Sudden, bright light stung her eyes. The darkness evaporated in less than a second and so did the vise-like grip around her and the man who led her here. Her wrists burned. Bruises where she had been gripped began to bloom. All around her, the beautiful garden blossomed in such tranquility. Such deadliness. Mere yards from the house and with nowhere else to go, she made her way toward it.
The front door stood open, inviting her to enter. Inside, the magnificent hall was silent and empty. No music came from the drawing room. She opened the door and found the room deserted. The furniture looked real, and when she ran her hand across the piano, the wood felt solid under her fingertips.
A shuffling noise. She turned.
Creeping along the floor, a hideous wormlike creature gained ground upon her. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that so wanted to escape, and she backed up against the wall. Still the creature advanced. Its eyes open and focused on her. Its mouth gaped, an all-consuming blackness, drawing her ever closer to its hideous depths. She sensed intelligence in its gaze, but only of the most evil kind. It had meaning and purpose. It knew what it was doing. And it wanted to kill her.
Cornered, desperate, Evelyn beat on the walls. The slithering worm stopped. It reared up cobra-like, hissing and spitting at its prey. Evelyn caught sight of a small handle on the wall a few inches away from her. She grabbed it, and, in one twist of her hand, a door opened. In a second, she was through, slamming the door behind her, and grabbed a heavy box covered in cobwebs. She pushed hard, its weight resisting every shove, until she had wedged it behind the door. She leaned against the box, panting.
The creature had no fingers, so with any luck it couldn’t open doors. God alone knew how great its strength was, but it had powerful muscles.
Her breathing eased, and Evelyn listened for any sound from the other side of the wall. Silence. Maybe it had given up, unless… Perhaps it was waiting for her. Lulling her into a false sense of security. She wouldn’t fall for that one.
Evelyn took in her surroundings – a long, narrow room. Dim light squeezed through a small window at one side, sufficient to illuminate a mahogany desk. Evelyn made her way over to it. Old, yellowing papers littered the floor. She ignored them for now, intent on discovering what the many drawers contained. She opened them one after the other. All contained yellow parchment or other high-quality paper. All pristine. She opened more drawers in front of her. These held pens of varying types, including expensive-looking fountain pens and quills.
She came to the final drawer, to the right of her. Inside lay a manuscript. She had seen it before. The one she had found in this house but not this room. This time, it had a new cover, with The Chronicles of Calladocia picked out in gold lettering on green board covers. Although not properly bound, it gave every impression someone had taken a great deal of care over it. She turned to the first page. As before, authorship wasn’t credited. Also as before, the stories went far beyond what she and Claire had written. The pictures too were of high quality and in exquisite detail. Each one reflected the characters she knew so well. Lady Mandolyne once again appeared identical to the ethereal creature she had encountered.
Evelyn lost track of time. Here, at least she was safe, or so it seemed. For now anyway. She turned her attention to the papers strewn all over the floor. She picked them up one by one. Most held little of any interest. They appeared to be early, discarded drafts of the parts of the story neither she nor, to the best of her knowledge, Claire had written. There were heavy crossings out, as if the author had become frustrated at his or her inability to tell the tale.
Evelyn laid them neatly on top of each other on the desk. Soon, she had amassed a pile as big as the finished work itself.
By now the light had begun to fade. Evening must be drawing in. She needed to find an escape from the Todeswurm. Picking up the book, she made her way past the desk, along the narrow room, grateful for the occasional window, however small, so she could see where she was going. Shadows lengthened all around her, and she had the impression of moving in an anticlockwise direction. This space must extend all around the house. There didn’t seem to be any doors to the outside world, and, so far, she hadn’t found another internal one such as the one she had entered by.
She had to escape soon or risk spending the night here. Although, at least that would be preferable to encountering the beast again.
She reached a dead end. It appeared the only way in and out of this place was through the door leading to the drawing room. Did the Todeswurm know that? Maybe it was waiting for her there right now, knowing she would have to come out sooner or later.
Evelyn swung around and made for the nearest small window, high up on the wall. She couldn’t reach it without standing on something, and, apart from the box she had used to wedge against the door, and the desk, which might not take her weight, there was nothing.
Panic welled up inside her, and she swallowed hard. She mustn’t pick now, of all times, to give in to useless fear. She must be practical.
It became ever more difficult to see. The shadows darkened by the second.
And then she heard it.
Scuffling.
Pray God the thing hadn’t made it in here with her.
Evelyn shrank against the wall, holding her breath. The scuffling came nearer. Not the slithering she had heard in the drawing room. This sounded more human.
“Ev?”
Never had she been gladder to hear her sister’s voice. “Claire. Thank God. How did you get here? How did you find me?”
“I…don’t know. I…” Claire’s face appeared before her. For a second she seemed devoid of a body, as if only her face could manifest itself. In an instant the moment had passed and her sister stood opposite.
“I was suddenly here, and I knew I had to find you. I knew where you were, although I haven’t the faintest idea how.”
“Are you…alone?”
