The Whitby Witches Trilogy

by Robin Jarvis

  The girl's hands flew to the beads around her throat as Aunt Alice stepped forward to admire them.

  "They appear to be most awfully tight," she observed. "Isn't that terribly uncomfortable? Here, let me adjust the..."

  "No!" Jennet snapped. "It's all right, honestly."

  The old lady blinked at her in astonishment—the girl's mood had changed drastically.

  "Well, if you're certain," she relented. "Is that what all the youngsters are wearing now?"

  "Only the select few," Jennet replied grimly.

  Miss Boston's eyebrows twitched quizzically and for the first time she realised just how much Jennet had changed. She was no longer a child and, unsure of what to say to her, Miss Boston took herself off to the sickroom and turned on the radio.

  Alone in the kitchen, Jennet leaned against the sink and buried her face in her sud-covered hands. She had tried to remove the beads before she had come downstairs, but the necklace seemed to sense her intention and had almost strangled her. Was Pear right? Was she really the same as the rest of the coven?

  "Please no," she whispered. "I'm not like them, I'm not."

  When Aunt Alice returned, Jennet was busily drying the dishes, and hoped the old lady would not realise that she had been crying.

  "Most distressing," Miss Boston declared. "There never seems to be any good news these days—I've a good mind to take the plug off that instrument. You only ever hear about earthquakes or air disasters—why don't they broadcasting something chirpy for a change?"

  "You should tune into the local stations," said Jennet, trying to sound cheerful. "They're good for tame, heartwarming stories."

  "But I did. That was Radio Middlesbrough, and very nasty it was too."

  Jennet took another plate from the rack and wiped it with a dishcloth. "What was it today?" she asked, "Naughty vicars or crooked landlords?"

  "Oh, it wasn't anything like that—something quite grisly and downright vicious. A flock of sheep have been slaughtered on a remote farm."

  "Isn't that what they're reared for?"

  "That isn't what I meant. No, the poor creatures were slain in the fields—the farmer found them this morning and very horrible it was too, by his account. Too dreadful to be the work of vandals or hoodlums. The police believe a pack of wild dogs is responsible. Can you credit it, in this day and age!"

  The plate fell from Jennet's hands and smashed upon the floor.

  "Jennet!" Miss Boston cried. "You're white as a sheet!"

  ***

  For the rest of the weekend the girl refused to leave the cottage and filled her time doing those chores which she normally loathed. No job was too dull, whether it was weeding garden borders, helping Aunt Alice sort out the front room, or washing the windows—so long as it took her mind off Pear and the coven that was all that mattered.

  The girl's unexpected enthusiasm for these mundane household duties disconcerted Miss Boston, but Jennet absolutely refused to be persuaded to step outside the front door and the old lady began to suspect that she was avoiding something.

  "Perhaps she has fallen out with her new friends and doesn't want to bump into them," she surmised, brushing all too near the truth.

  Ben however was hardly at home and spent long hours with the fisherfolk. Nelda had grown very weak and when Miss Boston learned this she became grave, knowing that the Deep Ones had accelerated the aufwader's time.

  On Sunday afternoon, the old lady went to the cliffs herself and was saddened to see how poorly Nelda had become.

  The youngest member of the tribe could no longer walk and she lay upon the floor of the cave suffering from painful spasms.

  She and Tarr exchanged mournful glances, but they spoke encouragingly to the child though they knew their words were hollow. Miss Boston wished there was something she could do for her and when she returned home, searched through The Book of Shadows for a salve or lotion that would at least ease the aufwader's pain. But there was nothing and the old lady tossed the volume aside, then threw herself vigorously into the housework.

  Ben stayed at Nelda's side for most of the day and grew ever more dejected and morose. He could tell that she did not have long, yet could not imagine his life without her. Eventually, when the shadows deepened outside the cave, Tarr instructed the boy to return home and in a trembling voice, Ben bade them goodnight.

