Woodlington

Chapter 24 - Necromancy

The three of them huddled together, peering through the buckled iron gate, as Harold's army swiftly and silently faded into the shadows.

As promised, he'd left a handful behind. There were once again six (one of them Richard), standing side by side across the front of the mausoleum.

When it was obvious they were watching nothing but grass, Alex finally spoke.

"Can they understand us?"

She nodded at the motionless figures.

Her father shook his head.

"No, not unless Harold chooses to listen through them, but I've a feeling he's a little busy at present."

Terrible as the situation was, Alex couldn't help feeling relieved.

Harold was gone, his army was gone, the crows were gone, and with them, the smell.

She glanced at Jessie.

Her unblinking eyes were fixed squarely on the nearest of the guards.

Whiskey gently turned her away.

"Don't Jessie, there's no point tormenting yourself. That's not Richard. You might as well be looking at an empty box."

She nodded miserably.

"I know. It's kinda hard though."

Alex's heart went out to her.

"Anyone got a torch?" she asked.

Her father reached into a pocket, rummaged through it, and pulled out a box of matches.

"How about these?"

Unable to help herself, Alex smiled.

"How long you been smoking a pipe Dad?"

His expression became worried.

"Well... thing with that see... is..."

She grinned at his embarrassment.

"It's okay. I kind of like it. Not sure matches'll do much good though. I thought we could escape downstairs for a bit, but they'll burn out in no time."

"They'll be fine," said Whiskey. "Come on."

Pulling Jessie along, they headed for the steps.

Whiskey took the first three, struck a match, and peered down.

Four matches later, they were at the bottom.

"What on earth," muttered Jessie, half tripping over a chunk of splintered wood.

The chamber had been trashed.

"Stay where you are," cautioned Whiskey. "There's some candles further in. Let me get them lit."

By the time he'd returned, a dozen flickering flames revealed the extent of the damage.

Obviously, Harold and his army had raided the place, dragging coffins into the open and smashing them apart. Just how many bodies had been kept down here?

"Mr Dowling?"

Jessie sounded nervous.

"Mm?"

"Harold can't really do what he said, can he? Kill everyone I mean."

For a long time, Whiskey remained silent.

"You're worried about Abby and Beth," he said at last. "Aren't you?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, them mostly, but there's others too. I don't want anyone else to die"

He sighed deeply.