Read Online Dawn of the Demontide by William Hussey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: William Hussey
Ads: Link
sign above the door:
THE MANAGEMENT—Entry strictly forbidden
The curtain fluttered. A breeze sighed out of the doorway and clutched Mother Inglethorpe around the throat. Summoning her courage, she stepped forward. The curtain flapped behind her and she left the world of the living and entered the Veil.
Her soul—what was left of it—quaked. It always did when she came here.
The Veil was not dark, and yet she struggled to see. It was not cold, and yet the atmosphere froze her to the marrow. Over the centuries mankind had given this place many names: the Passing Gate, the River Styx, the River of Three Crossings, Limbo, some even mistakenly thought that it was Hell. But Hell was filled with the hideous and the tormented—this was a realm of nothingness. It was the place through which the dead passed on their journey into the afterlife. As such, it was never supposed to be a home to anyone.
All the same, the black magician Marcus Crowden had made it his home.
‘Mother Inglethorpe, welcome.’
Crowden came from out of the shadows, his strange cabinet floating behind him. The man—if he could still be called a man—was tall and broad. He wore the costume of a seventeeth century gentleman: a three-quarter length cloak, plain shirt and waistcoat. Buckles adorned his wide-brimmed hat and bucket boots. The hat sat low upon his brow and a dirty piece of cloth had been wound around the lower half of his face, so that only his eyes could be seen, hard and glinting.
Esther had been a witch for over forty years and had encountered many monstrous things. Even so, nothing chilled her quite as much as being in the presence of Master Crowden, the immortal leader of their Coven. From his own time of the 1600s to the present day, Crowden had straddled the centuries, never aging, never dying. That was powerful magic indeed. And yet Esther wondered—had the toll of those long years been scored upon his face? Is that why he kept it hidden?
She bowed. ‘Please, what has happened to Tobias Quilp?’
‘Tobias has been captured,’ Crowden said. His voice was soft, almost musical. ‘Both he and his demon are locked away in the vaults of the Institute.’
Esther stifled a sob. ‘We must save him.’
‘Pointless. We could not hope to take on the Elders within their own fortress. We must forget about Quilp, he is lost to us now.’
‘No.’
‘You naysay me, madam?’
Like a prowling lion, Crowden circled his favourite witch.
Esther could feel his rancid breath upon her skin.
‘It gives me no joy to tell you that your beloved is lost, yet it is so, and must be faced. And unfortunately his sacrifice appears to have achieved little. Claire Harker is dead but the weapon remains a secret.’
‘She would not give it up?’
‘From what I can gather, Quilp murdered her only after he was convinced that she would never betray the Elders.’
‘Stupid woman.’
‘Do not confuse stupidity and bravery, such ignorance does not become a member of my coven. We must now focus our efforts upon gathering all the information we can regarding this weapon. And from now on we must be discreet. Your clumsy attempts tonight have put the Elders on their guard. I do not believe they will launch an attack, but we have to be careful. Six months from now the Demontide will be at hand. It has been thwarted for over three hundred years—every generation of Elders has prevented it—but this time we shall prevail. The Door will be opened and demonkind will be set free. Imagine it, Mother Inglethorpe! Thousands of demons roaming the Earth, and all of them at my command!’
Esther’s thin blood stirred at her master’s words.
‘And your part in our victory will be vital,’ Crowden continued. ‘I want you to watch Dr Harker, seek out clues as to the Elders’ weapon. In the end, if your surveillance proves fruitless, we can always try your trick one last time.’
‘Torture the boy.’ Esther smiled.
‘Indeed.’
‘How did you first hear
THE MANAGEMENT—Entry strictly forbidden
The curtain fluttered. A breeze sighed out of the doorway and clutched Mother Inglethorpe around the throat. Summoning her courage, she stepped forward. The curtain flapped behind her and she left the world of the living and entered the Veil.
Her soul—what was left of it—quaked. It always did when she came here.
The Veil was not dark, and yet she struggled to see. It was not cold, and yet the atmosphere froze her to the marrow. Over the centuries mankind had given this place many names: the Passing Gate, the River Styx, the River of Three Crossings, Limbo, some even mistakenly thought that it was Hell. But Hell was filled with the hideous and the tormented—this was a realm of nothingness. It was the place through which the dead passed on their journey into the afterlife. As such, it was never supposed to be a home to anyone.
All the same, the black magician Marcus Crowden had made it his home.
‘Mother Inglethorpe, welcome.’
Crowden came from out of the shadows, his strange cabinet floating behind him. The man—if he could still be called a man—was tall and broad. He wore the costume of a seventeeth century gentleman: a three-quarter length cloak, plain shirt and waistcoat. Buckles adorned his wide-brimmed hat and bucket boots. The hat sat low upon his brow and a dirty piece of cloth had been wound around the lower half of his face, so that only his eyes could be seen, hard and glinting.
Esther had been a witch for over forty years and had encountered many monstrous things. Even so, nothing chilled her quite as much as being in the presence of Master Crowden, the immortal leader of their Coven. From his own time of the 1600s to the present day, Crowden had straddled the centuries, never aging, never dying. That was powerful magic indeed. And yet Esther wondered—had the toll of those long years been scored upon his face? Is that why he kept it hidden?
She bowed. ‘Please, what has happened to Tobias Quilp?’
‘Tobias has been captured,’ Crowden said. His voice was soft, almost musical. ‘Both he and his demon are locked away in the vaults of the Institute.’
Esther stifled a sob. ‘We must save him.’
‘Pointless. We could not hope to take on the Elders within their own fortress. We must forget about Quilp, he is lost to us now.’
‘No.’
‘You naysay me, madam?’
Like a prowling lion, Crowden circled his favourite witch.
Esther could feel his rancid breath upon her skin.
‘It gives me no joy to tell you that your beloved is lost, yet it is so, and must be faced. And unfortunately his sacrifice appears to have achieved little. Claire Harker is dead but the weapon remains a secret.’
‘She would not give it up?’
‘From what I can gather, Quilp murdered her only after he was convinced that she would never betray the Elders.’
‘Stupid woman.’
‘Do not confuse stupidity and bravery, such ignorance does not become a member of my coven. We must now focus our efforts upon gathering all the information we can regarding this weapon. And from now on we must be discreet. Your clumsy attempts tonight have put the Elders on their guard. I do not believe they will launch an attack, but we have to be careful. Six months from now the Demontide will be at hand. It has been thwarted for over three hundred years—every generation of Elders has prevented it—but this time we shall prevail. The Door will be opened and demonkind will be set free. Imagine it, Mother Inglethorpe! Thousands of demons roaming the Earth, and all of them at my command!’
Esther’s thin blood stirred at her master’s words.
‘And your part in our victory will be vital,’ Crowden continued. ‘I want you to watch Dr Harker, seek out clues as to the Elders’ weapon. In the end, if your surveillance proves fruitless, we can always try your trick one last time.’
‘Torture the boy.’ Esther smiled.
‘Indeed.’
‘How did you first hear
Similar Books
