by Mike Mannion
Arthur considered himself to be the hippest and most progressive lad in Underwood, which wasn’t that difficult when its entire population of young people consisted of yokel sons and rosy cheeked daughters of crustily eccentric farmers. Arthur had grown up with them all in a sort of hay making, strawberry picking, dancing round the maypole kind of childhood. He’d met Bill at the village fête, where he was helping his dad with the sheep show, and didn’t realise he was the son of the weird woman who lived up at the big house. Nobody knew she even had a son.
“You know I don’t go in for that modern look,” replied Bill, glad to be talking to someone he felt he could relax with. “Victorian dandy about town, that’s me.”
Bill’s choice of clothes was what he found in his wardrobe, he had no recollection of ever buying any. He was wearing a brown corduroy smoking jacket with a white shirt and paisley cravat. His thin brown hair was shoulder length and his thick black rimmed glasses seemed far too big for his small freckled face.
Arthur shrugged and grinned, his soup-stain moustache and wispy mutton chops just about visible in the bright autumnal sunlight.
They got into the back of the Rolls and Mordred closed the door behind them, his lip curling after catching a whiff of Arthur’s aftershave.
As the car glided off Arthur felt very excited, but Bill was filled with trepidation.
“I can’t believe I’m actually getting away from that horrible place,” said Bill. “But what’s the city going to be like? Miss Spital said I’m brilliant at Latin and mathematics, I just seem to know that… but all that other stuff you told me about? Everyone watched a man land on the moon, on a box of moving pictures. Everyone except me.”
“Just cool your boots man. I’ll help with all that.” Arthur was easily the cleverest boy in Underwood. The headmistress at the village school had been very excited when he’d won his place at Middenmere. “I’m sure the uni people know all about your… condition. You’ll get special arrangements or something.”
Bill nodded unsurely and considered his 'condition'. He was sure a young man with only a few months of memories would seem very odd indeed to any fellow students they might meet. They’d certainly want to be friends with Arthur, but he wasn’t sure about himself. “I just hope nobody asks any awkward questions,” he said. Arthur was the only friend he’d told about his dilemma. Mainly because Arthur was the only friend he had, beside Miss Spital.
“What sort of questions?”
“You know, stuff. It may disturb people, especially… girls.”
Girls had been on Bill’s mind a lot lately. He’d started having disturbing dreams filled with slender necks and heaving chests wrapped in tight corsets. Even Miss Spital’s thin, tightly pursed lips had taken on an odd allure.
Arthur considered for a moment then his face lit up. “I’ve got loads of stuff you can pinch from my childhood. Riding old nag Bessy ‘round top field back o’ the stable yards or nicking apples out of Farmer Blossom’s orchard. He chased us with his shotgun all the way home but I knew he’d never shoot us.”
Bill wasn’t so sure. “Let’s just keep it our secret.”
Arthur opened his sandwiches and nibbled at one. He noticed Bill giving him a hungry look. “Didn’t your mum make you anything?”
“No. My trunk’s in the boot but no food.”
Arthur handed Bill a sandwich. “I hope you don’t mind me saying man, but your mum is so weird. I've never met her, but everyone in the village says so.”
“Shush! She’ll hear.”
It was only then that Arthur noticed a woman sitting up front next to Mordred, but the glass divide was raised and he was sure she hadn’t heard.
“Didn’t she give you any breakfast?” he added in a quieter voice.
“She did give me one thing, last night.” Bill rolled up his shirt sleeve to reveal a small dark tattoo on his forearm – it looked like a writhing salamander.
“Your mum got you a tattoo as a present for going to university?”
“Yes. It was very painful. And scary. She said it’ll help me with where I’m going.”
“Like I said, weird.”
Bill sighed in resignation. “I can’t argue with that.”
