The Witch and the Watcher E-Book

Phil Price

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

In a faraway place, two lost souls are being hunted. A witch wants their heads, sending a gang of marauders after them.

Others want them too. An ancient evil, hell-bent on revenge, wants to claim them for his own.

Meanwhile, a mother and son are coming to terms with the death of their loved ones. Soon after, the boy starts to dream of distant souls who need help.

Can he help them find the way home before they are lost to the darkness... and manage to evade the evil that plagues his family?

Leseprobe

The Witch And The Watcher

The Forsaken Series Book 3

Phil Price

Copyright (C) 2018 Phil Price

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

To Joanne Barnes From stranger To reader To good friend.

Book I – The Witch

Prologue

Another Plane The Island of Tenta

The witch sat in a large vat of snakes. Her milky white eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. A small blue and red snake fastened its mouth onto one of her scarred nipples, gently working the hard flesh with its jaws. The room was decorated with severed heads, slowly decaying, coating the space in a thick cloying stench. Animal bones hung from the ceiling, gently rattled by the numerous drafts that worked their way inside. A large black rook with milky eyes flew in through the open shutters, landing on a lifeless head. Its large jagged beak stabbed at an empty eye socket, pulling a slither of flesh out, gulping it down greedily.

“What news, Kowl?” the witch asked impatiently. Her mouth remained closed. Their communication was on a different level.

“Giant dead,” Kowl answered.

“Dead? How?”

“Big man in black kill him. He kill big man too.” The rook stabbed the solitary eyeball, pulling it from its socket, consuming it greedily.

“The others?” she asked.

“Gone. Through cave. Then bang. Cave collapse. Man, woman, and baby escape. Two left. Man and creature.”

“Creature?” she asked curiously.

“Yes. Smaller than man. Eyes of fire.”

“Tamatan! The demon with many names. He's not been here for a long time. Where did they go?”

“They take lonely road, away from town.”

“Very foolish if you ask me. That road is not the place for men or demons.” She chuckled, coughing up a black ball of phlegm. Spitting it into the vat of snakes, she addressed the bird. “Take the sunken road. Find Valkan. Tell him that Lenga is calling in her favour. Tell him to come here with his gang and beasts.”

“Will take time to get here.”

“No matter. They will find them out there soon enough. Then I will have two more heads for my collection.”

The bird hopped across the room, flying out through the shutters. Lenga lay still, her expression clouded. Elias was here with a woman and child. A half- breed, part vampire. It got Elias killed. But who are they? And what place did they come from? Lenga pulled the snake from her breast, its fangs snapping off in her flesh. She threw the reptile across the room, pulling the teeth from her nipple with gnarled fingers. Whoever they are, they are from lands beyond the forest. They were far from home. She smiled, her blackened teeth poking out through her cracked lips. “Man flesh. I cannot wait to taste you, whoever you are.”

* * *

Far away, in another place, a force stirred. Deep below a red crypt where a recent battle had raged, the force began pulsing. It had been contained in the lifeless pit, devoid of light and air for hundreds of moons. The force took shape, trying to find a weakness in the red stone walls. It could feel similar energy far off. The entity called to it, pulling it towards the red land, where a constant wind battered anything exposed to its wrath. It sensed a weakness in the confines, a hairline crack that led to the surface. The misty apparition waited patiently for its allies, focusing its energy on breaking through. It needed to escape, craving a new purpose. Chaos.

* * *

The scorched forest lay in darkness, low clouds blocking out the moon's glow. Wisps and tendrils of long dead beings writhed and twisted around the blackened trees, which were showing the first signs of recovery after the recent fires. In between two trees, a black doorway, framed in a blue glow, disappeared for the night. The forest lay quiet. No animals dwelt there, choosing to leave Amatoll for safer climbs. It was a graveyard of trees. Morbid and still. A whisper on the wind, caused the spirits to stir. They felt the call from far away, a voice echoing through the land. As one, the entities began to move, gliding through the forest towards another doorway. A doorway to another place. A red place, with howling winds and dark forces.

One

Worcestershire 2011

Vicky lay on the kitchen floor, her makeup streaked with tears. Her reddened-eyes, tightly closed. She lay in a ball, a silent scream escaping her ragged mouth. She was dressed in black. Her once immaculate hair was as unruly as her attire. A loud sob echoed around the kitchen as the crying intensified. “Why? Why us? Why God why?” She flipped onto her back, her stockinged feet banging the quarry-tiled floor. The woman's hands were pressed to her face, trying to block out the cruel world around her.

“Mummy,” a voice said. The boy ran over, his socks skidding on the smooth floor. He sat next to his mother, lifting her head into his lap. Dark brown eyes framed by wavy dark hair looked down at his beloved mother. A mother that he'd watched fall apart over the last few weeks. “Don't cry, Mummy. Please,” he said as his voice cracked with emotion.

Vicky looked up, seeing the angelic face of her youngest child, contorted in grief and pain. “Oh, Jasper. I'm sorry. Don't cry, baby bear.” She got up, pulling her son into her embrace. “Mummy's just upset. But I will be okay. I have to be. I have to take care of my boy.” She kissed the top of his head, drinking in his smell. She closed her eyes, blocking out the pain for a brief moment.

“I need to look after you too, Mummy. It's just the two of us now. I'll help you as much as I can. I will even tidy my room before bedtime. Well, most nights anyway.”

Vicky laughed, squeezing her only remaining child to her chest. “I love you, baby bear. More than you'll ever know.”

