Chapter Twenty:
Hold Back The Darkness
The Manor:
Despite the fact that dawn was about half an hour away, Inspector Cooke, Isabella, and Anne Marie soon saw for themselves that Hanbrook Manor was not exactly sleepy. Firstly, the grounds keeper – the wiry-looking, white-haired Aenglis Devlin – was tending to the roaring bonfire on the lawn next to the driveway. It was the beacon warning that Harlow Morgan had suggested to Lord and Lady Hanbrook.
As his little party arrived at the manor, they dismounted and handed the horses over to an approaching groom. With Anne Marie escorting the still-distraught Isabella to the main door, Cooke ran over to the groundskeeper, to find out the cause of the alarm.
"Lady Hanbrook gave the order for the beacon, mister," Devlin answered in an accent that was vaguely similar to Sophie the midwife. Irish ancestry. Or so Cooke thought. There was also some of the Scottish dialect present, as well. "Don't know why. Seen no trouble, meself."
"I see… And Lady Hanbrook gave you the order herself? How did she se-?"
"No, mister. That black maid, Delani, conveyed the order to me. The butler's still in his bed, recoverin' after the flood of rats we 'ad yesterday. So is Selena. Not in the same bed, mind!" Devlin cackled, his thumb rubbing at his white moustache. He returned his attention to keeping the bonfire burning.
"Yes… Well… Thank you." Cooke turned away with a whiff of disgust for the groundskeeper, and rejoined the ladies – who had already pulled on the bell cord. He took in Isabella's pained expression. "What is it?" he asked her.
"The stiffness from my shoulder… It is slowly spreading," Isabella replied, her voice barely-composed.
Before anything else could be said, Delani opened the front door and admitted them. Her bland, neutral expression did not change, even when the agitated Isabella demanded to speak to Lady Hanbrook immediately.
"She is presently in the dining room," Delani answered in her educated, rich-sounding voice. "I will take you to her."
"One moment, Miss Delani! Has the Reverend Harding arrived recently?" Cooke put to her.
"Not to my knowledge, sir. Come. This way…"
As they walked through the entrance hallway, Anne Marie considered the lantern that was still in her hand. She closed the shutters almost to, given the candlelight around them. But she frowned and held onto it. Some instinct was stirring in her – warning of danger…
Once the group was in the candlelit dining room, Delani closed the door behind them.
Belatedly, Cooke realized that the maid had opened the door without knocking first.
Isabella gave a cry of alarm. A distressed-looking Lady Hanbrook, attired in her nightgown, was sat in a chair next to the far end of the long mahogany table. Standing up from the seat normally taken by Lord Hanbrook was the Reverend Harding. He swiftly grabbed hold of her ladyship's dark locks and pressed the blade of the knife in his right hand against the skin of her throat.
Immediately, Cooke drew out his loaded pistol. He was about to take it off the safety setting as he aimed, when Harding's sharp voice rang out like a whip crack.
"Yield, Inspector! Or she dies!"
The frightened look on Lady Hanbrook's face made him pause – as did her tears. Isabella firmly forced Cooke's gun arm down, as she shook her head, not daring to risk the life of her friend. Especially not so soon after the lost of her retinue.
Cooke spun round to face the maid. But Delani was now aiming a pistol of her own at him, Isabella, and Anne Marie. But her expression was blank. Joyless.
He drew in a deep breath, cursing himself for being a fool. "What is the meaning of this, Delani?" he snapped at her.
She did not answer. Instead, her free hand gestured for him to hand over his pistol – which he reluctantly did. Now Delani held both barrels in their direction, watching carefully for any signs of resistance.
"Mesmerism…," Isabella breathed. "I have seen this demonstrated before." She stiffly turned round to face Harding. "Release her from your spell, you fallen man of God!" she yelled.
He gave a dry bark of a laugh. " 'Tis a power that the Gargoyle has shared with me in its wisdom. Delani will serve our purposes for as long as necessary."
"And where is your 'ideous ally?" Anne Marie piped up.
"All in good time… Ahh! Lord Hanbrook. How good of you to answer my summons!" Harding gave a cold smile.
Lord Hanbrook had just entered the dining room by himself, halting in his stride only when he saw his wife being threatened. Then he glanced round, and saw that he and the guests being threatened by the two pistols in Delani's hands. "What the devil!? Delani? Harding? What is going on here? I demand an explanation!"
"Sit down! All of you," Harding yelled at them. A cheek muscle twitched on his face, and Cooke's tension levels rose, as he realized what they were dealing with. An unhinged man.
"Better do as he asks, sir," he advised Lord Hanbrook. "He has Delani acting as his mesmerized slave. Do not blame her for this."
