Bane of Brimstone (The Bill Blackthorne Chronicles Book 1)

by Mike Mannion

  At that instant Lilith sprung up out of bed and had hold of Arthur by the throat. Her eyes were rolling and she was muttering some weird incantation.

  “Get her off me!” shrieked Arthur, waving his arms about frantically.

  Lilith opened her mouth to what seemed an impossibly wide angle, revealing a full set of sharp teeth. She was ready to tear into his face.

  “You,” shouted the Professor to Bill, “get her off!”

  Bill grabbed Lilith around the waist and tried as hard as he could to drag her off Arthur. She was very strong and the two boys had to pull in opposite directions as hard as they could until she released her grip. She fell backwards onto Bill and they both tumbled to the floor.

  As he struggled to free himself from under Lilith his face turned towards hers and he stared directly into fiery yellow eyes that were burning into him. He felt absolutely terrified, like the helpless prey of some vicious beast. As he watched, her ears grew long and pointed and her skin turned alabaster with a spider’s web of red veins. Her breath was so foul he felt sick. She was muttering an incantation in a language he’d never heard before.

  Something strong and brutal began to invade his thoughts. It was a desperate, ravenous will baying for his compliance. At first he fought against it, but soon found himself powerless to resist the muttered incantation whispered softly, beguilingly... It was in a language unlike any he had heard before but for some reason Bill understood it perfectly...

  Thy bon and blod shall be mine own.

  Thy will shall naught be free.

  Thy soul is now a cage'd bird.

  Death’s knell shall never know thee.

  His mind was consumed and he longed for those close, eager teeth to penetrate deep into his flesh...

  Lilith was pulled off Bill by a rugby tackle from Arthur and the spell was broken. Bill was shocked and absolutely terrified but soon found his senses recovered. Arthur shoved Lilith onto the floor and ran away before she could grab him. The Professor pushed her stick into Lilith’s chest and tried to pin her to the ground.

  “You will sleep!” she said in a demented voice, scowling at Lilith. “You will sleep!”

  Lilith was hissing, struggling and baring her teeth, but the Professor kept her pinned down, repeating the words “You will sleep” under her breath. A few moments later, Lilith’s eyes closed and she drifted off into unconsciousness.

  “The poor girl,” gasped the Professor, panting for breath and sweating profusely.

  “How did you do that?” said Ophelia.

  “A Dormientes incantation. It’s not something ordinary humans can do.”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean to say you’re a-”

  “She Arddhu!” said Arthur with a grin. “How cool is that?”

  “I know,” said Bill. “I can see the halo around your head. And the eyes...”

  “You can see the Bestia Marcam? But that’s impossible.”

  Arthur raised his hands, backing away. “And I suppose you’re going to bite us now? Take the rival Arddhu out of the picture, leave more blood sacrifice for Og?”

  The Professor looked at Arthur with a mixture of annoyance and pity. “No you stupid boy! A Dark Pagan can live a normal life, be part of society. The voice can be silenced. She just needs a regular dose of Vita Dantis.”

  “Yes, we know all about that stuff,” said Ophelia.

  “I would give her some but unfortunately my supply was taken by Lord Percy. There's a place we must go if we want to buy more, but it is not... pleasant.”

  “What place?”

  “In town, not too far over the river. I was planning to go anyway, to replace my own stock. Now you will have to come with me. And the boys need to come too, to provide protection.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said Bill.

  “I cannot buy for other people. You must come and I will introduce you. He has to know he can trust his clients’ confidentiality. But after this first time you must go alone. I will have nothing to do with it.”

  “But it was you who got us into this mess!” said Ophelia with an incredulous look. “You encouraged me and Lilith and look what happened.”

  The Professor banged her stick in the ground and glared at Ophelia. “I told you to get Simon Drew’s cask. You were told quite clearly!”

  Ophelia gazed at Lilith, asleep on the floor. “But just look at her.”

