The Crockworthy Sisters Box Set - Parts 1-3

by Marcus Brown

  “Not a sausage. It’s like they vanished off the face of the earth. We checked the CCTV footage from the country lane’s approaching and no cars were seen coming to and from Moonlight Manor.”

  “And you’re sure the sisters were definitely at home?”

  “Yep. We pinged both Talia and Tamara’s phones and both were found at the Manor. There’s no doubt they were taken from there, but we’re at a loss as to how.”

  “Any further on with identifying Donaldson’s accomplice?”

  “We took fingerprints from the front room windows plus various other places around the property and ran them through the database, and nothing. There were only two sets of prints in the upper part of the house and that is those of Donaldson and her mystery companion. It looks like they were the only two people ever to step foot in there.”

  “Well, at least we know we’re looking for a male,” Trey confirmed.

  “What makes you say that?” Rigby asked.

  “This doesn’t leave the room, but sperm samples were taken from Miriam’s anal passage. If I had to lay bets, I’d say he messed around with the body not long after death, if you get my meaning?”

  A look of disgust swept across Rigby’s face. “Oh, fuck, Trey.” He scrunched his eyes tightly shut for a moment then reopened them. “We need to catch this guy and before the Worthy sisters meet the same fate.”

  “Doesn’t warrant thinking about, but I don’t think our guy kills his victims right away, so we may still have time. The only thing I can’t understand is why the killer targeted Tabitha personally.”

  “The freak likes to play games, but I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes if the boss gets her hands on him. I wouldn’t take her on.”

  “Right,” Trey said, closing the subject. “I need to get on. Stay if you want to, Rigby. You might learn a few things.” He clicked the Dictaphone back on.

  Trey leant over the body, making a Y-shaped incision, the two arms of the Y running from each shoulder joint, meeting at mid-chest and the stem of the Y running down to the pubic region.

  He spoke into the Dictaphone. “I’m now going to examine the organs in situ and will remove the rib cage.”

  Using a rib cutter, Trey cut along the boundary between the ribs and the cartilage connected to the breastbone. Once he was finished, he carefully lifted the rib cage out of position and rested it on the table to the side of the main examination table.

  Rigby stared, as though mesmerised, but his pallor looked a little off. “Jesus, Trey. Sorry, but I can’t watch anymore.” He walked toward the elevator doors as Trey chuckled.

  “Pussy,” Trey whispered under his breath.

  He waited for Nathan to go and carried on. “Sally, disregard that last part,” he said into the Dictaphone for the benefit of his assistant responsible for typing up notes from the recording. “I’m beginning with the abdominal examination.” He freed the intestines by cutting along the attachment tissue with a scalpel.

  Once each organ had been examined within the body, Trey removed the organs connected as a group, using the Rokitansky technique.

  “Good old Rokitansky,” Trey said, knowing this technique would free the body up much quicker and allow the diener to close and clean up. “I could kiss you,” he said, then remembered. “Oh, Sally. Disregard that last part too.”

  He made a mental note to stop talking to himself whilst the Dictaphone was switched on.

  Tissue samples were taken from the organs and stomach contents were removed for testing.

  He left the testing of the bodily fluids to his trusty lab technician and left the body to be closed up.

  Chapter Nine

  “He used the door across the hallway,” Abigail croaked, smugly. “The same door you and your sisters used to pull me from 1692.”

  “How would he have known about the door?”

  “Have you not figured out who he is yet? My, my, Tabitha, I thought you were brighter than that.”

  “Stop playing games and tell me who he is.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? It could save your children from untold suffering.”

  “What makes you think I care?”

  “There is a part of the old you that’s still there,” Tabitha hissed. “The book told me so.”

  “That matters little. Now, I’ve told you what I know. It’s time for you to hold up your own end of the bargain.”

  “Not quite yet, Mother. You know much more than you’re telling me. I know you too well.”