The lord of the manor looked uncertain, bewildered even. But he took the nearest seat at the table – and so too did the three others.
"I am sorry George. I confessed our secret to Elijah," Lady Hanbrook declared, sniffling. "I told him that you killed Elijah's father."
Anne Marie and Isabella gasped.
Cooke saw a flash of astonishment on Lord Hanbrook's face – followed by anger, and then a slow nod. The Inspector frowned, wondering…
"Let me explain the current situation," Harding began. "For years I had suspected that my beloved father did not pass away from illness, as Doctor Manning had declared – but that he had been poisoned. And now, finally, twenty years after his death, I have a confession. And you will now pay the price, George Hanbrook…"
"And why was he killed?" Anne Marie raised her gaze from the table. "Because, despite being the previous reverend, he 'ad raped Lady Hanbrook. He was the real father of Lucy Hanbrook!"
Lord Hanbrook opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. He started to tremble. "How…? How could you say that, Miss Piaget?"
The schoolmistress shook her head. "No time to explain, sir. But it is true. Non?"
His lordship bowed his head in shame – and then raised it again, facing Harding, as his temper rose. "When I discovered that Josette here was pregnant, I wanted to throttle Harding Senior – but my wife persuaded me to take no action against him. But later, after Lucy's birth – when we forbade him from seeing her, even christening her, your wretched father threatened to expose my wife's affair, Elijah. He wanted to be paid for his silence. And we did pay him, at first. Only he wasted half his money on drink. And when we asked him to use his money for the community instead of on himself, he demanded more money from us. That is why I poisoned him! He had become too much of a law unto himself. He was certainly no man of God."
"Like father, like son," Isabella muttered tersely, placing the tips of her steeped fingers together. "So now that we know, what happens now, Reverend Harding? Are you really going to murder Lord Hanbrook in front of us witnesses?"
"Oh yes, Madam von Took. His lordship will pay for his sins against my father. Only now that I have the answers that I have long sought, all of you will now be judged!"
"All of us…?" Anne Marie whimpered.
Cooke's expression was grim. "Harding does not want us witnesses to see the sunrise!" he warned her. He glanced at Harding, who had just closed his eyes and was muttering.
Isabella bolted up from her seat, knocking the chair over. "He's summoning the Ga-!"
The unlit fireplace suddenly exploded. The dislodged stones were flung in various directions, just missing the nearest people seated at the table – namely Anne Marie and Inspector Cooke. As the debris and cloud of ash settled, a roar rang over Lady Hanbrook's scream.
The Gargoyle flexed and unfurled its wings as it regarded the humans present with distain. It stepped out from the fireplace.
Cooke shuddered and gulped. But then he rose from his chair to face Harding. "Very…clever of you, reverend. You somehow got your fiend to enter the house by coming down the right chimney, wide as the shutes are…"
"Their minds are linked," Isabella pointed out.
"Thank you, Isabella. But you are no creature of God's design, Gargoyle. Despite what the deluded reverend here may believe. So how did you get into our world?"
"I Escaped Those Who Created And Wanted To Control Me…"
"Escaped? From who?" Cooke pressed it.
"Silence! You And The Female Next To You Serve No Purpose To Me, Except To Now Feed My Winged Creations!"
"Your…Grotesques…? You still have some left?" Cooke's face turned deadly pale.
The Gargoyle gave a leering grin. It glanced at Delani. "The Dark-Skinned Female Here Has Been Under My Power For The Past Couple Of Days. She Has Acted As A Useful Caretaker Of My…Grotesques…When Some Of Them, On My Mental Command, Took Up Residence Here During The Night. The Shadow Witch Tried To Have Them Flushed Out With Her Summoned Rats – But Failed, Thanks To The Intervention Of The Females Who Arrived With You…"
"Grotesques! In our home!?" Lady Hanbrook's shrill voice carried across the dining room. "Where could they have possibly have hidden…?"
"Of course…" Cooke snapped his fingers. "The derelict wing! Where Delani's quarters are situated."
Anne Marie pointed towards the full-length windows, her expression thunderstruck. "And here zey come!" she yelled out.
The gathered party turned to face the windows, where – by the torchlight on the exterior walls – they could all see the Grotesques bursting out of the hole in the roof of the derelict wing. Flapping their wings, the minions dived towards the dining room in response to their creator's silent summons. And, even as their prey moved to flee from the windows, the horrors smashed through the glass panes, eager to feast on the food that had just been promised to them by the Gargoyle…
Amongst the screams of the hostages, Harding laughed. Like a madman.
"Now the minions of God's messenger will deliver judgment upon you all!" he cried out.
