by Mike Mannion
Grace heard someone play a riff on an acoustic guitar. “That racket’s Hippy,” said Bulldog, “who thinks he Jimmy bleedin’ Hendrix. And here are Spud, Dave and Biffa, the mischief makers.”
Grace noticed that four of the bikers were actually girls, not much older than herself. Three of them were blonde haired and quite brazen looking, but the other had short hair, jug ears and a pug nose.
“That’s Abbey, Sandy and Lucy, the love interest, and Ratchet, who can fix anything.”
“You do all look very young,” said Grace, looking pleased.
She felt a strange, burning compulsion. Every time she looked at Bulldog she thought of gushing blood and her pulse quickened. It was a very peculiar feeling.
What do you wait for, girl? The coming of winter-tide? Bring him to me!
“Sorry but I have to do this,” she said with an apologetic shrug, then leapt forward and sunk her teeth deep into Bulldog’s neck, taking him completely by surprise.
“What the hell... get off!” cried Bulldog in a gurgling voice.
Grace’s eyes were fluttering as she mumbled a curse at Bulldog.
Claude bounded out of nowhere and with a huge leap landed on the four girls. They screamed helplessly as his teeth lashed into their throats.
Spud, Dave and Biffa watched Claude in horror. This wasn’t a dog – it was a huge hairy beast of a thing that they thought as big as a pony.
“Shall we help ‘em?” said Dave.
“Just run for it!” said Spud.
The three boys sprinted away into dark woods but something incredibly quick and strong grabbed each of them in turn, ripping chunks out of their faces. Blood spurted down their t-shirts and leather jackets as they swooned and fell to the floor, somehow made immobile. Lord Percy stood over them, a curse playing softly on his bloody lips.
“They are very young,” he said.
Hippy and Joker ran through an opening that led to the tents in the adjacent field. Hippy found it difficult to keep up with Joker – he’d taken his beloved guitar and had it slung over his shoulder. They found the dark shape of their tent in the gloomy light, unzipped it and crawled inside. The boys were panting for breath but tried to be as quiet as possible.
Claude ran into the field and looked at the line of tents. He couldn’t see his prey, so sniffed the air and prowled slowly forward. Inside the tent, Hippy took the guitar off his shoulder and noticed the front was splattered with blood.
“Oh no,” he whispered, “look at that.”
“Don’t say a word,” said Joker, “or it’ll know were here.”
Hippy nodded solemnly, staring at the blood on his guitar. He had a cloth in his pocket that he used to polish it, so he pulled this out and gave it a gentle wipe.
“Good as new,” he said with a smile.
He put the guitar down very carefully but it tapped against a metal lantern and let out a discordant hum. There was a growl from outside the tent, followed by a ripping sound, as sharp claws made long cuts in the tent wall. The boys looked on in horror as Claude’s gnashing snout, head, ears and paws came into the tent.
Davy, Jimmy and Mick ran as fast as they could to the line of motorbikes. They each pulled out their bikes and started it up. Davy and Jimmy rode off, their wheels spinning on the dirt track. Mick paused for a moment to put on his helmet. As he lifted it, ready to lower onto this head, Lord Percy’s mouth fixed on the back of his head, tearing into his scalp.
“Argh,” screamed Mick. He was in agony but he managed to say, “Ride like the wind lads, go and get help!”
Lord Percy could see the two boys on their metal contraptions screaming away into the distance. He reached out to Beauty, his faithful steed, and asked her to be brave.
Jimmy and Davy were neck and neck, riding up the dirt path. They were almost out the campsite when a huge dark shape moved in front of them. The big black horse reared up on its hind legs and whinnied loudly. Jimmy instinctively swerved to avoid it and smashed into the gatepost by the main entrance. He was thrown off his bike and landed in some bracken.
