Gallows at Twilight (37 page)

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Jake dashed the hex aside; Frija sent the magic flying back at Quilp, who ducked out of the way. The pale pink blur of Pinch’s body flashed in the corner of Jake’s eye. He heard the demon snicker and slurp its thick lips. Blood splashed against Jake’s face.

‘STOP!’ he screamed.

But the demon did not stop.

It went on tearing.

Jake conjured his magic, but Frija was quicker. A streak of sky-blue energy whipped from her fingers and caught Mr Pinch around the neck. The creature shrieked as the magical lasso tightened and he was wrenched away from his victim. Frija had endured years of torment at the hands of her cruel sisters and their demons—the scalding spells from Drude’s cauldron, the vicious tunes played on Lethe’s harp—each torture designed to force Frija to use her gift. Now every scrap of hatred she bore for dark magic was condensed into two words—

‘Die, demon!’ she roared and swept her hand over her head.

Helpless in the stranglehold of the leash, Pinch hurtled towards the ceiling. He clawed at the magic but it was too powerful, even for his talons. His screams rang out like the startled squeals of a pig. Then his head smashed against one of the huge, heavy rafters and he screamed no more. Tobias Quilp cried out in horror. Even Jake, cradling Eleanor in his arms and wishing for the demon’s death, winced at the sound of Pinch’s skull cracking apart.

Frija closed her fist and the spell was broken. Pinch fell to earth. It was only the quick wits of his master that saved him from certain death. Quilp reached out and the demon flew into his arms.

During all this, Jake had been using his magic to heal Eleanor. He had managed to stem the flow of blood and the girl was breathing steadily. Her eyes wide with shock, she seemed unable to talk. Three wide gashes ran down the left side of her face. Pinch had vandalized her beauty and the sight of it made Jake weep.

He allowed himself a quick sideways glance. He could see Frija standing guard over them, her hands outstretched, ready to cast defensive spells. Beyond her stood Tobias Quilp, his wounded familiar in his arms. The demon’s skull was a pulpy mass of bone, flesh, and dark green blood.

‘This isn’t over,’ Quilp cried.

He had reached the foot of the stairs and the door of Crowden’s nightmare box. The tall black cabinet ceased its spinning and allowed the witch to step inside. It was as Quilp took that first step that his long coat fell back and Jake saw the object tied around his neck.

The witch ball.

‘Avert your gaze,’ Quilp smiled. ‘This is the property of the Demon Father.’

With that, he pulled his coat back over the witch ball and slammed the cabinet door.

The nightmare box turned on its axis, building steady momentum. Scarlet sparks of magical energy sizzled across its surface. From inside, Jake could hear the terrified screams of Tobias Quilp. It seemed that, even when serving a dark purpose, the box could not help but torment those that stepped within its walls. Jake could only hope that Quilp had a long, long journey before him.

Such a thought was cold comfort. Very soon now Quilp would emerge into the twenty-first century and hand the witch ball to his master. The Demontide would break, Jake’s father and his friends would die, the world would be lost …

Frija spoke words, ancient and solemn. A grey thread issued from her fingers and swept around the nightmare box, locking it in a misty manacle. It slowed to a grinding halt.

‘Quickly, Jake,’ Frija cried, her voice strained. ‘I cannot hold it much longer.’

‘I can’t.’ Jake looked down at the girl in his arms. ‘I can’t leave her.’

‘You must. I promise that I’ll do my best to heal her, but you have to go.’

‘But I’ve only just found her.’ Tears prickled Jake’s eyes. ‘I can’t lose her again.’

The nightmare box creaked and, very slowly, began to turn.

‘I’m sorry, Jake, but the future of the world is in your hands. You must sacrifice … ’

Jake’s eyes blazed and his voice took on a deep, magisterial tone.

‘
I have sacrificed more than you will ever know, Frija Crowden
.’ He hugged Eleanor to his chest. When he spoke again it was with his own voice. ‘Can’t I stay with her?’

‘I know you’ve had the dreams,’ Frija sighed. ‘You’ve seen what will happen if the Door to the demon world is opened. Devastation, despair, unending death. Demonkind triumphant.’

Magic crackled across the box. Frija’s mist was fading.