  On Monday morning, the atmosphere in the cottage was one of glum despondency. Jennet did not relish the thought of walking to school, afraid that the coven would be waiting for her to step outside the front door and snatch her again. But she couldn't lock herself away forever, so she put on her uniform and waited for her brother.

  Ben, however, was too upset to go anywhere. He refused to leave for school and would not touch any breakfast until Aunt Alice assured him that as soon as he ate something they would both visit the caves.

  Jennet watched him sorrowfully swirl his spoon around a bowl of cereal. His strange friendship with the fisherfolk was a mystery that she would never share, but she could understand and feel his grief as surely as if it were her own.

  "Give my love to Nelda," she said to him. "I'll see you this afternoon."

  Ben continued to brood over his breakfast. "I will," he muttered, "if she's still alive."

  Miss Boston had given up attempting to be jolly and, following Jennet to the door, whispered, "If she still lives then these will undoubtedly be her final hours. The poor mite was failing fast yesterday; you could almost see her deteriorate before your eyes—a dreadful tragedy."

  "I'm glad you'll be with him," the girl told her. "I've always been there for Ben before, but this is something beyond me and I can't help him. We're so lucky to have found you."

  Aunt Alice was lost for words and could only wave as Jennet left the courtyard and disappeared into the street beyond. "Surprising girl," she mused as she returned to check how much Ben had eaten, "she really is behaving most oddly."

  A faint drizzle had soused the early morning; in Church Street the cobbles glistened and awnings dripped on to the unsuspecting passers-by. Cautiously, Jennet headed for school, peering with suspicion into the lanes and doorways on either side, for the sisterhood of the coven could be lurking anywhere.

  When she reached Market Place, where she had first met Pear, Jennet's pace increased. She was still turning around to glare dubiously at the pillars of the old town hall, when in front of her a voice abruptly called out her name.

  Jennet spun around and there, standing by the entrance to the closed bookshop, was Pear.

  "Jennet!" she cried. "I've been worried sick—where have you been hiding? I thought you'd come and see me!"

  "You thought what?" Jennet spluttered incredulously. "After what you and your friends tried to do?"

  The witch-girl stepped into the drizzle and the anguish on her face was unmistakable. "I'm so sorry for what happened on Friday!" she swore. "It all went wrong, the others are sorry too—when the beast takes command there's nothing you can do!"

  "Is that why you killed those sheep?" Jennet snapped angrily. "If I hadn't escaped it would have been my body that was found all torn to bits."

  "Please!" Pear implored. "We should have explained properly—we thought you were ready. Let me talk to you..."

  "Get lost!" Jennet shrieked. "I don't want to hear any more of your lies. I can't believe how stupid I was. If you and your friends don't leave me alone I'll tell the police! I should have done that in the first place!"

  She stormed past the witch-girl but Pear ran after her. "There's no escape," she told her. "Jennet, none of us can be free of Nathaniel—he is part of our souls. Stop denying it to yourself."

  "Rubbish!"

  "Then why are you still wearing the necklace?"

  Jennet made no answer and, flustered, she hurried towards the school.

  "You must listen to me!" Pear shouted. "Your old life is over—you belong to him now. Why won't you let me explain? Wait, please!"

  Furious at both herself and her for
mer friend, Jennet roughly pushed Pear away and screamed at her. "I'll never listen to you again!" she shrieked, and all the browsing tourists turned to stare at the two girls. "You're a liar and a coward! If you really wanted to get away from those filthy witches nothing could stop you! I saw your face as you dragged me round that bonfire—you were revelling in it. You disgust me—just stay away!"

  Pear clutched at the girl's coat but Jennet pulled it free and strode away.

  Standing alone in the middle of the road, Pear broke down and wept genuine tears. "Jennet!" she wailed. "Don't leave me! You don't understand! I can never be free of Nathaniel—or the others."

  "Course you can!" the other shouted, not bothering to look round.

  "No I can't!" Pear snivelled. 'You see... you see—Nathaniel Crozier was my father!"

  Jennet halted and turned slowly around. In spite of her anger she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of pity for the older girl, and without thinking, said, "Meet me after school."

