Summer sin northern witc.., p.5
Summer Sin (Northern Witch #4), page 5
Mark stood idly while Silvaticus arranged for a boat, with a scale-skinned boatman.
“Where are we going?” Mark asked quietly.
“The Brimcliff Prison is offshore. That is the source of the hell beasts.”
Mark gazed at the little boat warily. It looked like one small wave would decimate it, shattering the flimsy panels of wood, and dropping its passengers to the depths. “Are you sure this will hold us?”
Silvaticus stepped into the boat, unworried. “You are thinking with human rules and limitations, Mark. Do you really think that a demon boat, in a demon sea, will be kept afloat by physics?”
Not entirely comforted by Silvaticus’ logic, Mark stepped into the boat gingerly, gritting his teeth and ready for the whole thing to go under. Miraculously, it stayed afloat, and strangely level against the crashing waves.
The boatman stood at the back of the boat, holding a rudder with a scaly hand. With nothing more than magic, the boat propelled forwards, into the open sea.
Mark gripped the side of the boat tightly, cold spray soaking through his school uniform. He grit his teeth against the shivers, it was quite the contrast to the pleasant Yorkshire summer he’d left behind.
Mark spotted what he thought was a lonely hunk of rock, jutting out of the sea, and towering over the surrounding waves. As they drew closer, he realised that it was much bigger than he’d first thought. It was a massive monolith of rock, which cast everything to shadow around it.
The boatman steered to one corner. Mark worried they were going to crash into the stone wall, but when they got close, the boat swerved down a narrow, hidden channel. They were plunged into darkness, with a single green light drawing them ahead.
They finally reached a small dock, and Mark was grateful to be on solid ground again.
A figure moved out of the shadows next to them. It was as tall as Mark, and vaguely human-shaped. It looked like it was made from grey clay, and the featureless form wore a simple tunic and a sharp sword at its hip. The creature turned its eyeless face towards them.
“We are here to see the Governor.” Silvaticus said.
The creature nodded, and unlocked a steel gate. It stood aside to let them pass.
Silvaticus stepped into the dark corridor beyond, he hesitated briefly, as though getting his bearings, then led on. Mark jumped after him, feeling nowhere near as calm as his companion.
“What was that?” Mark asked.
“A golem.” Silvaticus replied. “Most of the guards are golems, creatures made of clay and magic. They do not tire, and they cannot be deceived.”
Mark stuck close to Silvaticus’ side, as they moved through the prison. The thick rock walls of the prison blocked out the sound of the wild seas outside, making the sounds inside the prison so much clearer. There were moans, squawks and whimpering. Mark stamped down the impulse to run back to the exit.
As they passed deeper into the prison, they started to pass the cells. Some had solid walls, others were separated by iron bars. The cells were everywhere, along each side, in the ceiling and even in the floor. The ones that were occupied had a variety of demons and creatures that Mark couldn’t describe. For all their vast physical differences, they all had the same glassy stare, a look of pain and broken wills that crushed Mark’s heart.
They eventually stopped at a large oak door, which Silvaticus knocked sharply on.
The door swung open to reveal a large office, with books and scrolls filling the walls and piles on the floor. There was a fireplace lit with that strange green fire, which didn’t give out much warmth.
Behind a table was a creature that was official-looking compared to the golem guards that Mark had spied. They had eyes and ears, and seaweed-coloured hair that lay flat and lank. Several limbs curled like tentacles from a rather thick body.
“Silvaticus, how good to see you again. What an interesting choice for your new host.” The creature announced loudly. Her dark eyes moved to Mark. “And what’s this, a human? Alive?”
The creature licked its lips, her nearest tentacle moving towards Mark with a steady determination.
“A witch. He’s under my protection, Governor.” Silvaticus said firmly.
The tentacle stopped its approach, but was slow to retract. “Well, if you ever tire of your toy…”
“Governor, we are here to discuss the cessation of the hell beasts chasing the demon currently known as Robert.”
