# 2
The Curse Of Mistress Screamina
1
A knock came to our door. It was indicative of Mrs. Boneson, light but urgent and as the door opened Tombs leaped to his feet and rushed the door. "I have been expecting you Mistress Screamina. It has been long since you graced me with your beauty but what pray tell would a Banshee be doing in Londgloom?"
Mistress Screamina smiled like only a Banshee can. She said, "Well, to be candid it is a little embarrassing. This has not happened to a banshee in, well, forever, but the circumstances are just as rare. I am sure you remember Dr. Mortalfrighty."
Tombs nodded.
Mistress Screamina added. "He has found a way to curse a Banshee and plans to use me for something dastardly and I believe it involves you Vamplock."
"Please have a seat and tell me all about it Screamina." I could hear the unspoken words, "My dearest.
As Mistress Screamina settled into the chair, her face was a mask of sorrow. She began to speak, her voice a haunting melody, "You see, Vamplock, Dr. Mortalfrighty has found a way to curse a Banshee. He has used his dark magic to bind my wings, rendering them useless."
She turned her back to us, and with a deep breath, unfurled her wings. They were a pitiful sight. Once a magnificent spectacle of ethereal beauty, they now hung limp and lifeless at her sides. The once luminescent feathers were dull and colorless, and the wings themselves seemed to have lost their strength.
"The curse," she continued, her voice barely a whisper, "is irreversible. I am doomed to never fly again. My wings, once my pride, are now my shame."
Her words hung heavy in the air. The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire. I could see the pain in Tombs' eyes as he looked at Mistress Screamina. This was a fate worse than death for a Banshee. To be grounded, unable to soar the skies? it was unthinkable.
"But why involve us in this dastardly plan?" I asked, breaking the silence.
Mistress Screamina turned to face me, her eyes filled with determination. "Because Vamplock," she said, Is the only one who can stop Dr. Mortalfrighty."
"It is not about you Screamina, or your wings. There is a cure and it is quite simple. But getting the cure is nearly impossible. You can only acquire it through Mortalfrighty. He has done this because he knew you would come to me and it is me he wants. Harming you is his bait because he knows I will not tolerate harm coming to Mistress Screamina."
It was in those words that I recalled a story Tombs once shared with me in private, never to be repeated.
There was a long silence as Tombs and Screamina lost themselves in each other's gaze.
I retired to my room.
It was some hours before I came out and when I did Mistress Screamina had departed. Tombs was sitting at the table in the dining nook sipping marrow dust tea and staring mindlessly out the bay window overlooking Sanguin Place. The waning crescent moon was narrowing to a scratch in the night sky.
2
As I, W.W Moonhowl, watched from my place at the bay window, the scene below was a sight to behold. Count Vamplock, his silhouette framed by the dim light, was staring out at the street below. His gaze was fixed on a carriage that was slowly disappearing into the distance. The Banshee Clan Standard etched proudly on the door, a stark reminder of the dire situation we found ourselves in.
The carriage was an oddity in itself. A gargoyle, its grotesque features etched in the moonlight, was at the reins. The creatures pulling the carriage were even more peculiar - two wingless dragons, their scales glinting in the faint light, their breaths puffing out in the cold night air.
Vamplock's voice broke the silence, his words heavy with resolve, "Until I defeat this monster Mortalfrighty completely, someone will always pay the price being the bait to lure me into battle."
His words echoed in the room, a grim reminder of the task at hand. The stakes were high, and the enemy was formidable. But if there was one thing I knew about Vamplock, it was that he never backed down from a fight, especially when the lives of those he cared about were on the line.
As the carriage disappeared from view, taking with it Mistress Screamina, a sense of determination filled the room. We knew what had to be done. The battle lines were drawn, and it was time to take down Mortalfrighty once and for all.
As if he read my mind Tombs said quietly, "I have tried many times but he is a clever devil and has survived each time."