  Pear nodded quickly and Jennet hastened away.

  ***

  In the Walrus and the Carpenter Café, later that afternoon, the two girls were sitting at a small table by the window, each with a cup of tea and a piece of cheesecake.

  An awkward and uncomfortable silence had prevented them saying much of anything and they half-heartedly picked at the dessert, both waiting for the other to speak first.

  Finally Jennet could stand it no more and came straight out with it. "Is it true then?"

  "What?" asked Pear.

  "About Nathaniel being your father, or was that another lie to get me to talk to you?"

  The older girl looked away and slowly moved the crumbs around the plate. "It's all true," she confessed. "I am his daughter."

  "I thought he was married to Rowena."

  "Don't be naïve; she was his legal bride but in a sense he was married to every member of the coven."

  Jennet eyed the other customers and lowered her voice so that they couldn't hear. "Why did they want me to join them?" she hissed. "What would be the point? Why are they still clinging to his memory? Why don't they go back to whatever lives they had before?"

  "If you'd let me explain," Pear told her, "then you'll understand why they—we—have done what we have."

  Jennet folded her arms. "Go on then," she said bluntly, "tell me."

  With her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, Pear began. "You have to realise", she said, "that to us Nathaniel meant everything—literally. He was our High Priest, the very reason for our existence—mine especially. He only had to make the vaguest hint and we would rush to do whatever it was. You must know what that feeling is like. You were under his influence—was there anything you would not have done for him?"

  Jennet bit her bottom lip and remembered how foolish she had been. "No," she admitted.

  "And you only knew him for a short time," the other continued. "Can you imagine how forceful that power would become over the years? Poor Liz got so dependent on him that she couldn't eat or drink without his permission; she was like a... like a..."

  "Pet dog?"

  "Worse than that," Pear answered, ignoring the sarcasm, "and then—then he died."

  She stared out of the window at the people passing by and her dark eyes glittered with tears. "No one can ever know how terrible that was for us," she said huskily. "The same instant Morgawrus killed him, each member of the coven felt a sudden... desolation as he was wrenched from us. We thought it was all over, there was nothing more to live for, no driving purpose in our lives—Liz almost took her own life. First Roselyn, the one you call Rowena, and then him, who we all worshipped."

  "What did you do?"

  Pear shuddered, recalling the insane and bloody actions of the coven in that ghastly time. "We were too distraught to care what we did," she murmured. "A madness was upon us. It wasn't just livestock that we butchered, no—far, far worse. There are voices that I can still hear—terrible screaming cries that will never be stilled and will hound me forever."

  She lowered her eyes and fidgeted with the napkin before continuing. "Then, when we were gorged on carnage and the raving hysteria left us, it was Hillian who decided we should attempt to contact my father on the other side. So, we performed certain... rites, yet the message we received exceeded anything we had anticipated.

  "Through that contact we learned much. Nathaniel had been the unwitting agent of a greater power. When he followed Rowena to Whitby he was merely pursuing the pattern set down for him. He was like a rat in a maze."

  Pausing, Pear absently stirred her tea and watched the waitress hovering near the other tables ready to take down their orders.

  "Do you mean that someone else wanted him to free the serpent?" Jennet asked. "But why? It would wreak havoc and destroy everything."

  Pear shook her head. "No, it wouldn't," she stated proudly. "You see, my father really was a master of domination. There has never been anyone like him in the whole history of the world—he was unique. The weary, sluggish mind of Morgawrus would've presented no difficulties for his arts. The monster would have been enslaved to his will as surely as you were.

  "What Nathaniel didn't realise was that he was only an instrument playing another's tune. All along a darker, ancient mind had been at work, bringing the strands together and weaving the web that we are now enmeshed in."

  "Are you trying to tell me", Jennet interrupted, "that Nathaniel was innocent, that I've misjudged him? You really don't give up, do—"

  "I'm not saying anything of the sort!" Pear denied. "My father was certainly never 'innocent'! Look, do you want to hear the rest or not?"

  "Go on. If waking Morgawrus was never Nathaniel's idea, then whose was it?"