The car left Underwood and sped along a country lane for a short while until farmers’ fields gave way to houses, shops and parks as they entered the suburbs of Middenmere. This ancient and sprawling city was home to the University of Middenmere and its three colleges. Conatus was oldest and grandest of the three and specialised in Religious and arty matters. Scientiam, to the North, had highly regarded scientific research departments. Virtus, down by the banks of the river Midden, excelled at sport, with rowing a speciality.
The Rolls continued into the city centre and was soon lost in a maze of busy streets lined with grand town-houses, stone-arched gatehouses, old pubs, civic squares, worthy statues, crumbling museums, beautiful old churches and countless rows of half-timbered shops. Eventually it turned up Turpin Street and Arthur and Bill were excited to see the white-stoned frontage of Conatus College through the iron palisade that ran along the road. It was an imposing gothic pile, topped with gables and cupolas, set back behind lawns and an ancient tree-line.
“I’ve never seen anything so big and grand,” said Bill.
“Goodbye hicksville Underwood, we’re university men now.”
The rolls turned under a stone archway and glided up a gravel drive. Bill and Arthur stared out of the window and were amazed by what they saw. Many groups of young people wandered to and fro, carrying books and chatting. Every girl had long wavy hair and appeared to be wearing exactly the same outfit: a paisley top and a brightly coloured miniskirt.
“I’ve never seen so many pairs of legs,” said Bill.
“I’ll bet those girls are dying to meet a couple of cool young hipsters like ourselves,” said Arthur, grinning as he wiggled his eyebrows.
Bill nodded unsurely and adjusted his thick black glasses.
The Rolls continued up the drive and Bill spotted what he guessed was a group of professors by their age and long black robes. As the car approached, one woman caught his eye because he saw a faint light shimmering around her head. At first glance she looked perfectly normal, apart from a bent back and a limp, but as the car glided past he took a closer look and let out a yelp of shock.
She was just like the creature he’d seen at the Manor! The eyes were normal, quite kind and expressive, but at the same time were yellow and beast-like. Her skin was pale, almost waxy, with red veins that spread like a spider’s web across her checks. The ears were strange – long and pointed like a bat’s – and he got a vague impression of curled ram-like horns on her forehead. He blinked and looked again, hoping he was imagining things, but the bestial vision was still there. He’d convinced himself that the horned and yellow-eyed beast he’d seen at the Manor, being led into the cellar by Beryl, was from his confused and tired imagination. But here was another one. And this terrifying creature was one of his future professors!
Bill was breathing hard. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“The professor. With the weird eyes and the horns. Did you see it?”
“See what?”
“She’s… she’s a monster! One of our professors is a monster!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“But… the horns, the eyes.”
“I think you need a lie down.”
Bill was about to describe what he'd seen in great detail but realised Arthur would think he’d lost his mind. “Never mind. She’s gone now.”
The car pulled up outside the front of the college near a stone archway that led into the main quadrangle. Mordred opened the door and Bill and Arthur climbed out.
Bill’s mum emerged from the car and gave the boys a smile that showed hint of steeliness. Her hair was soft and curly and she was wearing diamond drop earrings, a necklace and far too much make-up for a woman of her age. She was wearing what she
always wore – a robe-like dress covered in signs and symbols.
“Darling,” she said to Bill, “try not to look too nervous.”
“I’ve just seen another one! A woman, one of the professors I think, with those horrible eyes and the horns! Just like that night when I came down. It can’t be normal mother to see things like that.” Bill was very agitated. Who exactly were these horrible creatures? What were they doing here, living amongst us? Why couldn't Arthur see them? Why was Beryl leading one into the cellar? Was he losing his mind?
Beryl put up a firm hand to silence him. “It will all make sense in time, my darling. Just ignore these creatures and think of your studies. They will do you no harm in their current drugged-up form.”
Bill noticed Beryl didn't deny their existence, and this made him even more afraid. “But they may attack! They’re devils!”
“I told you to forget about them. Do as I say! I order you!”
“Yes mother,” said Bill, who could see his mother's anger building and knew he didn't want to provoke her. And besides, he wanted more than anything to forget about lurking yellow-eyed monsters. He felt like he was going crazy. Maybe seeing strange beasts was part of his condition? He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
“Focus on your studies!”
