by Mike Mannion
“They’re not themselves, Love. They’re sick that’s all.”
“But Pagans, Jim! Some evil cult. They’re brain-washed. Who’d have thought we’d get that around here? Good people getting mixed up with evil.”
“There were a lot of Pagans around here at one time. Granddad told me tales.”
“Oh Jim, I thought all that was legends and stories to scare the children.”
“It looks like more than just stories Love.”
Daisy tried to hold back tears but couldn’t stop herself from wailing, “My own sweet boys!”
“I’m sure there’s a way to fix it.”
Jim gazed imploringly across the table at Arthur, Ophelia and Bill. He wanted them to say something, anything that would help his wife feel better.
“Well there’s always...” said Arthur tentatively. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Vita Dantis,” said Ophelia. “There a drug that stops it. You inject it... into the vein.”
Daisy gave her an indignant look. “My boys have never taken drugs in their lives and I’ll be damned if I’ll let them start now.”
“It’s medicine.”
“There may be something else,” said Bill. “A scientist was working on a cure.”
“You don’t say,” said Jim.
“Yes. It was all done a very long time ago, around a hundred years to be exact. He wrote it all down in his journal, it was very detailed, spelt it all out. I’m sure there’s something in it.”
“A hundred years ago,” said Jim incredulously. “Surely modern medicine would know better?
“All this stuff’s been banned and suppressed for decades,” said Ophelia. “That’s what our Professor said. The Victorians made all the progress but then it was stopped.”
“And you say it’s all in this book, eh?” said Jim. “So where is this ‘ere book?”
“No too far away,” said Bill. “It’s up at the Manor. I know where it is. I’ve read it many times.” Bill felt an overwhelming desire to see the book again, to leaf through its pages, to study its diagrams. He realised he was become obsessed with it.
“Well if there’s a cure then that’s not too bad, eh?” said Daisy with a slight smile. She looked at Jim and squeezed his hand.
Bill was suddenly aware that what he was saying was giving Daisy false hope. He had to add, rather sullenly, that nothing he’d seen in the book had made very much sense. Daisy nodded and her smile faded.
Suddenly, there was a loud and steady knocking at the front door, so loud it rattled the latch and echoed around the hallway. Everyone looked at each other with trepidation. It was repeated – a steady pounding rhythm. The dogs jumped up and down, barking furiously.
Daisy stood up with a hopeful look. “My kids, they’ve decided to come home. They’re all better!”
Before anyone could stop her, she rushed out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The others followed, hoping Daisy wasn’t going to do anything rash.
The slow and steady knocking boomed out again.
“Who’s there?” said Daisy, reaching out and touching the front door.
“It’s me mum,” said a young girl’s voice.
The loud and violent knocking seemed very odd when they realised it was done by a skinny child with such a weak and high-pitched voice.
“You’ve got to let me in. Let me in this instant. I’m scared. I met this strange man...I can hear a voice. Please Dad!”
“It’s my little Poppet!” said Jim. Before anyone could stop him, he’d stepped forward and opened the door.
Rosie stood on the doorstep, looking very odd. She smiled forlornly when she saw her father and held out her arms for a hug. There were a couple of very nasty looking gashes on her hand, crusted with congealed blood. The front of her nightdress was filled with a wide dark stain that glistened. She looked pale and her teeth were very strange.
“I’m going to bite you daddy,” she murmured. “The voice says to bite you.”
Jim slammed the door and looked at Daisy with wild, frightened eyes. “Our little Poppet,” he said in a faltering voice.
“That drug I was talking about,” said Ophelia. “I’ve got some in our van.”
“But that’s down on the square,” said Arthur.
“It’s okay. I’ll go and get it,” said Ophelia. She tried to look calm and collected but inside was feeling very strange. It was hard to control her breathing and she felt a weird disturbance start to grow inside her head. She was sure she could hear a vague and distant muttering... Seeing the blood on Rosie had quickened her pulse and made her feel restless, made her think again of embracing Percy. She didn’t want to tell the others how she felt, but knew she had to get that Vita Dantis as much for herself as for Rosie.