Turning to his nearest ally, Cooke grabbed hold of Anne Marie's hand, gaining her attention as they stood together. His eyes flicked meaningfully towards the still-impassive Delani. The schoolteacher nodded as Cooke took several steps towards the maid, making it look as though his attention was on the Grotesques, who were shaking off the glass fragments as they rose from their crouched landing positions, their slavering maws dribbling as they prepared for the kill…
"Now!" Cooke yelled.
Anne Marie sprinted towards Delani. As the maid turned to face the teacher, Cooke jumped at her from his angle. He managed to slam into Delani's shoulder and send her first bullet off course. Instead of claiming a life, it nicked Anne Marie's shoulder. She cried out, but forced herself on – helping the Inspector to subdue the black maid – as his punch caught her on the chin. Delani's head snapped back and slammed into the wood paneling of the door behind her.
With a grunt, she slid down the door and flopped onto the carpet.
"Sorry," Cooke declared as he scooped up the dropped pistols and quickly passed the unfired one to Anne Marie, whilst he hurriedly pulled out the remaining pieces of shot from the pouch hanging from the unconscious maid's belt. Then he proceeded to reload the pistol in his hand, as he knelt down.
More screams – as well as cries and gunfire – rang out, making the Inspector snap his head up. The Grotesques nearest to the shattered windows were being fired at and struck by bullets. Cooke caught glimpses of Magistrate Kroft barking orders to the militia he had evidently brought with him – following in Lord Hanbrook's wake. Also present was the militia guard, Ben Summersby.
Straightening up with the now-loaded pistol, Cooke took in the frantic, chaotic scene unfolding before his sweat-stinging eyes. Anne Marie had fired at the nearest Grotesque, wounding it – before throwing the gun at another of the winged fiends. In her desperation, the schoolteacher was now reaching for a bible that someone – Harding? – had left on the dining table. In the next moment, she was swinging it in both hands – deflecting a taloned swipe at her, before she bashed the head of the nearest Grotesque with the bible. The minion gave a shrill cry as it stumbled backwards into a chair, before consequently falling over and striking its skull on the edge of the mahogany table. It collapsed onto the carpet with a cracked head, oozing gray blood – and it did not rise again.
A muffled scream made Cooke spin round. His eyes widened with horror. The Gargoyle had seized Isabella, and pulled her towards it. With one clawed hand around her mouth, the other hand of the villain was clamped around the noblewoman's hip, and glowing with blue light as the Gargoyle turned Isabella and itself away from the fighting…
"No! Release her! Now, dammitt!" Cooke roared at their adversary.
"Move out of ze way!" Anne Marie pleaded to him. She grabbed hold of her lantern from the side of the dining room where she had placed it, and flung it at the back of the Gargoyle. The lantern broke apart, the oil sloshed out and the flames began to lick at the bat-like wings. On sudden inspiration, Cooke stepped closer to the Gargoyle and fired. The spark from his pistol and bullet caused the flames to flare brighter and longer.
"Aaaggghhh!"
With an unearthly shriek, the Gargoyle arched its back and convulsed from the tongues of fire burning its wing membranes. Isabella wasted no time and pulled herself away from her assailant's loosened grip. She stumbled and fell against the nearest cabinet, feeling herself to be smothered by her own agony…
With fingers of flame threatening to lengthen into pillars, the Gargoyle staggered from the dining room, crashing through the double doors that led into the ballroom. There, it rolled over on the empty wooden floor in an attempt to put out the fires that were eating away at its wings. Meanwhile, the Grotesques that were still standing in the dining room gave a screech of alarm. Forgetting their resisting prey, the minions instinctively acted on their first instinct – to protect their maker at all costs. They rushed into the ballroom and formed a protective ring around it as they faced outwards, uncertain how else to help their creator.
Cooke watched the spectacle with horrified fascination – then his attention was drawn to the other fighters. Two of the Grotesques had already jumped outside to attack Kroft and the militia – and even now one young soldier screamed as he was cut open by a vicious slash from the taloned hand of one of the creatures. And Cooke glimpsed Anne Marie, running in her long gray dress to the other end of the dining table, to grab hold of the wailing Lady Hanbrook whilst her husband and the Reverend Harding were fighting for control over the vengeful vicar's knife…
"No! I lied, Elijah!" her ladyship was now yelling to Harding. "George did NOT kill your heartless father. It was I!"
Cooke paused as he reloaded his pistol. It was as he suspected… Lord Hanbrook had been prepared to suffer Harding's wrath, in order to protect his wife. He must indeed love her dearly to do that…
"You lie… You are just trying to stop me in delivering God's judgment and justice!" Harding grunted as he tried to overcome the strength of the bulkier man grappling with him.
