Darkly Wood II

by Power, Max

  “Charlie.”

  “You know her don’t you Charlie.”

  He nodded at Holly and Charlie simply acknowledged with a head nod of his own.

  “Are you fond of her Charlie?”

  It seemed an odd question but Charlie looked at Holly and for the first time in all the time he knew her, he acknowledged his feelings for Holly Coppertop.

  “Very fond.”

  Holly felt a lump in her throat. It was unexpected. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by a surge of emotion. She had no response to what Charlie just said, but it felt peculiar. She wanted to hug him, but somehow it didn’t feel right. Benjamin interrupted her embarrassment.

  “Then you need to forgive me.”

  Charlie was looking at Holly and both women were staring at him when Benjamin stunned them all by swinging his fist across and down onto the side of Charlie’s head. It was a shocking and brutal act and both Holly and Rose literally recoiled at the action. The gasped and looked at Benjamin. His face had changed slightly. He looked a little wild again. Veins protruded along his neck and down his sinuous arms. He spun his head and looked at them. There was a threatening, animal, panting lust in his voice and his teeth; they looked sharper and more pointed than moments before. He was transforming again. In a breathy voice, he issued an order.

  “Go! I told you to run now run.”

  Rose grabbed her daughter’s arm but Holly resisted. She looked at poor Charlie unconscious on the forest floor.

  “What have you done?” She was more angry than afraid but Benjamin soon put her right.

  “He is new to this. The boy is not as strong as me and look at me already.” He held out his bare arms and they could see his dark purple veins pulsing. He was becoming more beastly by the minute.

  “Charlie would have turned the moment you tried to go, believe me. He has no choice and neither do I.”

  “But how can you say that, how do you…” Benjamin interrupted Holly and spoke directly to her mother.

  “I loved her grandmother and I saved her once. I saved her from this place but I can’t save her from Wormhold, nor can I save you if he comes back. I am stronger than this boy. The years have been cruel to me but I have never forgotten Daissssy Mayehh..” He stopped as his speech began so slide away. Soon it would be too late.

  “It may already be too late. Look to the great oak over there.” He pointed to a giant bare oak tree behind them. All around, the wood looked impenetrable but he was adamant.

  “To the left there isss a way out. I am changing. Soon I won’t be able to help myssself, nor will Charlie if he wakes up. Go now before my instinct and nature takes over or I will hunt you down I promisssse and I will have no mercccccy.”

  Rose pulled at her daughter again and this time she insisted.

  “Come on Holly let’s go…NOW!”

  She looked at her mother and could see the fear in her eyes. But there was something about her that came from her grandmother. She was courageous and loyal and didn’t want to leave Charlie, despite the danger, but then she looked at Benjamin again. He was stooped like he had been earlier; his arched back enhanced the threatening appearance but more ominous was the change in this boy’s face. He was barely Benjamin Blood now and when he roared, they did exactly as he demanded.

  “RUN… Run, run as fasssst as you can!”

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX – STANDING ON AN EMPTY BEACH

  The young girl became more beautiful the longer he watched her. She simply skipped to the water’s edge and ran along the frothy tide and then stopped knee-deep in the cold blue water. She stood there for a while, holding the end of her dress just an inch above the water, swishing it from side to side, occasionally revealing her upper thighs. It was immodest but beguiling.

  Wormhold couldn’t take his eyes from her. She watched her own feet, as she swished them in the shallows and her long hair fell about her face. When she finally looked up, the girl tossed her head back and shook her hair from side to side, to shake it from her face. It was truly bewitching. Wormhold took one step forward and stopped. Something strange was happening to him and he could neither control it nor figure it out.

  She transferred the hem of her dress to one hand and beckoned to him with her free one. She was calling him to her. Her voice was barely a whisper on the breeze against the noise of the in-rushing Sea. He took another step and then another. Before he knew it Wormhold found himself standing with his big clumsy boots, just inches from the highest reach of the tide.