  “Give the book what you promised or my lips are sealed,” Abigail ordered.

  Tabitha spoke to the book, telling it what she wanted it to do.

  A blank page opened in the book. Tabitha pressed her hand to the page, allowing the book to siphon off a measly amount of her power.

  Abigail grinned.

  “Done,” Tabitha stated. “Now, what else do you know?”

  “The person you seek used to live in our village in Salem.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because I saw him the day he took your sisters,” she said, surprising Tabitha.

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Of course, it’s possible. He entered the house through the portal across the corridor. I could hear him. The book would not permit him to enter where it lay, but there is no charm on that door.” She nodded toward the open door. “And so, to my surprise, he pushed open the door and although he couldn’t see me, I could see him perfectly well.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Jeremiah Blackwell is the man you seek.”

  Tabitha gasped, as she thought about the last time she saw him – the day she and her sisters left for England, they’d sent Numen to kill Cotton Mather’s men on their approach to the farm. Jeremiah was amongst them. But at the last minute, they’d called Numen off, allowing them to escape with their lives. “That’s not possible?”

  “So, you do remember him?”

  “No, it can’t be him.”

  “Believe what you will, but I saw him with my own eyes.”

  “Why would he take them?” Tabitha asked. “How could he do it?”

  “The day I sent you and your sisters away, Cotton Mather was coming for us all. You set Numen onto his men, remember? Jeremiah was one of those men. If you’d listened to me back then, none of this would have come to pass.”

  Tabitha pressed her hand against her mouth. She wanted to vomit.

  “How has he followed us?”

  “I cannot answer that, but he held a Grimoire I’d never seen before and is using powers not meant for him. You know as well as I do, being human, those gifts will drive him mad, if they haven’t already done so.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “That is no longer my concern. Now, will you release me?”

  “I have little choice.” Tabitha knew she was about to do the wrong thing in releasing her mother from her prison, but she cared more for her sisters.

  “Seems not.” Abigail smiled widely.

  “If I release you, promise me you’ll help me find my sisters.”

  “By the Goddess, you have my vow,” Abigail responded, “then all bets are off.”

  “Don’t swear by the Goddess. You know as well as I do, where you’re concerned, it means nothing.”

  “Very well.” Abigail reached out and touched her daughter’s face.

  “Don’t touch me.” Tabitha backed away and for a moment thought she saw a flicker of sadness and regret in her mother’s eyes.

  “Now we have dispensed with the pleasantries, shall we proceed?”

  Abigail held her chained hands out and with a click of Tabitha’s fingers, they broke apart and fell to the floor.

  “There.”

  “And the irons?” Abigail asked.

  “You can remove them yourself,” Tabitha spat. “You still have a vestige of your own power that remains now you are no longer magically bound.”

  With a click of her fingers, the irons unfastened and lay on
the floor. “So I can,” she said with a triumphant air.

  “Remember, what you promised,” Tabitha said, nervous to be so close to her unrestrained mother.

  “I will keep my promise to you, but as soon as your sisters are found, I am free to leave.”

  “That is agreeable, and as you said, all bets are off.” Tabitha said. “Book, you know what you have to do. Give Abigail Crockworthy what was promised.”

  The book opened once again and turned to the page where it had stored Tabitha’s power.

  A single green spark lifted from the page and hovered in mid-air.

  Both Tabitha and Abigail looked up.

  Suddenly, the spark moved and struck Abigail square in the chest.

  Abigail shuddered and exhaled. “That feels good,” she whispered.

  “No tricks, Mother. I’m much stronger than you are.”

  “Now, let me get rid of this wretched appearance.”

  Abigail wrung her hands together, and with a dramatic flourish, the palms of her hands began to glow as a turquoise orb appeared and hung in the air.

  “Mother,” Tabitha warned.

  “Silence,” she hissed.

  Moments later, Abigail was enveloped within the orb as Tabitha stared nervously.