“But you may turn into Og’s slave.”
Ophelia looked at Arthur and raised her eyebrows. “Are you forgetting something?”
He felt very stupid when he remembered that she’d already been cursed. He wondered if people in the Og cult knew she was already in and so would avoid attacking her. But he wasn’t really sure if this was true, or what effect meeting others would have on her. She may never come back. Arthur decided that it was worth the risk to save his baby sister.
“I’ll show you out via the back door,” he said.
Ophelia went off with him into the kitchen.
There was another loud thump on the door, so hard it made a fine dust of plaster come out of the frame.
“Daddy,” implored Rosie. “Let me in... please! I’m scared. A funny voice is talking to me, in my head.”
“Oh Daisy,” exclaimed Jim turning to his wife and wringing her hands, “what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t know!”
“I guess we should all calm down,” said Jim with a look of decision, “go back to the kitchen and finish off our tea. She can’t get in so we’re safe.”
“Please Daddy!” wailed Rosie through the door, “you’ve got it let me in. I want my Daddy.”
“Back to the kitchen,” said Jim, determined to ignore Rosie’s pleas.
They all went back to the kitchen and sat around the table. Bill looked at Daisy’s tearful face and wanted to give her a hug. She was the closest thing he had to a mother. He didn’t know what Beryl wanted with him or why he’d woken up at the Manor with her standing over him, but he was sure of one thing – Beryl certainly wasn’t his mother. “Please Mrs Small, don’t get upset. Ophelia will be back soon with the Vita Dantis. I’m sure it’ll make Rosie a lot better.”
“She’s gone off through the veg garden,” said Arthur. “I hope she doesn’t get nabbed by those bikers, or the man on the horse, or his dog.”
“I should have gone with her,” said Bill.
As they were talking they hadn’t noticed that Jim had got up and gone back out into the hallway. He was over at the front door, almost rested his head against it. They heard him muttering over and over again, “My Poppet...”
There was a high pitched and very intense scream from outside that made Jim jump.
“Daddy help!”
Jim panicked and instinctively flung opened the front door. Rosie rushed inside and with a flying leap wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. Bill, Daisy and Arthur watched on in horror as Rosie lifted her head and opened her mouth wide, revealing dirty yellow teeth.
“Don’t you dare young lady!” screeched Daisy, rushing into the hallway.
She quickly pulled Jim and Rosie apart and gave her daughter a very stern look.
Rosie stamped her foot like a petulant child and hissed at her mother with an angry glare. She then shoved Daisy as hard as she could, making her mother fall backwards – the force of the shove made her land heavily on her back and slide a few feet across the hallway tiles.
Jim ran over to his wife and bent over her prostrate, unconscious body. “Daisy! My love! Wake up!” He shook her shoulders gently. “Wake up!”
“My sister’s gone crazy
,” said Arthur. He looked at Rosie in shocked amazement.
She returned his gaze disdainfully and said, “I just really need to bite daddy. You see Arthur? The voice keeps telling me I must. So Daddy must be bit.”
She moved slowly towards Jim, with a sneaking motion.
They heard the clatter of an engine and a skid as a vehicle pulled up outside. The front door was still open and Ophelia came rushing in, clutching the black bag.
“Oh no...” she said, when she saw Rosie creeping up behind Jim, who was still bent over his wife.
“Ophelia!” said Bill. “Do that thing! Make her sleep!”
“What?”
“Remember that thing Professor Jareth did to Lilith? Made her sleep. I think it’s some sort of Dark Pagan spell. Make her go to sleep.”
Ophelia nodded a little unsurely. She remembered seeing what the Professor had done but had no idea how she’d done it. She pressed a finger to her temple and looked solemnly at Rosie. “You will sleep...” she mumbled.
Rosie put her hand on Jim’s shoulder and bared her teeth. Jim looked up at his daughter with a look of horror but didn’t move.
“It’s not working,” said Ophelia.