‘You do not belong here, Jake, this is not your time.’ Regret in every syllable of the witch’s words. ‘You were never supposed to meet her, never supposed to love her. Your destiny lies elsewhere.’

Jake felt a tug at his sleeve. Cornflower blue eyes creased into the saddest smile he had ever seen.

‘She’s right,’ Eleanor said. ‘You have to go.’

‘I won’t.’ He buried his face in her hair. ‘He—
I—
lost you once before, I can’t do it again. It’s too hard.’

‘Jake … ’

‘Don’t you understand? I remember everything about you. My Eleanor of the May.
My beautiful girl of the spring with the promise of summer in her hair
.’ Jake smiled through his tears. ‘I remember, Eleanor, and I know how happy we could be.’ He took her hands in his. ‘Come with me.’

‘She can’t,’ Frija said. ‘She’s already weak, poisoned by the demon’s touch. I’m sorry, but the journey in the nightmare box would kill her.’

‘There must be a way,’ Jake choked.

‘Listen to me,’ Eleanor whispered.

‘No.’

‘Listen. You said you know me. Well, I believe that I know
you
, Jacob Harker. The strong, good heart of you.’ She brushed her lips against the back of his hand. ‘Your path is clear.’

‘But I’ll never see you again.’

‘No,’ Eleanor said softly. ‘No, you won’t.’

She drew him to her. Their lips met and their tears mingled. She had always given Josiah the strength he needed to do his work; to face the horrors, to vanquish evil, to save the innocent. Though it broke her heart, she now gave Jake that same loving, generous strength.

‘Such sweet sorrow,’ he whispered.

She smiled. ‘You remember.’

‘It was how I always said goodbye. And you would always laugh.’

He laid her softly on the ground. Their fingers parted.

‘I found my magic again because of you.’ He looked to the black box and a blue flame with a heart of scarlet ignited in his palm. The tears had vanished from his eyes. ‘Now it’s time to use it again.’

‘Jake?’ She held his gaze. ‘You must never let the darkness win or I will truly have lost you.’

Jake could no longer look at her. It was too painful. He walked to Frija’s side and the witch strained again to slow the box.

‘Once you’re inside lay your hands upon the door and concentrate on the place you wish to be taken,’ she instructed.

‘Surely Quilp’s already done that.’

‘You’re a stronger sorcerer than he. Remember, I know this demon, it was my brother’s familiar. It is both disloyal and greedy. It will respond to whoever wields the greatest power. Hurry now.’

‘Thank you,’ Jake said. ‘You stood with us against your sisters. It must have been difficult for you.’

Frija Crowden shook her head. With her free hand she took hold of the corner of her veil.

‘Not as difficult as you may think.’

Jake remembered how Frija’s brother had torn away the dirty cloth that had hidden his face from view. In Marcus Crowden’s case he had been concealing a beauty that belied his evil. As she pulled her veil away, Jake saw that Frija hid her features for a very different reason. More skull than skin, the horribly burned face of Frija Crowden glistened in the candlelight.

‘Such is the evil of dark witches and demons,’ she croaked.

The mist pouring from her fingers thickened. The box slowed to a near stop and the door swung open. Jake strode towards the demon, all the while sensing the magnitude of its evil. Aside from the Demon Father himself, this ordinary-looking cabinet was the foulest, darkest creature he had yet encountered.

Jake stepped inside.

A fiery wind gusted against his face. The call of a thousand despairing voices filled his head. He squinted, trying to see beyond the gale and the darkness. There was no sign of Quilp.

‘Don’t look!’ Frija cried. ‘Turn back to face the door. Do as I say, or risk losing your mind!’

Jake grasped the sides of the nightmare box. Voices again, telling him he would fail, that soon the Demon Father would stride across the wastelands of his new dominion.

And then he heard
her
voice, and his soul stirred again.

‘Goodbye, Jake!’ Eleanor called. ‘Remember me … ’

Turning, he caught the meanest glimpse of the girl before the door slammed shut.

Chapter 32

The Witch Ball

‘Punters are getting tetchy, Boss,’ Razor observed.

‘I can see that, you flea-bitten mutt.’

‘’m just saying, something magical better start happening soon or this lot’ll kick off. You do know we’ve got some of the Unseelie Court in the audience?’ The Cynocephalus dug a toothpick around his gigantic canines and tried to appear unconcerned. ‘You don’t really wanna mess with dark fairies unless you can help it. Or any of the Old Ones come to that … ’

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up!’ Murdles shouted.

