Tales From The Wyrd Museum 1: The Woven Path

by Robin Jarvis

  Backing away as one of the legs of the horrific squander bug came crunching into the rubble, Ted suddenly caught a glimpse of something glittering in the darkness.

  Half-buried in the dirt, lost in the gloom of the demon's shadow, was the tiny bottle of green glass.

  The bear's face lit up, but even as hope kindled within him, the demon dragged his sagging, distended belly right on top of it.

  Glaring upwards, Ted looked into the frightful countenance and stifled the qualms of panic simmering in his kapok.

  ‘OK, blubbermountain!’ he cried. ‘You want some sport? You gotta be in better shape than that to catch a flyboy of the Mighty Eighth!’

  Tearing over the ground, Ted nimbly dodged the claws that came razoring down for him. Like a demented cricket he bounded from one heap of bricks to another, always a mere instant away from the barbed talons that came diving after.

  Over the rim of the crater he sprang, his stumpy legs aching with fatigue. Roaring in amusement, Belial waved his massive limbs in the air, lashing them in the stuffed toy's path.

  Gargling with hellish mirth, flaming strings of saliva came dribbling from his awful jaws, erupting in loud bursts when they hit the floor.

  ‘How long can you continue to see?’ the demon laughed. ‘Already I sense that you are weakening, your energies are nearly spent!’

  Taunting him, the hulking fiend spat out a stream of fire that raged through the night and exploded a mere hair's breadth behind the puny quarry.

  Howling, Ted lurched on. A patch of fur on his back was scorched and smouldering but, wherever he ran, the flames leaped up, blocking the way.

  Cackling malevolently, Belial watched him scamper to and fro, like a vicious cat idly playing with an exhausted mouse. Then he grew bored of the game. The attraction of the bear's indwelling spirit was too strong and, when the claws next came snaking after Ted, they were driven by a deadly purpose.

  Stumbling through the ruins, Neil Chapman stared at the terrible scene before him. The bear was still jumping from one spot to another, and, though his movements were slowing and becoming laboured, with every bound he was heading back into the deep shadow—drawing ever closer to the now uncovered phial.

  Anxiously, Neil watched as Ted scooted towards it, when suddenly he saw one of the segmented limbs come swooping unerringly down.

  'TED!’ the boy yelled. ‘Look out!’

  For a moment the demon wavered, his cruel eyes glinting across to the edge of the crater where Neil was standing. With a ghastly roar, a torrent of flame went streaking from his slobbering mouth and struck the ground just feet away from the wretched boy.

  But Neil's distraction was just enough. Vaulting one of the bitter talons, Ted reached the phial at last and snatched it from the dust.

  ‘OK!’ he cried, kissing the glass and scowling up at the pale, blemished belly. The party's over.’

  Raising his paw, the bear leaned back and hurled the tiny vessel straight at the glistening, leathery hide.

  Through the fume-filled air the phial soared, turning over and over until, with a sharp tinkle of shattering glass—it smashed.

  From the broken phial, the water taken from the sacred well of the Nornir, which had once fed the mighty world-tree of ancient legend, splashed on to the demon's foul, rippling flesh.

  At once the liquid frothed and seethed, eating into the infernal, crusting scales of skin like acid.

  A deafening screech issued from Belial's jaws as a searing pain stabbed into him and a pall of oily, black smoke came gushing from the dark, festering wound.

  'That's it, baby!’ Ted crowed. ‘Bawl your last! This is the Signorelli Exterminating Service—let us splat your ‘roaches!’

  The gigantic squander bug thrashed his misshapen limbs. Inflamed by the torrefying agony, he staggered from the crater, his talons raking enormous trenches in the rubble.

  Chuckling gleefully, Ted scurried over to Neil.

  'Them sisters sure know how to brew up some powerful hooch,’ he laughed.

  But the boy did not glance down at him, his eyes were still fixed upon Belial and to Ted's dismay he realised that the shrieks were dwindling.

  Whipping around, he saw that where the phial had smashed and the water ate into the bloated hide, the wound was already beginning to close.

  ‘It weren't enough!’ the bear cried in woeful realisation. Them screwy broads didn't give me enough!’