“Try again,” said Bill.
Ophelia closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could, visualising Rosie slumped on the floor. “Sleep! Just go to sleep. Now! Please! Come on! Off you go!” She was concentrating hard but was also aware of a very distant voice, in her mind, mumbling its discontent.
Rosie’s eyes fluttered, her hand fell away from Jim’s shoulder and she fell to the floor unconscious.
“That was so cool,” said Arthur. “You saved Dad!”
Daisy opened her eyes and groaned. She rubbed her forehead and groan heavily. “I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a prize fighter. How did our Poppet get so strong?”
“Are you okay Love?” said Jim. “You bumped your head?”
Daisy saw her daughter lying next to her, fast asleep. “Ah there she is, the little Devil, lying there. She’s going to get such a telling off for pushing me like that.”
Jim looked at Rosie and gulped. “She must be tired Love, tired and grumpy. That’s what’s wrong. Let’s just get her off to bed.”
He helped Daisy up and they both looked down at Rosie, lying on the floor. She was sleeping but her young freckled face looked clouded over with troubles.
“Poor little Poppet,” he said.
Jim gathered his daughter up in his arms and took her upstairs into her bedroom. The others followed and watched Jim lay her gently down on the bed.
“So,” said Daisy, turning to Ophelia, “have you got that medicine?”
“Yes, in here,” she said, carefully emptying the contents of the black bag onto the bedside cabinet.
She explained as well as she could how to start up the Hex Box, and what the glass phials and needle were for. “But I’m not sure where this plastic tube actually slots in.”
“Let Jim have a look,” said Daisy. “He’s very mechanically minded.”
Jim held the plastic tube and examined the Hex Box closely and from all angles. “Looks like here,” he said, plugging the tube into the Hex Box. Then he flicked a switch and it began to hum quietly.
Arthur attached the needle to the end of the tube and poured the acrid smelling liquid from a glass phial into the bowl on top of the box. A few moments later they watched the liquid run slowly down the plastic tube.
“So this goes into the vein?” said Arthur, looking a little confused.
“Give it here son,” said Jim. “I’m a vet, remember?”
Ophelia’s breathing has suddenly become very erratic, she looked incredibly pale and her hands were shaking badly. She clutched her head and began moaning.
“You alright?” said Daisy.
Ophelia nodded and went to sit down in a chair in the corner.
Rosie stirred and woke up. “Dad!” she said with wide frightened eyes.
Jim, Daisy, Arthur and Bill gathered round the bed.
“It’s the voice,” she said. “It wants me to bite you Dad. Make it go away, please!”
Rosie sat up suddenly began mumbling a curse in a strange language, then gnashed her yellow teeth at her father. Jim jumped back in shock.
“There’s nobody here but us Poppet,” said Jim grabbing the plastic tube. “It’s just your imagination. I’m going to give you some medicine. It’ll make you all better.”
Daisy and Arthur held Rosie down, pressing her to the bed. Bill helped Jim insert the needle into Rosie’s forearm. They’d never done anything like this before but Jim’s animal experience meant they had no trouble finding a vein. Daisy watched Rosie struggle and tried not to cry. Her daughter was surprisingly strong and it took all their efforts to keep her on the bed. She was a slight young girl but always been the picture of clean cut health. Now she looked bleary eyed and haggard. And those horrid pointy teeth! She saw a tickle of blood as the needle was inserted carefully into her arm.
“It’s saying something,” moaned Rosie, “something like, ‘Thy young blood is pure and this foul concoction will take you away from me.’”
Rosie suddenly broke free of Daisy and Arthur’s grasp and whipped the needle out of her arm. She got up and scrambled out of bed. Arthur and Daisy tried to get her to lie back down but she shoved them out of the way with very little effort. An instant later she was over at the bedroom window, fumbling to get it open.
“Sis,” said Arthur, “don’t do it!”
Rosie climbed through the window and jumped.
Daisy almost screamed, “She’ll be killed! It’s too high!”