"Mademoiselle Piaget… Oh! You have our family bible! Hold it out to me, dear… I, Josette Hanbrook, swear to this confession before witnesses. I fatally poisoned the Reverend Joseph Harding – the man who made me pregnant with my precious Lucy…"
Harding froze, his expression thunderous. "No! You…wicked woman!"
"It is true!" George Hanbrook gasped out, his face reddening as he tried to force Harding's knife away from his chest. "And I have shielded Josette from the law, as her act – though cruel – had been necessary. Joseph Harding was a vile man – unfit to be Lucy's father! Not that he ever showed love to either my wife or Lucy, after he…violated…Josette! I married Josette to provide her with the security and home that she needed. And we changed the records of Lucy's birth, so that the public would not know Lucy had been conceived out of wedlock! Few people saw her when she was little – and none of the servants from those days are still here, apart from Hargreaves."
A whine distracted them all. The fighters looked across, to see Karl Harrison rolling off a man-sized, brownish-orange furred wolf that had jumped through the shattered window, just in time to hear the confessions of Lord and Lady Hanbrook.
Lady Hanbrook stared at Karl and the wolf in amazement – but her focus soon switched back to Harding. The Reverend had just managed to swipe away his lordship's leg with his own, leading to the bulkier man collapsing on the floor. The dropped knife was soon snatched up by his reverence.
He gave a roar of fury and dived towards Lady Hanbrook.
"Lucy – no! His knife. It's sil-," Karl cried out a warning.
Harding spun round to spy the Lucy-wolf lunching herself at him. He gave a yell of alarm, and ducked as he instinctively flung out his left arm to protect his face. The knife flashed in his right hand – and Lucy howled as she went down, her undercoat marred by a slick cut that oozed blood. Meanwhile, Harding gasped as he felt the claw marks to his left arm. Then - seeing Lady Hanbrook running out of the dining room with Anne Marie in hand, as they exited via the door leading into the hallway – the Reverend bolted after them, screaming blue murder as he held grimly onto his knife.
"Lord Hanbrook! Are you badly injured?" Cooke rushed over to help the elder.
"I am…well enough, Inspector," his lordship managed to gasp out, as he rose upon his knees with Cooke's assistance. He turned to address Karl, who was tending to the fallen wolf, quickly washing its wound with water from his bottle and rubbing in some healing salve. "What is going on here, Mr Harrison? You called out for my daughter – but where is she!? I thought she was still at the Doctor's surgery…"
Karl faced him as he stroked the back of the whimpering wolf. "This is Lucy, sir! I have just treated her for that wound by Harding's silver blade. And…and we both heard your confession that she is not your daughter!"
The mention of the silver-inflicted wound, plus the size and gender of the wolf before him, made Cooke draw in a sharp breath. "She is…a werewolf?" he breathed.
"A newborn werewolf. Yes… But she seems to be gaining more self-control as this night unfolds," Karl replied. He faced Lord Hanbrook again. "Your adopted daughter is an admirable lady, sir!"
His lordship gasped and his eyes turned moist. "My Lucy…! Oh, I am so sorry, my child. We tried to protect you from your mother's shame…" He trailed off. "My wife! I must stop Elijah! He has gone mad in his personal vendetta. I must hold back the darkness in him…!" Climbing to his feet, his lordship ran off in pursuit of the reverend. A moment later, Lucy bolted off after him on all fours, bounding into the hallway – her wound already healing as a result of her youth, Karl's care, and her werewolf blood.
"Lucy – stop!" Karl got up upon his feet – only to be stopped by Cooke laying his hand upon the ex-soldier's shoulder.
"I need your assistance, Mr Harrison. Right now," he declared.
"But Lucy will need me with her! She might yet hurt someone other than Harding, if I'm not there to calm her…"
"Blast it, man! I need you to help me destroy the Gar-"
Cooke broke off as the air rang out with the sudden shattering of glass – followed by howling. He grabbed Karl by the jacket and hurried over to the doorway, where one of the doors had been broken off its hinges by the Gargoyle in its flight. Now, Cooke and Karl paused, taking in the spectacle of the Gargoyle engaged in a frantic battle with a bipedal werewolf, whilst the Grotesques were fighting the Feral Kin. Already the wooden floorboards that had seen the more affluent of Shadowbrook and the surrounding area dancing on, only two nights ago, were now stained with the growing pools of both red and gray blood. The sprawled bodies of fighters on both sides lay unmoving amongst them.