  Swaying unsteadily whilst he recovered, the towering demon tore his twisting horns through the dark, reeking clouds that had poured from his own flesh and his eyes swivelled down, overflowing with malice.

  ‘Godammit!’ Ted yelped. ‘It's really hit the fan now.’

  With ravaging flame dripping from his screaming jaws. Belial lumbered forward, his malignant mind bent on vengeance.

  ‘Kid!’ Ted cried, waving the boy away. ‘Get outta here—I'll keep him busy.’

  Neil took one final look at the nightmare that stormed towards them and blundered back, through the demolished entrance, and flung himself into the driving seat of the Jeep.

  The roar of the boundless squander bug split the heavens with boiling savagery. Only once before had his demonic majesty been assailed with mortal agonies. Then he had been vanquished and consigned to the casket, but now his rage was terrible to witness.

  Fleeing over the barren destruction and waving his arms over his head, Ted tried to divert the monster's attention from Neil.

  ‘Hoy!’ he yelled. ‘Dogbreath—over here!’

  Intense as the beams of searchlights, Belial's evil glance glared into the shadows and espied the bear sprinting below him.

  Snarling with immeasurable hatred, he lunged with his claws and Ted let out a terrified wail.

  Turning the Jeep round, Neil stared wretchedly back at the hellish spectacle and his spirits sank.

  All over London the bombs were falling. The flare of their explosions burning angrily in the misty sky—creating a perfect backdrop for the Archduke of Demons. It was like stealing a glimpse into Hades and the boy turned away aghast.

  With a start, he whirled round again and peered at the murky horizon. Beyond the stretch of fallen houses a familiar sight was standing quiet and sedate in the gloom, its spikes and pinnacles pricking through the cloudy vapour.

  A desperate, wild idea jolted through Neil as he remembered the harsh, accusing words Miss Ursula Webster had once addressed to him and a glimmer of hope ignited in his heart.

  Shouting at the top of his voice, the boy sprang from the Jeep and raced back into the wreckage.

  Galloping through the shadows, vainly trying to evade the demon's piercing glare, as he scrambled over the ruins, Ted's flight was suddenly curtailed as three ferocious claws plunged into the rubble around him.

  A victorious roar blasted from Belial's lips as he plucked the yowling bear from the ground and lifted him high into the air.

  Dangling helplessly by his right arm, Ted kicked and jerked, but his paw was impaled upon the sharp talon and though he continued to squirm and fight, he knew there was no escape.

  Past the putrescent abdomen, peppered with a putrid rash of swastikas, the struggling bear was hauled. Up past the blighted ridges from which the enormous limbs radiated out in mighty, branching sections he rose until, finally, he was brought up to the demon's face.

  The abhorrent folds of undulating, scaly skin that stretched either side of the hideously grotesque features pulsed and throbbed as the bear's singed, jiggling figure was swung close to the yawning jaws.

  With his free paw, Ted covered his eyes. The immense head of the deformed, distended squander bug was too horrendous to look on.

  Every feature of the revolting countenance was a separate nightmare in itself. The ghastly, down-turned mouth was rimmed by folds of clammy, twitching flesh—as pale and grey as that of a drowned and waterlogged cadaver.

  From the rotting gums in which the jagged, yellow fangs were rooted, a stomach-curdling stench of death and decay gusted up
into the bear's face until he gagged and balked.

  The moustache which had once parodied the leader of the Third Reich now sprouted wildly in the dark crevices of the wart-ruptured cheeks and bristled up over the snorting, truncated snout.

  Yet even though these foul, diabolic features instilled equal measures of terror into Ted's fluffy heart, none of them frightened him as much as the demon's eyes.

  Huge lamps that blazed with undiluted malice, their garish, baleful glare burned into him, steeping the bear in a glow of pure evil. Dangling forlornly by his paw, he could feel the virulent stare penetrating his soul, slicing right into the very essence of him.

  ‘Give thanks unto the profane glory that is Belial,’ the repellent mouth thundered, ‘for by his impenitent grace the trials of your unhappy existence are over.’

  To Ted's terror, the frightful jaws lolled open and, deep in the echoing throat, a ruddy light welled up as the fiery caverns of his gullet rumbled to be fed.