  Pear looked around warily and gave the other customers doubtful glances. Then, in a hushed and fearful voice, she whispered, "Meta hasn't told me but I've heard her and Hillian talking. Have you ever heard of the three beneath the waves—the Lords of the Deep and Dark?"

  "Yes," Jennet answered slowly. "What about them?"

  "That's who was behind it all! One of the great Triad!"

  Jennet stared at her, then snorted with derision. "That's nonsense!" she said. "Aren't they the ones who put the serpent under the cliffs in the first place? Why would they want to release him?"

  "I said only one of them," Pear insisted. "Think about it. Nothing comes close to rivalling the power of the Triad, nothing except Morgawrus."

  "So?"

  "Well, it stands to reason—one of them wants to get rid of the other two, he wants to rule alone."

  Bewildered, Jennet rubbed her forehead. "And you're saying he can't do that by himself, he needs the serpent to kill his brothers?"

  "Of course! And using my father he could have done it too, except—"

  "Except it didn't happen that way. Aunt Alice stopped him."

  "She interfered," Pear spat, "and my father's control was shattered."

  "Good!" Jennet said, finishing off her cheesecake.

  "But that isn't the end of it," Pear muttered. "Morgawrus was entombed again but then the evil member of the Triad became fearful that his brothers would discover his murderous intentions. Using the moonkelp he looked into the future and saw his own destiny."

  Leaning across the table, she whispered, "What the Lord of the Deep saw there chilled his black heart. For it was written that his own end was near. One of the three mightiest beings in the world felt threatened as never before—not since the serpent first rampaged over the land and sea. Now a new, more terrible danger was taking shape, something so deadly that his death is practically assured."

  Jennet felt the air in the café grow cold as she tried to imagine what could possibly be more horrific than the Lords of the Deep. "What sort of nightmare is this new threat?" she asked nervously. "It must be really horrendous to scare one of the Triad."

  Pear gave her a long and steady look before answering. "You really want to know?" she murmured.

  "Course I do!"


  "You won't like it."

  "Tell me!"

  Pear gently put her hand over Jennet's and in a level, sincere voice said simply, "It's Ben."

  The girl stared at her, then picked up her schoolbag ready to leave.

  "It's true!" Pear swore. "Don't go, sit down!"

  Jennet's eyes were filled with contempt. "I really am stupid!" she fumed. "I was actually starting to believe you. I don't know who's madder, you or me!"

  "Somehow," Pear told her, "one day, your brother will bring about the destruction of the Lord of the Frozen Wastes. That's why the coven is here, don't you see that?"

  "Come to watch then, have you?" bristled Jennet. "Come to see the mighty one who tricked your beloved father get his just rewards?"

  "No!" Pear cried indiscreetly. "We're here to kill Ben!"

  The rest of the customers in the café looked up from their tea and stared at the two girls in surprise. Pear cursed herself for shouting so loudly then made a rude gesture to each of them in turn. On the seat opposite, Jennet had sat down again.

  "If you or that dirty coven so much as go near my brother..." she began, "no, even better, I'll go to the police right now."

  "Don't do that!" Pear said quickly. "Even if they believed you they couldn't do anything. Jennet, you don't know the others; they don't care how many they kill to get what they want. If you mention this to anyone you will only be responsible for many more deaths. What the coven has been promised in return for the boy's life outweighs any risk. It's all they are concerned about."

  Angrily, Jennet asked, "So what is the price of my brother's life? What are you going to get out of it?"

  "As soon as Ben is dead," Pear shamefully replied, "the Lord of the Frozen Wastes will give Nathaniel back to us. He will live again—that is the bargain Hillian has made."

  Appalled and speechless, Jennet felt sick.

  "Oh, the Deep One can do it," Pear said. "Nothing is beyond them."

  Jennet had had enough. She wanted to go home at once and tell Aunt Alice everything, but one question still remained unanswered. "Why are you telling me all this now?" she asked bitterly. "Wouldn't your mother and the others be furious if they knew?"