Free The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child by Robin Jarvis

cries of pain and woe."
    Slyly, her eyes slid round to look at the young aufwader and she knew she had guessed correctly. "But the sea does drown your calls," she continued with a sneering leer spreading over her face, "and you are shrouded in its doom."
    Nelda grabbed a large pebble and flung it into the centre of the rock pool. The water exploded into Parry's face and the wicked hag fell backwards, coughing and spluttering on the brine.
    "Harridan!" the girl yelled. "Begone before I strike you! That stone never belonged to Idin the far-seeing, though I believe you would have stolen it from the very black boat she was laid upon before it set sail. What vile glee does your twisted mind enjoy? Why taunt me?"
    Parry pointed a knobbly finger at her and gloated maliciously. "'Tis true then," she wheezed. "You have come under the curse! A bairn is growing inside your belly—'twere your words that set me on it, asking how your mother perished. Hah! 'Tis your own death you fear. Into agonies undreamed of will you be plunged. Many other hands than mine are needed to count the mothers who have died that way. They were the foolish ones—they would not listen."
    Nelda grimaced in disgust, but she was afraid of what the crone would do—would she tell the rest of the tribe? Of course she would. Old Parry delighted in the pain of others. Struggling to remain aloof and not admitting that the guess was correct, Nelda said, "I have wasted too much time in your company already. Do not speak to me again, and if you wish to remain safe and well then keep a hold on your evil tongue."
    But it was an empty threat and the hag knew it. "Horror and death," she repeated coarsely, "horror and death. All them seawives a-dyin' with them infants inside them. None would listen to me—not even your mother. Oh no, not her!"
    "Don't you dare speak about my mother!" Nelda shouted. "Or the next rock I throw will be aimed at your head!"
    Parry took no notice. "Only the clever ones survived," she intoned. "Only those who hearkened to me saved themselves. Weren't no other way."
    Nelda had begun walking back to the cliffs but she halted and turned round once more.
    "What do you mean?" she asked. "How did they manage to survive?"
    "I could show you," the crone suggested, "though I don't sees as why I should, you being so hostile like."
    "Please yourself," the girl wearily replied. "It's probably another of your tricks. I'm too tired for any more."
    "No tricks!" Parry promised. "On my dear dead Joby's life this ain't." She lifted her eyes and stared at the waxing moon that shone with an icy brilliance. "Aye, 'tis the proper time; you're fortunate, child—come."
    She scrambled to her feet and hurried over the rocks towards the sand and the direction of the town. "If'n you want to live to see another winter you'd best be with me."
    Nelda hesitated. She still did not trust her, but soon found herself following.
    Over the steps of Tate Hill Pier the aufwaders climbed and Nelda marvelled, for the crone loathed anything to do with the humans and would never normally walk amongst their ugly huts. But through the streets they went until they came to the foot of the abbey steps. Immediately, Parry hastened upwards, her eyes darting to and fro, in case they should meet one of the infernal landbreed. But at that late hour the one hundred and ninety-nine steps were deserted.
    When she reached the summit Parry sat upon a tombstone and waited for Nelda to catch up. The breeze was strong on top of the cliff and her wild hair writhed about her head like a hundred snakes.
    Whilst there, she took a leather purse out of her pocket and from this she carefully removed a small disc of sea-polished green glass and held it to one of her eyes.
    Eventually Nelda appeared, but she was puffing and panting and had to rest before she could speak.
    "See how the lifestealer within you already drinks your strength," Parry commented, "otherwise you would have raced to the top and left old me