  The Professor paused for a moment, calming herself. “You people are young but you must try to understand. What we intend to do is incredibly illegal. If someone found out I was taking Vita Dantis, that I am cursed as a Dark Pagan... I love my job. I don’t want to go to prison... or worse.”

  “We understand,” said Bill, who wasn’t entirely sure if he did.

  “Lilith’s hunger will grow stronger when the sun goes down. I have tried to make her sleep for as long as possible but I am afraid the voice of Og will eventually win out. Unless we give her Vita Dantis she will wake up with an obsessive will for sacrifices.”

  “So we need to go to this place immediately.”

  “He is only open for business after nightfall. We shall meet tonight at seven o’clock at the Dizzy Duck. Then we shall go. But this place is dangerous so you must stay close to me.”

  Nobody said anything.

  Bill wondered if his life could possibly get any stranger.

  Chapter Eleven - The Witch’s Hat

  Dearest Simon,

  What can I say! I love you so much it hurts my insides, scrambles my brain, makes me giddy! When we meet again say you love me, say it a thousand times! I look at you and feel gloriously happy... but I am also terrified. What if something bad happens? I mean something really bad. I feel it will, I know it will. I worry about it all the time...

  – Extract from a letter to Professor Simon Drew.

  – By Julia Jareth, Student at Conatus College, Nov 1961.

  That evening Professor Jareth led Bill, Arthur and Ophelia out of the Dizzy Duck pub. They crossed the main road and made their way down a narrow side street.

  A woman dressed in a black robe-like dress with a large floppy hat and dark bug-eyed glasses followed them out of the pub. Her face was obscured by a wispy scarf. As soon as they’d disappeared down the side street she set off after them.

  The street was full of half-timbered shops. It was cobbled and lit by Victorian street lamps. They followed it for a few minutes, crossing a small square with a dribbling stone fountain, and then entered Toll Gate, a wider street full of medieval townhouses.

  The woman was right behind them, ducking inside doorways so as not to be seen.

  They followed the road as it sloped gently down to the south bank of the river Midden. Lamps lined walkways on each side and reflected soft yellow globes in the dark lilting waters. The road continued over the Ha’penny Bridge, but the Professor stopped and waved to the others. She was gasping for breath and her white forehead was lined with beads of sweat. It took her a couple of minutes to regain her composure.

  “Do you want to sit down?” said Ophelia.

  “We haven’t got time to coddle me!” snapped the Professor. “Before we go over the river let me just give you a word of warning. There are all sorts of bad people in the part of town we are about to enter.” She looked very serious, but then a wry smile played on the Professor’s lips as she added, “I guess that’s what makes it so exciting.”

  Bill was surprised when he heard this. He’d got the impression the Professor was very moral and forthright. He wondered how she’d become Arddhu. Was she a helpless victim or had she got involved in something a little dangerous?

  “Is it safe?” said Arthur. “Shouldn’t we have brought guns and daggers and stuff?”

  “Once we get to the place we will be under his protection. But getting there... I’m already cursed, but you three, you’re young and vulnerable.”

  “Let’s just get to wherever we’re going as quickly as possible,” said Ophelia with an impatient look.
“The longer we wait here the later it gets, and Lilith may wake up.”

  “You’re right,” said the Professor, bracing herself for another long walk.

  They set off across Ha’penny bridge. The mysterious woman was not far away. She’d been sitting on a bench in the shadows, just along the promenade, watching and listening.

  Across the river, the buildings were more industrial. Large brick warehouses lined the bank along with office blocks and docks. They walked for a while, past gangs of youths on street corners, run down townhouses, and an old theatre with graffiti lined walls.

  Eventually they came out into a huge open space, called Old Market Square. One side was dominated by the tall gothic spires of Middenmere Cathedral; the rest was lined with grand old buildings – the town hall, law courts, public library and council offices. There were lots of people about, coming in and out of the many pubs and restaurants in and around the square. Bill could see bobbing spots of shimmering light around the heads of a few in the crowd, like hovering fireflies.