“I love you too, Mummy.” Tears fell freely from her eyes. “I'm so sad that Daddy, Lucy, and Brett are up in the stars. I really miss them. I miss Daddy's beard, tickling my face. I miss Lucy's lame music and Brett's bad guitar playing. I wish they were still here.” Jasper's emotions boiled over as he wept in his mother's arms.

“It's going to be alright, Son. Really, it will be.” Her empty promise died away, leaving them sitting on the kitchen floor, holding onto each other. Clinging to hope, when hope had deserted them.

* * *

“No, I'm not the account holder. My husband, Steve Evans was the account holder. He recently passed away. I want to become the account holder. Can you help me?” Vicky sat on the settee, her feet propped on the coffee table as she looked out of her bay window. Spring was starting to show in her garden. The first shoots of green could be seen appearing, alongside the already green holly bushes and conifers that surrounded the cottage. “Death certificate? Do you really need me to send you that?” she said, her emotions starting to rise. The voice on the other end of the line paused as Vicky began to cry. The person, who was sitting four thousand miles away on another continent, decided to wave the rules. The change in tack calmed Vicky somewhat, her tears wiped away with the back of her hand. She thanked the person on the other end of the line, telling them quickly that she didn't require any more help. Vicky ended the call, dropping the phone on the settee next to her. She laid her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply, trying to remember what her old yoga teacher had told her. The window was open a few inches, allowing the sounds of her front garden to filter inside. Birds could be heard in the trees, the sounds of bushes rustling in the gentle breeze. For a brief moment, all the pain of the last few weeks ebbed away. She stretched her feet, pointing her toes to the ceiling. The phone's ring tone shattered the silence. Vicky's eyes fluttered open as her hand reached for the offending object. She pressed the green button.

“Victoria. Are you okay?” a female voice asked.

“Hi, Mum. I'm fine. Just having five minutes.”

“Oh! Sorry, love. Shall I call back later?”

“It's fine. Are you and Dad okay?”

“We're alright,” the voice lied smoothly. “Your Father is out in the garden, attempting to cut wet grass. I was wondering if you and Jasper would like to pop over for a bit of supper this evening?”

“He's got football after school. That should finish by five. What time do you want us?”

“After that is fine. I'm cooking your favourite.”

“Chorizo and butterbean stew. Sounds just what I need.”

“That's why I'm cooking it. We'll see you later then. I'll let you get back to your five minutes. Love you.”

“Love you both too,” Vicky said before ending the call. Five minutes later her toes, encased in black socks, were pointing to the ceiling once more. Her chest rose and fell gently as Vicky tried mentally to slow her heartbeat. Gradually it started to decrease. The woman was about to fall asleep when the phone rang once more. Shit! She snatched the ever-offending object off the sofa and pressed the green button again. “Hello?”

“Mrs Evans?” a male voice said.

“Yes.”

“Sorry to bother you. It's Mr Wellings, from Jasper's school. There has been a bit of an incident here. Would you be able to pop down and pick him up?” Vicky's lessening heartbeat was now hammering in her chest. The solitude shattered.

* * *

Jasper sat in his grandparent's conservatory wrapped in a blanket. His head was propped on two cushions, headphones plugged into his tablet. He was oblivious to the rest of the world as he lay playing his favourite game. In the lounge, Vicky sat on a large brown sofa, her legs tucked underneath her. In one hand she held a steaming mug of Cappuccino. Her other arm rested on the side of the sofa. She faced her parents across the cosy room. It had recently been re-decorated, with an ochre feature wall behind a real brick fire surround and wood burner. The other walls were painted a deep cream, canvases and family pictures adorning the walls. A large mango wood coffee table sat in the centre of the room on a thick rug, adding to the showroom feeling. The rest of the floor was wooden, polished with love and care. Every item of furniture was either oak or mango wood. All individual, giving the room a premium quality. Vicky thought it was the kind of lounge you would see in a glossy magazine in a doctor's waiting room. She felt at home. Safe and warm. Karen and Mike Tucker sat opposite her, mugs in hands. Their expressions were sombre.

Mike placed his mug on a cork coaster on the coffee table, picking up the piece of paper that lay folded on the wooden top. He opened it, tears stinging his eyes as he looked at the crude drawing. In the middle of the page, a burning car lay on its side, three stick figures lay around it, all on fire. He balled the paper in his fist, tossing it back onto the table. “Little bastards! How can kids be so horrible?”

“Beats me, Dad. The boy that did this is a right little bleeder. He's the class bully. Well, he was, until Jaspy punched him one. He'll think twice about doing that kind of thing again.”

“How is Jasper?” Karen Tucker said. Her closely cropped grey hair framed an attractive face. A face used to laughter and mirth. However, the last few weeks had already taken their toll on her. She was a youthful sixty-four, full of vigour and zest. She sat looking at her daughter, feeling ten years older than she should.

“He seems okay. More angry than upset. The Head Master hasn't exactly suspended him. Rather sent him home until the dust has settled. I'm sure the parents of the boy who did this will get involved. They'll probably rock up at the school tomorrow. So, I've been told to bring him back on Monday.”

“Oh well, at least he gets a long weekend,” Mike said as he reached for his coffee mug once more. The threesome all looked into the dimly lit conservatory, their collective hearts reaching out to the young boy, who seemed oblivious to their stares.