Davy hit the horse full in the chest and the animal tumbled over with his bike underneath it. He felt agonizing pain as a flailing hoof stamped into his chest. The horse struggled wildly, immediately getting to its feet. It gazed at him with cold black eyes, seemingly unharmed by the collision. Davy was under his bike, in a lot of pain and wondering if anything was broken. He was about to move when he felt a sharp and very intense pain in his hand. He turned his head and the world began to slip away... Lord Percy was holding his arm, sucking Davy’s blood.
Jimmy opened his eyes and gasped for breath. He was flat on his back and badly winded. He looked up and saw the looming shape of a tall man standing over him. He was calm, debonair and very louche, but his purple velvet jacket was stained with dark patches of blood.
“Who are you?” said Jimmy.
The man replied casually, in an aristocratic accent. “My dear sir, I’m your new master.”
Grace appeared beside him, her yellow polo neck was spotted with blood.
“Is he the last one?” she said.
“Yes,” he said, “bring him to Og.”
The girl smiled as she bent over Jimmy and bit slowly into his cheek, muttering a prayer to Arddhu Og. He felt a swooning in his head, leaden limbs. He was powerless to resist.
T’was a party this night to match any a harvest festival! You have done well and shall be rewarded my sweet Lord! See how your body is transformed.
Lord Percy felt very strange. For a second he felt a sharp pain race through his entire body. When it stopped he found himself taller and more muscular, with a jaw line that was longer and wider. There was a loud cracking sound and Percy fell to his knees, screaming in agony. He bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. The lumps he’d noticed earlier either side of his forehead were now growing longer and becoming pointed. He felt with his hands, with a mixture of horror and pleasure, the buds, that were growing into two small curled horns. When it was done Percy stood up and looked at his servants. He no longer felt like Squire of Brimstone Manor, the ruler of Underwood parish. The last vestiges of Percy had slipped away. He had become something different, a creature bent further into the folds of Og’s embrace.
“We’ll be riding to Brimstone Manor – to take back my home,” he said. “I am here on Earth as Og’s champion. This is the start of her conquest.”
Grace looked up dolefully at Percy’s strange sculpted face, his glowering yellow eyes and cured horns. She felt the swell of love, an overwhelming desire to follow him always.
“Yes Master,” she said in a tremulous voice.
Chapter Fourteen - Distant Memories
With the introduction of coproxidrol into the bloodstream and, if necessary, a 16 volt shock to the cerebellum, the dream state can reveal what is blocked by memory. This is not always a guarantee of success and can induce coma in certain patients.
– Extract from Severe Memory Severances – A Radical Treatment
– By Doctor Oliver Smallwood, Clinical Psychologist, 1944.
“Don’t look so scared, William. This will not hurt as much as you think,” said Professor Nox. He was standing over Bill, holding a large syringe full of clear liquid.
They were the Professor’s dimly lit rooms. The wooden bookcases and musty old furniture was eerily illuminated by flickering candles. Bill was sitting in a wingback chair with his wrists tied to the wooden arm rests (“To help with the struggling,” Professor Nox had explained as he tied the knots).
He’d been escorted there by Frank, who’d found him in Ophelia’s room, grabbed his arm and marched him off. Arthur tried to stop him but was shoved roughly to the floor. Now Frank sat at the back of the room, a large shadowy figure with arms folded, watching intently.
Bill gasped as the hypodermic needle pierced his skin. He began to feel very groggy. The room span and went in and out of focus. Bill panicked and began to struggle, but his wrists were bound very tightly
to the arms of the chair. The Professor dangled a silver pocket watch on a chain in front of Bill’s eyes and spun it slowing, causing points of yellow candlelight to reflect on its surface.
“See the lights. See nothing but the lights,” said the Professor over and over again.
Bill stared at the watch and immediately began to relax. He stopped struggling and gazed open mouthed at the glittering reflections.
“Think back William,” said the Professor, “back one year.”
Bill moaned. “I can’t... the first thing I know... I wake up in bed. Mother is there.”
“You must go back further, cross over into the darkness!”