“Yes mother. It’s just… The lectures are going to mean nothing. I’m sure Miss Spital did her best, but she didn’t really tell me anything. It’s not just going to be hard, it’ll be impossible.”
“You’ll be fine darling. There’s a lot you know, a vast amount, more than any other student here. If you only knew, had some glimmer of it…”
“I’m scared mother.”
She gazed at Bill with eyes filled with evangelical zeal. “There’s a certain society you must join, the Choral Society. The people you will meet there are our people. They will protect you from Bane, vanquish your enemies.”
“I haven’t really thought about clubs and societies.”
“We’ll be going to Fresher’s Fair,” added Arthur.
Beryl gave Arthur a ferocious glare that silenced him immediately. “Let me give you a little word of warning, darling,” she said to Bill in a sinister voice. “If you don't join the Choral Society you will be forced to join.”
“What?”
She sighed and puckered her fat red lips. “I’ve got something for you.”
She handed Bill a yellow envelope. Arthur noticed a tattoo on her arm that was identical to Bill’s – a writhing salamander.
“I want you to give this to Professor Nox. He’s an old friend of mine and will guide you in your task.”
“Guide me in what task?”
“You are very important to us, Bill. You must do exactly what Professor Nox tells you to do. He will invite you to his rooms each night – remember I said you are to have treatments? You must attend. He will give you medicine that you must take. He will give you injections that you need to bear without complaint. Be a brave boy.”
“Injections? What injections?”
“A complex mix of chemicals required to restore your mind's balance. He's a very learned man who has invented certain electro-convulsive and hypnotic procedures that will force you to recollect you past.”
“Electrocon-what?”
“Your memories must be restored,” said Beryl seething with anger.
“I agree mother,” said Bill. “But isn't there another way?”
“No! Promise me you will go and see Professor Nox. If you do not go then you will be brought back to the manor and severely punished.”
Bill was starting to feel very apprehensive about his future student life. Who was this sinister sounding Professor Nox with his ‘medicine’ and ‘treatments’? What exactly was the ‘Choral Society’, and why did she want him to join so badly? What were these horned, yellow-eyes creatures?
“Yes mother, you win,” he said when he realised this fearsome woman would take no other answer.
Beryl suddenly relaxed and smiled, cupped his cheeks in her hands and stared into his eyes. “You have a momentous destiny, my dear sweet child. When memory is restored you will be given a great and important job, a very difficult and dangerous job that only you can do. The Apostles need you.”
Bill was freaked out. He backed away; trying to free himself from his mother’s grasping hands. He realised that going off to university with Arthur was going to be nothing like he’d imagined.
Chapter Two - The Coven
Midnight on each Hallowstide –
yon daemon folk do rise.
To take a young girl’s maidenhead.
Their ill deserv’d prize.
– Old English rhyme.
Ophelia and Lilith were over near the college entrance, not far from Bill and Arthur, sprawled on a long wooden bench beside an ancient oak. They were dressed in a daringly eccentric manner, completely different to all the other girls, with long black figure-hugging dresses, black velvet jackets, many silver rings, bangles and necklaces. Their eyes were caked in mascara and their mouths were plastered with red lipstick. Lilith was pale-skinned and originally blonde, but had dyed her hair black. Ophelia was mixed-race, so her hair was already black and slightly frizzy. They wanted a look as ‘witchy’ possible, but had decided to draw the line at broad-brimmed pointed hats and broomsticks.
Ophelia was clutching a small leather-bound book with yellowing pages. The girls had acquired it from Woodworms, the university book shop in town. Ophelia had been quite daring when she asked the assistant – a bespectacled young man who obviously fancied her – if he had any Dark Pagan books. At first the man was shocked and said it was illegal, but then he got something from under the counter wrapped in brown paper and handed it to her. The girls were very excited as they rushed back to their rooms.
