Chapter Seven:
Voices Of The Dark
The Manor:
In the front drive before the house the carts were loaded with the bodies of the monstrous winged creatures that Inspector Jonathan Cooke, along with everyone else, were now automatically referring to as the 'Grotesques'. Thankful that there had been enough dead foliage, provided by the wiry-looking Grounds Keeper, to cover the bodies from view, Cooke saw Sergeant Allardyce take up a seat besides the militiaman who was about to crack the whip to get the tethered horse pulling on the first cart. The Inspector himself, satisfied that everything had been cleared up, started to climb onto the second of the two carts.
"Wait, Inspector!" a sharp female voice cried out.
Startled, he turned to see the raven-haired Isabella von Took, followed by another woman who he recognized from the party last night. He noticed that the ladies were both dressed in their travel gear – but that there were no servants in sight with their luggage.
"Yes, Madam von Took? And…sorry…we have not been introduced." Cooke stepped back onto the graveled drive and bowed to the second lady.
"Je suis Mademoiselle Anne Marie Piaget…," the nervous-looking brunette cleared her throat. "I am…one of the school teachers in Shadowbrook."
What a charming accent… Cooke smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Piaget. How can I assist you ladies?"
"By enlightening us as to a few facts, if that is acceptable to you, Inspector." Isabella regarded Cooke with her pale gray eyes. "What is going to happen to those…things?"
"The sergeant and I are taking them back to Boston for examination. They appear to be a previously-unknown life form," Cooke replied. "We will carry out tests – including…." He trailed off. "Well, that is not for ladies to hear…"
"Including cutting open the stomach and innards to check that these beings have indeed being eating the animals and citizens of this township?" Isabella prompted him.
Cooke and Allardyce exchanged a surprised glance. "Madam von Took! I did not want to say…" He hesitated before her withering glare. "Very well… You are correct. Still, I believe that we have now eliminated the culprits to the recent tragic deaths. However, I have advised the town elders to maintain the militia – in case of further incidents…"
"Such as the study wall that oozed blood. And the cat that Lady Hanbrook was so frightened by?" Isabella suggested.
Cooke noticed the lack of surprise on Anne Marie's face. The teacher nodded.
"Isabella here has told me of…these strange events, Inspector," she confessed.
"They were superstitious tricks, Madam," Cooke responded, keeping his voice – and his stirring temper - even.
"I think not, Inspector. I suggest that further investigation is required," the noblewoman retorted. "If you and the good sergeant are not prepared to do it, then Mademoiselle Piaget and I will do so instead. We have the time, as there is no school today, on this Saturday. Between us, we have some money to buy resources. And I have a nose for following trouble. Also, there are others already on the scent, Inspector…"
He frowned. "Such as who?"
"A certain Mr Harrison and his accomplice, Mr Harrow."
"The ex-soldier and the courier. I see…" Cooke rubbed the point of his neatly-trimmed beard. "Well, maybe the sergeant and I need to keeping watch on them…"
The Inspector was interrupted by a horseman galloping up towards them from the nearby road. They all looked across to him.
"Captain Townsend! What brings you here?" Cooke asked him.
"The Scarlet Shadow!" the captain spat. "He was broken out of the jail! He's fled the town, along with others of his gang. They had a civilian hostage – an overweight man with a short goatee beard and a bald head. Had fine clothes…"
There was a sharp intake of breath from Anne Marie. "Mon dieu…! That description… Monsieur Danforth?"
"The playwright from last night?" Cooke narrowed his eyes. "Sergeant Allardyce…"
"Yes, sir?"
"Change of plan! Take these two carts to the warehouse of Mr Morgan. I understand that he went back home last night. Get him to look after them. Tell him that we will pay him handsomely. Then assist Captain Townsend and his men in recapturing the Scarlet Shadow! I need… I need to assist these ladies in another matter."
"Yessir!" the sergeant barked. He nodded to the driver of the first cart. The whip cracked and the cart headed off. Cooke, Isabella and Anne Marie moved aside to the side of the court fountain as the second cart followed its twin onto the road towards town.
