Chapter Eleven: The Dark Hollow
The sun was setting over the barren New England hills. Two cloaked and hooded figures emerged from the Gothic mansion. Between them they dragged the limp and sagging form of a beautiful young woman, seemingly unaware of her surroundings.
"Heavier than she looks," grunted Caroline Dunwich. She was wearing the long sable cloak of an ancient New England witch. But her face was smooth and unlined, and she followed her comment with a cackle of glee. "Sure, the Old Ones will be pleased. It's a real feast they'll be having tonight! A feast!"
"You can't fool me," wheezed Dr. Ben Carlson. He was having more trouble managing Julia's weight than the old woman. Bald Ben was soft and out of shape. And he hadn't been helping himself to transfusions of Julia's youthful hormones and bone marrow. "You can't fool me, you magnificent matriarch of evil. You don't need the Old Ones. You don't even need my injections. You're strong enough to carry Julia down to the dark hollow all by yourself!"
"No, no!" The raven-haired captive struggled feebly. Julia felt so weak! Even if she tore loose from Caroline's grasp she would be unable to run very fast. Where was Matt? Had he read her note? Had he gone for help? What could one man do against the armies of evil? Julia struggled weakly, whimpering in Caroline's arms.
"There, there," purred the old witch. "Just a little further, my pet. Just a little further and you can sleep. Sleep forever and ever. But we must prepare you first."
"The Horned God," Julia mumbled. "You're offering me to the Horned God." In her dreams she'd taken part in the ancient rituals a thousand times. She'd danced naked before the Horned God just like the downtrodden witches of Puritan days, escaping a life of drudgery and experiencing unimaginable power and pleasure!
"Bah!" Scoffed Caroline, tightening her hold as they approached the place of sacrifice. "No dancing tonight. We must burn your sins away before you can be worthy of the Old Ones!"
"You're not a witch!" Too late Julia realized the unholy truth. "You never danced naked in the moonlight. You know nothing of the Horned God. You're not even related to the Dunwich family!"
"Indeed I am not," the old woman said, with a toss of her head. "I spit on these New Englanders, and their God. It's the Virgin and my own common sense has led me to the powers I have today. For more than one hundred years I've walked the earth, my untouched body ageless and unchanging. Me, Ellen of Ireland!"
"But you're a fraud!" Julia had to keep the old woman talking. She had to buy time. The little hollow was growing dark. Soon she would be tied to the stake, and ageless Ellen would be piling up wood to burn her alive. "You're not a real witch. You never believed in the Old Ones or the Horned God. How did you trick Arthur Dunwich into letting you stay here? Did he give you the name Caroline Dunwich? Did he teach you to worship the Horned God? How did you live so long? Did you feed on the bodies of helpless young women? Are you Mother Elsie Flanagan?"
"I've never in my life had anything to do with the Horned God." Ellen was already tying Julia to a dead tree, its roots blackened by ancient fires. "Sure, didn't I serve the Virgin my whole life? Didn't I strangle my baby sister in her bed? Twelve years old she was, and already walking out with boys. I put a stop to that. After that I came to America, for the potatoes had all turned black. But there were girls here too, ripe and unashamed. Burn them, I say. Burn all the sin from their ripe young bodies!"
"Ben, she's crazy!" Dr. Carlson was busy holding Julia in place. Her arms were pinned high above her head, and the rope was already chafing her wrists. For a moment their gazes met.
"Don't worry, Julia," he gently reassured her. "Before the flames can engulf your body I'll give you something to dull the pain. Just a quick jab in the arm, and then off you go to sleep. I am a doctor, after all. Even if I can't practice in a hospital anymore."
"That's a good boy!" Ellen cackled. "Ben is a fine gentleman, sure. You'll never catch him rolling in the muck with sinful girls like you. He just likes poking them with needles and making them sleep. It was easy to offer him money and a place to practice medicine."
"You mean Dunwich Manor." Julia had just one more card to play. She was trembling with fear, and so weak she could hardly stand. Yet for a moment her head was clear. She spoke softly, her blue eyes never leaving the old woman's face.
"This is not your land, Ellen. Dunwich Manor is not yours. New England is not yours. You didn't fight for it, you didn't bleed for it, and you will never understand it. You came here as a servant, and you rose through treachery. I know how you got Arthur Dunwich to keep you on here. First you drove him mad. You poisoned his wife and child. Then you went to his bed. Sure, and you who played the whore for him, too. You who hate all sin!"
"You lying slut!" Spit flew from the old woman's mouth as she struck Julia across the face. "Hold her up for me, now. Hold her steady!" Ellen was too angry to light the fire at Julia's feet. She had a different sort of death in store for her. With holy pride, she remembered all the girls she'd broken in all the lives she'd lived. Ellen's face was red, and her fists were hungry to get to work.
Just then a strange, throaty roaring sound filled the dark hollow.