“I think so. I’m not sure. It’s all a bit confusing. I was with Branwell. We were by the lake. Lady Mandolyne was there, as real as you and I. But there was something wrong, Ev. She didn’t seem…right somehow.”
“We wrote her as having gone insane, don’t you remember?”
“Yes, well, that would fit. And there was something not right about Branwell either.”
“In what way?”
“Oh, Ev, I’ve always felt so safe with him. But he was different this time. As if I was with another man entirely. One who had taken over Branwell’s body.” Claire caught sight of the book, tucked under Evelyn’s arm.
“What’s that?”
Evelyn held it out to her. “The completed Chronicles of Calladocia. Only we didn’t complete them. Someone else did.”
“Let me see.” Claire opened the book and flipped over the pages. “This is his handwriting. Branwell’s. These are his drawings too. I recognize the style. They’re like the ones I showed you, and you wouldn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t written that scene or drawn the pictures.”
“Well, I believe you now. Or, at least, I believe you didn’t write them, but, if your suspicions about Branwell are correct, it could be neither did he. Someone else is possessing him.”
“Possessing him? How? Why?”
“To get at us for some reason, I presume, although I have no idea why. Matthew seemed to think possession was a likely answer, and I think he’s right.”
“Is he here? Matthew?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Did you come in through the little door in the drawing room?”
Claire nodded. “I don’t know why. I felt drawn to it somehow. I didn’t even know it was there.”
“The same thing happened to me. The Todeswurm threatened me, and I found it.”
“Lucky.”
“Yes.” A bit too lucky perhaps. It certainly seemed to have given up all too quickly. “Did you see any sign of the worm
or anyone else?”
“No. The place was empty. Branwell and Lady Mandolyne disappeared somewhere.”
“Then we must try and get away.”
“Unless we can reach a window, open it and squeeze through, we’ll have to go back the way we came. Through the drawing room.” Claire looked up at the nearest window. “There is no catch. No way of opening it without smashing it, which would give the worm another means of getting in. We might need this place as sanctuary in the future.”
“You’re right. The drawing room it is, then.”
Evelyn led the way back down to where the desk stood, the neat pile of papers still there. “Could you carry those?’ Evelyn asked. “There may be something in them I’ve missed. I only had a quick look. Besides, last time I tried to take this book back, I failed.”
Claire helped Evelyn heave the box aside and then picked up the sheaf.
“What’s in this box?” she asked.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know if I can open it.” Evelyn felt around. Nothing. “Right, let’s not waste any more time. The light’s almost gone.”
Reluctantly, Claire joined her at the door, and Evelyn turned the handle, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
She peered around into the drawing room, and a pair of familiar eyes made her jump.
“Matthew!”
“Hello, Evelyn. I’ve come to get you out of here.”
Evelyn pushed the door wide and stepped out into the room. “I’m so relieved to see you. Come on, Claire. Matthew’s going to get us out of here.”
Confusion covered Matthew’s face. “Who are you talking to?”
“My sister. Claire. You remember.”
“Evelyn. There’s no one there.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t understand.” Evelyn peered back into the room. “She was right behind me.”
“No, Evelyn. You were on your own. There was no one with you.” He pointed to the book. “What’s that?”
“Something Claire and I have been working on that seems to have been completed by someone else. Matthew, I don’t understand where she’s gone. She was there. She came for me.”
“This place. It plays havoc with your mind. I don’t know how I got here, but I do know how to get us out. We must hurry.”
“But what about Claire? I can’t just leave her here. The Todeswurm is about.”
“Trust me, she’s not here. If she ever was.”
Evelyn followed Matthew reluctantly. But she had to acknowledge what he said was right. This place could destroy anyone’s sanity. She must trust Matthew, at least for now. He was all she had to get her out of here.
The garden gave way to trees, and, as before, Evelyn felt them closing in on her, their branches tugging at her clothes, pulling her hair, scratching her face. Matthew strode on ahead, and Evelyn had trouble keeping up. She clung fiercely to the book and concentrated on not tripping on the uneven ground, where roots lay waiting for an unwary footstep.
The sun had gone down, and a half-moon cast inadequate light, which struggled to make it to ground level.
Then they were through the trees, back onto moorland.
Evelyn was alone. No sign of Matthew, the garden, the house. Only the bleak moorland stretched before her.
Gray clouds rolled in; the wind picked up and nearly blew her off her feet. Still she stood there, her mind reeling. Could she trust herself anymore? Had she been in that garden? That house? No sign of any of it now. Could she believe anything she thought she saw anymore?
Buffeted by the sudden gale, the onslaught of rain brought her to her senses. She couldn’t stay out in this weather. She must get back. At least the crags looked familiar.
She picked up her skirts and remembered. The book. Had she dropped it? She searched all around but could not see it anywhere. If it had ever existed, it had once again disappeared.
Evelyn hurried as best she could, by now soaked to the bone. Her hair escaped its clips, tears mingling with the rain and half blinding her.
Finally she made it to the path, which fast became a quagmire.