The Governor’s attention snapped back to Silvaticus, her brow creasing in what Mark assumed was a frown. “You want us to stop hunting him? After everything he’s done to you and your hosts?”
“I have not forgiven him,” Silvaticus confirmed. “But the hell beasts are causing trouble for many innocent humans. They need to be removed.”
“Very well, that is your prerogative…” The Governor moved away from the desk, her body rippling instead of walking.
A wide door opened, and Mark felt a familiar overwhelming sense of anger and pain. In the dull light, he could just make out the shapes of hell beasts. Canine in appearance, they looked as insubstantial as shadows. As the Governor moved towards them, they bared their teeth and backed away, whining and whimpering, expecting more pain.
The Governor returned, with a red rag wrapped in a tentacle. “It is done.” She said, throwing the material towards them.
Mark snatched it out of the air, unfolding what turned out to be a Topman jumper. He felt a dirty shiver run up his spine, which had nothing to do with the cold. This was Damian’s, it had to be.
Mark twisted it in his hands, trying to calm his temper. What the hell were they doing with Damian’s jumper? How did they get it? Mark hated the idea of any of these monsters getting close to his boyfriend.
“You have my thanks.” Silvaticus said, bowing his head towards the Governor.
When Silvaticus moved to the door to exit, Mark snapped out of his revery. He hurried to keep up, not wanting to be left alone in a demon prison.
As they left the Governor’s room, Mark could feel the creature’s eyes fixed on him with an unsettling, possessive gaze.
“This is Damian’s.” Mark snapped, brandishing the jumper in Silvaticus’ face.
“Like your hunting hounds at home, they benefit from having an item belonging to their quarry.” Silvaticus explained in his usual calm tone, unruffled by Mark’s actions.
“Where did they even get it?”
“I believe they retrieved it from the boy’s house in London.”
Mark shivered, he’d been to Damian’s London house with Harry and Sarah. There had been signs of someone breaking in before they’d gotten there. Mark had assumed that it was Damian, or local thugs; it made his blood run cold to think a demon could have been in the house at the same time as them.
Mark felt a little relief that the demon-hunters hadn’t been near Yorkshire. He couldn’t bear the idea of Damian rotting away behind these bars. “Is this the prison Robert escaped from?”
“It is.”
Mark waited, but Silvaticus didn’t provide any more information. “And? How did he do it?”
Silvaticus gave him a cool glance. “I do not know, and any guess would be mere speculation.”
Mark rolled his eyes at the demon’s complete lack of curiosity. Silvaticus and his host Danny were a match made in heaven.
Mark noticed the temperature drop, and the dank smell of the prison became a little fresher, as they made their way to the little dock. The golem guard let them out of the bolted door, and Mark could see that the scaled boatman was waiting for them.
“Is this the only way out of the prison?” Mark asked. He couldn’t imagine Robert had arranged for a boat to pick him up during his break-out.
“It is.” Silvaticus confirmed. “Many have died trying to swim these seas.”
As the scaled boatman steered them back out to sea, Mark stood quietly, thoughts crashing through his head, like the violent waves surrounding them. The demons hadn’t just been trying to capture Robert, they’d been hunting Damian, too.
After visiting the demon prison, Mark wouldn’t even wish incarceration on his worst enemy; but to imagine that Damian could be locked up alongside Robert…
“Damian can never end up here. Do what you want with Robert, but Damian goes free.” He insisted, shouting against the crashing waves and salty air.
Silvaticus took a moment, taking in his request, then tilted his head in agreement. “I will not harm the boy, Damian. I swear it.”
When they got back to shore, the two stone horses were still standing with their heads erect, waiting for their master’s command.
Mark clambered back aboard, wincing at the bruises that had already formed on his thighs. What he wouldn’t give for a real horse right now, especially a fat, comfortable one like his Nanna’s cob. In fact, he’d even prefer to travel in Nanna’s Land Rover... or maybe not.