Cooke's mind flashed back to when he and Katarina were at the Abandoned Keep. How the Feral Kin and the Sloan-statue there had been equally determined to kill them – and yet the two species of transformed humans had fought each other, as if battling for territory and the prey within it…
"My word… The wolf-creatures crashed through the full-length windows!" Cooke raised his pistol, unsure of what to shoot at first. Perhaps if he waited to see which side won the battle…
"Do not shoot the Feral Kin or Mr Morgan, Inspector Cooke!" Karl urged him, placing his hand on Cooke's gun arm. "Bruckner is dead! The Feral Kin have a new alpha male – and he is here to aid us."
"Bruckner dead? Harlow Morgan…is that wolf man!?" Cooke frowned.
"Yes," Karl confirmed.
"How…did they get past the militia outside?"
"When I got here with my lupine allies, it was apparently too much for Magistrate Kroft, after his being attacked by those Grotesques that went outside. He ran off, screaming – leaving Summersby to lead the other men…"
"What!? But I thought he had inner strength. So he told me himsel-"
"Apparently, underneath that veneer, he is also a coward. But then his horse did unseat him after being startled by my lupine friends." Karl gave a humorless smile. "Now, listen carefully, Inspector. My leg has been afflicted by the Gargoyle's Stone Touch, and so I cannot move quickly. If you will kindly give me your pistol and ammunition, then grab some knives from the kitchen…"
"I will do just that!" Cooke handed over his loaded pistol and remaining shot – and then dashed back through the dining room, in order to reach the door at the far end leading to the kitchens…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Upstairs, Reverend Harding raced along the landing. He slammed his shoulder into the closing door – and sent Anne Marie flying to one side before she could lock him out. Hitting her head against the side of the nearest cabinet, the schoolteacher cried out. Her head ached and her vision swan whilst she heard Lady Hanbrook scream and throw all sorts of items at the raging elder who was out to kill her. Harding cursed as embroidery and books struck him, followed by chair cushions. Next, he stumbled over an upturned chair. The next thing Harding knew, a half-recovered Anne Marie had thrown the Hanbrook's family bible at him in her desperation, hitting the back of his head. But despite his injury and brief dizziness he did not lose possession of his silver knife.
Forcing herself up, Anne Marie flung herself at Harding. She grabbed hold of his legs and brought him down upon the carpet. He yelled, and thrashed his legs to free himself – his attention still focused upon Josette Hanbrook, who was now running to the connecting door between her bedroom and the next chamber. Her husband's bedroom.
And then in the next moment Harding had dropped his knife onto the carpet, allowing himself the opportunity to push himself hard from underneath Anne Marie's weight – causing them to roll over whilst still entangled together. She yelled as the reverend's legs and feet respectively pressed down on her face and chest. Letting go as a kick winded her, Anne Marie heard Harding's contemptuously muttered "Lightweight".
He got up in time to see the titian-furred wolf race along the landing towards him, overtaking Lord Hanbrook. Its fangs were bared with the promise of murder…
"Devil's spawn!" Harding rasped. He turned and staggered towards the nearest set of curtains, just as the wolf barreled into the bedroom.
The sudden burst of the sunrise as Harding yanked the curtains apart, led to the candle-lit room being illuminated further by the light of daybreak. The wolf yelped and crashed into the dressing table after its leap – just missing the dodging reverend. He, Anne Marie, and Lord and Lady Hanbrook then all watched in amazement from their respective positions as the form of the wolf blurred and shifted. The heavy forepaws altered – the fur receding into hands that turned pink even as the talons vanished and the digits and dew claws became fingers and thumbs. The four legs lost their fur and reformed themselves into the smooth, hairless arms and legs of a young woman. The tail shrank out of sight, and the muzzle was pulled back into the face of the creature at the same time as the twitching whiskers, fangs, and black leathery nose vanished – and eventually the transformation resulted in the revelation of a slender, gingery-brown-haired girl who was sprawled out on her stomach, on top of the wreckage of the dressing table. She moaned and lifted her lightly-freckled face, which turned a shade red as she regarded the horrified expression of her mother and realized that she now felt naked with the loss of her fur.
"Oh… I suddenly feel so…drained," Lucy croaked.
"No…! Lu-Lucinda… You are…!" Lady Hanbrook's hand flew to her gaping mouth in her horror.
"…un loup garou," breathed Anne Marie.
"Devilspawn! Even my half-sister!" Harding snarled.
"H-half sis-sister?" Lucy spluttered, gaping first at the reverend, then her mother, and finally her father.