  She walked towards him, knees high against the water, her pale legs revealing a glimpse of her excitements. He was aware of her sexuality like he had not been aware of any woman in such a long time. It stirred him. He watched her form as she shimmied towards him and he was excited. Wormhold could hear his own breath and his control was momentarily lost.

  She stopped short and held out her hand.

  “Come. Join me. Kick off those big old boots and have a paddle. The water is so refreshing.”

  Wormhold shook himself. Something did not feel right. A familiar warning sound continued to fill his head. Thump, thump, it usually began softly but this time was different. The sound had come quickly and it was insistent. It became a louder noise and he heeded its warning. He stepped back and the girl looked disappointed.

  “Come on.” She was urging him now. Her skirt was held a little higher and he looked at her slender thighs. They held the promise of much. “What are you afraid of Scardey-cat?”

  Again, he backed off. The sound was pulsating now, like a drum pounding, beating on his temples. It was more than just a noise. The pain was growing with each thump. It was becoming unbearable and he took another step back, then another.

  The young girl followed him from the water’s edge. She matched him step for step as he reversed up the beach. Wormhold clasped his temples. The noise grew and grew until he felt he could bear it no more and he stopped. The beautiful young woman slowly walked right up to him and placed her hands over his hands that were clasped tightly to the side of his head. It was a stretch for her and he could smell her beautiful scent as she reached up to touch his face.

  “There, there.”

  Her words were soothing but the sound remained. There was comfort in that familiar smell but it confused him more. Wormhold was in pain. He had never felt such pain before and even through the agony, there was a beautiful obsession overwhelming him.

  “It’sOK, just let go.”

  He wasn’t sure now who was speaking to him. It must be the girl, but Wormhold had closed his eyes against the thumping roaring pain that consumed his mind. He fell to his knees and he felt the woman pull his head forward until the top of his head rested against her soft warm belly. She shushed him in a comforting tone and rubbed his head as he still clasped his hands tight against his temples. Desperate to regain his composure, to fight this overwhelming agony, Wormhold first opened his eyes again. He looked down on her tiny bare feet all covered in sand. He tried to lift his head but he couldn’t move.

  “Hush my little child.” The voice sounded familiar even against the thunder in his head. The strange girl knelt before him and pulled him close and he released the grip he had on his own head to clasp his arms around her. She was tiny compared to Wormhold. He pulled her close and still kneeling buried his head in her hair.

  Wormhold felt something new. This was not the first time he had encountered pain or fear in truth, but he had never felt so helpless. The combination of this strange barefooted woman’s voice and the scent of her perfume seemed to hypnotise him. Added to his confusion, the completely debilitating pain from the thumping in his head left Wormhold barely able to move.

  The woman pulled away and stood up again. She grabbed his face and pulled it skyward, forcing him to look up at her as he knelt on the sand. In the bright sunshine she was a blur. He squinted against the light and the terrible pain in his temples.

  “Kiss me my love.”

  It was a strange thing to say but it had a familiar rin
g to it. Wormhold felt warm and the deafening noise dimmed in his head.

  “What..?” He wanted to say more. He needed to stand and take back control but he couldn’t. This girl was his master in that moment. She tossed his head away from her and laughed a long loud laugh of hilarity as though she had heard the funniest of jokes.

  “How does it feel baby?”

  Her voice was so familiar, he couldn’t place it but he knew it. It changed constantly and even as it changed, it became more familiar.

  “Who are you?”

  He was a pathetic sight, kneeling in the sand, unable to turn to look at his tormentor as she walked around behind him, arms limp by his side.

  “Who am I? Don’t you remember…kind sir?”

  Again there was a familiarity, but it was vague. He tried to turn his head but he was stuck to the spot. She grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted it ever so slightly.

  “Why I’m just a poor serving girl sir.” She changed her accent and laughed again this time placing her bare foot in the centre of his back as she spoke.

