Darkly Wood II

by Power, Max

  “Daisssssy Meeeeeeeh.”

  The sound whispered in the air about her and Rose was oblivious. But for Daisy May Coppertop, that voice, that horrible chilling sound sent a dagger of ice through her. She had no choice but to go on. It suddenly struck her that maybe this was her destiny. This was perhaps not about Holly at all. Maybe, just maybe, she was meant to come back to the wood. There was after all, unfinished business.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - HE WHO WAITS

  Wormhold tucked his fat-fingered hands into the pockets of his old, blue-grey coat. He was cold, but then again he was always cold. He stood watching from a distance, high up near the top of the meadow which sloped away from Darkly Wood down to Cranby and he wondered why he felt so empty. A gentle breeze pushed against the rim of his old top hat as though trying to dislodge it from its place of near permanence. Wormhold felt the brush of air on his face and he looked back at the wood.

  It was time. Beyond the first thin line of saplings and young growth, he knew the dark heart of the wood was locked away from the rest of the world and he knew exactly what was waiting beyond the place where the light was bright. He sighed and withdrew his right hand from his pocket, to wrap the scarf tighter around his face in order to keep out the cold. Others would not have noticed it, but Wormhold felt the winter of the day even in the bright sunshine. He coughed. The cough that never went away was something that he no longer noticed.

  Below in Cranby, the village folk went about their business, oblivious to his presence. Only Cathecus had seen him. Even Cathecus didn’t know he was watching events unfold so closely. Poor Cathecus. Wormhold didn’t feel sorry for him; he couldn’t feel sorry for him. Sympathy was not something that Wormhold felt and he could not empathise with anyone. But he did understand that he had placed an onerous burden on the stone mason. He knew his power and he knew that what he was doing would bring sadness and heartache to the village once again. But that didn’t concern Wormhold.

  A familiar sound teetered about his head. It was a soft thumping beat and he knew his boy was somewhere close, lurking in the shadows. He would be bouncing on his hunkers no doubt, too far away, too deep in the wood to get a proper look at Wormhold, but he would sense him. Thump, thump, they shared the sound as it grew and old familiar thoughts ran through their minds. But they were not the same. Wormhold remembered. Wormhold knew of yesterday and planned for tomorrow because he had to. Unlike Wormhold, the boy was a creature of the moment.

  Living in the moment, he was controlled by something outside of himself. He was shadowed by thoughts that hovered about him, allowing him to know when to act and who to strike, but never truly giving him reason or any sense to it all. Reason was dangerous and Wormhold knew that more than most.

  Cranby had ticked the tock of the centuries clock and remained untouched by the world for the most part and that is how it had to be. It was the perfect island in a world gone mad, a world where traditions were lost and the old fears were gone. Time ticked slowly in the village and though changes came, there was always something special about the place. It was constrained by its geography, somewhat self-reliant in its crafts and shrouded in the tales of the place on the hill called Darkly Wood the home of many a tale of woe, but never one so clear as to make the danger too real.

  Wormhold coughed again and stepped back into the shadow of the tree-line as he noticed he was being watched by someone at the bottom of the meadow. His eyes were sharp and even from this distance he could see it was Cathecus.

  There were more stories to create still. None too clear as to make sense, but all would carry the weight of the tales that came before and as always they would help create just enough fear to keep the locals weary and the travellers curious.

  Thump, thump it went, that sound in his head, that feeling in his soul and he looked into the shadows, knowing what lay beyond. He knew the truth of the dark heart of his wood. He felt the chill of its soul and turned his back on the village of Cranby below. Wormhold had work to do.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN – POOR OLD CHARLIE

  It felt like forever. From the moment poor Charlie landed at her feet in the blackness of the night, Holly Coppertop was terrified. She couldn’t see a thing. Her torch had finally failed her. No sooner had its beam illuminated Charlie than it flickered and died. All she had to go on now was her sense of touch. She reached out and her first instinct when she felt Charlie’s body in front of her was to draw back. She had no idea what made her recoil but it was Charlie after all so desperation led her to reach out tentatively into the darkness, until she found the body on the ground once more.

  She poked him, Holly prodded and even nudged him but he didn’t move. Finally she crawled closer and touched Charlie and only then did she realise her friend wasn’t going to move. Charlie couldn’t move. He was completely lifeless and the thought that he might be dead, made her other fears disappear. It was logical that there was something out there in the dark, just beyond her reach that was surely fierce and dangerous. How else would this have happened to Charlie? But that didn’t matter. In the moment, Holly was overwhelmed by the possibility that Charlie was dead. It was suddenly very important, paramount even above her natural instinct to protect herself, that she would wake Charlie, rouse him from his stillness to be with her, to make her feel safe. The wind finally died down and Holly clung to him. He was so quiet and still and too heavy to move. Holly sat beside him and raised his head onto her knees.

  “Charlie.”

  She whispered his name in his ear over and over and rubbed his face. It was cold. The wood fell silent and Holly reimagined the creature that lay in wait in the dark just out of reach. Fear crept back in. It was a new fear, an altogether unmanageable fear. Holly held onto Charlie as though he might somehow protect her. She knew he couldn’t.