The path gave way to the lane, and Evelyn dashed along to her cottage. With trembling fingers she unlocked the door. Once inside, she stripped off her sodden coat and hat, shivering uncontrollably.
“Claire,” she called half-heartedly. She wouldn’t be there. Claire was lost.
“Ev?”
Her sister bounded down the stairs and took Evelyn in her arms. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you.”
“But you were with me. In that house. Then Matthew came and…” Evelyn read the confusion on Claire’s face. “It doesn’t matter. I’m home now. You’re home. Everything’s going to be all right.”
“I have to show you something,” Claire said. “But you must get out of those wet clothes or you’ll catch your death. What were you thinking of, going up on the moors in this weather?”
“How did you know I was on the moors?”
Claire pointed at Evelyn’s feet. She looked down and saw the mud plastered all over her boots.
“It wasn’t raining when I went up there.”
“You’ve been gone so long I’ve been really worried.”
Evelyn said nothing. She followed Claire up the stairs.
* * *
The next morning, following a night when sleep had been hard to come by, Evelyn wandered into Claire’s room. Her sister looked up from where she had been staring, apparently at the floor.
“Notice anything?” she said.
Evelyn gazed around the room. “Apart from being much tidier than usual, no. What’s changed?”
“Firstly, I didn’t tidy it, and secondly, look at this.”
Claire went over to the corner of the room and picked something up. She brought it back to show Evelyn. A tiny wormlike creature wriggled in Claire’s hand.
Evelyn recoiled. “For heaven’s sake, Claire. What is it? Some kind of maggot? Get rid of it. I don’t even think you should be touching it.”
“Oh, I’ll get rid of it, but watch what happens when I do.” Claire opened her window and flung the tiny creature out. She shut the window tightly. “Now go over to that corner and look carefully.”
Evelyn did as she was bid. At first nothing happened. Simply an ordinary skirting board and the edge of the rug. Then, slowly, a bubble appeared in the paintwork. It squirmed for a moment and then popped open. Another of the tiny worms fell onto the floor. Evelyn backed away. “Oh my Lord. How is this happening? Where are they coming from?”
“I have no idea. But it’s been going on for a couple of hours now. When I dispose of one, another appears.”
“No. No. It’s not natural. We must go to the apothecary and get some poison. Arsenic or strychnine.”
“I suppose we can try, but I’m sure they would simply keep coming back. I don’t know what they are or why they come, but I don’t believe they’re natural, and it looks like we’re stuck with them. For now, at least.”
“I’m not living with maggots or worms or whatever they are. And you can’t sleep in the same room as them.”
“Oh, but I can. Look.” Claire picked up a tumbler and placed it over the squirming creature. It wriggled around, trying to locate a way out. Finding none, it seemed to give up and lie still.
“Is it dead? Asleep?”
“Definitely not dead. When I take the glass off, it starts wriggling again. But at least this way I only have to contend with one. As long as you don’t get rid of them, and I assume that also means killing them, they leave you alone.”
“This is all connected to that infernal toy. Matthew’s uncle brought it to this cottage. He made a friend here, and the two of them used to play with it. Goodness knows what they discovered. When we moved in, our presence somehow activated something, and that’
s why it appeared. Everything we have experienced since then is linked to the disgusting thing. Including your new friend.” Evelyn pointed to the glass where the creature lay quiet.
A wave of extreme tiredness swept over Evelyn and she stifled a yawn behind her hand. “I’m going to have to lie down again for a little. I feel as if I haven’t slept in a week.”
“Don’t worry, Ev. I’ll look after everything here. I’ll make us a salad at teatime. That way you can eat whenever you’re ready.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
“I’ll get it,” Claire said. “You rest. You look worn out.”
Gratitude overwhelmed Evelyn, and she could have kissed her. She wandered into her room, and Claire made her way downstairs.
* * *
“Matthew,” Claire said.
“Evelyn?” He looked uncertain.
“No. Claire. Goodness, I would have thought you could have told us apart by now. I’m the messy one. You would never catch Ev with her hair like this.” Claire indicated the untidy ponytail lying half over her shoulder and half down her back.
“Is Evelyn in?”
“She’s having a lie down. She had a traumatic time yesterday by all accounts. But then you were with her, weren’t you? In The Garden of Bewitchment? “
“Me? No. I don’t know anything about that.”
“Oh, really? That’s not what she said.”
“I can assure you it’s true. I didn’t come to argue with you, Claire. I have some information for Evelyn. Can you ask her to contact me when she is rested?”
“Or you could tell me. Don’t you trust me to relay your messages to her?”
Matthew hesitated. Claire knew exactly what that meant.
“Very well,” he said at last. “If you will let me in, I will do my best to explain.”
Claire stepped aside. Matthew seemed to have aged in the past few days. She would have sworn he hadn’t had any gray in his hair, but now little flecks of it had begun to appear at his temples. It suited him in that irritating way men had of being able to look distinguished as they aged, whereas most women merely looked older.
The Garden of Bewitchment Page 16