  ‘All souls are my nourishment,’ the demon gloated, ‘and upon your tender succulence shall I sup most readily.’

  Cackling, Belial put forth his malevolent power and the bear, suspended from his claws, shivered uncontrollably, racked by fierce, rifling spasms.

  From Ted's fleecy skin, seeping with painful inevitability through the grubby fur, threads of glimmering shadow were gradually drawn towards the waiting maw.

  Out from the stuffed toy, the shade of Angelo Signorelli was dragged and ripped whilst, behind it, the battling bear abruptly went limp and lifeless.

  A trickle of flame splashed from Belial's outstretched tongue as it flicked out to receive this delectable, and most sustaining of souls.

  Chapter 23 A Destiny Fulfilled

  Into Belial's monstrous jaws the shimmering wisps of the airman's spirit were drawn—down into the enormous, hell-reeking throat.

  Suddenly the demon was pelted with a flurry of stones and bricks and, to his irritation, something was striking against one of his huge, cockroach-like legs.

  His concentration broken, Belial glowered down and there was Neil, with a length of railing in his hands, hammering furiously upon the steel-strong, segmented limb.

  Immediately, Angelo's soul snapped back into the bear's body and Ted shook himself—feeling horribly sick.

  Defying the booming roars above him, Neil continued to smash the railing against the squander bug's powerful leg, oblivious to the claw that was reaching down to seize him.

  ‘Kid!’ Ted yelled. ‘Get out from there!’

  The boy glanced up and flung himself aside as the talon cleaved through the air.

  ‘Not without you!’ he bawled back.

  Swinging from the demon's grasp, Ted thought frantically for a way to free himself- but there was only one thing he could do.

  As Belial stooped to try and snatch the boy again, the bear fumbled with the stitches in his shoulder and with a wrench, pulled them out.

  Warbling, Ted tumbled down, narrowly avoiding the cascading spouts of flame that flowed from the demon's mouth. With a jarring bump, he landed on the ground and the force of the impact catapulted a wad of stuffing from the ragged tear in his shoulder.

  Not pausing to retrieve it, he flipped himself to his feet and at once Neil's fingers closed round his middle.

  With Belial pounding after them, the boy fled as fast as he could, through the ruined entrance and back to the Jeep.

  'Take us outta here!’ the one-armed bear yelled.

  Neil hesitated, turning to see the towering horror of the squander bug come lurching over the wreckage, the forked tail switching angrily behind his vast and loathsome body.

  To Ted's amazement, a grim smile appeared on the boy's face.

  ‘What you waiting fer?’ he hollered.

  His eyes shining, Neil delayed a moment longer. Then, just as Belial's flailing claws came reaching for them, the Jeep screeched out of his grasp.

  Bellowing in thwarted rage, the demon tore after, the violence of his wrathful pursuit shaking the surrounding rubble.

  Bouncing on the passenger seat, Ted tugged at Neil's clothes. ‘Where you takin’ us?’ he cried. This ain't the way we came.’

  The boy only laughed in reply, even when the road burst into flames behind them and the heat scalded their backs.

  Veering recklessly round fog-hidden bends, the Jeep careered and bounced—crashing through a garden hedge when Neil misjudged a particularly sharp corner.

  ‘You ain't gonna lose him!’ Ted cried, staring fearfully back.

  ‘What makes you think I want to?’ the boy replied wildly.

  Into a narrow street the Jeep sped, until at last it spun to a halt—at the end of Well Lane.

  Ted stared up at the fastness of the Wyrd Museum, its darkened windows gazing morosely out of the war-torn world.

  ‘You're crazy!’ he shouted at Neil. “What'd you bring us here fer? This ain't gonna help us, kid! Them daffy sisters won't be here!’

  Within the blacked-out panes of the museum's Georgian windows an infernal glare welled up as Belial came rampaging around the buildings behind them.

  ‘It's not the Websters I'm thinking of,’ the boy answered, scooping Ted up in his hands and tearing into the dingy, fog-filled road that lay behind the museum. ‘Besides, you and me don't need them, do we?’

  Waiting a moment to make certain the demon had seen him, Neil hurried to the large gate that barred the entrance to the cramped yard and pushed it wide.