“So young,” Karen said, shaking her head. “Lucy and Brett too.” Her voice trailed off as Mike placed a weathered hand on her black trousers, squeezing gently. The older woman melted into her husband, crying openly. Vicky was over a second later, wrapping her arms around her parents. They all wept together, sharing their pain. The closeness that had formed over the course of their lives solidified and hardened even more-so as their tears and sorrow mingled. Mike held his wife and daughter, wishing that his son-in-law had taken a different route that day. Wishing that they'd stopped off for a burger at a motorway service station, instead of being run off the road by a drunk driver. He'd closed his eyes tightly when he recounted what the news reporter had said a few weeks before. He'd been sitting with his wife, watching the early evening news, unaware that the three people who had burned to death in a wrecked car, had been his son-in-law and two grandchildren. He cast the memory aside as his daughter broke the embrace.

“Oh, Mum!” Vicky started. “It'll be okay. We'll get through this.” Her words ended as sobs wracked her body. They sat there, clinging onto each other as Jasper sank a birdie on his favourite golf game. Thoughts of death and pain, a million miles away.

Two

As the hills slept, a faint blue glow appeared between two trees. It barely illuminated the night, blinking out a few minutes later. A yellow mist lay dormant on the forest floor. Nearby animals woke from their slumber, taking flight in the darkness. The mist started moving slowly, clockwise around the trees. It sensed something far off, gliding through the forest towards the unknown beacon. It skirted a golf course to its right, gradually climbing as the pull became stronger. It made its way ever upwards, through thick undergrowth until it broke out onto a deserted road. The mist crossed the black tarmac, heading back into trees and undergrowth until it came to rest a few hundred yards later. It settled on the wet grass, gently swirling in the blackness of night. Across the lawn, a small cottage sat, framed by trees and holly bushes. Two people inside, one sleeping soundly, the other, restless.

* * *

“Do you want a sausage sandwich, Jaspy?” Vicky asked across the kitchen. Spring light spilled into the room, bathing the kitchen in crisp sunlight. On the stove, a deep frying pan held sizzling sausages, their aroma flowing through the cottage. A digital radio sat on the windowsill, gently playing Take it easy, by The Eagles.

Jasper glanced up from his comic, looking at his mother. “Yes please, Mummy. Could you dip the bread like Nanny does?”

“It's not very healthy, baby bear. But just this once I'll do it for you. Sauce?”

“Brown please,” Jasper said as his eyes dipped back to his comic. Talk of sausages was replaced by Captain America and Tony Stark.

Vicky walked over to the double fridge, pulling a pack of Lincolnshire sausages from the middle shelf. As the door clicked shut, she expertly grabbed an egg from the door compartment. Her bare feet moved soundlessly over to the Range-master, where she deposited two plump sausages in the black pan. Fresh sizzles echoed through the kitchen as The Eagles were replaced by R.E.M. Two minutes later, Vicky placed a plate in front of Jasper, ruffling his bed hair as he tucked into his breakfast. She walked back over to the cooker, rattling the pink sausages around in the pan. Picking up her coffee mug up from the counter, she took a sip as she watched her son. She smiled as he sucked egg yolk from his thumb, before taking another hearty bite. Vicky would never have admitted it to anyone, but Jasper had always been her favourite. Lucy and Brett, she'd loved to bits. When her daughter was born, Vicky had been in her early twenties. Brett had come along a year later, taking over her world whilst her husband Steve, had worked all hours to grow his I.T consultancy business. He was six years her senior, already attracting attention from local companies, who'd needed his skills. Vicky was quite happy to have played full-time mum, her life spent at playgroups, coffee mornings, and children's parties. When Brett had finally started school, Vicky decided to resurrect her career in graphic design, securing a part time position with a local company in the nearby town of Redditch in North Worcestershire. For five years, Vicky had enjoyed the flexibility of being a graphic designer and a mum, whilst Steve worked seventy-hour weeks, coming home most nights when the children were in bed. It had worked perfectly for them though, enjoying and appreciating the time they had together. Her parents would regularly babysit, allowing the young couple to share quality time at fine restaurants, pubs, and concert venues. Vicky knew that her parents had tried doubly hard, filling the void that Steve's parents had left when they'd both succumbed to cancer within a few years of each other. Just when life had settled into a steady rhythm, Vicky had fallen pregnant once more. Steve had reacted swiftly, buying a four bedroomed cottage on the fringes of the Lickey Hills, not far from their Alvechurch home. Vicky had instantly fallen for the cottage, loving the secluded, secure feeling it gave the family. She gave up work again, devoting her time to looking after her new arrival, Jasper. She'd been besotted by his dark looks, a trademark inherited from her half Spanish husband. Vicky herself had a faintly Mediterranean look. Her brown hair and naturally tanned skin melding well with the rest of her clan. Jasper had grown into a fine young boy. Lovable but sensitive. His elder siblings tended to do their own thing, the age gap becoming apparent as they'd ventured into their teenage years. But they were close. They were a happy family, liking nothing more than spending time sat around the dining table, recounting their days, or listening to Steve's corny jokes. They had been the perfect family. Until six weeks before, when it had all changed. Vicky still felt numb to it all, not quite believing that her husband and two children could be taken away so cruelly and suddenly. The drunk driver had been arrested and charged. Vicky had been contacted by the police on numerous occasions over the following weeks, giving her updates. The trial was imminent. Vicky had told the authorities that she would not attend. She was not part of the accident and was content to let the system take over. She knew that the man who'd taken away her family would receive jail time. Probably a few years, which was nothing compared to the devastation he'd wreaked. Her focus was Jasper. The woman's eyes grew misty as she watched him polish off his breakfast, taking a glug of orange juice to wash it down. He was eight years old, and Vicky knew that she needed to provide a safe and loving haven for him. He'd suffered a cataclysmic shock, which if not treated properly, could send him off the rails as he became older. She was not short of money. Steve had ensured that in the event of his death, the remaining family members would be taken care of. At thirty-eight years old, Vicky had accepted that she would probably never work again. Or if she did, it would be in years to come when Jasper was ready to leave his teenage years behind. She finished her coffee, placing the mug in the dishwasher. “Do you want anything else, Son?”

