The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child Read Online Free PDF Page A

what exactly happens under the curse?" she murmured.
    Old Parry bent low over a dish-shaped stone and whirled her fingers through the water it contained. "Death o' course," she burbled.
    "Yes I know, but how exactly?"
    The scourge of the fisherfolk lifted her eyes to the girl and her eyebrows twitched curiously.
    "So," she crooned, "you want to know the full extent of the Mother's Curse?"
    "I... I want to know what happened to my mother."
    "Tarr not told you? Nah, he wouldn't, but I was there—I know."
    "Will you tell me?"
    Old Parry's eyes glinted. "'Tain't no pretty tale," she muttered darkly, "but I can see there's no denying you. Sit here."
    Stiffly, Nelda sat upon the cold wet stone beside her and the crone chuckled horribly to herself.
    "Never had I seen such pain," she began, recalling that hideous time. "Your mother was a headstrong, foolish creature who listened to no counsel but her own. We all told her it was in vain but still she tried to give her husband a child. Not for many centuries had an infant been born to our kind, not one that lived, that is.
    "Determined and wilful she was, and stubborn as the cliffs themselves. Strong was the bond 'twixt she and your father and for his sake she bore you. But as the time went by and her belly swelled, her agonies steadily increased.
    "Every time the moon waxed and was full in the heavens, you could hear her screams rent the night and echo through every tunnel and chamber. Now, as you know, few wives survived beyond the first three months so when she lingers on past the eighth, with only four more remaining we all wondered if the curse had lost some of its power.
    "But the Lords of the Deep and Dark showed their displeasure in ways various and plenty lest any other wife dared flout their might. Shoals of rotting fish were washed ashore and storms raged at sea so that no boats could set sail for many weeks. 'Twas an evil time full of such signs and portents and your mother was to blame."
    Old Parry paused to gauge the effect her tale was having upon Nelda. The girl looked pale and ill so she gladly resumed the tragic story, revelling in the gruesome details.
    "No one living can describe the torture that your mother endured for your sake and that of Abe your father. For when her time came it was beyond aught I had yet seen. As soon as you were born she began to die."
    "How?"
    "By the most evil of means. For when it became apparent that by some miracle you were to live, your mother let loose a sickening screech. Such is the fell manner of the curse that the very blood in her veins did change and under the enchantment of the Deep Ones, it turned to brine."
    "No!" Nelda gasped, stricken with horror and disgust. "It cannot be true!"
    "On my Joby's watery grave," the other swore, spitting into the rockpool, "that was the way of it.
    "Into a blazing fever your mother swooned, the salt water creeping through her body, burning and blistering through her flesh until her very wits were eaten away."
    "She... she went mad?"
    "Raving!" came the cackling response. "An agony of madness was hers, and not even her own husband's father did she know. Wounded to the heart was Tarr and he stumbled through the caverns like one blinded. Yet not swiftly was she taken—oh no, for nigh on two whole weeks did your mother linger and by the end she was like a salted slug. No black boat carried her into the sea. There was naught remaining—only a briny sludge with Abe weeping over it."
    Nelda staggered to her feet. It was worse than she had dreaded. For now she knew the precise nature of her mother's demise whereas it had only been hinted at before, and she wept for the parent she had never known. Yet more bitterly did she weep for herself, for that same fate would undoubtedly wreak its terrible vengeance upon her.
    "Don't go," Old Parry sniggered as Nelda hurried unsteadily away. "Let me tell you of others that perished and of the countless bairns that did not survive. How their first sweet cries