The powerful drug surging in his bloodstream began to have a very strange effect. The room seemed to shrink away, the glinting watch was a sparkling jewel suspended. He was no longer in Professor Nox’s rooms but floating, piercing a dark void...
He could see a couple of test tubes and a pair of hands, his own hands, picking them up and emptying the contents of one into the other. He could see glass phials and a Bunsen burner lit under a spherical jar filled with bubbling liquid. There was a brass microscope and his hand placed a glass slide under the lens. Everything shifted forward as he looked down the microscope. He could see cells moving, dividing.
He was suddenly speaking to Beryl, who was asking him something very important, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. There was a needle on a plastic tube.
He was in standing inside an open cabinet, about seven feet high, lined with pipes and wires, fitting a dial into a socket. He stepped outside and slowly closed the door, which was covered in highly polished brass. Bill could see the reflection quite clearly. A face that was similar to his own, but careworn and lined, with thinning hair, wire frame glasses and large mutton chop sideburns...
Bill returned to consciousness with a start and saw Professor Nox standing over him, his face filled with impatient anticipation.
“I want to know everything,” said the Professor, “in great detail.”
Bill was shaken up and groggy, but also filled with intense curiosity. Had this really been a vision of his past? If so, then who was the old man reflected in the brass? Bill had no knowledge of science or mechanics but clearly the man did. He wanted to understand what was going on – even if the Professor’s visions were just some parlour trick – so he decided to cooperate and explained his vision as best he could.
“Very good William,” exclaimed Professor Nox with a strange grin. “But next time we need to use some electricity, more stimulation I think.”
Bill gulped. “But what does it mean? Do you know the man?”
“All in good time William. I think you are not ready to face the truth, just yet.”
The Professor untied his wrists and Bill got up out the chair, swaying slightly.
The Professor laughed. “The shot of coproxidrol will wear off shortly.”
Bill noticed a clock on the mantelpiece. It was a little out of focus but he was sure it said ten thirty. He’d been there over three hours!
His mind turned to Ophelia. He had to go and see her. Yesterday she’d taken Vita Dantis but did she now need more? Would he go into her room and be attacked? The thought of her pretty face tainted by those horrible yellow eyes and white veined skin made his heart sink.
“Got to go now,” said Bill, making his way unsteadily to the door.
He felt a strong arm support him.
“Frank will guide you back,” said the Professor.
Frank led Bill out of the Professor’s room, across the quad and over to Connaught Hall. Bill was bundled roughly into his room and shoved down onto the bed.
“God knows what he wants with you but don’t mess him around,” growled Frank.
“I’ve got to sleep now. I’m very tired,” mumbled Bill as he closed his eyes.
Frank stood over him, a large imposing figure in the dark. Bill could feel the big man watching and it gave him the creeps. A few minutes later Bill pretended to snore gently. He kept this up for a while until Frank was sure he was asleep and left the room. As soon as the door closed Bill sat up and banged in the wall beside his bed.
“Hey Arthur! You there?”
He could hear a shuffling noise and then a voice. “You’ve been in the hands of those goons for hours.”
“Never mind that. How’s Ophelia?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been waiting here for you to show up.”
“We’ve got to go and see her. She might need some more of that Vita Dantis stuff.”
“She might. How does that stuff work?”
“Who knows. But I’ve got to see her.”
“Meet me outside in 15 seconds.”
Bill got out of bed, left his room and found Arthur already in the corridor, arms folded, casually waiting. They went downstairs, with Bill’s head still spinning slightly – all the time keeping an eye out for Frank. They went along the ground floor corridor and stopped outside Ophelia’s room.
Bill knocked on the door. “Hi Ophelia, it’s us. Are you there?”
The door opened and Ophelia let them in. Bill was shocked all over again when he was met by her fierce yellow eyes, but he could also see that she was upset and in tears.
“It’s this stupid thing,” she said, prodding the Hex Box on her bedside cabinet. “I turn it on, that’s easy enough, but where the heck does this go?” She held up a long plastic tube.