"I am sorry, Lucinda… It is true," Lady Hanbrook confessed, shaking. Then she stepped fully into the doorway between the bedrooms, revealing the pistol that her husband kept in his bedroom, in case of intruders. "Surrender, Elijah! Do not make me…"
She trailed off as a breeze picked up within her bedroom, snuffing out the candle. The dawn light that was now beginning to flood that side of the house was suddenly joined by another source of illumination, as something rippled into existence in the air, just above head-height next to the doorway leading to Lord Hanbrook's bedroom, announcing its arrival with a brief distortion of sound. Anne Marie looked on in wonder, trying to comprehend what she and the others were seeing. It was something like the swirling of water within a hand basin, but the image was vertically-inclined, and colored. Blue at the outer edges and yellow at the centre. The core of the swirl was like the sun. Colored gas? The thing slowly spun anti-clockwise - the illumination varied slightly in its brilliance as it did so.
Anne Marie's gaze flicked to the people standing nearest to it. The long sleeves of Lady Hanbrook's nightgown were being tugged towards the twisting mass, as was her unpinned dark ginger hair.
A subtle roar of displaced air was slowly turning louder…
"Keep away from it! It is growing…," Anne Marie warned the three elders.
The phenomena abruptly expanded with a repetition of the rippling distortion of sound in the room. For a moment, the school teacher could not hear the cries of the elders – only see their gaping mouths. Then Harding's wail reached her ears.
"-vilry! 'Tis the lighted gate! The Gargoyle told me of their magik…"
Abruptly, Lady Hanbrook had the pistol snatched out of her hand by the increasing pull of the unnatural whirlpool before her. Crying out, she collapsed upon the floor and tried to pull herself along the floor to avoid being sucked into the lighted gate. The pistol had spun into the centre of the whirlpool and rapidly shrunk to a pinhead, before vanishing. But the phenomena remained constant in its spinning.
'Lighted gate'… It was a portal of magik, Anne Marie reasoned. But to where…?
With a cry of rage, Harding snatched up his knife again and dodged around the materialization as he made a final bid to kill Lady Hanbrook. But he was soon grabbed from behind by Lord Hanbrook.
"Let me go! Damn you…"
"You will kill no one, Elijah! You have done enough evil…!" Lord Hanbrook spat, barely managing to hold the madman back with all of his remaining strength. He glanced at the lighted gate and felt its pull increase on them. His remaining hair was now standing on end, and his torn jacket was flapping at the edges. In the next instant, Harding's powdered wig was abruptly snatched from his head, leaving his bald spot exposed.
His lordship exchanged frightened glances with his wife, then with his daughter and Anne Marie.
"On-ly way now. I love you… Josette… Lucy…," he gasped.
"George! No!"
"Father!"
Harding screamed as Lord Hanbrook used his greater weight to pull the reverend towards the magical materialization. In the next instant, they were suddenly – and violently – snatched into the swirling mass. Then the cries of the two men were silenced as the whirlpool of magik collapsed in upon itself instantly. There was another ripple of distorted sound – and then the lighted gate was completely gone, leaving behind only the three women – one of whom was too stunned to move or even speak, whilst Lucy pulled herself out of her grasp and met Lady Hanbrook halfway, at the spot where George Hanbrook had made his sacrifice to save his family. Mother and daughter clung to each other tightly, as their tears mingled on their pressed cheeks…
The sense of being watched made the hairs on Anne Marie's neck tingle. Spinning round, she was just in time to see the bat launch itself from the frame of the window behind her and fly away. The schoolteacher blinked in disbelief as she tried to process the image.
Had she really seen a ruby amulet hanging from a cord wrapped around its neck…?
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
I only wanted to see my old friend…, and celebrate my new-found freedom… To experience some adventure!
Isabella stopped at the doorway that took her from the dining room and into the ballroom. As she wheezed and forced her lungs to keep working, she took in the devastation that had been left behind. All of the Grotesques were now dead – sprawled across the wooden floorboards. So too were the Feral Kin… No, wait. One small male was still. But two other ones – who must have been an adolescent boy and a younger girl, before they were bitten and converted by the Shadow Witch's magic… They too were down, but the female was now whimpering as it bleed – and the other was crawling over to lick at her wounds. The two lupine creatures nuzzled each other and whined as they gazed at the adult bodies of their kindred beings.
Despite her disgust for what she knew the Feral Kin had previously done, Isabella felt a stab of pity in her hardening heart for them.
Her whole body was hardening. The stiffness and pain from the parts of her that had been cursed by the Gargoyle's touch were spreading, becoming more agonizing. In her panic, Isabella now ripped at her black lace sleeves – only to see a sight that had almost made her stop breathing altogether.
Her arms were turning gray and stony.