“No thanks, Mummy. That was delish.”

Vicky grinned, loving how her son had adopted one of her favourite words. “What do you want to do today? Shall we go for a walk?”

“Okay. Or I could play the X-box for a bit?”

Vicky sighed and smiled at the same time. “Alright then. We can go for a walk this afternoon. I'll pull a few weeds out this morning,” she said, looking out at their rear garden, its manicured lawns leading to a post and rail wooden fence that drew the boundary with the Lickey Hills beyond.

“Mummy. Will I get in trouble for punching Sean?”

“No, Jaspy,” Vicky said as she pulled up a chair. “I will make sure you don't. The boy that did this is very nasty and cruel. He did a horrible thing to you.”

“Sorry I punched him, Mummy,” Jasper said solemnly.

“That's okay, love. Normally I would not approve of violence. But that little boy deserved it.”

“Why was he so nasty about Daddy, Lucy and Brett?” Jasper's eyes turned misty.

Vicky placed her hand over his, gently stroking it. “Some people are like that, Jaspy. Most people are nice, but sometimes, people do and say nasty things to hurt us.”

“It's not nice.”

“No, it's not,” Vicky said as she looked into her son's deep brown eyes. “But you will just have to ignore people like that, Son. On this occasion, you did what you thought was right. I'm sure Sean will not be bothering you, or anyone else again.”

“I hope not, Mummy. Can I play X-box now?”

Vicky smiled, ruffling her son's dark locks. “Of course you can, baby bear.”

Jasper pulled his chair out, the wooden feet scraping the quarry-tiled floor. He embraced his mother, squeezing with all his strength. “Love you, Mummy. You are the best mummy ever.”

I love you too, Jaspy. You are the best little boy ever,” she said as tears peppered her eyes.

An hour later, Vicky was dressed for gardening. Khaki combat trousers, a blue fleece over a black top, and a pair of trainers were deemed appropriate for the balmy spring morning. Tying her hair back into a pony, she walked out to the shed at the side of the cottage, sliding the bolt. Two minutes later, Vicky was on her knees on a polystyrene mat, pulling weeds from the bare flower beds. Her mother had once told her what the weeds were called. Hibiscus? She thought as she stuffed a clump of greenery into the black bin liner. She worked her way methodically around the garden, half filling the black bag with various green things that she'd forgotten the names of. As she was about to walk back to the house, something caught her eye underneath a line of conifers that ran the length of the garden. She hunkered down, a cold feeling settling over her as she pulled a dead cat from the undergrowth. “Oh no!” she said, recognising Gracie, the cat from next door. Its lifeless eyes stared at Vicky, its body cold and stiff. She inspected the dead cat for signs of injury, finding nothing. Strange. She's only a few years old, Vicky thought as she ran her gloved hands over the animal's flank. What happened to you, poor Gracie? She walked back to the house, returning a minute later with a large brown box that had been sent from Amazon. Vicky gently laid the dead cat in the box, closing the flaps. The temperature and light dropped a few degrees as the sun was obscured by a large cloud. A stiff wind kicked up on the other side of the fence, rippling the lawn as it blew towards Vicky. The cardboard flaps opened and closed as the strong breeze buffeted them. A noise carried to Vicky's ears, making goosebumps stand proud on her neck. What was that? she thought as the wind whistled through the trees. Her bamboo chimes protested loudly, rapping against the tree trunk that they hung against. Is it a far-off train? Vicky thought as she walked over to the fence. She rested her elbows against the damp wood, trying to catch the noise once more. As her eyes dropped from the horizon Vicky's mouth fell open as she noticed several dark shapes on the grass beyond the fence. Oh my God! She ducked through the railings like a prize fighter, striding over towards the inert shapes. On the grass in front of her, lay several dead birds. All black. All large. Blank dead eyes staring up at the darkening skies.

“What the hell is going on?” The sound came again. Closer, more distinct. It set her teeth on edge, like nails drawn across a blackboard. Vicky whirled around as the wind intensified, feathers being plucked from the sad carcasses, flying towards the house. She was just about to head back to the house when something in a nearby hedgerow caught her eye. She walked over tentatively, stopping when a yellow mist spilled from the undergrowth. What the- she thought before the mist was lost on the breeze. As it dissipated, a low drone echoed around the Lickey Hills. The wind stopped dead, leaving Vicky stood there, her mind baffled as to what had just taken place. Her thoughts skipped back to the mist. Was that gas? Could that have killed Gracie and the birds? She slowly walked back to the house, opting to leave the birds for the foxes that would surely turn up later. Ducking back through the fence, Vicky spied the cardboard box, deciding with a leaden heart to ruin an old lady's day before she went for a walk with Jasper.

Three

Lenga crouched low over the crude tabletop, her withered breasts swishing against the rough planks. Stood before her was a giant of a man, his unkempt black hair almost touching the wooden ceiling. He stared at the witch through impenetrable black eyes. His swarthy skin pockmarked and scarred. An equally unkempt black beard almost reached his belt buckle. He stood watching the old hag patiently. At his side, an equally large man loomed. His shaven head covered in tattoos. His only eye surveying the snakes that writhed in the large vat. Over his empty eye socket, he wore a leather patch with a white spider stitched crudely across the front. At their side sat two large hounds. Huge heads in line with the men's chests. Their long grey tufted coats, bare in places, lesions adorning the skin. Their black eyes as dead as night.