“I think it went somewhere near the bottom, didn’t it?” said Arthur examining the box closely.
“Oh God!” she said, “I can’t remember. “And it didn’t come with instructions.”
“You okay?” said Bill.
Ophelia sobbed. “Is this my life now? Do I have to keep injecting that horrid drug? I can’t go back to that place to get more, that man scared the hell out of me. But if I don’t go what will happen? Will I become like Lilith?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get more when you need it.”
“Really?” Ophelia looked at Bill gratefully. “And am I going to grow old and frail like the Prof? She said she was only ten years old than us! Oh Bill, what am I going to do?”
Bill immediately thought of William Whitebeam’s journal. “We’re going to get that book. It’s a cure I just know it is.”
“How often do you need to take this stuff?” said Arthur, examining the case full of glass phials.
Ophelia gave Bill and Arthur an exhausted look. “I’ve no idea. I think I feel okay now, but how will I be in half an hour? Do you take it every day, week or month? I just don’t know.”
She sat down heavily on her bed and put her head in her hands. Bill sat beside her and touched her arm.
“And did you hear about Lilith?” she said suddenly, “in the Retreat causing all sorts of chaos. Apparently, a whole room of people got cleared out – for their own safety. It’s all round campus, Lilith the crazy, really did go crazy.”
“Have you seen her?”
“No. She’s not in her room and I don’t want to go out until I’ve worked out this Hex Box thing.”
“Do you think she’s gone off to find Lord Percy?”
“Who knows?”
“I think we’d better go and see Professor Jareth,” said Bill. “At least we can get some advice about using that metal contraption.”
“Good idea,” said Arthur, still fiddling around with the Hex Box.
Ophelia took it off him and put it in the black bag, along with the Vita Dantis and plastic tube. She slung it over her shoulder and they made their way out the building – passing students coming back from the Dizzy Duck after last orders – and headed out across a dark field towards the silhouetted spires of College.
“You don’t think Lilith’s prowling about?” said Arthur, as they approached the building, staring wide eyed at the many dark shadows cast around the college walls.
They went up through a door and up the stairs that led to Professor Jareth’s rooms. They stopped outside when they noticed the door was pos
itioned at an odd angle. Bill knocked and it moved slightly.
“Hello,” he said, pushing it open.
It fell backwards and landed with a heavy thud on the Professor’s thickly carpeted floor.
“What the-” said Bill.
“The wood’s splintered here, near the hinges and lock,” said Arthur, examining the frame.
“Someone’s kicked it down!” exclaimed Ophelia, rushing inside, shouting the Professor’s name. She searched around frantically, including the bathroom and the bedroom. “She’s not here.”
“Who’d kidnap the Prof?” said Arthur.
“I’m sure it’s the Apostles,” said Bill. “Beryl said she wanted to question the girls, find Lord Percy. And who put the girls up to reviving him?”
Ophelia noticed something on the Professor’s desk. “Look at this,” she said picking up a piece of paper. “It’s a note from the Prof.”
The words were scratchy and had been written very quickly but Ophelia managed to decipherer them. She read the note out loud...
Dear O,
I am being raided, which can only mean one thing. They’ve discovered I’m cursed. I will be taken to Brimstone Manor to meet the same fate as dear sweet Simon. Please do not follow me. You are also cursed, which means these terrible people will kill you without thought or mercy. I am so desperately sorry for causing you and Lilith such pain. My actions were entirely selfish. Keep hidden and have a good and fruitful life. Vita Dantis will set you free.
J.
Ophelia thought hard then gave Bill an angry look. “Taken to Brimstone Manor! You said that was your home! What’s going on?”
Bill looked flustered as he struggled to speak. “I think they’ve got people locked in the cellar. I’m not really sure...”
“How can you not know? Didn’t you say you grew up there?”
“I did. Well I think I did.”
“What?”
Bill lowered his head and struggled for a moment. “I think there’s something you ought to know about me. You may find it a bit strange.”