Isabella gave a languid smile. "Well then, Inspector. I take it that you are coming with us?"
Cooke took a deep breath before releasing it. "You are a headstrong woman, Madam von Took. I do not believe that you will listen to reason when I say that this is work for men – so I should accompany you…"
"Excellent, Inspector! Perhaps you should also know that Miss Lucy is with the men," Isabella purred. "She too must be a headstrong woman. Honestly, she has just become of age – and already she's eager to leave the constraints of home…"
"What!? She's with Harrison and Harrow?" Cooke was startled. "How do you know of this, Madam von Took?"
"Because I happen to have excellent hearing, and I overheard Miss Lucy tell Selena after breakfast that she intended to see her friend, Mr Harrison – with the aim of investigating the scenes of the crimes and find out what is really going on. I then took the foresight to instruct my maid, Heidi, to escort Miss Lucy on her journey to Shadowbrook. You see, Heidi will act as my spy – our spy, if you like. She will report back to us, and tell us what Lucy and the two men discover."
"In the meantime, we should get going whilst the light is good, non?" Anne Marie suggested, managing a smile. "We can be your back-up, Inspector!"
"I will alert the coachman to prepare his coach…," Isabella added, sealing the arrangement. She started to walk over to the servants' quarters within the manor.
"The coachman? He is here?"
"Oh, yes. I have hired his services for today, when he arrived to collect some of the guests from the manor, last night… So, you see, we don't even need to walk very far. And, this way, we will travel quickly."
Inspector Cooke huffed, but then relented. "Very well! But I will be in charge of this…grouping. Understood?"
"Perfectly, Inspector." Isabella paused in the courtyard, the ghost of a smile upon her lips. She inclined her head in his direction. "Where do you suggest we start our investigation?"
He thought about that, before replying. "The fields nearby. It was reported to me, by a farmhand, that there was an attack at Major Bruckner's estate, during the night before last…"
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Abandoned Keep:
Victor Danforth's head was reeling as he strode along the far end of the courtyard, taking the passageway that he had been told led to the latrine. 'Darcius', or the man who the authorities had labeled 'The Scarlet Shadow' had told him that they would be setting out for the olde woods as soon as possible. Despite the militia hunting for him, it would be better for Victor and the outlaws to travel during the day. The countryside around Shadowbrook was becoming a dangerous place to be at night – and both the Shadow and Katarina were worried that it would soon be dangerous even during the day, also.
When Victor asked his captors why they needed him to reach the olde woods, they had not exactly been forthcoming. "In the first place, you'll help us to cross the marsh," Katarina had replied, smirking.
The thought of traversing a marsh did not fill Victor's thoughts with good cheer. Since he was a stranger to these parts, whereas they were locals, why did…?
Victor sighed. He was not sure that he was going to like the answer. And too much worrying was bad for his nerves. Yes indeed.
The playwright paused along the corridor, using the lantern he had been given to guide him along the dark corridor. He had been warned about the cracks in the ground here…
Pressing his back to the wall on the safe side, he gingerly edged around the cracks – his buckled shoes making dainty side-shuffles as he tried not to whimper.
Breathing a sigh of relief at successfully passing the obstacle, his next challenge was to tolerate the smell and the basic hygiene of the latrine…
Minutes later, he had done his business and quickly wiped his hands on the provided grimy rag. Victor used his free hand to squeeze his nostrils, whilst his other hand carried the lantern once more.
A piercing cry startled him. Spinning round, Victor dropped the lantern and clutched at his chest, gasping. He spied a crow walking along the corridor at the threshold to the courtyard. Glaring at him with black eyes as it turned its head slightly, the bird shook its dark wings and then took flight.
He grumbled, and sank to his knees in order to retrieve the lantern – which was now on its side. He reached forward…
Crack. Crack. Crack-crack-crack…
"Oh! Holy mother!" Victor managed to utter – in the instant before the rocky floor collapsed underneath him.