  “Don’t try anything,” Tabitha warned.

  “I don’t intend to,” Abigail replied, stepping from out of the orb, her new features surprising her daughter.

  “Wow,” Tabitha said before she had a chance to stop herself.”

  “Wow, indeed,” Abigail replied.

  Gone was the grey hair, ragged clothes and wrinkled skin. Standing magnificently in place was the old Abigail – the woman Tabitha remembered. Her long fair hair, slender body, flawless skin and gleaming white teeth all looked amazing. She was dressed in a skin-tight floor length midnight blue dress with matching cloak and a witch’s hat. Her green eyes glowed like those of a cat caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

  “Really, Mother,” Tabitha said, rolling her eyes. “It isn’t Hallowe’en and you never were one for make believe.”

  “That’s better,” she said, doing a little twirl before she swept out of the room.

  “Book,” Tabitha said. “Back to the room and seal the door. Abigail Crockworthy must never be allowed to cross the threshold. If she finds a way to pass, you must lose yourself in time until my sisters and I can find you again.”

  The book disappeared as Abigail looked on.

  Chapter Ten

  Abigail looked around the spacious ground floor of Moonlight Manor.

  She’d forgotten how luxurious it was. A far cry from her dingy cell in the bowels of the manor.

  “You’ve done well for yourselves,” Abigail called out. “How much of this is really down to magic?”

  “None of it,” Tabitha said, as she walked into the hallway. “Despite what you may think, we’ve always worked hard and reap the rewards. The fortune we have built hasn’t come from magic.”

  “And this opulent home of yours is paid for simply from hard work?”

  “We’ve lived many lifetimes since that day in 1692, remember.”

  Abigail seemed to ponder her thoughts. “But you are all immortal – people must realise you do not age.”

  “Every so often, we have no choice but to disappear. Although, we return years later and claim what others assume is our rightful inheritance. We bequeath our worldly possessions to long lost cousins who just happen to have the same names as the three of us.”

  “Very clever if I do say so myself.” Abigail grinned, pleased her daughters had proven to be as resourceful as she believed them to be. “And nobody has ever guessed who you truly are?”

  “No, and that is the way it will always stay.”

  “Interesting. And after the war ended?”

  “We couldn’t take the chance anybody researching that time period would try and locate us, expecting us to be approaching our centenary so we faked our own deaths not long after the war ended and when we returned, the Crockworthy name was dead and buried.”

  “What do you call yourselves now?”

  “We go by the name of Worthy.”

  Abigail laughed. “Hardly a giant leap.”

  “It’s enough to have thrown people off the scent.”

  “Oh!” Abigail replied. “How so?”

  “About ten years ago, an author contacted us, believing us to be direct descendants of ourselves.”

  “And?” Abigail asked, curious to know.

  “His name was Walter, but his last name escapes me right now, and he’d flown over from Salem to research those who’d fled during the trials. We decided to meet up with him, not wanting him to think we were hiding anything and told him we knew nothing of what our family had been through during those years.”

  “And you’re certain he believed you?”

  “The modern age has been good to us. We can change our appearance significantly enough to hide how identical to one another we truly are.”

  “You can use magic for that.”

  “We try not to use magic, unless we need to.”

  “Then your gifts are wasted. Why cling on to something you do not take advantage of?”

  “Because in our hands, the gifts bestowed by the Goddess are used for good. Could you really say the same?”

  “If you believe a part of the old me still remains, you must believe a part of me is still good, so what makes you think I would use the book for evil purposes?”

  “You no longer have a soul, Mother. What small part of you I do believe remains will always be in conflict with the part willing to cause harm. Have you forgotten you betrayed your own daughters?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jeremiah Blackwell entered the room.

  In his hands, he carried a tray with two steaming plates of food.

  “Dinner time,” he said, almost jovially.

  “We’re not hungry,” Talia replied.

  “How’s your ankle?” he asked, looking at her.