  A group of five muscular youths walked close by, dressed in leather jackets and flared jeans. Bill’s heart missed a beat when one of them gave him a suspicious glare with fiery yellow eyes.

  The Professor led them across the square and down a dark, dingy side alley called Jacquard Place. There were shabbily-dressed figures sitting in doorways drinking from bottles and a mangy dog was rooting in a rubbish bin. They went through the alley and out into a street that was a lot more sinister than the square they’d just left. The bars here were run down but busy and buzzing with music and the people hanging around the street were dressed up and laughing but had a menacing air about them, despite looking pretty ill and run-down. Bill felt his heart race with fear as he realised they were all cursed – he could see spidery veins, horns and leathery skin wherever he looked. They turned a corner and saw a tall and shabby building with a conical roof at the end of a cul-de-sac.

  “We’re here,” said the Professor with an anxious look at the three young people in her care, wondering if she’d done the right thing by bringing them to such a dreadful place.

  They reached the pub and saw a wooden sign hanging over the door. It contained a picture of a green-skinned grinning crone with the words ‘The Witch’s Hat’ scrawled in spidery letters underneath.

  “Stay behind me and make yourself as inconspicuous as possible,” said the Professor, pushing open the door and going inside. The others stuck close to her back, almost clutching each other for protection.

  The woman stood in the shadows at the top of the cul-de-sac and watched them go inside.

  The pub was a large circular room with a low ceiling. The walls were lined with abstract pictures and beams of coloured light twirled from a disco ball. The air was close and it was very warm. Smoke swirled everywhere and it was noisy with chatter and psychedelic rock music.

  The dance floor was packed with people dressed up for a night out. The men wore flared brown trousers and big heeled shoes, paired with a multitude of paisley shirts, medallions and wait coats. The women wore short skirts and colourful frilly blouses, some with orange knee high boots. They looked like a normal group of young people, dressed in the latest fashions, having a night out – but they were just as run-down as the people outside. Their faces were washed-out pale, lined and tired looking, with an occasional missing tooth. They all stooped or limped and a number had walking sticks. Hair was so fine that white scalps were clearly visible in the flashing light.

  To Bill, the place was alive with shimmering halos, red veined waxy skin and fiery yellow eyes and horns. It was a dance of the living dead, macabre and ironic with such bright youthful clothing. A pub full of hip and groovy Dark Pagans!

  “In here,” said the Professor indicating a small anti-room. They went inside and sat around a stained circular table. They noticed the Professor looked in a very bad way, totally exhausted and with a ghost-white face. She gritted her teeth and said: “I’ll just go and tell the barman we’re here.” She got up very slowly and hobbled off on her stick.

  “I don’t know about you two,” said Arthur as soon as the Professor had left, “but I’m freaked out.”

  “Did you notice the people?” said Ophelia, “They look exactly like the Professor; bent backs and haggard faces. It’s like some sort of creepy family reunion.”

  “They’re all Arddhu,” said Bill, “every last one of them.”

  “Are we about to be cursed and turned into Bloody Mary cocktails?” said a wide-eyed Arthur.

  “I trust the Professor,” exclaimed Ophelia, “and if this is the only way to help Lilith-”

  “But do you trust this man we’re about to meet?” said Arthur.

  Nobody answered because the Professor had come back. She sat down and stared angrily into space, waiting for her breathing to return, mopping her brow with a handkerchief.

  Eventually she said, “He’s busy with another client. We’ll have to wait.”

  “Anyone fancy a drink?” said Arthur brightly.

  “Do they serve Heavy?” said Bill a little dubiously.

  “I don’t think you’d like what they serve here,” said the Professor with a weary smile. “It’s mostly protein drinks and tonics laced with vodka.”

  Bill studied the Professor’s scowling features, the bestial characteristics corrupting her careworn human face. He couldn’t help but feel pity. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” he said softly.

  “You may ask. I’ll either answer or scold you for prying.”

  “How did you get turned into you-know-what? I mean, how did you become Arddhu?”