The bearded giant cleared his throat. “What do you see, Lenga?”

The witch coughed up a ball of black phlegm, spitting it onto the table. She took an obsidian blade from her gown, slicing her wrist until it sprayed dark red blood across the table top. Her long fingers scored the surface, mixing the phlegm and blood into a grisly mosaic. “They have travelled far, in the time it took you to get here. They have entered the swamplands. How long will it take you to catch them, Valkan?”

The giant rubbed his face, his eyes not giving anything away. He turned to his brother. “Cranja. What say you?”

“Seven Moons,” the other giant said, his light, lyrical voice out of place in the dreary cabin.

“Is that quick enough for you, Lenga? It will take at least another seven moons to get back, maybe longer.”

“Fine, fine. I can wait. I've waited a long time for the taste of man flesh.” She looked at the two men. “I know you are men. But you're diseased and riddled with pox and other nasties. This man is from another world. He'll surely taste like the sweetest nectar. It makes my quiver tingle just thinking about it.” To emphasise her point, she rubbed herself between her thighs, cackling as she did so. Cranja's face wrinkled in disgust as she sniffed at her slick fingers, turning away to look at one of the severed heads on the wall.

“Well, we will begin the hunt immediately. The boys outside can forge on ahead, for they are faster of foot than us two ogres.”

“You can do what you want with Tamatan. Eat him. Sodomize him. Feed him to your hounds for all I care. But bring the man to me, unmarked and unsullied.”

“You have my word,” Valkan said.

“Pah! Your word is as hollow as my dug's. Make sure you bring him unharmed. If you do, sweet treats will befall you. Now go. Make haste. I need to take my rest.” She shuffled over to a rocking chair easing herself down, her bones protesting as loudly as the wood she sat against. “If you do eat the demon, bring his head all the same. It will look good on my wall.”

The brothers made their way outside, the hounds shuffling after them. Twenty men stood, idly smoking crude pipes as the mist blew in from the sea. Valkan motioned them closer. “Listen up. They have taken the lonely road towards the swamps. A man and Tamatan the demon. The man is to be unharmed. Do you hear me?” A collective nod of heads. “Any man who harms him will taste my balls in his mouth.” A low chuckle ran through the gang. “We will follow. Go. Get them.” The men trotted off down the muddy slopes, towards the collapsed cave next to the sea. The two huge hounds following them. Valkan and Cranja walked slowly after them, lighting pipes of their own. As he blew out a breath, Valkan addressed his brother. “We said we'd not harm him. That doesn't mean that we can't have a bit of fun though.

The other man smiled, revealing blackened stumps. “I've not had sweet meat for a while. We can sample his backside a few times before we give him over to the old hag.” They broke into a jog, their heavy boots thudding on the earth as they went. Both men held similar thoughts as they ran into the depths of night. Man flesh.

* * *

The two figures huddled together in the darkness. The moon above was shrouded in low clouds and mist, keeping the land cool. The glow from the demon's eyes cast a red hue on the tufted grass where they sat.

“How much further?” the man asked, massaging his thigh.

“I have no idea, Jake. This is an un-travelled road for Tamatan. The sea looks to have given way to swamps. We must carry on. There is no turning back. They will be coming for us.”

“You still think that?” the man asked, wincing as his fingers probed a tender piece of muscle on his thigh.

“Without a doubt. I'd not visited that place for a long time. But there is darkness there. Darkness that will know we were there. The witch will send someone to take us back.”

“Lenga.”

“Yes, Lenga. She will want our heads on spikes, and not before she has had her fun. That's why there is no turning back. We must carry on if we're to find our way back to our loved ones. I do hope my family is safe.”

“Mine too,” Jake said solemnly. “Mine too.”

* * *

The cottage was quiet. Around it, the forest lay still, no sounds of animals or far off traffic could be heard. Past the wooden fence that separated the cottage garden from the Lickey Hills, a mist appeared from a fir tree. It snaked its way down the trunk to the wet grass, slowly moving towards the cottage. As it reached the kitchen door, it wound its way around a drainpipe, slowly climbing until it reached the guttering. The yellow form slid its way across grey roof tiles, heading towards the window on the corner of the cottage. It pressed itself against the glass, swirling and pulsing as it located its quarry. The malevolent force sensed a life form beyond the glass. It swirled rapidly, pushing against the pane, trying to find a way in. Hitting the glass with more force, caused the sleeping life form inside to stir in their sleep. The mist sensed something to its right, a slither of its mass breaking away from the rest. It headed upwards, creeping through a vent built into the wall. Yellow tendrils seeped out of the other side of the vent into the bedroom beyond, curling their way down a light stand. It crawled over the carpet, climbing up the end of the bed, before making its way towards the life form. The vapour sat on its chest, feeling the rise and fall of its breathing, listening to a steady heartbeat. The mist outside enveloped the entire window, darkening the room further as the tendrils made their move. As Jasper breathed in steadily, the mist found its way in, snaking its way up his nostrils, vanishing from sight. Outside, the yellow cloud dispersed, heading away into the darkness. To wait. Jasper breathed deeply, his dark brows twitching slightly. He squeezed the brown bear that he'd always slept with, slowly wringing its neck with his hand. His eyes opened suddenly, the iris's yellow and blank. He blinked twice, clearing the yellow mist that quickly snaked its way into his mouth. Jasper sat up, his Captain America duvet falling away from him. Dark eyes fixed on the window as a word formed on his lips. “Reggan.”