  He felt her foot there but Wormhold was powerless to do anything about it. She shoved hard, extending her leg, knocking him forward, face down in the warm sand. For a few moments he just lay there. The thump, thump subsided quite a lot and a ringing replaced it. He was dizzy and his stomach churned. This was insane. Wormhold was at the mercy of this slip of a girl. It made no sense to him and he was angry. Then as if she read his mind she knelt beside him, turned his head to face her and brushed the sand from his cheek.

  “Don’t be angry.”

  She rolled him over onto his back and began to unbuckle his belt.

  “What… what are you doing?”

  “You do like me don’t you?”

  He was trying hard to see what was happening but his eyes were filled with sand and sunshine. He heard the rustle of her dress and then she lay beside him and pulled Wormhold onto his side. She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her. She was naked.

  “What the devil…”

  “Ssshh…” She implored him to be quiet and then he felt her lips pressing firmly against his. His world disappeared down into a spiralling abyss of bright light and impenetrable darkness. It was a vortex of pain and pleasure, anger and joy. There was no up or down and no end in sight. Everything he had ever felt, good or bad, merged in a wild rush of ecstasy and terror and Wormhold was drowning in a new world of emotion that felt like he was going mad.

  When it ended, he did not know. He opened his eyes and it was dark. He was still lying on the same beach, flat on his back facing the sky. In the half moonlight he lay silent and still, trying to gather his thoughts. For a few moments he didn’t know where he was and he tried to remember what had brought him to this place.

  He turned his head to the sea and in the light of the moon; he could see the gently white top surf breaking just a few yards away. Its wash was soothing and he sighed. Perhaps he had blacked out. He had been dreaming. None of it made sense. He turned his face landward and when he saw what lay beside him, Wormhold immediately scrambled in panic to his knees, letting out an unavoidable gasp of shock.

  Little startled Wormhold, but this sight did. Lying on the sand beside him was a rotting corpse. He scuttled away before composing himself. He looked around as though expecting to see someone else but he was alone.

  It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, to settle himself, again so unlike the great powerful Wormhold, but that girl had unsettled him. Whether she had been a dream or real he was unsure, but this body lying on the beach was real enough. He moved closer, to take a look at what he had slept beside and when he did, he saw the dress, that simple dress that the girl with no shoes had been wearing, just lying beside the body on the beach.

  From its size and form, what little there was left of it and perhaps because of the dress beside the body, Wormhold surmised that this was a woman. He knew it was a woman and he knew it was the woman he had met on the beach that day. She was almost entirely decomposed, a rotting mound of wasted flesh, unrecognisable.

  The moon had been half hidden by wispy clouds overhead and as it revealed itself, so too did the simple chain around her neck. He gasped aloud. Wormhold instantly recognised the charm on the silver chain. It was the parting gift he had given to Penelope and he remembered now that the words the woman with no shoes had said to him and why the voice had been so familiar.

  “Kiss me my Love.”

  The voice rang in his head, the same last words that Hugo had offered Penelope. It was such a long time ago now, but it was imprinted in his mind. Wormhold had seen many pass and he never recounted his victims but he remembered each one in detail.

  He remembered Penelope and Hugo alright and how he had built up their hopes of a child and dashed them before he despatched them. Maybe it was that memory that caused Wormhold to glance at the belly of the corpse. He wished he hadn’t for there, poking through the rotting flesh of the belly of the corpse was the tiny hand of an unborn baby.

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN – IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER

  Blenerhorn Wormhold did not take lightly to the notion that this fool of a weasel should suggest that he hang himself. His first instinct was to drag Squelby across the table and beat him to a pulp. For his part Squelby knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he knew too that he held all the cards, he was after all acting on behalf of the fool’s father.

  He was a master of his craft, a man known far and wide for his lack of morals and a man who cared little neither for what others thought, nor for the consequences of his actions. Squelby would happily see his grandmother to slavery if there was reward in it and chain her himself if there was extra. Blenerhorn’s predicament did not prick his conscience.