  The Professor stared at Bill for a second with an angry, offended glare. Then her face softened and she began talking. “It happened nearly ten years ago. I was a student at Conatus, just like yourselves.”

  “Only ten years?” said Arthur, “but you look-”

  “I know,” said the Professor. “But I am a lot younger than you think. Everyone in here is.”

  “So what happened?” said Ophelia.

  “I was hanging around with the college Beatniks.”

  “Who?” said Bill.

  “We all worshipped Jack Kerouac, wore black sweaters and berets, loved Bebop.”

  “What’s that?” added Bill.

  The Professor turned a swift and silencing eye on this boy who seemed to know nothing. “Anyway, we used to go to a bar not far from here, a jazz club called Jamboree Bop – a dark, smoky little place with fantastic music.” The Professor was almost smiling as she recalled these memories, but then her face darkened. “I went there one night with five other girls and we met one of our friends. I say friend – he was a shifty little man with slicked back hair and rouged up face. He owned the place and his name was Little Louis. A lot of my friends found him funny but he gave me the creeps. At the end of the night he sat me down and offered me a drink. I told him I already had a boyfriend, but he insisted I drink it, a cocktail he’d made especially for me.

  “It must have been drugged because the next thing I remember I woke up in some shabby looking bedroom. Little Louis was there, taking a wad of money off another man. A moment later this man slashed my arm, drank my blood! He was muttering a curse and smiling. I thought I was going to be killed. When he’d finished I could see the Bestia Marcam on him – horns, the awful eyes, the skin. I heard a voice in my head welcoming me and calling my a 'pretty wench'. I’d become Arddhu!

  “The man left and Little Louis was very apologetic. He said his clients like the blood of the young and vital. He had to go along with it or they’d close down his club. He let me go and I wandered back to college not knowing what to do.”

  “And did you ever find out who this man was?” said Ophelia.

  “Never. But if I ever do... he’ll be sorry.”

  “So what did you do?” said Arthur.

  “I went to see Simon, Professor Simon Drew. I was a student and he was a professor but we were desperately in love. Simon couldn’t beli
eve what had happened. He took me in his arms and I’m afraid I was possessed by a strong and powerful urge – like they say, the voice of ‘the beast within’ – and I bit his check and sucked his blood with such abandon! I heard the voice laughing at my servitude. How young and foolish I was! We were both very frightened, thought we’d go to jail. And the most horrible thing of all, when I gazed into my love’s kind and gentle face I saw the wound I had inflicted, but worst, it was defiled by the Bestia Marcam...”

  The Professor’s stoic features were twisted by some internal agony. A tear ran down her cheek.

  “I got so angry, angrier than I’d ever been. I went back to Jamboree Bop – it was open all night – and grabbed Little Louis by the scruff of the neck. To my astonishment, I found that I could easily throw him across the room. Drinking Simon’s blood had given me unnatural strength and energy. I told him I didn’t want to be Arddhu, how dare he sell me to some pagan scumbag! Little Louis was cowering, very apologetic, said the men who make him do this thing are very powerful and not to be trifled with. I sat down and cried with fear and frustration. He said I didn’t have to be a slave to my urges – there was a way. He knew a man who could help, give me stuff. I didn’t trust him but he said there was no other way.”

  “I guess he was talking about Vita Dantis,” said Bill.

  “Yes, but I only discovered the scientific name a few years later. He called it Hex.”

  “So you listened to this horrible man, even after what he’d done to you?” said Ophelia.

  “If it cured my curse then I’d do anything. All I could think about was poor Simon, his horribly bitten cheek and the Bestia Marcam defiling his gentle face. I wanted to save him, and me, for us to be together.”

  “You must have really loved him,” said Ophelia.

  “Anyway,” said the Professor with a sharp breath, brushing off her feelings, “he brought me here, to the Witch’s Hat, and introduced me to a man called Vince Velvet, who gave me a Hex Box, some needles, tubes and my very first dose for free...”