"Yaaaggghhh….!"
He toppled forward into the widening gap – the lantern falling with him. The fear of striking his head against something gripped his heart, but Victor found himself fortunate enough to roll at an angle, and land on his back. Something crunched, though. Several somethings.
"Ooohhh… I hope that wasn't…my body breaking!" he moaned. Then as his vision stopped swimming and his heart rate slowed down towards normal again, Victor tried to sit up – only for his hand to brush against…
The lantern was on its side – but its flickering light enabled him to see, as he forced himself upright, the carpet of broken bones and skulls that littered the chamber he had found himself in.
The outlaws soon found Victor. His screaming had rung out across the whole keep.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
" 'Tis a sign of the Dark Omen," Katarina muttered when two of the male outlaws eventually managed to haul Victor back up to the corridor with a dropped rope that he had shakily tied around his waist. The lantern came up too – and so the chamber was plunged back into darkness, even as the rope was removed from Victor. The Scarlet Shadow had asked him if he had spied any other exits from the chamber – to which the agitated Victor had suggested that the outlaw could drop down himself if he really wanted to know the answer.
"I saw the bones, sir. That was enough to take in!" Victor had shrieked.
The Shadow squatted down besides Victor, and laid his hand firmly upon the playwright's shoulder.
"Calm yourself, man! Get out your rosary and pray. Your accident was unfortunate – but you are safe with us."
"Safe…!? Does that mean I am free to go now? Or am I really a hostage until the moment you decide that you do not need me anymore?"
The Shadow sighed. "For now, you need to stay with me, Katarina, and Jack. For your safety as much as ours. We have need for a man of faith. So, have some faith in yourself – as well as your god!"
Victor stared back at the younger man's stern, but earnest face as he took out his rosary and fingered it. Gradually, he calmed down. "Who are you…?" he asked. "Why have you and your fellows adopted this rough life?"
The Shadow gave a mirthless laugh. "My people all have their reasons, sir. Even in this young nation of ours in the New World, there are many people who have poverty thrushed upon them through no fault of their own. Some of them have known it since birth. And yet, Reverend Harding of Shadowbrook would tell you that the poor are poor because of the whim of God, punishing those who have sinned in a previous life. Ha! Where is the proof…? I have watched him from afar. The man tries to hide the fact that he has a tendency to drink…! And Magistrate Kroft – who smiles to all and sundry, and runs the local militia with zeal. He isn't brave enough to leave his fine house and chase after me… Oh yes, the elders of Shadowbrook all have their secrets. We just haven't reached the bottom of the murky barrel yet…"
"The quality of your clothes, sir. Yes, they bare dirt and dust – but I recognize the tailorship…" Victor ventured. "They are either stolen – or you have come from a comfortable background!"
The Shadow looked startled for a moment. Then he laughed. "Well reasoned, sir. I am Darcius Redfern. My family, the Redferns, are wealthy landowners in another State – but I grew to despise the way my father treated the servants…and the slaves. To keep the story short, father did not approve when he found out I had a hand in freeing two of the slaves my family had abused – and so after an argument that resulted in violence, I was obliged to flee the house with my belongings and with the money that I deemed was my due property. In running away, I was fortunate to come across, and rescue, other unfortunates who had been mistreated by their families or circumstances – the lovely Katarina being the first…"
"She is charming…," Victor ruefully admitted. "…once you get past her tendency for pushing people over, and pressing pistols against one's head."
"Katarina can be rough – but she is nimble, quick, and deadly with weapons." The Shadow smiled broadly. "She is also a passionate woman – and I love her dearly…"
He was interrupted by a female yell from the corridor next to them. The men quickly got to their feet.
"Katarina?!"