…Belong To Me, Now. Come To Me…, My New Servant, an inhuman voice whispered in her head, making Isabella gasp out in horror. Help Me To Overcome The Men…Attacking Me…
"Belong to you… Yes… No!" Isabella raised her stiff arms to her face, and cried out as alien thoughts flooded into her mind. Her…master…had staggered in agony from the ballroom as the Grotesques were falling dead – only to be hounded by the wolf man, plus the Inspector and the soldier. They were now all fighting to the death in the hallway, at the base of the main stairwell. She could save the Gargoyle. Use her new-found strength to throttle those who dared to harm it. Her remade form would be more resilient to bullets and any blade – and she would be impervious to the passing of the years in her dutiful service…
Before she knew it, her heavy legs were moving underneath her full-length dark skirt as if with a mind of their own – carrying her through the open doorway that took her into the wood-paneled corridor and towards the widest part of the hallway at the foot of the stairwell. She crawled on, pressing her hands against the walls to aid her balance and pace.
Slowly, the agony within her increased, making Isabella grit her teeth as she shuddered. She would not scream. She would… Yes, she would use the pain to draw focus upon. The faces of Heidi and Gustav filled her mind's eye, staring at her with accusing eyes. She had failed them – but she would not fail this time…
Come To Me! Defend Your Master…! The Gargoyle's mental command stabbed into her mind – making her stop. The noblewoman's eyes became glazed.
"I am…on my way…, master," Isabella breathed, feeling sweat pour from her face as she exerted herself and pressed on.
In the centre of the hallway, Inspector Cooke, Karl, and the wolf man surrounded the snarling Gargoyle as best they could – trapping the monster where it was. It had discovered for itself that its wings were now useless – and its bulk prevented it from climbing the staircase behind it. Instead, it continued to roar and lash out with all the malice, angry and fury that it still possessed. A cornered beast that was determined to crush its hunters and stride over their bodies to freedom once more…
Now, as Isabella watched whilst she dragged herself on, the Gargoyle punched the wolf man in the stomach, arresting his vicious attack. Then the fiend slashed its lupine opponent's face, before swatting him aside. He crashed into a painting of a previous Hanbrook on the nearest paneled wall, and slumped to the floor. The string broke on its hook, and the painting fell on top of the werewolf, striking his head. He tried to crawl out from underneath the painting, just as the dawn sunlight streaked through a window on the stairwell landing, illuminating the hallway. The wolf man gave a wail as the light lit his face, and he slumped onto the floor.
Inspector Cooke twisted himself round upon hearing the piercing cry. Before his spellbound gaze, the lupine features of his unexpected ally blurred and shifted – the muzzle and fangs receding as the bones and teeth gradually reassumed human form. The pointed ears now changed too, as they moved down the sides of the head, to assume the shape of normal human ears – whilst the facial fur vanished, leaving behind the round face of a man aged in his fifties, with a balding head and large tuffs of hair residing on his jaw line. He was bleeding from a gash to his temple, and he did not stir. The furred arm that was flung out from underneath the fallen portrait lost all of its brown coating, as the hairs shrank back into their pores.
Then Cooke spun back to Karl, upon hearing the ex-soldier being finally slashed by the Gargoyle – having avoided most of the monster's attacks against him up to that point. Between the two of them, Cooke and Karl had fought with the Inspector's pistol, a pair of large kitchen knives – plus a hammer and bed pan that the awakened Selena had hurriedly gathered and passed onto Cooke during his flying visit to the kitchen. But despite their weapons and their determination, Cooke was panicking with his fighting companions falling down to the left and right of him…
"Mr Harrison…!" Cooke cried out.
"It's just a scratch. I've had worse," Karl said through clenched teeth, as he dropped Cooke's pistol and pressed the palm of his hand against the wound running across his damaged shirt. He was now on his knees. Then Karl took in the grinning Gargoyle, his eyes widening with fear. Cooke followed his gaze. The monster's taloned hands were pressed against its many wounds. A glow emanated from those hands, bathing the blue-white flesh with magik. Seconds later, the hands were removed – to reveal freshly-healed skin.
The blasted fiend had somehow reinvigorated itself magically. Cooke cursed to himself.
"Inspector! Quick! Grab the pistol…," Karl gasped out, his eyes flicking upwards. Cooke immediately saw what Karl was driving at, and he snatched up the loaded gun – before composing himself and taking careful aim…
The shoot struck the support of the chandelier, right on target. Startled, the Gargoyle jerked its face upwards – just in time to see the circular arrangement of candles and candleholders crash down upon it, the framework breaking into sharp wooden fragments in the process.
