Prophesy: The Immortal Witch (10)

Billy was fairly certain that the wolves were gone; as certain as he could be given the extraordinary circumstances. Beyond that, he wasn’t sure where the two of them actually were now. It was total darkness with the sense of impending threat no longer prevalent. Wherever this was, a dank smell was emanating. Standing water, musty earth and mould formed a mildly odious combination.

Lying in a crumpled heap, Billy groped around, feeling for anything that might give a clue as to their location. The ground was solid, freezing cold to the touch. Gingerly getting to his feet, the inky blackness was all enveloping with nothing visible. He felt a mild disorientation as he rose. With eyes adjusting to the claustrophobic dimness, he sensed Danielle close by.

“Danielle? Are you there?”

“Yes, over here.”

They shuffled in the vague direction of each other led by their voices in the gloom. Billy’s foot came into contact with something as he scrambled onwards. Bending down, he felt a bulky leathery object. Scooping it up, he instinctively wedged it under a sweaty armpit.

Seconds later they had found one another. Danielle felt the urge to embrace but resisted; it was too soon for things like that despite the jeopardy.

For a moment speculation as to whether anyone else was there triggered an apprehension that neither welcomed.

“Right, let’s see if we can find a way out shall we?” Again, the young man felt obliged to take charge.

Holding hands for a second time, an uncomfortable necessity, they crept along with circumspection. Worried about bumping into creatures, foreign objects or even people that might be lurking, logic suggested that they were still on the island. Maybe they had fallen through another tornadic tunnel. The dimensions of the room were becoming apparent, worn stone steps giving a route up and out of what might be a dungeon. Light was reluctantly filtering down from above. They entered another dingy chamber and found a final stairway that led out into waiting daytime.

They had been in one of the deserted outbuildings that made up Brean Fort. Somehow they had been transported from the island back to the mainland in the blink of an eye. Strange forces were at work. The fog had turned out to be far from ephemeral over the course of the morning but a candescent sun had finally burned away the blanketing mist revealing sky made of drifting cumulus cloud.

There were people around. Curious looks greeted them as they emerged. An old man conspicuous with wispy white beard and wearing an olive green gillet, baggy black trousers and hiking boots stood gawping as he tried and failed to look unobtrusive. He was standing still, right hand firmly gripping a walking pole. A Wire Fox Terrier was sniffing the ground around his feet. Both Billy and Danielle suddenly felt like scaly orange swimmers in a goldfish bowl from a derelict funfair. There was no further appetite to play at the Fort, a more appealing option to return to their respective homes.

Whilst Danielle was caught up in adjusting to the new surroundings, Billy furtively slipped his subterranean discovery out and quickly examined the find before squirreling it back inside his jacket just as his new partner was turning to face him.

At this point, neither was sure whether to recount the morning’s events to anyone else. Who would believe them, after all? Before departing the scene, there was one last look across the sea to picture the island whose residents were under gravestones and vanishing wolves. They stared but there was no island to be seen other than the Holms which belonged out in the estuary and Wales across the water.

“So what was that, Billy?” The question was almost querulous.

“What was what?”

“One minute we’re being chased by a pack of wolves from God knows where, the next you are firing lightning out of your fingers like we’re in a comic book or something.”

“Oh…that. To be honest…I’m not entirely sure. I just do stuff without knowing how.”

Danielle leaned forward and peered deeply into Billy’s eyes in an effort to determine whether he was telling the truth.

“That hasn’t happened before.” He added pensively whilst pinned under a laser-like stare.

Changing the subject in a deft bit of deflection, Billy declared:

“I think we have some reading to do.”

Danielle looked more confused than ever.

“I found this in the bunker we were just in; it was on the floor.”

He waved an archaic, bound manuscript of some kind. The cover was made of tan-coloured material. He waved it in the air, theatrically flicking through pages above his head like an accordion.

Danielle winced at the rough treatment of what appeared to be an historical artefact.

“We might have a bit of a problem deciphering it, though.” Billy impressed himself at using the word deciphering.

“Oh go on…what’s up then?” Danielle played along.

“The language is foreign or something. I can’t make head nor tail of any of it. Look.”

He showed her the tome opened at a random page.

“Oh I see what you mean.” The hand-written text was in an ancient dialect, thin sepia-stained leaves of paper with reams of unintelligible creed.  

“However, I do think it might be the prophesy thing. The skeleton boy said it would find us in the darkness. It seems too big a coincidence that it’s suddenly turned up.”

Billy’s senses were firing, billions of neurons alive and calculating outcomes based on supernatural inputs.

“Know any translators in this part of the world?” The boy gave a wry grin, his boyish humour not lost on his new friend.

Danielle put her finger to her chin and screwed her eyes in concentration.

“Hmmmm…….you know what, maybe I do. My mum’s a teacher. What if I show her the book and ask her opinion?”

Billy looked longingly at the arcane volume. He was reluctant to part with it even if it seemed precocious to think in that way. He had only just met this girl and knew very little, if anything, about her. There was a sense that finding the treasure was part of his destiny. He couldn’t say the same if another was involved.

“We could take it together. I am sure you are as keen as me to find out more about this thing. Mum’s teaches history so we are in with a chance of discovering something. I mean….would your parents be able to help then?”

There was a hesitancy; she guessed that he did not want to be excluded from any further developments. Danielle was confident that her mother would be able to suggest something constructive but it seemed reasonable to sense check around the boy’s folks. For all she knew, they may be specialists in antediluvian literature.

“No…no…they…um….she wouldn’t have a Scooby. Okay then, shall we take it to your mum? What’s best to say about the island, skeletons and all that?”

Billy didn’t think that a straight retelling of the morning’s events would be received with any kind of credibility. Not only would it all sound absurd but they were both kids at the end of the day. Tweenagers were considered by some to be notorious for making stuff up.

“We could just say we found the book for now. Maybe save everything else for the right moment.” Danielle’s reassurance belied an occasional maturity that was beyond her years.

This seemed a sensible compromise. Neither of them knew what they had uncovered at this stage. What they did know was that there was more to this than met the eye and, as scary as things had been at times, a frisson of excitement ran through them both at what secrets the tome might disclose. They needed to know who this witch was that the skeleton on the island had cited not to mention what the prophesy entailed. It was like an adventure from a fantasy novel and they were the fearless protagonists.

A key opens the lock of a cabinet door revealing its contents. A girl made of porcelain is holding a black and white dog, a sapphire-blue Bast cat smiles in its God-like way, a china clown clutching balloons grins through grease-paint. All manner of curios are housed in the dusty study where few people ever tread. The witch reaches for the bottom shelf to requisition her grimoire. It has been a constant companion and guide for many centuries and contains numerous spells learned from desert spirits. She winces - the manuscript is not there. She gropes and fumbles, panic spreading as she peers amongst the ornaments. She retreats, standing stock still, thoughts racing through her head. It has truly gone. It must be found again. Soon.

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