They started to make their way through the seaside town, the dark houses low-slung and clinging to the rocky terrain. Amongst the constant grey and green, Mark spotted a halo of blonde hair, framing an angelic face. There was a girl in a pale blue sundress, in the middle of a demon village. She looked to be about his age, and when she turned to look his way, her bright blue eyes pierced his soul.
“Who’s that?” He asked.
Silvaticus glanced over, for once looking irritated by Mark’s question. “A demon. She’s harmless enough. Leave her be, she’s a bit of a pest.”
Mark’s horse continued down the path that Silvaticus chose, moving swiftly inland. Mark could feel the blonde demon’s eyes still fixed on him, long after she disappeared behind the crowd.
The journey back was uneventful. When they reached the boundary of the Brimcliff Duchy, Mark thought he was ready for the sudden change of scenery, but it still made his head spin. The grey rocks shifted jarringly into purple heather.
Despite their mission having taken several hours, nothing had altered in the moors. Silvaticus had warned him that this in-between place was frozen in time, Mark was still struck by how unsettling it was. They travelled back in silence, and Mark was relieved to see the stone pillars that marked the demon gate.
As soon as they dismounted, the horses crumbled, no longer held together by Silvaticus’ spell. They were just rubble and dust, half-hidden beneath the heather.
Mark took one last look at the demon realm, then grabbed Silvaticus’ arm.
Chapter Seven
The first of May was supposed to herald the start of summer, so in true British fashion, the day dawned cold and grey. Heavy clouds threatened rain, and a chill wind blew across the hills.
Never put off by such a thing, Mark and his family headed into Tealford. Every year a small travelling fair came through for the first week of May. It might not be much compared to a real fairground, but it was a highlight for everyone at Tealford, and Mark had many happy memories as a child.
They all piled into the car, and Mark’s Dad drove into town, navigating the queuing traffic to find a place to park.
Mark recognised other students from school, and other witches from the coven milling through the crowd, enjoying May Day with their families.
Mark’s own family poured out of the car, and made slow progress towards the fair. Every couple of steps, they were stopped by friends and acquaintances. People that chatted and laughed with Mark’s parents, or begged for a few minutes of Nanna’s time.
Leaving the adults to do their socialising, Mark found himself walking ahead with Michelle. Until she too came across some friends.
Michelle hesitated, looking awkwardly back at Mark. “You’re welcome to… um.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of her friends.
“Thanks, but I’m meeting Damian.” Mark replied, surprised that Michelle would invite him along.
“Good, not your friend.” She said, before disappearing swiftly.
Mark checked his phone, and headed to the picnic benches where Damian was waiting for him.
His boyfriend was perched on one of the benches, looking as fashionable as ever, with his skinny jeans and grey jacket. Damian looked up as Mark approached, a pinched look on his face.
“I thought it was supposed to be summer.” Damian jumped up from the bench, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Why isn’t it warm yet?”
Mark grinned at his reaction. “I warned you…”
“No, you warned me that winter was cold, you never told me about the rest of the year.”
“Then we’ll have to warm you up.” Mark linked arms with Damian, and steered him towards the fair. “Um, in a PG, public-friendly walk. Not anything… amorous.”
“How disappointing.” Damian replied playfully. His bright blue eyes roved over the fairground.
The rides were in full swing, the usual array of spinning arms and strapped-in people screaming in delight. There were smaller stands, with games; and delicious-smelling greasy food.
The way that Damian drank it all in seemed full of innocent curiosity.
“Did you go to many of these in London?”
Damian shook his head. “No, my parents never took me when I was a kid. The fairs were never local to us, and always real crowded. This is kinda nice. Do you have any advice?”
“Yeah, don’t trip over the wires.” Mark blushed at his own mistake. “And if you want to win a goldfish, leave it ‘til last – you don’t wanna take it on the Twister with you.”
Damian grinned and dragged Mark into the fairground, weaving through the crowd to the nearest ride. They found Harry and Sarah in the queue for the Waltzer, and jumped in the same car as them.