I looked at Vamplock, his figure stoic against the backdrop of the waning crescent moon, I couldn't help but feel a sense of desperate hope. After all, in the face of darkness, even the faintest light can make a difference. And Vamplock, with his unwavering resolve, was our beacon in these trying times.
As Tombs finished his sentence, we set out into the night, our destination clear. The path to Jessiana, the witch known for her potent potions and uncanny knowledge of curses, was fraught with danger. But we had no choice. The fate of Mistress Screamina and the future of our clan depended on it.
The journey was silent, save for the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves under our feet. The moon, now a thin crescent, cast long shadows that danced eerily on the path ahead. But we pressed on, driven by the urgency of our mission.
Finally, we arrived at Jessiana's dwelling, a small hut nestled deep within the forest. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and a hint of something more sinister. As we stepped inside, we were greeted by Jessiana, her eyes gleaming with a strange light.
Tombs, without wasting a moment, revealed the two vials. One held the blood of Mistress Screamina, the other her tears. "Jessiana," he began, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation, "we believe Mistress Screamina is under a curse. We need a potion to overwhelm it."
Jessiana took the vials, her gaze intense as she examined them. "A vile elixir indeed," she murmured, almost to herself. "But not impossible to counter. I will need time."
As we left Jessiana to her work, a new sense of precarious hope filled our hearts. The kind you don't want to let loose lest it comes back to haunt you tenfold.
3
The next phase began with a sense of foreboding. Tombs and I found ourselves standing before the imposing figure of Lord Death. His presence was as chilling as the grave, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness of the underworld.
Tombs, with a determination that belied his usual calm demeanor, spoke up, "Lord Death, I seek your permission to enter the mortal world. It is there that I must confront Mortalfrighty, whose corporeal body dwells as a warlock Mortalgeist."
Lord Death regarded Tombs for a moment before responding, "I will not stop you, Tombs. Mortalfrighty is a danger to the underworld. But I must warn you, there are great risks for people of the underworld when they visit the mortal world. You cannot go out into the sun; that is one law."
Tombs nodded, acknowledging the warning. Then, with a glint in his eyes.
"But I can, Lord Death. I can transform into a mortal shape and assist my friend in countless ways." I said.
Lord death gave no reply a mere nodded.
Though we had gain permission to enter the mortal world there was only one way we could actually breach the barrier and so the next tier to our journey took us to the mansion of the architects of Ghoultropolis, the Grim Reaper. He could in fact veto our permission.
When we arrived at the mansion we were told that the Grim Reaper and The Ferryman were in conference and we would have to wait.
It has intrigued me how people see them as so different but they are akin
The Grim Reaper is the guide for mortals into the underworld, particularly into Ghoultropolis while the Ferryman is the guide into Oblivion. As long as you pay the fee there is nothing to worry about.
We waited as the moon waxed through the first quarter and half moon hours. My wolfishness cause me impatience but Tombs sat, lost in some old memory I thought upon looking into his eyes and saw their rare blue hue.
Finally and rather suddenly an attendant came and ushered us into the council room. The Grim Reaper seemed particularly pleased to see us and knew why we were there to see him. Before we could ask, in fact, he said, "I will grant you passage to the mortal world. Just tell me when you wish to go."
Tombs responded in a soft determined voice, "Now."
In a blink of an eye we found ourselves in the dead of night walking upon the streets of White Chapel. I spied a newspaper. The year was 1888
In the month of November and moon in the mortal world was full. It took all my will to keep from howling.
Something in Tombs changed as well. He seldom showed his fangs but now they were protruding to their full length.
"Jack the Ripper. Of course." Tombs hissed.
"Are you saying Mortalfrighty is Jack The Ripper."
I said.
"No. But Mortalfrighty has always been intrigued by him and would align himself with such a killer." Tombs replied. "My nemesis is goading me into something. This is what he planned and his plan is going exactly how he wants it to. You see here in the mortal world Moonhowl, he can kill me, by sunlight, the fabled wooden stake or worse, he could lock me eternally in a coffin or until someone frees me. Either way I would be defeated."