Puzzled faces turned to the open door of the Grimoire Club, and Murdles managed a carefree smile. It only took a quick glance around the square for the smile to fall away.

Five rows deep, the covered walkways teemed with dark creatures. Thousands jostled for the best view of the square while more monsters arrived through the teardrop doorways every minute. So many creatures that Murdles had been forced to beg his fellow managers at the Lizardman Lounge and the Gore Gardens for extra doormen to control the crowds. Even in the glory days of the Grimoire, when Mulgrew the Magnificent, Savage Bones, or Letty Scrivener had graced the square, there had never been such a crowd as this. From every corner came the jingle of coins being collected.

But Razor was right, curse his hairy hide. The dark creatures were becoming impatient. The Shades of the Shadowlands whispered between themselves and kept turning their smooth, featureless heads towards Murdles. A horde of vampires sheltering under black umbrellas hissed whenever they looked in the manager’s direction. And the Unseelie Court? Well, those little creatures just waited and watched in eerie silence, as the Ancients are wont to do. Meanwhile, the rest—trolls and boggarts, werewolves and warlocks, goblin and chimera, wyvern and gorgon—growled and grunted and grumbled. If the show didn’t start soon then, instead of a magical display, the square would be hosting a bloodbath.

Murdles looked at the sky and shivered. The giant sun had started to set over the desert.

Fingers clicked an inch from the manager’s nose.

‘Borderlands to Murdles.’

His eyes focused on Rachel Saxby and Simon Lydgate. Arms folded, these humans looked almost as threatening as the crowd.

‘What d’you want?’ the manager snapped.

‘We want to know what’s going on,’ said Rachel. ‘The hour before sunset, your poster said. So where is he?’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Murdles hissed. He floated to within whispering range. ‘Truth is, I don’t know where he is … Look, I wonder if you could do me a favour?’

‘A favour?’ Simon raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s just,
if
Dr Harker could come out and talk to a few of his friends here, explain that this really isn’t my fault, I would be eternally grateful. He has such influence with these … people.’

Rachel and Simon exchanged glances.

‘I’m sure Dr Harker would like to help—’

‘Excellent!’

‘If he could.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Adam lost consciousness an hour ago. Pandora’s with him, but … ’ Rachel tailed off .

‘Pandora, she … ’ Simon put his arm around Rachel. Steadied himself. ‘Pandora doesn’t think he’ll wake up again. Dr Harker is dying.’

‘Oh. I see.’

Murdles looked forlornly into the square.

And then he noticed a change in the crowd.

A few of the psychics had ceased their chatter and were pointing at something as yet invisible to the naked eye. More and more of the dark creatures seemed to sense the same disturbance. A deathly hush fell across the square. Razor’s ears pricked up. Simon grasped Rachel’s hand. Murdles felt a shiver run through his ectoplasmic body.

Magic in the air.

Suddenly, an explosion of scarlet light blinded all but the eyeless.

When the glare fell back, Murdles saw a tall black box spinning just above the sandy ground in the centre of the square. He was about to whisper something to Razor when the door of the cabinet burst open. A thin boy wearing old-fashioned clothes and with close-cropped hair stepped out. He paced out a dozen steps, turned, and stopped, his eyes rooted on the open door.

‘Jake,’ Rachel and Simon said together.

A blue flame tinged with red flashed into Jacob Harker’s hand.

The crowd roared.

After the door slammed, Jake had tried to clear his mind of thoughts of Eleanor. The pain of losing her would have to wait. He peered into the unending darkness but could see no sign of Quilp. Was it possible that the witch was inside the box with him, but existing inside some other dimension?

Jake placed his hands against the door. Icy to the touch, the wood crackled with magic. Through this connection, Jake caught a glimpse of the cabinet’s destination: it was not moving in space, only through time, catapulting them forward to the derelict Havlock Grange of the twenty-first century.

Back to the Demon Father.

Jake pressed his palms into the wood.

Home,
he thought,
take me home.

A cruel voice echoed around him. The voice of the box—

Very well, boy, but where is ‘home’?

Good question—the house in which he had grown up was now empty, deserted.

Take me to my father.

The man who stands in the shadow of death?