  The silence that fell was unnerving. She listened; her neck craned expecting to hear a rustle of leaves or the crack of a twig. But there was absolutely no sound whatsoever. Holly felt so exposed but there was nothing she could do. If there was something out there and she knew there must be, Holly had no way to defend herself.

  It was strange but the level of her fear and anxiety eventually peaked as the silence and the darkness stripped her of her senses. When it did, Holly became calm. It was as though she resigned herself to her fate. What was the worst thing that could happen she realised? Whoever or whatever had done this to Charlie might kill her? Why had it not come back for her? What was it waiting for? Holly sighed and the sound was loud in the vacuum of that place. Fear was her weakness. It came to her in a moment of simple clarity.

  The terror of the night was all consuming and left her stranded and alone, too terrified to let go of Charlie’s face. Holly knew that she had to ignore what might be. There was only what was. In that great clear moment, Holly knew the creature was only as frightening as she allowed it to be. Perhaps it was gone and if it was gone she had nothing to fear. Holly chose to believe that there was nothing to fear and it freed her from the constraint of her predicament.

  Gently she lowered Charlie’s head to the ground and then she lay down beside him. There was little she could do for him in the complete darkness. For all she knew he was broken beyond repair. Again she chose not to speculate and instead decided to do something rather than be paralysed into inaction. He was cold so she tried to keep him warm.

  Not ten feet away, four eyes watched her. Woody rubbed his chin and looked to his right. Even in the dark of Darkly Wood, Woody’s eyes saw the figure of Wormhold beside him. Both saw so clearly through the blackness but Wormhold never took his eyes from the brave little girl, curled up beside the useless boy. Woody rubbed his chin. He had questions.

  None of this made sense to him and he knew that Wormhold had the answers. The problem of course for Woody was that he neither had the capacity to formulate the questions nor to understand the answers. It bothered him. He trusted Wormhold and he knew better than to make a sound in that quiet moment. More than trust, he feared Wormhold. Woody feared
no man but Wormhold petrified him.

  For his part, Wormhold just stood perfectly still watching the surprising young girl in the forest. She was unexpected. Somehow, he would have to deal with her, but for the moment Wormhold knew that she might have some use. She could live – for now.

  C HAPTER TWENTY – THE GIRL WHO NEVER WORE SHOES

  She came to men as though she was familiar, as if she had once been intimate with them despite the fact that they had never met. Men came to her as though they had no choice. There was only the barest raised eyelid from across the room required and they knew she wanted them. She could be theirs or at least there was a hint of a promise in the flicker, but it was seldom so. Her style was always hers alone, no other woman would dare risk or be capable of carrying off even the simple things that she did so right and it was infuriating yet beguiling.

  Her mouth was perhaps the only lure more powerful than her eyes. Those lips demanded to be kissed and when she smiled it was almost suggested that you might be invited. Terrapin Luker was a man used to getting his way and he was not to know what really went on behind those striking eyes. Like most men he saw a chance that wasn’t there and like all men he was drawn to her. By the time he had crossed the room the shimmer of her dress that clung to her voluptuous hips had him completely captivated. But it was more than that. Terrapin had never felt such a powerful draw in his forty years of existence. She saw him coming and tilted her head slightly so he would know that she stole a glance and a half-smile briefly curled on her lips to trap him completely.

  He wanted her like he had never wanted anything. With a shimmy of her hips she turned from the man she already had in her trawl and in that same movement, dismissed his desire drawing in a bigger catch, as she walked towards the door with her back to Terrapin. As if her mouth, her cupid bow lips and her beautiful face were not enough, Terrapin stopped mid-step as her backless dress revealed a promise of heaven. It dipped shamelessly low with the spectacular curve of her back and stopped low, insisting, no demanding that he should know more.

  Normally confident, in charge, demanding and powerful as befit a man of his position, Terrapin finally came face to face with the woman he knew he would love forever on the terrace. She turned, knowing he would be there waiting, he was suddenly bereft of his words, helpless in the confrontation. His eyes studied her exotic face and stole a glance lower at the curve of her soft breasts, which revealed only enough to make him want to see more. She spoke and her voice was like a lullaby.

  “I never wear shoes you know.”

  Terrapin was caught off guard and confused, he studied her face trying to contextualise her words until finally he looked down at her feet. They were bare. He had never even noticed. This stunning creature, with kissable lips and a body that drew more than men’s eyes, was a shimmering delight in her costume, but she was poking her ankle out from beneath the hem of her full length dress to reveal a tiny, almost delicate foot with sallow skin and red painted nails. It shocked him to discover that he was even more attracted to this stranger.

  She had him hooked completely and while he spoke to her for almost an hour after that, if pushed, Terrapin would not be able to tell you anything of that conversation. She caught his breath. Her attraction was impossible. A haze of desire carried him off with her and when he became aware of his surroundings again, they were seated on a small stone love seat near the end of the formal garden of Darkly Manor.