We were went but a few steps when we came upon Mistress Screamina."
"What are you doing here?" Tombs demanded.
"I have no choice Vamplock. Mortalfrighty has control over me." The Banshee answered.
4
The sky paled as we came to bridge. I took Tombs like child over my shoulder and whispered for help. A moment later we were in Londgloom again with the first crescent rising out of the New Moon hours.
"Thank you Moonhowl. I had forgotten about the mortal sun."
We returned to 333 Sanguin Place only to find Inspector Jawbone of Skeleton Yard waiting for us.
"Tombs. We have a killer at large. Three Cadaver women from the Ghost Crypt area of Londgloom have been found dustified. It looks to me to be something that you might have your fangs into."
Tombs thought for a minute then said, "It seems I must take you into my confidence though it could prove dangerous for you Jawbone. Nonetheless you are in it anyway and its connected to the mortal world and Mortalfrighty."
With alarm the inspector echoed, "Mortalfrighty. I thought we were rid of him for good."
"I thought so to Inspector but it seems we are both mistaken." Tombs replied.
"Well I'll be bonecracked if the great Count Vamplock Tombs admits he is mistaken, but it scares me a little too. Something terrible must be afoot." Jawbone said anxiously.
Tombs nodded. "Beyond terrible I think Inspector.
We settled down to breakfast to discuss our dilemma. I ate ravenously while Tombs nibbled. His mind was too busy to be concerned about food. The inspector ate like one would expect a guest to eat. Conservatively. But we all devoured pots of deep dark coffee and then settled into Dusty Espresso, a specialty of Mrs. Boneson's.
As we sipped our Dusty Espresso, Inspector Jawbone cleared his throat and leaned forward, his skeletal fingers clasped tightly around his cup. "Tombs, Moonhowl," he began, his voice grave, "I've been giving this some thought. The Ghost Crypt Killer? it's not a random act of violence."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "The victims were all Cadaver women from the Ghost Crypt area. That's not a coincidence. I believe we're dealing with a serial killer who's specifically targeting this community."
His gaze flicked to Tombs. "And if Mortalfrighty is involved, as you suggest, then this could be a part of a larger, more sinister plan. Perhaps a way to sow fear and discord among the inhabitants of Londgloom."
The room fell silent as we digested the implications of Jawbone's theory. It was a chilling thought, and one that promised a dangerous path ahead. But if there was any truth to it, we had no choice but to investigate and put an end to this reign of terror. The safety of Londgloom depended on it.
Jawbone's voice dropped to a whisper, "You see, I had a dream three nights ago after the discovery of the second cadavercide. It seems ridiculous now, but I was a ghostly thing looking down on the street, and I saw you two and a Banshee woman. I could hear you talking about Jack The Ripper. That's why I am here now."
His words hung in the air, a chilling echo of a nightmare. The connection to the mortal world, to a figure as infamous as Jack The Ripper, added a new layer of complexity to our investigation.
5
Just then, the door creaked open, and Mrs. Boneson, our skeletal housekeeper, ushered in a figure swathed in ethereal light. It was Mistress Screamina. Her presence here could only mean one thing - the situation was evolved into something far graver than we had initially thought.
"Tombs, Moonhowl," she greeted us, her voice a haunting melody. "I fear we have much to discuss. Mortalfrighty has does something despicable even for him. He has kidnapped Jessiana."
And with that, we braced ourselves for the revelations that were about to unfold. The Ghost Crypt Killer, Mortalfrighty, and now a potential connection to the mortal world - we were in the eye of a storm, and the worst was yet to come.
"Did she find the elixir we need?" Tombs interrogated.
"I picked it up at Mid New Moon last. It was sometime after that that I heard the witch had disappeared and Mortalfrighty was in the area." Screamina answered.