Four

The warm Mediterranean waters tickled Vicky's feet, her toes digging into the wet sand, as the surf washed over her ankles. The sun's strength was abating as the afternoon headed into early evening. The vast expanse of blue in front of her, turning pink as the sun dropped towards the horizon. Vicky smiled at the anticipation of a beautiful evening ahead, spent with the man she loved. She looked down at her tanned legs, smiling as she splashed sea water over them. The woman felt content.

“You look so beautiful, baby bear. I could stare at you forever. No one on this beach even comes close to you.” Steve said next to her.

She looked at him, her breath catching in her throat. He was so beautiful to her. His dark hair and skin appearing full of life in the balmy afternoon sun. Steve's stone shorts and linen shirt completing the intoxicating ingredients. She was totally in love with him. “You give me butterflies, Steve Evans. I'm sure other girls on the beach are prettier than me. But thank you.” She reached over, kissing his salty lips. He returned the kiss, holding her face in his hands. Goosebumps peppered her tanned flesh as he held her. She was tipsy. And he was her alcohol.

He broke the kiss, his eyes opening like it was the first time. “I love you, Vicky Tucker.”

“I love you too, Steve Evans.” The world around them melted away as they became lost in the moment.

Finally, Steve looked out to sea, the breeze ruffling his hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving, babe. Shall we grab a bite to eat? We could eat at the restaurant on the cliff, the one we walked past yesterday. La Plancha.”

“Why not. I'm ravenous.” He took her hand, kissing her palm gently. “I'm ravenous for you too, Señorita. I'll leave a little room for pudding later.”

She blushed, drinking in his dark features.

Ding-dong!

Vicky looked around herself, trying to locate the noise that had invaded their moment. She shrugged it off, returning her gaze to her boyfriend. “Shall we go straight there? I don't want to go back to the hotel. Let's eat.”

“Sounds good to me, babe. I'm gonna try the Cataplana tonight. It's-”

Ding-dong!

“Can you hear that noise, Steve?”

“Noise. No, babe?”

Knock, knock, knock. Steve's face evaporated from view as the banging continued.

Knock, knock, knock. Vicky sat up in bed, momentarily disoriented. She looked at the clock on the wall. Seven. Who's knocking my door this early? The knocking came again. Louder this time. She swung her feet off the bed, heading over to the bedroom door, grabbing her dressing gown as she padded downstairs. Before Vicky opened the door, she checked her reflection in the hall mirror. She tried in vain to smooth out her bed hair before seeing who was on her doorstep. A blast of cool air entered the house as she came face to face with two women stood on her doorstep. Two female police officers.

“Mrs Evans?” the one officer said. She looked to be roughly Vicky's age. Dark hair with a nondescript face.

“Yes,” Vicky replied with a degree of trepidation.

“I'm Constable Jones. This is Constable Feasey.”

Vicky nodded at the other officer, noticing that she was a good few years older. She also had dark hair, with dark smudges under her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Could we come in? Bit cold out here,” Constable Feasey said softly.

“Sure. Come in.” Vicky stood to one side, letting the two officers into the hallway. The cold wind and droplets of rain were left outside as the front door was closed. “Go through to the kitchen,” Vicky said as she re-knotted her dressing gown. As she walked in behind them, she noticed that both officers had removed their hats, placing them on the kitchen table. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” Vicky enquired expectantly.

Constable Jones shook her head. “No thank you, Mrs Evans. We're both fine. Would you like to sit down?”

“What's happened?” Vicky said nervously as she took a seat, the chair legs grating on the tiled floor. The officers followed suit, Constable Feasey pulling a notepad from her breast pocket.

“Have you checked on your son this morning, Mrs Evans?”

A cold stone landed in Vicky's gut. “N-no, why?” she stumbled. Before the officers could respond, Vicky was heading upstairs. “Jaspy. Are you okay?” she called. Flinging the door open, her fears all hit home at once. The room was empty. She heard footsteps on the carpeted stairs behind her as tears broke from her eyes. “Where is he?” she cried as Constable Jones gently took her by the arm, leading her over to the single bed.

“Jasper was found this morning by one of your neighbours. A Mr Thomas, who I believe lives further down the road. He's fine, Mrs Evans,” Jones said, squeezing Vicky's hand.

“I don't understand. Found him where?”

“On the Lickey Hills,” Feasey answered. “Mr Thomas just so happened to be walking his dog early this morning. He found Jasper asleep on the floor. He'll be okay. He's been taken to the Alexandra Hospital in Redditch, where they are treating him for exposure.” Vicky began weeping, collapsing into Jones's arms. The officer let her cry, rubbing her back gently as the woman's emotions boiled over. After a minute, Vicky pulled away, wiping her eyes. Constable Feasey handed her a tissue. “Here, Mrs Evans. Take this.”

“Thanks,” Vicky said, blowing her nose. She scrunched the tissue into her fist as she looked at the two officers. “I don't understand. How did he wind up at the Lickey's? How?”

“We've no idea. Your neighbour found him in the forest above the golf course, about a mile away from here. What time did he go to bed last night?”

“About nine. We'd been out walking, up the Lickey's as it happens. We came home about four, had hot dogs for tea, and just pottered about the house. I went up about ten. I was done in. We've suffered a bereavement recently. It's taken its toll on us.”

“We know, Mrs Evans. And you have our condolences,” Jones said patting her hand.

Vicky composed herself, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill out. “I had a shower, checked on Jasper and was out like a light. I've no idea why he would get out of bed and leave the house in the middle of the night? He's never done anything like this before.”

“Have you noticed anything unusual in the last few days?” Feasey asked.

Vicky immediately thought about the dead animals in her garden, quickly opting to keep that to herself. “Not that I'm aware of. We've just been trying to come to terms with what happened to Steve, Lucy and Brett.” She stood up suddenly. “I have to go to him. Did you say he's in the Alex?”