Arthur ran to the window and looked out onto the street below, which was bathed in the deepest of shadows. He struggled to see anything at all but then was sure he saw Rosie running away, down towards the square.
“She’s okay mum,” he said, “but she’s running away.”
“I’m going after her,” said Daisy.
“Wait Love,” said Jim, “you can’t go out there, it’s not safe. You’ll end up like our little Poppet.”
Daisy looked torn for a moment, undecided about what to do, but then she put her arms around Jim and buried her head in his chest. “Oh Jim love, what have we ever done to deserve this?”
Ophelia felt very strange. She had an overwhelming compulsion to sink her teeth into everyone in the room. The vague whispering had turned into a distinctive voice.
So what you a’waiting for? I wants them all!
Ophelia stood up and crept slowly forward. Bill noticed her and was shocked. Her face was waxy alabaster white and filled with a tangle of tiny red veins. Her ears had become long and pointed, like a bat’s, her teeth were fearsomely sharp and yellow, and the horns were grey and gnarled. She looked like the terrible thing he’d seen in the church. It took a great effort of will not to step back in revulsion. He realised he loved Ophelia the girl, but hated Ophelia this foul creature. How could they ever be together when she had this horror buried within?
“Help me Bill please,” she murmured. “Get me onto the bed. If I can just get some of that stuff...”
It took every ounce of Bill’s self-control to stay calm. He took Ophelia by the arm and she looked at him with those terrible features and gnashed her teeth and moved to bite him. He jumped back with a frightened look. He could see that she was almost delirious, lost in some mental battle, sweating so much her thinning hair was lank and damp and her hands were trembling.
“Sorry,” she said, glaring directly at Bill, who couldn’t stop himself from trembling.
She held up her arm and waited. Jim stepped forward and gingerly insert the needle into her waxy white arm.
“It says it hates Vita Dantis,” she mumbled to herself, “then I must have it.”
Bill backed away and watched her terrible face, mesmerized, waiting for a miracle; for the beast to go away. It seemed almost impossible that such gross features could just fade away but after a few minutes he noticed her e
ars had shrunk back to normal, the virulent red veins had miraculously withdrawn and faded, the horrible impression of curled horns had faded and her skin turned from waxy white to pale and delicate.
The eyes were still yellow and bestial, and her teeth were pointed, Bestia Marcam was still there, but the girl he loved was back – as much as she possibly could be.
*
Early next morning when it was light, Jim went out into the street to see what was going on. It was deserted and quiet and there was a fine low mist in the air. He walked down onto the square, around the maypole and back again, looking all around. He was shocked to find many broken windows, smashed flower pots, wide open front doors and sinister blood stains. He considered going into one of the houses to see if anyone needed help, but was scared of being attacked. Instead, he rushed off home and got on the telephone to Brian Dale, a local timber merchant and good friend. Brian came around in his Morris Minor van and dropped off many planks of wood. Brian was shocked when he saw the state of the village, bemoaned modern teenagers, then quickly drove off in case the ruffians were still at large. Jim got Arthur out of bed and made him help board up the windows of the house.
*
Daisy was in the kitchen. Yesterday had been the worst day of her life, with three of her children missing, but she wanted to busy herself by making everyone a fried breakfast. Her philosophy in life had always been about things looked brighter after a hearty slap-up meal, and the worse the situation the larger the meal, so today required something enormous.
*
Ophelia woke up in Rosie’s bed to the enticing smell of sausages, bacon and mushrooms sizzling downstairs. The Vita Dantis had worked and she was back to her normal self. The insidious voice was no longer plaguing her mind, but she was still aware of a brooding presence buried, sleeping, somewhere within her. It was a terrifying feeling. When she got out of bed she was surprised to find her joints were aching badly. What was more shocking was the small clump of hair that came out in her hand. Ophelia tried her best to stop crying but tears ran freely down her cheeks. She thought of Professor Jareth, with her sparse hair, walking stick and bent back and realised with a sinking heart that it was a vision of her future self.