The Scarlet Shadow ran back to the lip of the hole in the derelict corridor. Victor caught up with him, and started down into the secret chamber that was a charnel house of bones. Katarina had got Jack the servant boy to hold onto the top of the rope, whilst she had climbed down. In the light of the lantern lying next to the worried Jack, Victor saw that the cheeky lady outlaw had collapsed on the carpet of bones. Furthermore, she was shaking. One hand was clenched around a broken small mirror that Katarina had evidently scavenged from the pile of dirty, dusty clothes that Victor had failed to notice earlier.
"Katarina! What are you doing? What is wrong?" her lover shouted.
"She wanted to check out the exits from that chamber, boss," Jack started. "Then she rummaged through the clothes…"
"Visions… Visions in the mirror…," said Katarina, her voice a frightened whisper. Her gaze was still fixated on the fractured glass. "Death from above… Darkness coming to Shadowbrook…, and all around it… People being turned… Two beings of power – fighting for control of the town… Two armies. Death. Destruction. Fire… NO!" She dropped the mirror and bolted upright, before she cast a frightened glare around her. Then she grabbed hold of the rope and tried to climb it. "Get me up!" she cried.
The Shadow nodded at Victor and Jack. Using their combined efforts, they soon managed to pull Katarina back up to them – and she collapsed into her partner in crime's arms.
"Horrible! It was horrible, Darcius… Hold me…," she sobbed.
He did so. The four of them remained there for some minutes.
"What…did you see, Katarina?" the Shadow asked, as he wiped away her drying tears with his fingers.
"Too many things…" She swallowed back the bile in her throat. "Flashes of different images. All terrible things. I couldn't take them all in. I want to forget them!"
"You must not forget them, Katarina!" Victor insisted. "They could be warnings from a godly source…"
"…or be the illusions sent by a being that laughs at our distress," the Shadow retorted, locking his gaze with Victor's. He removed Katarina's hat and lovingly stroked her red hair. The repeated motion helped to calm her – and she rose a minute later. The others got to their feet also.
"Katarina…," the Shadow ventured. "Are you wel-?"
"We have to move, Darcius. Now! I think…I think I was shown possible futures…," Katarina muttered. "She was one of the…beings of power that I glimpsed. The Shadow Witch. She has been biding her time, building up her strength. Soon, she will set her plans into motion!"
The Shadow narrowed his eyes. "And the other…being?"
"I do not know… I glimpsed it – it was not human. Not even a ghost… It…was the thing that killed our two friends in the tower!"
"Well… Let's go after it – or her," Jack suggested.
Victor gulped. What was he getting dragged into now…?
The leader of the outlaws nodded sagely. "Let's scarper!"
When they re-entered the courtyard, the Shadow ordered the door to the derelict corridor to be shut and bolted. They would have to find somewhere else for their new latrine from that moment on…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Windmill:
Karl Harrison allowed himself to smile a little. Lucy Hanbrook was holding on tightly to him – her arms encircling his chest, as his faithful Euros kept up a brisk pace – keeping up with the brown-furred younger horse, Boreas, upon which Thomas Harrow was likewise being firmly held by his horseback passenger, the handmaiden Heidi.
It had been years since he and Lucy had ridden together like they were doing so at that moment. And Karl was aware that something had changed since then. Lucy not only felt warm against his back, she also felt good, in a way that stirred deeper feelings inside of him…
Karl shook his head, dismissing the thought. He couldn't take their friendship to a higher level. He was still not on the best of terms with Lady Hanbrook – and if either her or his lordship knew that Lucy was with them now, riding into possible danger…
After their visit to the Blacksmith, who Lucy had advised Karl and Thomas to visit for supplies, the four of them had ridden northeast from Shadowbrook – making good progress along the road. Before long, they dismounted at the windmill. With some long rope, Karl and Thomas tied their horses to the branches of a clump of nearby trees that provided some shelter from the damp breeze that had lingered after the earlier rain.
The group looked around. There was no sign of activity as the nearby house that was the miller's, and there was nobody else in sight. The militia had gone. Whilst they had been gathering equipment at the forge, the Blacksmith himself - Hector Dalton – had told Karl, Thomas, Lucy, and Heidi that half of the militia had been sent out into the countryside around the town, to recapture the Scarlet Shadow, who had been sprung. Apparently, a hostage had been taken by the outlaws too.