The Gargoyle screeched as its skin was pierced in several pieces. Also, some of the candles had been burning low – and the villain screamed as it fought to put out the small flames that had ignited already-burnt skin…
And with its attention diverted, the Gargoyle's psychic commands lessened – enabling Isabella the reprieve that she needed to tear herself away from Karl and Inspector Cooke. Instead, she forced herself up the stairs, finding it harder with each step to move her legs and feet without crying out her anguish, or even breathe properly…
"Lady Is-," Cooke whispered, seeing her ascend the stairs, her face deadly pale, her arms stone-like where the flesh was showing through the gaps in her torn clothing. Then Karl diverted him, by pulling himself upon his feet and throwing the pan at the Gargoyle.
"Keep fighting it, Inspector!" Karl urged him. "Don't stop now!"
Cooke took the hint, and whilst the Gargoyle turned its back to him as it regarded Karl, the Inspector dived forward and buried his knife into the monster's back. A dawning suspicion arose in Cooke's mind. Karl had realized that Isabella was about to do something. Something that would only work if they kept the Gargoyle's attention on them, and not her…
The Gargoyle screamed, twisted round, and lashed out with its fists, striking Cooke in the face and sending him spinning into the paneled wall underneath the stairwell. Then the creature turned, managed to seize Karl as he drew in close with a knife, and twisted his arm, making the ex-soldier drop his weapon as his face contorted with the pain.
"You Were Left To Feed The Offspring Of My Creations!" the Gargoyle hissed in Karl's mind. "Now You Will Serve As My Nourishment, Instead…" Its hands glowed as it summoned its magik, in preparation for turning Karl into a drained husk…
"Forgive me…for my sins, Inspector…, Mr Harrison," Isabella croaked as she managed to reach the landing at a point directly above the Gargoyle. She leaned over the wooden banister.
"Isabella…? NO!" Cooke hollered. Despite his bleeding injuries and aching head, he was just able to perceive what she was doing from where he had fallen.
"Pray for my soul…"
The Gargoyle froze and jerked its eyes upwards, to take in the sight of Isabella von Took, her clothes and face slowly turning to stone. It screamed with such fury that all three of the humans present heard its words in their heads.
"No, Slave! I Command You…!"
Isabella stared at the Gargoyle with disgust. "I am…nobody's…slave!" she spat. Then her expression turned rigid. With the last ounce of her strength and willpower mustered for her spirited attack, she flipped herself over the banister – and fell straight down.
Karl yelled and managed to yank himself free, before he stumbled and tripped over his stone-touched leg.
The noise of the impact resounded through the hallway and surrounding rooms, temporarily deafening the two men who were still conscious. A gray rain of shards and debris struck Karl and Cooke, adding to their injuries.
Seconds later, the shockwave had dispersed. The two men groaned and wiped away the dust and blood on their faces. They then forced themselves to look at where Isabella had struck the Gargoyle with her last weapon - the weight of her transforming body.
The Gargoyle lay in pieces like a broken statue, all around the hallway. So too did Isabella…
A pounding of feet reached the recovering ears of Karl and Inspector Cooke. They saw Anne Marie halting half way along the lowest flight of the stairs, staring at the scene in horror.
"Mon dieu! Isabella…"
"She saved us… She has regained her lost honor…," Cooke breathed.
"Oh! You men need a doctor – or a nurse!" Anne Marie rushed down to them – then yelled for assistance.
"Anne Marie… What about Reverend Harding? Lucy and her parents – are they…?"
"Karl, I… I am not sure 'ow to explain what 'appened…"
"But… Lucy… Is she safe?" he pressed the schoolteacher.
"I am here, Karl," Lucy called out from the staircase. One hand held tightly onto the large blanket that was wrapped around her. The sun shone at an angle through the window close behind her, the rays falling upon the freckles that were one of the many reasons why Karl found her adorable. She gave a sad smile – then she rushed down and embraced Karl. The two of them wept tears of joy. Then Karl yelped.
"I-I'm sorry! Where d-did I hurt you…?" Lucy stammered.
"No! It's not you. The Gargoyle cursed me, like it cursed you. My leg – it is tingling…"
Lucy rolled up the leg of Karl's military pants, and gasped. She, Karl, Anne Marie and Cooke all stared with disbelief as the gray skin on Karl's leg slowly faded away – the magical infliction now dispersing with the destruction of the Gargoyle.
Moments later, the butler and Selena burst into the hallway from within the house, to offer aid to the five heroes in the hallway, accompanied by Ben and another militia guard as they set about searching the house for any further dangers.
But the dangers and darkness had now been successfully held back. For the time being, at least, Cooke considered ruefully as he stared again at the collective broken masonry that had recently been a woman who had investigated and fought alongside him…