“Her eyes!” His mother pointed with a shaking finger, her other hand clapped to her mouth.
James looked down. Alizon’s eyes were black. No trace of the whites remained. A demon had possessed her, and now it tried to suck him in. Mesmerized, he felt his grip on reality lessen. “Help me!”
His grandmother dragged his head back by his hair so he could no longer look into those terrible eyes. “Lord Dandie, thou art his familiar. Protect him now.”
A surge of power flooded James’s veins. His grip on his sister tightened and she screamed out her frustration. In his head he heard his familiar, and its words chilled his soul: “Do what thou must and do it now, for our power is the price of your salvation from Beelzebub.”
James wanted to run from this place and never look back, but he knew he must stay for Alizon’s sake. He had to bring his emotions under control and soothe her. “Hush, sweetness; it will soon be over.” He hoped his voice sounded reassuring and calm. Thankfully, his mother’s nod told him he had succeeded.
Although she still struggled against her bonds, Alizon’s eyes gradually returned to normal.
His grandmother’s voice, stronger than it had been in years, echoed around the small room. “It is ready. Lay her down.” She stood back as James and his mother untied and half carried Alizon. Somehow, they managed to avoid the flailing arms and legs and got her up onto the table. Then his grandmother wafted some smoking herbs under her nose. James didn’t recognize their pungent smell, but he felt himself growing light-headed.
The old woman saw him sway. “Get back, boy! Can’t have you falling asleep.”
In a reflex action, he obeyed.
“Put more logs on the fire,” his grandmother ordered. “We don’t want the girl to catch her death of cold, do we?”
Unlikely on such a warm spring day, but James knew the real reason for his grandmother’s concern. That fire had to be strong and the flames had to be at their fiercest if they were to do the important work that lay ahead of them.
He moved around the table and, in one swift movement, took two large logs from the pile by the fire and threw them on. Soon their stock would be gone. They had been making them last, using turf instead, but turf didn’t burn hot enough to banish Beelzebub back to hell.
The logs spat and crackled. Sparks flew upward. Smoke and then flames licked at the bark, and the room grew hotter. James turned back to the women at the table. Alizon seemed to have fallen into a drugged stupor.
His grandmother rolled up her sleeves. “It is time,” she said. “Prepare her.”
James’s mother unfastened Alizon’s bodice, exposing breasts that seemed full of milk, the nipples swollen and angry. She removed her daughter’s skirt, revealing her distended belly. A belly which, until a few weeks ago, had been flat.
Ripples, like tiny waves, rolled under her skin. Bile rose in James’s gut. He swallowed hard and glanced at his grandmother. She put her finger to her lips and shook her head. They must say nothing, lest the demon in Alizon’s belly hear them. It would do anything to protect itself.
His grandmother spread Alizon’s legs and peered between them. Then she stepped back and shook her head. “My eyes are too poor. I can see nothing. You must do it.” She motioned to her daughter, who shook her head and inched away.
“You must. The child is to be born. You must help it come into the world.”
James looked from his grandmother to his mother. She had to do this.
After precious seconds, Elizabeth finally nodded and moved forward, took one of Alizon’s knees in each hand and bent forward.
“I see something.” She stood up. “It is time.”
James moved around the table, to position himself between his mother and the now-roaring fire. His grandmother hobbled back a few steps so that she would be well out of the way when the time came. With his back to her, James couldn’t see, but he guessed she would be silently calling on her spirits of protection. Mindful of what Dandie had told him, he hoped they were strong enough to keep him and his family safe from whatever would now come into the world. All their familiars were needed to work together against this devil. The price was their power. Did that mean that, after this day, he and his family would lose their familiars’ protection forever?
Alizon lay still, not one movement. Like a corpse. A moment of panic. No, he could see the rise and fall of her chest. Thank God she had been spared this horror.
Elizabeth bent down again and her hands disappeared between his sister’s legs.
“I can feel its…head…I…”
“Courage, child,” his grandmother whispered.
James saw his mother gag. Despite the heat of the room, he felt cold with fear.
His mother screamed and fell back, her hands covered in blood.
“I can’t do this.”
His grandmother pushed her back. “You have to, child. There is no one else.”
Alizon stirred and moaned. Elizabeth gagged again, took a deep breath and bent down. She cried out. “It’s here. James, it is born!”
He stretched out his hands, ready to receive the child. In a flash, his mother lifted something out and thrust it at him. It lay in his hands. He stared at it. Black, scaly, clawlike hands flailed at the air. Its face, with its closed eyes and mouth, pointed as no human face could ever be. It wriggled, twisted and turned as Elizabeth cut the umbilical cord.
Then it opened its eyes and stared straight at James. He must throw the thing as far away from himself as possible, but he froze. In that second, it seemed to sense his intent. The reptilian green, red-flecked eyes held a malevolence in them that at once petrified him and then held him, trancelike. They drew him in.
Then it opened its mouth.
“Quick, James,” his mother cried, “it draws breath. You must do it now. Before it is too late!”