Walking up to the statue of the woman that was still on the ground, close to the doors of the windmill, Lucy gave a gasp as she took in the terrified and agonized expression on the rigid face. Karl laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I told you that you might be shocked by what was here…," he reminded her.
"But you did not tell me what you meant…" Lucy's gloved hand brushed the face of the statue. "Such detail…," she muttered, then her eyes widened further. She stepped back, and her face snapped to face Karl. "It… It isn't just a statue, is it? It is Miss Palfreyman, our cook… Turned to stone…!"
"Yes," he confessed. "But I wanted to hear that from your lips, without me leading you to that conclusion.
"Dear lord…! How is this possible?"
"That's what we're here to find out, Miss Lucy," Thomas huffed.
"So… From vat you were saying earlier, a soldier was turned into a husk here… But his body is not here now," Heidi pointed out.
"That Inspector would've ordered it to be removed back to town. But as for this beauty…," Thomas crouched down besides the statue and tried to move it. "…she's too heavy. Thought so!"
"The militia have not even bothered to cover her up. The poor woman." Lucy knelt down and took a few breaths to steady herself. She began to pray for Miss Palfreyman's soul – and Karl and Heidi joined her. After a glare from Karl, Thomas sighed and also got onto his knees to join his hands. His spirit was not in it, though.
When they were done, Karl gestured to the grain windmill. It was, he had learned from Lucy in the past, modeled after another one built about a century and a half ago, in Buckinghamshire, in the old country. The miller, Mr Forbes, still had connections to his farming relations there.
"Got your skeleton keys, Thomas?" he asked.
"Course I 'ave." Thomas grinned, showing his less-than-perfect set of teeth, as he produced the keys from one of his pockets. He got to work – and the four of them were soon inside the windmill, with the doors shut behind them as they stepped onto the stone floor of the structure. Although the windows were few, and small, there was enough light for them to see their surroundings. The smells of straw, grain, and old machinery filled the interior. A wooden ladder at one side of the ground floor led up to the next level, the bin floor.
Thomas signaled for the group to stay quiet. They took in the silence.
"Right. No one here but us chickens…," Thomas sniggered.
"B-but…we are trespassing!" Lucy wailed.
"That is a small part of a monster-hunter's life, Lucy," declared Karl with a wry smile. "We do what we must, to get answers. And what we come up against generally has no regard for human lives, let alone the rule book on human conduct."
"Of course, you must think me foolish…" Lucy bowed her head.
"I do not think that." Karl gave her hand a quick squeeze. That made her look back up and smile.
"Vat do you wish us to do?" Heidi pressed the men.
"Look around for anything that might be out of place. Or anything that could be of interest," Thomas instructed them. He nodded to Karl. "I'll head to the top – see if there's anything on the roof."
"Good thinking." Karl turned to the ladies. "We had better take a floor each – that way we'll make this quick. What level would you each prefer?"
"I want to be on the next floor to you, Karl," Lucy decided. "In case of any trouble."
Heidi creased her round face in thought. "Perhaps you should vatch the doors here, Karl," she suggested. "Vherefore, Miss Lucy takes the next floor up, and I vill search the one above vat."
Lucy and Karl agreed. And so all four of them got to work.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Thomas headed to the dust floor, along with Heidi, climbing the various ladders on the way. In places, the floorboards creaked as he edged his way past the inert machinery and sacks of grain lying around. Despite the day being dull and lacking enough wind for the windmill to in use, he wondered why the place looked like it had not been in recent use…
Leaving Heidi to rummage around one side, Thomas headed over to the other. A search here turned up a rusty key hanging on an iron hook, hanging from one of the low beams. Thomas pocketed it – then climbed the final ladder, to open up the bolted hatch to the domed roof, which he got to work on.
Outside, walking his footing carefully as he stepped across and grabbed hold of the nearest sail, Thomas raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the whistling wind as he slowly turned around to survey the surrounding countryside.