“He is. Would you like us to take you, Mrs Evans?”

“No, it's fine. I'm fine to drive myself. I need to get ready.”

“We understand. He's your son. He'll be wanting to see you too. We'll pop back later if that's okay? We may have a few more questions for you.”

“Okay. I'll be here.” Tears suddenly seeped from her eyes. She reached for the officers, hugging them both fiercely as she started sobbing once more. They returned the embrace clumsily. Looking away from each other as tears streamed down their own cheeks.

Five

Jasper smiled as his eyes focused on his mother. “Hello, Mummy. I'm sorry. I've been naughty.”

Vicky smiled, tears of joy and relief streaming down her cheeks. She leaned over, hugging her son. Jasper returned her embrace, liking the smell of his mother's hair. It was a smell he associated with safety. With warmth. “Don't be silly, Jaspy. You've not been naughty. Mummy's just glad that you're okay. What happened?”

Jasper tried to recollect the previous night, his brow crinkling. “I'm not really sure Mummy. I remember dreaming. I was walking through a forest, but all the trees had been burnt. I kept hearing voices, Mummy. Someone was lost and they needed my help. I was trying to find them.”

“Do you know who they were?” Vicky asked, her curiosity piqued.

“No. They were far away though. I couldn't see them. I could just hear their voices. Then I woke up here. What happened to me, Mummy?”

“You went sleepwalking, Son. Mr Thomas found you up the Lickey's, quite far away from the house. You were asleep on the forest floor. Oh, Jaspy. Don't ever scare your Mummy like that again!”

Jasper looked at his mother, seeing the anguish in her dark eyes. “I promise, Mummy.” He looked around the small ward, noticing other children lay in similar beds. Nurses buzzed about the well-lit space, talking to children and loved ones. His eyes settled on the far corner, noticing a play area, equipped with a desk and various jigsaw puzzles. His thoughts were interrupted by a light female voice.

“How are you feeling, young man?” Jasper and Vicky looked up at the smiling nurse, standing at the end of the bed. Vicky instantly liked the face smiling back at her. The nurse was probably a few years her junior. Tall, with a girl next door look. Her dark hair was tied up in a ponytail, her smile infectious.

“I'm feeling okay,” Jasper said, smiling.

“You okay, Mum?” the nurse said warmly.

“I think so. I got quite a fright this morning when the police turned up on my doorstep. This little man is quite the adventurer.”

“Proper little explorer I've been told.” She walked around the bed, ruffling Jasper's hair.

“What's your name?” he asked, enjoying the fleeting contact.

“Rachelle.”

“Hello, Rachelle. I'm Jasper. This is my Mummy.”

Rachelle smiled at Vicky. “He's adorable.” Something caught her attention from across the ward. She nodded at the unseen person before turning back to Vicky. “We'll have Jasper in overnight, just to keep an eye on him. All being well, he'll be back home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Vicky said, clearly relieved. She looked at the clock on the wall, noting that it was just after nine. She suddenly felt hungry.

The nurse seemed to sense this as she walked back to the end of the bed. “I can get some tea and toast for you, Mum? Or, there is a new café opened next to reception. They do a decent latte and croissants to die for.”

“You read my mind,” Vicky said smiling. The anxiety she had felt an hour ago was melting away in the spring sunshine.

Rachelle turned back to Jasper, tickling the exposed foot that poked out beyond the sheets. “If Mummy goes to get breakfast, do you promise not to have any more adventures?”

Jasper giggled as manicured nails grazed the bottom of his foot. “I promise, Nurse Rachelle. I've had enough adventures for today.”

“Well, I'll be back in a bit. You go and get yourself some breakfast, Mum. We'll keep an eye on Jasper for you.”

Vicky stood, stretching. She felt stiff and tired, but happy. “Thank you, Rachelle. You're a star.”

The nurse smiled, wrapping her arm around Vicky's shoulder, squeezing her. “All part of the service. The doctor will be along shortly. I'll pop back in a bit too.”

She walked off, leaving Vicky and Jasper alone. “She's nice, Mummy.”

“Yes, she is.” She looked at her son. “Mummy is just going to get some breakfast. Do you want anything?”

“A comic book please, Mummy.”

“Okay. I'll see what I can do. Just don't go on any more adventures while Mummy's gone.”

“Promise, Mummy. Love you.”

“Love you too, Jaspy,” Vicky said, before heading out of the ward.

* * *

“Oh my God! How did he manage that?” Karen said.

“No idea, Mum,” was the brief reply. Mike walked into the lounge, placing two mugs of tea on the table. He motioned to his wife.

“Hang on, Vicky. Your Father wants you on speakerphone.” The line crackled briefly.

“Hi, Dad,” she said.

“Hi, love. What's going on?”

“I'm with Jasper at the hospital. Seems he went sleepwalking last night. He was found by Mr Thomas up the Lickey's early this morning.”

“Bloody hell!” Mike exclaimed. How did he get out of the house?”

“Through the kitchen door. He's eight, Dad. He can reach the lock. I just never thought he'd do something like this.”

Mike reached forward, taking a sip of his tea. “I'll pop by the ironmongers later and get a bolt for the door.”

“No, Dad it's okay. I'll just put the key out of reach. It won't happen again.”

“What have the doctors said?” Karen asked, her fingers drumming on the arm of the sofa. She felt tension building inside her. A rising anxiety that had plagued her recently.

“They said he's fine. They expected him to be in worse shape, being out all night. But it's been quite mild lately. They'll keep him for twenty-four hours, just as a precaution. He should be home tomorrow.”