With a roar, James threw the creature onto the fire. Unholy screams scythed the air. The flames roared. Red. Yellow. Green. The cries grew louder, wilder. Not the cries of a baby. Not the cries of anything known to this world.
James, his mother and grandmother backed away to the far side of the room, holding fast to each other. His grandmother always kept control. She never showed fear. But she did today.
At last, the cries died away. The flames returned to a gentle blaze and, on the table, Alizon woke up. James stared down at his hands, caked in vile-smelling black blood. Without a word, he picked up the empty water bucket and opened the door, breathing in lungfuls of the sweet-smelling air, grateful for the warm sun caressing his cheeks.
He paused in the doorway and stared straight ahead. There, some distance away, stood a woman. At least, by her hair and shape she seemed to be a woman, but dressed strangely. Almost like a man, but not in clothes he recognized. Not breeches as he knew them but with each leg encased in some blue fabric that stretched down to her feet. Her jacket an unfamiliar color—not blue exactly, or green—and in a strange style. He stared at her, and even from this distance, he knew she was looking straight back at him. She seemed familiar, and then he remembered a stormy night on Pendle Hill. He blinked against the sun, and when he looked again, she had vanished. He shook his head. A trick of the light. Nothing more nor less. Or a sign.
As he pumped the cold spring water into the bucket, birds fluttered and twittered around him. Nature went about its business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
He returned to Malkin Tower to find Alizon sitting up, dazed and drugged. All eyes turned to him.
“Is it over?” he asked.
His mother and grandmother nodded. Alizon stared at him. In her eyes, a look he had hoped never to see.
Betrayal.
Chapter Eleven
I opened the door to see Virginia arranging flowers. The smile died on her face as she saw my expression.
“My goodness, Laura, are you all right? You
look as though you’ve had a fright.”
I’d been grateful not to meet any traffic on my shaky drive back, and tremors still coursed through me. I hugged myself. Had I really lost it this time? Was I going mad? “I don’t know what I saw, but it frightened the life out of me.”
Virginia put her arm around me. “Come on, you need a good, stiff brandy. Let’s go into the lounge. Everyone’s out, so we won’t be disturbed.”
I felt grateful for the sympathy and Virginia’s steadying arm, and had never been more grateful for a deep, comfortable sofa.
Virginia presented me with a large cognac, swishing around in a brandy balloon. I accepted it gratefully and took a deep swig. “I seem to be making a habit of drinking your brandy,” I said. “Your brother got me one last night.”
Virginia smiled. “He told me. He said you had a nice chat.”
“We did. I like him.” The cognac worked its warming magic and made me feel a little calmer.
“I’m afraid a lot of people round here don’t feel the same way, but I think they don’t—well, you know—get him. He’s a bit different from most of the men in the area.”
“Yes, I can see he would be.”
Virginia sat on the edge of the chair opposite and leaned forward. “Now, come on, what’s upset you?”
Once I started, I couldn’t stop. And through it all, Virginia sat impassive, taking it all in.
When I finished, I sighed. “God, I sound crazy.”
“No, you’re not crazy.”
“But what if I told you someone saw me?”
“Really? Did you speak to them?”
“I didn’t get a chance. I zapped back, or whatever. But he looked familiar. Like someone I’d seen in a dream.”
“He?”
I told her what I’d seen, ending up with the appearance of the man I thought I recognized. “But then it all changed back, so I suppose I’ll never know for sure. Oh, for heaven’s sake, what am I saying? I don’t even believe in ghosts and now I’m talking about time travel!”
Virginia shook her head. “Don’t dismiss it so quickly. Why don’t you show me this field?”
I opened the road map on the page where the little cross could be seen, marking the location.
Virginia peered at it. “How long were you there?”
“Not long. Maybe a couple of minutes. I can’t be sure.”
“But you almost made contact. I’m interested in this man you saw coming out of the house. Can you describe him?”
“Only that he seemed young, tall, and he had a wooden bucket in his hand. I think he was wearing breeches and a longish brown jacket. His shirt was none too clean either. Smeared with something. I don’t want to think what. But the way he stopped in the doorway… Even though he must have been going somewhere with that bucket. He stopped right there and stared straight at me, almost as if he knew me. God, the more I try to explain it, the crazier I sound.”
Virginia shook her head. “No, not crazy. Not at all. I know exactly what you mean.”
I felt something tighten in my chest. Something about Virginia’s tone had changed. Why? It had to be something I’d said. Something about the man perhaps?
“Do you know who he was?” Dammit, I’d done it again! Making him into a real person when he couldn’t be. But he felt so real. At least Virginia hadn’t treated me like a candidate for the men in white coats and a straitjacket. Not yet at any rate.
Virginia went over to the window. Then she turned and looked back at me. “It’s called a timeslip. Not many people experience it. Only those who are sensitive. And you must be ultrasensitive, because you stayed for more than a second or two and almost interacted with someone. Next time, you may find you stay longer. You may even get to speak to him. But be careful. Once you become real to anyone in that world, it may be harder to return to your own.”
I stared at her, unable to believe what I’d heard. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” A note of annoyance had crept into her voice. “You were there. You experienced it. You know it was real, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. This is way out of my experience.”