  “Forgive me sir, you must find this all a little unsettling. Perhaps this was not the best place to impart such news?”

  He was baiting Blenerhorn. It was such an outrageous request and Squelby knew that his word alone would not be good enough to persuade this beast of a man to simply take his own life. But he knew what he was doing. Squelby was being well paid for this task and so it would be done. Blenerhorn was staring at him. He took a big mouthful of ale and then quite unexpectedly, burst into a loud fit of laughter.

  “Ha ha…you had me for a moment Mr. Squelby. Ha ha ha, indeed! Who put you up to this eh? I’ll give you this; you have the balls of a man five times your size to suggest such a thing to a Wormhold, Ha ha ha ha…” His false laughter trailed off and Squelby placed his hands before him on the table and interlocked his fingers, leaving his pistol on his lap. He smiled as Blenerhorn laughed long and loud, taking another sip from his tankard.

  “Well who was it?” Blenerhorn leaned forward, demanding to know who had set him up for such a joke. “Lightly…It was George Lightly wasn’t it? The young fool! Wait until I get my hands on him I’ll…”

  “No sir it was not Mr. Lightly. I have never met the man you mention.” Squelby continued to study Blenerhorn carefully, waiting to see how this developed, on his guard as he knew he must.

  “Then it was Bremble for sure?”

  “Nor was it Mister Bremble I can assure you of that. It was neither the Tavern owner, the baker, the captain of one of your father’s ships, the cooper nor was it your housemaid’s brother. It was none of the aforementioned gentlemen nor indeed was it anyone else other than the man I have already assured you was the person who has sent me on my errand.” He paused as Blenerhorn looked at him confused. “It is neither a jest nor a prank nor any such foolishness. This is a matter of great importance and my instruction comes from one man and one man only, Mr. Wormhold senior, your father.”

  Blenerhorn was incensed.

  “I will have you flogged, do you hear me, flogged.”

  His voice was filled with anger but he kept it low. He snapped out an arm and grabbed Squelby’s clenched hands in one of his own enormous hands. He began to squeeze, causing his squirrelly opponent to squirm. Squelby instantly regretted letting go of
the pistol.

  “I’ll flog you myself until there is no skin on your back and then I will dip you in salt to squeeze out another ounce of pain.”

  He squeezed harder, barely making an effort as Squelby struggled to free himself. It was impossible, for Blenerhorn Wormhold was a man of enormous size and strength. Eventually he could bear it no more.

  “Please… Sir… I implore you…I am just the messenger!”

  The response from Blenerhorn was far from what he expected. There was no sympathy or respite, instead he got a smack from the back of his drinking companion’s free hand and still he held his fists in a tight grip. His knuckles dug into each other and the pain was excruciating. Squelby felt sure he would have his fingers broken.

  “Please release me I beg you sir ad I will explain.”

  But Blenerhorn did not release his grip. Instead he tightened it, increasing the pressure and then he cuffed Squelby across the head once more, this time drawing blood from his left ear. The tavern was still pretty empty and no one cared anyway. Blenerhorn could have gutted Squelby on the table and no one would see anything.

  “I should kill you here and now. Right here! The only reason I don’t is so I might have the pleasure of drawing out your agony a little longer.”

  His anger had subsided a little and he was getting bored. He took a swig of his ale and released Squelby who instantly untwined his fingers and withdrew them, tenderly touching them to check they remained unbroken.

  “More ale!”

  Blenerhorn never said please and the innkeeper served up another jug without any acknowledgement of either man and then returned to the bar. Squelby knew he almost had Blenerhorn, despite his discomfort; he had exacted an expected response. He was surprised that he hadn’t received a more severe beating already. But he was being handsomely rewarded and a little pain was a price he was willing to pay.

  “Do you know who your mother was Blenerhorn?”