  Over the top of the encircling wall the hellish glow rose and the grotesque monstrosity of the squander bug lumbered into view.

  The dismal yard was flooded with a bloody light as the demon's eyes hunted for its prey and, with a deep gurgle of treacherous joy, it saw that they were trapped.

  Staring up into the venom-filled, merciless face, Neil stumbled back until the museum wall prevented him going any further.

  ‘Hope you know what you're doing,’ Ted muttered, sitting on his shoulder.

  As Belial came crashing through the entrance, battering the gates off their hinges, his claws gouging into the concrete, Neil whispered, ‘So do I.’

  Into the courtyard the indomitable demon came, the tempest of his boiling fury screaming around the walls, rattling the windows and gushing destroying flame over the ground.

  The chase was over and, as he glowered down at the puny creatures cringing below, his accursed spirit squalled with supremacy and doom.

  From this point on, his blasphemous glory would spread over the land. Into the hearts of mankind would he sow yet more hatred and aggression, until a new Pandemonium would be borne from the burning desolation. The true age of war was only just beginning—mother would slay son and child spill the blood of the parent. Horror and chaos would overmantle his death-drenched realm and he, Beli Ya'al—mightiest of the fallen host—would cruelly govern all despairing souls. The time that was prophesied had come at last.

  The titan's odious, braying laughter tore malignantly into the night as he bent his baneful anger upon Neil and Ted.

  Staring up at the pestilential face, the bear cowered back. ‘Nice while it lasted, kid,’ he burbled.

  Neil shivered as three malformed talons came plunging through Belial's fiery breath to kill him.

  ‘Hope I guessed right,’ he murmured.

  With a yell, the boy leaped away as the vicious claws came grinding and slicing.

  Even as they swooped after, he dashed to the place where the drinking fountain stood and, using all his strength, kicked and battered the pipe which fed it from the wall.

  At once a deluge of rushing, icy water shot into the sky as the liquid blasted out under pressure.

  Grabbing the broken pipe with his hands, soak- ing himself and Ted to the skin, Neil wrenched it down and directed the deluge straight at Belial.

  The demon roared in mockery as the splashing jet hissed towards him. Too late, his repugnant mind crowded with doubt. Then the fierce flood struck him full in the face.

  With
a deafening peal of anguish, Belial recoiled from the maelstrom that devoured and burned him. Black smoke flooded the air as the hideous face started to melt and the squander bug's enormous limbs flailed insanely before him in a futile attempt to ward the deadly liquid off.

  But the segmented legs dissolved in the streaming spray, withering like wax in a flame.

  Screeching, the demon was wreathed in a noxious cloud, whipped by his massive horns which pounded with such agonised force upon the walls of the museum that the building rocked and the slates rattled from the roof.

  Dripping with water, Ted punched the air with his paw and gave a whooping cheer. ‘You did it, kid!’ he crowed. ‘He's shrinking!’

  Racked with blistering torments, the towering squander bug was diminishing. Down into the engulfing smoke, his liquifying head plummeted and the tremendous shrieks lost their thunderous resonance.

  Pushing the pipe still lower, Neil followed the demon's descent and Ted leaped from his shoulder, to scamper closer to the churning plume of poisonous fumes.

  Writhing within the stinging, choking smoke, Belial felt his might and strength flood from his being. With a rush of shimmering shadow, the many souls he had ingested flew from his bubbling, molten mouth—rising through the billowing black reek. Scintillating like dim stars, they soared upwards, free at last of the living world and without them the demon was nothing.

  Unable to maintain it, he cast aside the shape of the squander bug as down he dwindled, snorting and squealing like a stuck pig. All his splendour, all his foul majesty was ripped away, yet even as the sacred water tortured and consumed him, his vile mind knew that there was still a slender chance.

  Looking away from the curling pall of smoke, Neil saw that the water pressure was dropping.

  'That's all there is!’ he cried in disappointment.

  Ted watched as the powerful jet swiftly became an erratic, spurting spout before it spluttered into a dribbling trickle.

  Glancing back at the dark, swirling smoke the bear saw that it too was failing.

  'That oughta have done it!’ he said.

  Through the damaged gateway a strong breeze suddenly gusted and the reek was borne away leaving only dark shadows in the waterlogged courtyard.