“And has nothing odd ever happened to you before? Hearing things that couldn’t be there? Seeing things out of the corner of your eye?”
Where to start? The ping-pong ball. And the whisper. The breath on my neck. Too many strange things had happened.
“I thought as much. Recently too by the expression on your face.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve never believed in this stuff. I always look for a logical explanation. But now I don’t know what to think. I’m so confused.”
“Yes. Well, give me a logical explanation for what you experienced today. Or for those past experiences you haven’t told me about.”
I stared at her. Could she read my mind?
“I thought as much. You can’t, can you? And you won’t. Because there really are some things your precious logic can’t explain.”
Her voice had risen and the door opened. Lillian Sayer and her daughter. They looked questioningly at Virginia.
“I’m sorry, Laura; I get a bit passionate sometimes.” The old Virginia had returned.
“You don’t need to apologize. It’s me. It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime.”
“Oh, you will though, the longer you spend around here.” Virginia laughed, catching the eyes of Lillian and Ella. They nodded.
I felt weary, as if my eyes would close at any moment. I glanced at my watch. Three thirty. I made my excuses and headed straight for my bedroom, taking care to ensure the door was firmly closed before I turned my back on it. I suddenly felt incredibly tired, lay down on my bed and fell asleep almost immediately
The early evening sun streamed through the window when I woke up, just after six.
As I left for the Feathers and my evening meal, I checked my phone.
One text from Dawn asking how things were going. I sent off a quick reply. Great. Staying two more days. That would stop her worrying when I didn’t return on Tuesday. After a moment’s hesitation, I switched the phone off. Unlikely anyone but Dawn would call, but I didn’t want to be bothered with any contact from the outside world at present. That wasn’t like me either. I always checked my phone, but here, right now, it didn’t seem to matter. It could all wait until I returned home.
Through the window, I saw Lillian and her daughter talking to Martin. The two women looked out of place somehow. As if they’d found themselves in the wrong decade and couldn’t return to their own time. They just didn’t fit.
Then Virginia joined them. Still the same three cars were lined up next to mine. One had to belong to Mrs. Sayer. As for the other two, maybe they belonged to Martin and Virginia. I certainly hadn’t seen any sign of other guests.
They’d all gone by the time I got downstairs and I wandered down the hill, my mind churning over the day’s strange events.
George set my plate of gammon and chips down in front of me. “Are you still staying at Barrowbrooke Farm?”
I nodded.
George frowned. “Oh well, as long as everything’s okay for you. If you change your mind, we do have a spare room. One of the guests canceled.”
For a moment, I almost took him up on the offer. But why would I do that? I felt perfectly comfortable there. “Thanks.” I said, “I’ll remember that.”
He moved away. The door opened. Only a handful of customers stood around the bar and I’d chosen a table by the window again. My stomach gave a little flutter as Martin Davies came in. He ran his fingers through his mane of black hair, looked around and saw me. I told myself he couldn’t have been looking for me, but his smile hinted that he wasn’t sorry to find me.
He came over. “Hello, may I join you?”
He didn’t wait f
or a reply and sat down, opposite me. He pointed at my meal. “Is that good?”
I swallowed a mouthful of gammon. “Excellent.”
“I’ll order the same. Can I get you a drink?”
I hesitated. No man had brought me a drink since… “White wine please. Chardonnay.”
Martin strode up to the bar. George approached him, his face red and angry. I couldn’t hear their exchange, but didn’t need to. George’s gesticulations told me he didn’t want Martin in his pub under any circumstances. Martin spread his hands in a gesture of conciliation, and the whole scene provided salacious entertainment for the other customers. That bad blood between the two men ran deep.
Finally, Martin turned away and came back, shaking his head.
“Sorry, the landlord won’t serve me, so I have to leave. I’ll see you back at the farm later perhaps?”
I smiled and nodded and Martin left. So he had broken off some relationship with the landlord’s daughter? So what? That sort of thing happened all the time. No, there had to be more to this hostility on George’s part. Not that it was any of my business of course.
The other customers had gone back to their chatter. No prizes for guessing the topic of conversation now though. From the laughter, I guessed they were all on George’s side.
When I went to the bar to pay for my meal, I couldn’t resist it. “I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but why wouldn’t you serve Martin?”
The smile froze. “He’s no good, that one, and you would do well to keep away from him, as I said yesterday.” He turned and punched a couple of buttons on the till, more savagely than necessary.
I left a tip, took my change and hoped I would never upset him as much as Martin had. George Nowell had quite a temper when roused.
Martin met me in the hall when I returned. “Fancy a brandy?”
“This is becoming a habit.”
“Shall we go to the lounge? The ladies have gone up to their rooms.”
The bottle of Rémy Martin stood ready, on a tray, with two brandy balloons.
I decided to see if Martin would be more forthcoming than the landlord. “George seems to bear quite a grudge, doesn’t he? I assume that business in the pub had a lot to do with your relationship with his daughter?”
The Pendle Curse Page 11