There were only a dozen rides to have a go on, and compared to the big fairgrounds, the queues were short. They managed to go on every ride twice.
Damian uploaded their group photos onto his Instagram, smiling at the memories made.
Mark had to admit that he was also enjoying spending a very simple and human day with his friends. No witches, no demons, no trouble. It was such a contrast to the demon realm, which was still etched into his senses. There it was quiet, full of foreboding and cold on more than one front. Here, there was life and joy.
Mark couldn’t help talking about his trip, but every time he mentioned the demon realm, his friends got an apprehensive look on their faces. Mark didn’t know if they were worried about the world being bigger than they thought; or they were simply bored from Mark’s repeated stories.
Despite their stomachs still being tied in knots from being spun in every possible direction over the last few hours, they drifted back to have dinner with Mark’s family; for big greasy burgers and burning hot chips.
Everyone fell silent as a very attractive guy made a beeline for Nanna. He was tall, with muscled arms from a lifetime of wrestling horses. His once-dark hair had thick streaks of grey, and there were deep laughter lines etched into his skin; but Mark had to admit he was good-looking for an older guy.
Nanna, looking more than a little smug, made introductions between Derek and her family. When his back was turned, Mark’s Mum gave Nanna an embarrassing high five. His Dad… looked less than pleased.
“Just imagine, he might be your new grandpa… you’re gonna have a hot grandpa.” Michelle nudged Mark’s side and laughed.
The sound was so innocent and honest, that Mark paused. He was so used to Michelle’s sarcasm and the cruel side of her humour; this was an interesting development.
Since his grandad had died, this was the first man to earn Nanna’s affection, and Mark couldn’t help sneaking looks at him. To say he was meeting her family and friends for the first time, Derek seemed very relaxed, and had a calm confidence that just seemed to draw people’s attention. Mark could see why he’d been causing such a buzz.
Everyone was so busy cooing over the newcomer, that when a bitter voice piped up, it cut through the pleasant atmosphere.
“What is he doing here?”
Mark turned at the same time as his family, to spy a woman he vaguely recognised. Behind her were some other ladies, and their kids, looking at them spitefully. He wondered why she was getting upset over Nanna’s new boyfriend…
“That boy is dangerous. Last time he was in a crowd, he nearly killed a restaurant full of people, and a house full of students. How dare you bring him out with normal people?”
Mark’s heart dropped, realising that Derek wasn’t the cause of the upset. Had it been too much to hope that the rest of Tealford had forgotten the little demon incidents a few months ago?
Before Mark could defend himself, Nanna had already responded.
“Normal? What do you know about normal, Daphne?”
The woman’s thin mouth pursed further. “We all know that he used magic to hurt people.”
“You know? What a relief.” Nanna rolled her eyes. “Your sources are faulty; my grandson has saved your muggle arses on more than one occasion.”
Daphne sniffed, pulling her handbag defensively in front of her. “You witches think you’re all above the law. My niece was at the restaurant, she saw everything.”
“And your niece just happens to be adept at recognising light and dark magic at work? How lucky.” Nanna replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, if you and your groupies will please move on, we were enjoying a family day out.”
Nanna turned away, but Daphne wasn’t done. She looked furious at being dismissed, and stepped forward.
Mark felt magic shimmer in the air, a thick barrier blocking Daphne from the family. The woman’s anger turned to shock as she opened her mouth, and nothing but a strangled cry came out.
“Didn’t you learn – if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Nanna replied coolly, looking over her shoulder at Daphne.
The woman gave a feline hiss, but quickly looked cowed, her arrogant posture crumbling.
“Your voice will come back on one condition – you stop spreading lies about my grandson. If you break this spell, there is nothing we can do to give you your voice back.” Nanna warned.
Mark could sense Nanna’s magic weave over the other woman, and settle like a second skin. He was in awe again, over her skill and strength.
