Prophesy: The Immortal Witch (9)

Part 8 at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-8

With the revelation, a chill ran through them. This was BIG. Thoughts came in torrents now. What had happened between going missing and the boy’s name turning up, etched on a gravestone? How had he died? Was he murdered? If so, who was the killer? Where was the killer? Was he or she on this remote island?

The makeshift detectives stared at the granite then at the rest of the graves. Who lay under the other totems?

“I’m scared.” Danielle shivered, her shoulders scrunching as though trying to make herself smaller. She missed her mum.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” As frightened as he was, Billy knew that one of them had to stay strong; at least for as long as it took to get off the island and go home.

“Let’s go check out the other names.”

Stranger still, whilst they had been concentrating on trying to make sense of the situation, a coiling mist had drifted in from all sides. It was reminiscent of the scene on Brean Down that they had left behind. Tendrils of fog formed layers that were starting to obscure everything in a diaphanous veil.

Billy looked perplexed. This was straying into the nether world he inhabited at times, a place where he was detached from reality and divorced from the conventional. He resolved to remain focused on finding a way out of this for both of their sakes.

“The fog from Brean seems to have followed us.” Danielle stated matter-of-factly.

“I can see that. Let’s keep going. It’s just mist.”

A roam around the burial site revealed eleven names with two stones, as yet, blank.

“I wonder what this is all about; eleven down, two to go?”

The names kept coming as though they belonged on an order of service:

Freddy Bentner, Albert Ware, Ellie Ramsay, Dominic Bates, Helen Flagstaff, John Brewster, Yvie MacDowell, Cameron Downs, Annie Dale, Isiah Kinkaid and Pritesh Patel.

None had any indication of how old the deceased were when they died but there was a latent feeling that they were all children. Billy didn’t know how or why he knew this other than he simply did.

In the middle of everything was a stone altar also made of granite with no adornments, its purpose unclear. Surrounding graves were arranged in a haphazard mishmash. As they ran enquiring hands over the mysterious monolith, scratching sounds broke the eerie silence.

The ground by one of the graves cracked, small mounds of earth appearing. For a few moments the scene resembled that of a mole displacing dirt from underneath. The youngsters watched on expecting to see a tiny creature with a black nose arrive over ground. They glared, transfixed by the sudden activity. More soil was shifted but it wasn’t a mammal that showed itself. Bony hands broke the surface followed by a head then a torso.

A decomposing cadaver struggled upwards. It was quickly half in and half out of the burial site, the face of what looked like a boy contorting with effort. There it stopped staring at its shocked audience. A hazy blue halo surrounded the barely corporeal child. Flesh hung from its jowls, eyes loose in sockets, hair reduced to thin strands scraped on its skull. Its mouth was opening and closing slowly, soundless at first.

“Fiiiind the prophesssssy.” The words were strained, forced in a low hissing noise.

Billy and Danielle exchanged confused glances. Fight or flight was surging through both of them. If either had been on their own, chances are they would have flown this most bizarre of coops. It was only the reassurance of being together that kept them there. For Billy, it was not so unusual notwithstanding this entire scenario felt like another step up in intensity for what he had experienced before.

“What prophesy?” It seemed a natural question to ask even if Billy was as taut as a bass drum.

“The prophesssssy of the wiiiiitch. The immooortal wiiiiitchhhh.” Its skull gently rocked from side to side with the effort of speaking.

Presumably the creature talking to them was connected to the abductees in some way. Perhaps it was the rotting remains of one of them, Billy thought.

“The griiimoire will guiiiide you.”

Danielle’s eyes were glued to skeletal arms that were propped on the surface. One more twitch and she would be off into the sunset. 

“What grimoire….and….where do we find this grimoire?” was all Billy could think of saying.

“It will fiiind youuu…in the darknesssss. Be……ready.”

Billy didn’t like riddles. They were invariably confusing and, as far as he was concerned, nonsensical. It made him think of disappearing Cheshire cats.

Before he could push for more detail, the macabre figure added ominously:

“Resisssst the guardiaaaans. You muuuuust resissssst.”

It was enough thinking about some sort of spurious legend but now an additional consideration had been thrown into the mix. Who on earth were the guardians? Billy’s head hurt with it all. He was enthralled and intimidated at the same time.

There were so many questions that needed to be asked. As bizarre and downright ludicrous that this situation had become, Billy needed to probe harder and for longer now that he had a captive audience that he could interrogate. It was a chance to confront his demons, to discover more about these supernatural interlopers that were constantly infiltrating his life.

On the other side of the cemetery forest resumed, only the trees seemed to be impenetrable, a cloak of darkness between trunks. Through the murk, what looked at first like fire flies had started to emerge albeit in igneous scarlet pairs that pierced the foreground. At last, Billy pondered, the sudden presence of animal life. Staring through the gloom, he suddenly realised what was lurking.

“I think it’s time to go, we may have just disturbed the guardians.”

There was a sense of impending dread now.  They both turned their gazes away from the skeletal harbinger in the ground to squinting at the shifting shapes close by.

Holding hands, they struck out in the direction they had come from. Growling sounds were coming from behind, lupine in tone. Danielle tried to twist her body to look back as she walked but Billy shoved her with his shoulder, stopping her from turning.

“Just keep going. Don’t look. In fact….RUN!”

The initial hurried walk now broke out into a pace that was frenzied. The noises had now become the clatter of legs hunting them down. Billy had watched as the fire flies had become disembodied eyes of flaming red then the unmistakable grey fur of wolves as one stepped into the light. Saliva was dripping from jowls, its muzzle hiding traces of dried blood from other kills.

Trees and bushes hurtled past, brooks and streams proving to be obstacles that needed to be hurdled. The pack of predators were close now, tongues lolling from cheeks, eyes alive with bloodlust.

The frenzied pursuit ripped through the island landscape, the children running for their lives. Even with the head start they had thanks to Billy’s instincts they would not make it to the beach. There was a feeling of resignation, the pace at which the wolves were tearing along would surely overcome the gap consigning both to a gruesome end. Danielle couldn’t resist it any longer and glanced over her shoulder knowing that she was about to collapse in a heap. Her breathing was ragged, thoughts scrambled in panic.

An innocuous branch caught her foot causing a stumble and fall. Billy stopped dead in his tracks. They both turned to endure the sight of the slavering wolves that had been chasing them. Of the half dozen animals, the one at the front was the leanest and meanest. It leapt, mouth agape, fangs and sharp teeth primed to tear muscle from bone.

The children put their arms out in a futile attempt to fend off the attack, closing their eyes, both grimacing. The last thing they registered was what looked like blue lightening cascading from the ends of Billy’s fingertips. When they opened them again the beasts had disappeared and had been replaced by total darkness.

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