Karen and Mike looked at each other. The woman noticing tears in her husband's eyes. She patted his knee. “We had planned to go into Birmingham on the train. Your Father is watching the football later this afternoon, so that's him sorted.” Mike smiled warmly, rubbing his wife's denim-clad thigh. “Do you want me to pop round? Do you need anything from the shops?”

“Jasper just wants his tablet. I'll be okay, Mum. Why don't you pop round tomorrow? About lunchtime. We should be home by then.”

“Are you sure? We can visit him at the hospital if you like?”

“Honestly, Mum. I have a few things I need to get on with. I can just potter about the place. If you want to pop and see him, you can. He'd like that.”

“Okay. We'll pop over to see him in a bit.”

“Thanks, guys. Speak to you later. Love you.”

“We love you too, Vicky. Send Jasper our love. Mind how you go.”

* * *

Lenga stood on the rocky path, looking at the remains of the fallen cave. The sea was calm, its fury lessening as the false dawn broke. The witch knew that she would never feel the sun on her back in this land. That was her main reason for dwelling here. She liked the dark and the cold. She had seldom been to lands where the sun had tracked its way across the sky. But her curiosity was whetted. Where had they come from? She thought as she wrapped the fur shawl around her shoulders. Her boot kicked at a piece of black scree, knocking it off the path into the sea below. There was another reason for her foray out of her cabin. She'd felt something. Something far away, just out of her reach. I can sense you, whatever you are. But I know not why you have entered my head. What are you searching for? Are you hunting for what I seek? Maybe we can share? Hmm. Maybe, Lenga thought as she turned back towards the town.

Minutes later, she climbed into her crib, her milky eyes closing as sleep took her quickly. Her lips twitched, her blackened teeth tapping together as images swirled through her mind. The man and beast, huddled in the darkness, embers from a small fire lighting the darkness around them. She recognised the vast swamps, mist rising from the black waters. They stood, heading off into the night, traversing the waters with care. Something else was close by, far above them. A boy, with dark hair and strange attire floated above the swamps. He sensed her, floating away into the blackness above. Lenga followed him, high up into the mountains beyond. From there, she tracked him through a void in a darkened forest. He flew through the trees, navigating with ease. Lenga lost sight of him, floating aimlessly for a few moments until she came across a small cottage surrounded by trees and bushes. She knew that the boy was inside, safe for now. The witch also sensed a darkness close by. It repelled her, driving her backwards, through the fence into the forest beyond. The evil had drawn its boundaries, repelling anything that came close to its prize. The boy. The boy was the prize. The darkness wanted him.

Six

“Please, Mummy. I will put my coat on,” Jasper said, pleading.

“You should be wrapped up warm on the sofa, Son,” Vicky said as she cut crusty cobs on a wooden chopping board. The kitchen under-lighters bathed the room in a warm glow as the sun's rays began to lengthen.

“He'll be alright, love,” Mike said calmly. “I'll make sure he's wrapped up. Twenty minutes, Jasper. Okay?”

“Okay, Grandad. I'll get the football.” Jasper headed out of the kitchen, returning quickly with a leather ball and a blue fleece jacket.

Karen called him over. “Come here, young man,” she said, taking the fleece off her grandson. She zipped the front up to the neck, pulling it down at the back. “Twenty minutes. Okay, buster?”

Jasper kissed her on the cheek. “Okay, Nanny. We promise, don't we, Grandad?”

“Scouts honour,” Mike said with a mock salute.

The ball sailed into the blue sky, bouncing just before the fence. It careered off the railing, rolling back towards Mike, who was trying his best at being a goalkeeper. “Nice shot, Jasper. You put plenty of power behind that one.”

Jasper ran towards the ball, his breath clouding in front of him. The tepid afternoon was quickly turning cool as the sun's rays left the garden for the evening. “Watch this, Grandad.” He trapped the ball with his foot, flicking it up onto his knee. He kept his eye on the ball as it dropped, striking it cleanly. It sailed past Mike, over the fence, into the Lickey Hills beyond.

“Whoa. Easy, Ronaldo!” Mike said, clearly impressed. “You caught that one well too.” Jasper scooted through the fence, running after the retreating ball. The older man rested his elbows on the fence rail, looking at the cottage. He could see his wife and daughter fussing over the soup. They were laughing at something, Karen, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders. Mike smiled, enjoying the spectacle. His eldest daughter had always been close to her mother. His youngest daughter was too, just not quite as much as Vicky. Sarah, the younger sibling lived a few miles to the south, with her husband and son. He knew they had busy lives, but wished his daughters spent more time together. Mike knew why though. He remembered the drunken altercation between his two son-in-laws. Bloody football, he thought. How can something so trivial cause so much division?

“On your head, Grandad,” Jasper shouted, untangling Mike from his thoughts. He turned around, just in time to see the ball sailing towards him. The man took two steps back, heading the ball back towards his grandson, a wet smear, plastered across his forehead. “Wow! That was great,” the boy said as he changed direction deftly to retrieve the ball.

Mike smiled, wiping a hand across his hairline. A noise to his left caught his attention. He looked towards the conifers that separated Vicky's garden from her neighbours. The old man stood still, trying to catch the noise again. He didn't have to wait long. A low, distant drone drifted towards him. The sun's receding rays were suddenly blanketed by darkening clouds, the temperature dipping quickly. Mike walked over towards the tree line, his grandson momentarily forgotten. The noise came again, raising goosebumps across his arms. “Where the bloody hell is that coming from?” he said to himself as the ball bounced behind him.