It turned out to be a journal written a hundred years ago by a young woman called Rowena Ramsbottom. She lived in the nearby village of Underwood. It told of her adventures, especially her burgeoning romance with the dashingly handsome Percy Valentine, Lord of Brimstone Manor. He was tall, well dressed, very rich, but most importantly was interested in befriending pagans, as he found their way of life fascinating. This was what the girls loved about him. People today wouldn’t dare admit to being interested in such things, much less to court their company.
“I’d love to see a picture of him,” said Ophelia.
“It might describe him somewhere.”
Ophelia opened the book and both girls read eagerly.
Tue. 3 Sep. 1872. – Today has been the most exciting of days! As I write this journal tucked up in my bed I am trembling all over! Lord V. came to Briar Cottage just after tea to see Father about some business with the horses. We were all chatting in the parlour most agreeably when Lord V. suddenly, and most unexpectedly, asked Father his permission to allow me to attend the weekend hunt. I was most flattered and gladdened at the prospect of riding with Percy. But this is not what has got me trembling! When we showed him to our door, when mother and father had retired back to the parlour, he stole a kiss! The richest, most handsome man in the district! And me naught but the farrier’s daughter!
Fri. 6 Sep. 1872. – Just after lunch Lord V. sent a carriage and I waved Mother off with a trembling, slightly nervous heart. I prayed my riding skills were up to the chase, but my fears were groundless. They were a good hearty crowd and we rode for many a mile. How wonderful he looked in jodhpurs and riding jacket! Back at the stable yard he stole another kiss and told me about a grand ball he was hosting tomorrow night in the Great Hall with all his friends in the Barleybrook Etheric Club. He said many of his important warlock friends from the club were coming, very rich and powerful. He looked me in the eye and said he would be honoured if I could attend as his guest. I was so shocked but accepted with a glad heart. How excited I am! What shall I wear? Lord Percy’s so handsome, so dashing but I know his brooding good looks are not all that he is. He has a personality that is attracted to the dark side, those smouldering eyes hide a hin
t of danger, and his association with warlocks proves my trembling fears are well founded.
“He likes warlocks!” said Ophelia with a sigh.
“So handsome, so dashing!” said Lilith.
The girls stopped reading. They were now watching Bill and Arthur with interest. Judging by the car, the chauffeur and the fussy mother’s diamond jewellery, these two boys were obviously a couple of rich pampered brats.
“How about those two toffee nosed twerps?” said Lilith.
Ophelia gave the boys an appraising stare. “Looks to me like they’ve never been near a girl in their lives.”
“Especially the skinny one in the glasses. I’ll bet he still wets the bed and has a teddy bear.”
Ophelia looked at ‘the skinny one in the glasses’ and found, to her surprise, that she quite liked his brown corduroy jacket and paisley cravat. She thought he looked maybe interesting to talk to. She was somehow reminded of the people in Rowena’s journal.
“I think he’s kind of cute,” she said.
“Cute? I didn’t ask if he was cute. Is he suitable?”
Ophelia reminded herself that she was supposed to be on the hunt for a victim, not a boyfriend. “I think so. But are we really going to do it?”
“Of course we are. You want to be a witch, don’t you?” said Lilith.
“But Professor Jareth said it was illegal and dangerous and hasn’t told us exactly what it is.”
“Oh don’t me such a wimp! It’s our ticket into darkness, pleasure, amazing things. That’s what it is. We just need one of those boys to get us there.”
The only definite thing Professor Jareth had told them to do was to find a virgin and that’s what Lilith intended to do. The Prof. was going to show them the way into a dark and sinister world and Lilith longed to be shown. She wanted to live on the edge, to be dangerous, and this was her chance. Her parents had pampered her, fussed over her, bored her and spoilt her. How she despised them for christening her Marjorie! Marjorie Blenskinsop was not a suitable name for someone so cool. She was Lilith now and had to do this terrible thing that Jareth had asked them to do. It allowed her to embrace her true self.