great to him. “When I say a cup of tea… I mean a mug… don’t ave no cups… Is that alright with you, Mr H?” Henry nodded and replied that it would be fine. The bigger the mug, the better. He had never had the opportunity to visit the lodge before, not since James moved in. It was empty before that and his busy lifestyle never gave him any time or the opportunity to do so.
The main living room wasn’t cosy, instead it was full of lots of high-tech equipment and gave the impression of an untidy teenager’s bedroom. To start with, there was a large television fixed to the wall and scattered around the room were computers, a CD player and game consuls, and on the wall next to the TV was a tall, narrow, self-assembled shelf which was piled full of music and games discs. The room was sparsely decorated with just one old, large sofa, electrical equipment and a large, death metal-type poster on one of the walls.
James came back into the room and handed Henry a steaming mug of tea. “Do ya ave sugar?” he asked. Henry took
the mug and shook his head. “No thanks,” he said, still studying the poster. “Good… ’cause I ain’t got none anyway,” he said jokingly. James sat down next to Henry and took a sip of his tea. “My old band.” James said, noticing that Henry was staring at his one and only form of decoration. “It’s a band that I played in some years ago,” he continued. Henry took a sip from his mug and pulled away quickly. “Meant to tell ya that it’s hot.” James laughed. “What did you play?” Henry asked, not really interested but felt he should ask anyway, trying to make polite conversation. “Guitar,” he replied. “Ya… I played lead.” He paused to take another sip of tea. “Quite big, we was… but didn’t work out, though…There was never any money in it… well, not for us anyway… but I’m a darn sight sure others made a bob or two out of the band.”
James rested his cup on the arm of the sofa. “I’m coming with ya,” he suddenly announced. Henry looked up at him. “Ya in no fit state to go anywhere on ya lone-sum… so I’m coming, too.” Henry didn’t really know how to respond. He couldn’t tell James anything of what was happening or what he might have to face if he did come, but he didn’t want to decline James’s offer. He could do with a little company, but James was human and would never be able to cross the barrier. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to involve him in such matters, so for James’s sake he had to decline his offer.
Finally, after a few awkward seconds, Henry said, “I have to go alone… but I’m grateful for your offer… but no thanks.” James smiled. “Sorry, Mr H… I’m coming.” Henry gingerly got up from sofa. “You have no idea where…” but James interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “I have no idea… I have no idea… You must be kidding, mate… I know exactly who you are… always have done… and I know what’s going on right now… well, at least some of it.” He paused, noticing the look of horror on Henry’s face. “I’m not here to harm you, Mr H… if that’s what you is thinking… I’m like you, mate… we belong in nature… you and me, two brothers in arms and all that nonsense.”
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