  She looked down and the pain seemed to intensify.

  “When I get out of here, you’re gonna wish you’d never been born,” Talia threatened.

  “Tally, please,” Tamara chimed in.

  “I suggest you listen to your sister and keep quiet. I have all the time in the world, and you have many more bones I can break.”

  “You’re all talk,” Talia spat.

  “I wish you could see who is lying on a mortuary slab right now. Oh, that’s right, you can’t,” he teased. “But, once I’d finished with her, I made sure she suffered for her sins.”

  “So, you weren’t working alone?” Tamara deduced.

  “Of course I wasn’t working alone. I had to stay hidden for as long as I could and find a way to infiltrate your home. Your sister is smarter than most, and I couldn’t take the chance she’d recognise me. Getting in wasn’t as easy as I thought with the various wards you’ve cleverly put around the perimeter, but I found a way. Very clever of you to cloak the lodge – a nice little hideaway, if need be.”

  “So, you were in the lodge,” Talia added, “And that’s how you found your way into the manor – through the door.”

  “Clever little witch.”

  “You said before that you didn’t want to be recognised. I don’t recognise you, so why would Tabitha?” Talia asked.

  “Because I was betrothed to her best friend, Catherine,” he answered.

  “By the Goddess. You’re, Jeremiah Blackwell,” Tamara said, finally realising who he was. “But how?”

  Talia looked confused. “Tammy, I don’t remember him at all.”

  “You wouldn’t recognise anybody but yourself, Talia Crockworthy. You were born selfish and time hasn’t changed a thing where you’re concerned.”

  Talia ignored his comments.

  “Why, Jeremiah?” Tamara asked.

  “The day you and your sisters disappeared, Cotton Mather sent us to secure you, ready for trial, but you sent that thing after us.”


  “We called Numen off. I remember the day as if it were yesterday,” Talia replied. “You were lucky not to be ripped limb from limb.”

  “It wasn’t enough for Cotton. He had me shut in stocks for the entire village to see. I was humiliated because I failed to stop you and Cotton torched your family home in rage.”

  “Ah, so it was he who set fire to our home in Salem,” Tamara said. She recalled the day they had returned to 1692. They had gotten their mother’s body out before the flames took hold.

  “So, why are you here, and how did you manage it?” Talia asked. “You’re not a Warlock?”

  “My punishment was to roam through time until I found you. Cotton was in possession of a Grimoire. He entrusted it to me and I used it to find you. Once I tracked you down, I would steal your powers and return to my own time, and only then would I be permitted to marry my beloved Catherine.”

  “You were a good man, Jeremiah,” Tamara said, gently. “I remember Catherine speaking fondly of you. There must be another way.”

  “There is no other way. You and your sisters will die and the Crockworthy line will end and your power will be mine.” A maniacal grin stretched across his handsome face.

  “Cotton has tricked you, Jeremiah. He wants our powers for himself, he always did. You’re human and shouldn’t absorb magic. If you do, the power you seek will slowly drive you mad.”

  “Liars,” he shouted. Jeremiah stormed toward the door and turned. “Now, eat your food. I won’t tell you again.” He slammed the door behind him.

  “Well, fuck a duck,” Talia said. “What are we gonna do now?”

  Tamara glared at her. “Do you mind? This isn’t a time for profanity.”

  “Oh, ok, Lady Muck. We’ve been kidnapped and locked up by a lunatic murderer from 1692 and I’m not allowed to say a few swear words.”

  “Well…” Tamara said.

  “You tell me when I am allowed ‘cos I’m gonna eff and jeff until the air turns blue.”

  Tamara shook her head. “Oh, shut your big mouth for once, Tally,” she said. “I need to think and focus on getting us out of here. Unless you missed it, Jeremiah is totally unhinged and will become worse over time. You’ve gotta be careful not to agitate him anymore or you’ll end up with two broken ankles, or worse.”