Sure is interesting to see the land like this…, he thought. There was not much to see to the north. A range of hills – beyond which lay a few villages, many miles away. To the west, close by, the fields of Shadowbrook – and just beyond them, the manor. To the south west was Shadowbrook itself, with the church tower and the town hall being the most distinctive buildings. The Doctor's office and the Magistrate's office were also visible. Beyond the town, Thomas's keen eye could just sight the crumbling tower of the fortress that had been abandoned years ago by the local military, who relocated to Tidewater. South of him was the ever-flowing, cold-looking River Shadow which passed underneath the covered bridge before skirting the edge of the olde woods. And not far away to the east, surrounding by moorland, Thomas could spy the upper part of the inn that overlooked Echo Lake.
Apart from the livestock in their fields and pens, there was not much evidence of animal life around. Thomas was reminded of Karl's observation about the absence of the birds. It felt…unnerving. The land seemed bleak, and under a shadow greater than the gray, murky clouds and sky that hung over everything.
Taking out the miniature telescope that he had…acquired…from a sailor, Thomas carefully shifted his weight where he was lodged, so he could extend the tube. He took a long look around, focusing his attention on the milling people around Shadowbrook – then panned around to…
Waitaminute!
Thomas moved back to where he had just been passing by with the scope. He refocused. Sure enough, there were only some of the figures there. One was missing…
The sailboard began to lurch from his tilted weight. The wind started to pick up. Cold. Biting.
Feeling his heart pounding as he steadied himself, Thomas slammed the scope shut and pocketed it, before heading back down and seeing to the roof hatch behind him. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, wondering about the significance of what he had learnt…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Apart from a locked trapdoor set to one side of the dimly-lit stone floor, Karl found nothing of interest. Straightening up, he ascended to the next level above.
Amidst the metal drive wheel, drive belts, wooden barriers, grain sacks and hardware clutter, Lucy was nowhere to be found around the bin floor. Then he spotted her travelling cloak lying on the shelf of the nearest window. As he headed over to it, he heard someone walking around, as if on tip-toes.
"Lucy?" he called out softly. No reply came.
Experience and instinct made him pull out his knife. Karl moved like a cat around the barriers that surrounded the central drive wheel of the windmill, to confront the other presence, who was partially hidden in the shadows, and now emerging – with a pistol in one hand…
"Ohhh…you startled me!" Lucy exclaimed as she spied Karl.
He sighed from both annoyance and relief. Putting his knife away, Karl nodded to the weapon that Lucy had found. "If you're going to sneak around with that thing, you should at least cock it!"
"Sorry… It was amongst the milling equipment. Loaded too. I don't understand why it would be left here like that," Lucy explained.
"That is somewhat strange," Karl admitted. "Where is the owner of it? Why does this place feel as though no one has been here for hours?"
The chomping of footsteps on the ladder distracted them. Turning, Karl and Lucy saw Thomas approach them.
"Find anything of interest, Thomas?" Karl asked him.
The short, scared man shrugged. "Not sure. Here's a rusty ol' key from the top floor. Not found a lock for it up there." He held the key in-between his fingers.
Karl took it from him and rubbed his bearded jawline. "Hmm… I wonder."
"It is midday. We should be moving on. We are, after all, trespassing…, " Lucy trailed off as she heard a noise at the window. Her eyes widened. "It is raining! Heavily."
"Darnit…," Thomas cursed. "We'll have to stay put! I'll fetch us some food and drink. The provisions are still on the horses."
"I will help you." Karl put the key down onto the window ledge, and followed Thomas downstairs to the double doors that led into the storm outside.
As they headed out, Lucy followed them down. At Karl's urging, she shut the doors to behind them – but left them unbolted, whilst the men tried to sprint towards the horses, only to struggle against the wind that had sprung up. Then she heard the whispering.
"Heidi…?" Lucy spun round – but the handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. She had to be somewhere above.
