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Authors: William Hussey
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your dad and Simon here for the time being,’ Pandora instructed. ‘I’ve given them both a sedative so they should sleep a while yet.’ She checked each of the watches strapped to her eight wrists. ‘New York; Tokyo; Rome; Cairo; Lafitte, Louisiana—always gotta know the time back home, my momma hates it if I call in the middle of the night. She starts feeding the swamp hatchlings at around midnight and … ’ A quick shake of the head. ‘Don’t ask … London! 6:50 a.m. We’ve got ten minutes before Razor shuts up shop.’
Pandora took off down Yaga Passage.
‘Razor?’ Rachel raised an eyebrow.
‘Guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ Jake shrugged.
They packed Adam back into the car and hurried after Pandora. As they tore down the alleyway, the sunlight vanished, summer switched to winter, and their skin turned to gooseflesh. A thin layer of ice coated the pavement and clung in patches to the lopsided walls. Halfway down the alley, Jake lost his footing on the ice and tumbled to the ground. Rachel skidded to a stop and helped him up. His thanks were cut short by the sight of the burned-out book-shop opposite.
The charred sign lay in the filth of the gutter. Jake went to the shattered windows and peered into the blackened heart of the shop. He could see the fireplace where Mr Hegarty had once perched, the empty bookshelves and the torn remains of ancient tomes. After the battle between the dark creatures and the Crowden Coven someone must have come back, looted the place and burned it down. Jake wondered if the curtained doorway in Grype’s office still led to the Veil—that realm of nothingness which had once been the Coven Master’s prison.
He felt Rachel’s hand on his shoulder.
Pandora’s voice called out, and they set off again.
At the end of the street they found a small arched passage squeezed between two houses. The tunnelled entrance was low, its ceiling less than a metre and a half off the ground. The cobbled pavement stretched away into utter darkness.
Carved into the stone above the tunnel mouth were the words:
‘A book of monsters,’ Jake murmured.
‘What?’
‘Grimoire. It’s a kind of magic book. They were popular with sorcerers in the Middle Ages—books like The Secret Grimoire of Turiel and the Necronomicon . Kind of like instruction manuals for summoning monsters, angels, demons … ’ Jake frowned. ‘Why would Pandora want to lead us to a grimoire?’
‘Hurry up!’ Pandora’s voice echoed out of the gloom. ‘The doors are closing!’
‘Do you think we should … ?’
Jake nodded. ‘It’s Pandora.’
Rachel reached for his hand. With their heads bent to clear the arched ceiling, they stumbled on. As they plunged down the throat of the tunnel, the darkness swallowed them whole. It was even colder here than it had been in Yaga Passage, a deep, grinding chill that gnawed into their bones. The chatter of their feet on the icy cobbles echoed into the fathomless reaches of the tunnel. Several times, Jake thought he caught a glimpse of light up ahead only for it to flicker and vanish, like a candle snuffed out.
‘Did you feel that?’ Rachel cried. ‘Hands!’
Yes, Jake had felt it—phantom fingers against his face. He imagined spider webs the size of punkah fans hanging down from the roof.
Rachel screamed.
Jake’s own cry of terror got stuck somewhere in his throat. Without warning, those wispy fingers had solidified into slippery wet tentacles. Jake felt dozens of them lock around his shoulders and lift him from the ground. He tried to cling to Rachel but the unseen tentacles wrenched them apart. Their screams echoed from stone to stone until the tunnel rang.
Lifted high into the air, Jake realized that the low-ceilinged tunnel must have opened out into a vast chamber. Not that he could see this space; everything remained cloaked in darkness. New tentacles reached out and wrapped around his wrists and ankles. He felt himself being passed from feeler to
Pandora took off down Yaga Passage.
‘Razor?’ Rachel raised an eyebrow.
‘Guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ Jake shrugged.
They packed Adam back into the car and hurried after Pandora. As they tore down the alleyway, the sunlight vanished, summer switched to winter, and their skin turned to gooseflesh. A thin layer of ice coated the pavement and clung in patches to the lopsided walls. Halfway down the alley, Jake lost his footing on the ice and tumbled to the ground. Rachel skidded to a stop and helped him up. His thanks were cut short by the sight of the burned-out book-shop opposite.
The charred sign lay in the filth of the gutter. Jake went to the shattered windows and peered into the blackened heart of the shop. He could see the fireplace where Mr Hegarty had once perched, the empty bookshelves and the torn remains of ancient tomes. After the battle between the dark creatures and the Crowden Coven someone must have come back, looted the place and burned it down. Jake wondered if the curtained doorway in Grype’s office still led to the Veil—that realm of nothingness which had once been the Coven Master’s prison.
He felt Rachel’s hand on his shoulder.
Pandora’s voice called out, and they set off again.
At the end of the street they found a small arched passage squeezed between two houses. The tunnelled entrance was low, its ceiling less than a metre and a half off the ground. The cobbled pavement stretched away into utter darkness.
Carved into the stone above the tunnel mouth were the words:
‘A book of monsters,’ Jake murmured.
‘What?’
‘Grimoire. It’s a kind of magic book. They were popular with sorcerers in the Middle Ages—books like The Secret Grimoire of Turiel and the Necronomicon . Kind of like instruction manuals for summoning monsters, angels, demons … ’ Jake frowned. ‘Why would Pandora want to lead us to a grimoire?’
‘Hurry up!’ Pandora’s voice echoed out of the gloom. ‘The doors are closing!’
‘Do you think we should … ?’
Jake nodded. ‘It’s Pandora.’
Rachel reached for his hand. With their heads bent to clear the arched ceiling, they stumbled on. As they plunged down the throat of the tunnel, the darkness swallowed them whole. It was even colder here than it had been in Yaga Passage, a deep, grinding chill that gnawed into their bones. The chatter of their feet on the icy cobbles echoed into the fathomless reaches of the tunnel. Several times, Jake thought he caught a glimpse of light up ahead only for it to flicker and vanish, like a candle snuffed out.
‘Did you feel that?’ Rachel cried. ‘Hands!’
Yes, Jake had felt it—phantom fingers against his face. He imagined spider webs the size of punkah fans hanging down from the roof.
Rachel screamed.
Jake’s own cry of terror got stuck somewhere in his throat. Without warning, those wispy fingers had solidified into slippery wet tentacles. Jake felt dozens of them lock around his shoulders and lift him from the ground. He tried to cling to Rachel but the unseen tentacles wrenched them apart. Their screams echoed from stone to stone until the tunnel rang.
Lifted high into the air, Jake realized that the low-ceilinged tunnel must have opened out into a vast chamber. Not that he could see this space; everything remained cloaked in darkness. New tentacles reached out and wrapped around his wrists and ankles. He felt himself being passed from feeler to
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