  The Manor was not in its prime. Over the years, some of the generations had not used their wealth wisely. The previous Lord even managed to grow the family debt to such a level that the last thing on his mind was the proper upkeep of the estate. His neglect had taken its toll. Though none of them knew it yet, this was the swan song of the estate and there were not many years left before the estate would fall into a permanent decline, before it would be abandoned forever. To many it was a cursed place, but in that moment, Terrapin thought it blessed as he looked into the eyes of the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

  “You never asked me why?”

  Her question caught the blinkered man off guard yet again and he gave her no more than a puzzled look in answer. She knew he was confused so she clarified.

  “We’ve been talking for an hour and you somehow dismissed my revelation. Am I so distracting?” He was still confused so she was more direct. “Don’t you think it odd that I never wear shoes?”

  He was about to answer, the poor beguiled man was so in awe of her that as he prepared the words in his mouth, he never saw the first blow coming.

  “Whore!”

  The voice came from above him somewhere and from behind, but Terrapin was upside down, face-first in a rhododendron and he didn’t know which way was up. He had been cracked over the head with something hard. Terrapin struggled to his feet, blood trickled down his right temple and he was struck again, this time with a fist. The attacker punched him on the nose and Terrapin fell straight down onto his back.

  “I told you I wouldn’t stand for it, didn’t I? You know you can’t do this to me. You know what I’m like!” The voice was filled with anger but the speaker kept his tone low, almost hissing the words. Terrapin was dizzy, barely conscious but as he came around he heard her voice answer.

  “I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt him. It’s not his fault. It was just a bit of harmless fun.” Then her voice became a little more urgent. “PLEASE NO!”

  The reason for the urgency became clear to Terrapin as he felt the strangers thick boot slam into his ribs and he curled up in a ball, winded. Kick after vicious kick slammed into his belly, back and head. The man was relentless and while the shoeless woman pleaded, her cries were in vain. There was hate in every powerful kick and when they eventually stopped, Terrapin was grateful, for he thought he might surely die if he was kicked again.

  “Enough…please…I will go with you but leave this man. He is an innocent.”

  The plea seemed to work. All Terrapin could hear was the sound of his own laboured, wheezing breath. Time passed slowly. He felt pain everywhere and when Terrapin opened his eyes, they barely opened. His whole face was already swollen from the impact of the blows and blood poured freely into his eye sockets, from some unidentifiable wound. Terrapin was just grateful that the beating had stopped and that he could open his eyes at all.

  But the feeling was short lived. At first he couldn’t see anything as he lay on the ground looking up. He wiped the blood from his eyes and squinted, trying to focus in the night. For a moment he thought he was alone, but then he saw the leg step across him as the large stranger took a stance astride him on the ground. The last thing Terrapin Luker saw was a top hatted head, followed by the swift movement of a thick cane that came crashing down on his bloodied, helpless face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – RETURN TO DARKLY WOOD

  By the time Daisy May and Rose reached the edge of the wood, their apprehension had reached fever pitch. The stress that they both felt, while centred on Holly came from very different places. Rose was still angry at her mother. She felt that there was too much to forgive without really knowing what it was she wanted her mother to say sorry for. Rose walked on ahead not really wanting to engage with Daisy for fear of dealing with the truth. For her part Daisy May was remembering. She was remembering all those things that she had been told were just figments of her imagination. She had almost been convinced that they were not real but rather all part of her condition. Dreams imagined in her subconscious as she lay in a coma after she had collapsed at the stream below the wood. It was so long ago now.

  In remembering, Daisy May could still recall the story as it was supposed to have happened. They told her that she had a severe asthma attack and dropped her inhaler in the stream. To top it off, Daisy was stung by a bee as she tried to retrieve it from the stream and her allergic reaction was severe. By all accounts she was comatose for days. Following days of dream crazed sleep, she came around in the hospital in Wickby. Her dreams were filled with a boy called Benjamin Blood and he
had kissed her in Darkly Wood. Benjamin was so real to Daisy May and she found it hard to believe he was just part of her coma induced dreams. She fell in love, had her first kiss and then was terrorised by a creature that had lured them into the wood in the guise of a small innocent boy.

  The things that happened to Daisy May were frightening beyond reality and so it had to be a dream. But that was just the problem. What had happened, the mark it left on her soul and in her heart. It was so vivid and impossible at the same time that Daisy May had lost touch with reality for a while. There was a big part of her that wanted to believe her parents and the doctors that she had spent countless hours with in the intervening years, none of whom helped. But there was another part of Daisy May, the real part she felt, that knew she had fallen in love with a boy that others said never was. If what she felt rather than what she was told was true, then going back to Darkly Wood was not a good idea. She had experienced something more than love in that forest. Her most vivid memories were the ones that filled her nightmares.

  As all those conflicting thoughts raced through her mind, Daisy May became aware of something peculiar in her surroundings and stopped dead in her tracks. It took Rose a few moments to look back and see her mother frozen to the spot, staring into the wood. She knee-high tromped through the long grass of the meadow back to Daisy.

  “What is it?”

  Daisy looked at her daughter and tried to think of a way to explain.

  “Can we stop for a moment; I want to tell you something.”

  “We can’t, Holly needs …” Daisy May interrupted her.

  “Trust me. I know this place and there is something you need to know.”