Frowning, Lucy tried to make out the words. The wind, however, hindered her. It was not a single voice. Rather, there were several of them – and they were coming from…
Her apprehensive gaze fell upon the trapdoor in the corner. Something came over Lucy, and she walked towards it as if sleepwalking – the rusty key she had picked up now fitting neatly into the lock, as she turned it…
The double flaps of the trapdoor shot open, as if something had slammed into them with force from below. Lucy jumped.
The whispering voices became louder. They were chattering, babbling, talking in some tongue that Lucy did not recognize. Not any of the languages that she had been taught as a growing child. The language of the natives of this land? But some instinct in her told her no. That the speech that was assailing her ears was of a language far older – and darker.
"Wh-? Who are you? Identify yourselves!" she called down as she peered into the darkness. Her heart thump-thump'ed with growing fear. They didn't have a lantern with them…
The chattering continued, growing louder. As if a veil had been lifted, the voices started to make sense. They were speaking in English now – or so it seemed to Lucy, as the words reached her mind.
"Help us…"
"Come closer…Lucy …"
"So lonely as a child, Lucy Hanbrook … Join us."
"Never be alone, again… Come down, and be loved…"
Lucy felt her mind become detached from her body. Numbly, and without feeling, she saw herself step down beyond the trapdoor, her feet finding the stone steps that were present. The only light guiding her was the muted sunlight from the stone floor level of the windmill behind her.
At the bottom of the steps was a lantern, lying on its side. It was still lit – but even as she picked it up it failed to penetrate the black void that filled the basement…
"Welcome, Lucy…"
"Join us…"
"Be with us…forever."
"Be with you… Always… Be something more than I am now… Yes," Lucy muttered, smiling, as she pushed onwards into the dark. Images were flickering across her mind. Caresses. Kisses… A belonging with the darkness. To be a part of the force that was preparing itself. Making its plans to come to the surface, to hunt, to grow, to…
"Lucy!?" Karl's voice startled her.
"No! Give yourself to us…," the first voice hissed.
"Rule this land in the name of the Ancient One…!"
Lucy gasped as some force made her head pound. Her free hand clutched her hair. The images changed – showing her dressed all in black - attired in livery grander than her mother, as she sat on a throne. The pale, half-starved villagers of Shadowbrook bowed before her. She was laughing gleefully. Next to her stood masked figures dressed in black and red. Masks that had noses like beaks… And behind her, in the darkness, something wiggled, squirmed, throbbed. A thick green tentacle reached out and caressed her face and neck like a lover…
With an effort, Lucy focused on her faith in god, in the kindness of her parents and her governess. In her affection for Karl…
"No! Your parents lied to you… They are not worthy of your love!"
"Your soldier is weak! He will fail you…"
Her foot brushed against something hard. Lucy managed to force her head down – and she saw the ruined face of the miller's workman. Saw his torn clothes, and torn chest…
She screamed.
The voices hissed their anger.
Backing away towards where she hoped the steps still were, Lucy fell upon the floor. The lantern shattered. Panicking, she scrambled towards the faint beam of light. Moments later, she felt herself being seized. Yelling again, Lucy tried to lash out – only to be held tight.
"It's me, Lucy! Karl!"
Ceasing her attack upon him, Lucy felt herself being carried back up to the stone floor level of the windmill. Once she and Karl were through the trapdoor, Thomas and Heidi shut it to – silencing the maddening whispers. The rusty key was turned in the lock, and Thomas pocketed it.
On the floor, Lucy sobbed and held tightly onto Karl as he comforted her.
"Horrible…! They weren't human! Tried to tempt me…with power! The workman, down there…dead. Oh, Karl…"
"Shush… You are safe… You are safe with us!" he declared, holding her tight.
Heidi looked dumbfounded. "Vat in heaven's name is happening to this township?" she asked.
"Not what in heaven. More like what in hell…," Thomas muttered darkly, as he guided the German girl away from the locked trapdoor. "Let's find somemutt heavy to push over it…"