"Ah. You could be wrong there Madame. "We have Jessianna at Skeleton Yard. She came in on her own and said she was being stalked but she couldn't say by who. Since she is a cadaver and our killer is targeting cadavers we put her in protective custody." Inspector Jawbone interrupted.
I asked, "Have you taken the potion yet?"
"No Moonhowl. I wanted to be here before I did that." Mistress Screamina replied then produced a vial of golden liquid.
"Here goes." She said then put the vial to her lips and upended it.
For moment nothing happened then she started to glow and out of the glow came new wings as the ruined ones withered away.
"It worked." Tombs said gratefully. Now I can direct all my concentration to dealing with Mortalfrighty.
"What about my dream. Is it significant?" Jawbone asked anxiously.
"Very inspector. We can use your help." Tombs assured.
"What can I do Tombs?"
Tell me in detail everything you saw in your dream Inspector. Absolutely everything."
Inspector Jawbone took a deep breath, his skeletal fingers tightening around his cup. "Alright, Tombs," he began, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "In my dream, I was floating above a narrow, cobblestone street. You lot were off in the distance. It was eerily quiet, the only sound being the distant echo of a church bell tolling midnight. The buildings on either side were tall and foreboding, their darkened windows staring down like empty eye sockets. There was a strange smell in the air, something that didn't smell like the decay of Ghoultropolis."
He paused, his gaze distant as he delved deeper into the memory. "Then, out of the shadows, a figure emerged. It was hunched at the shoulders, its movements furtive and skulking. It was difficult to make out its features, but there was an unmistakable sense of menace that made my spectral heart clench with dread."
Jawbone's voice dropped to a whisper, his words painting a chilling picture. "The figure was cloaked in darkness, but there was a glint of something sharp and deadly in its hand. A knife, gleaming under the pale glow of the moon. It moved stealthily, sticking to the shadows as it crept along the street.
I was at my desk. I was wakened from the dream by a constable announcing that the witch Jessiana was there."
He fell silent, the room heavy with the implications of his words. The connection to the mortal world, to a figure as infamous as Jack The Ripper, added a new layer of complexity to our investigation.
"Are White Chapel and Ghost Crypt somehow connected." I asked Tombs.
"The answer is with Mortalfrighty." Tombs replied darkly.
6
Tombs turned to me, his eyes gleaming with a new resolve. "Moonhowl, we must find a better place to protect Jessianna. Skeleton Yard is no longer safe."
Inspector Jawbone bristled at this, his skeletal fingers drumming anxiously on the table. "But Tombs, Skeleton Yard is the safest place in all of Londgloom. We have the best security measures in place."
I shook my head, a plan already forming in my mind. "No, Inspector. The safest place is often the least expected one. We should hide Jessianna in her own shop. It's the last place Mortalfrighty would think to look."
Jawbone looked skeptical, but Tombs nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Moonhowl, that's brilliant. And we can have the Bonery Boys watch over her. They're my special assets, trained to handle situations like this."
And so, our plan was set. We would hide Jessianna in plain sight, under the watchful eyes of the Bonery Boys. As we prepared to put our plan into action, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. We were stepping into uncharted territory, and the stakes had never been higher. But we had no choice. The safety of Londgloom depended on it. And we were ready to do whatever it took to protect our city and its inhabitants. The storm was coming, and we were standing right in its path.
As the night deepened, the city of Londgloom took on an eerie silence. The Bonery Boys had taken their positions around Jessianna's shop, their spectral forms blending seamlessly with the shadows. One of them, a particularly sharp-eyed specter named Skully, was stationed in an alleyway adjacent to the shop. His task was to keep an eye on the back entrance, a task he performed with unwavering diligence.
Suddenly, Skully noticed a shimmering in the alleyway. Two shadowy figures had appeared, their forms flickering like mirages under the pale moonlight. He watched, his spectral heart pounding, as the figures moved closer to each other. Their features were indistinct, but there was an unmistakable air of menace about them. Skully knew instantly that something was amiss.
Without wasting a moment, Skully reported the sighting to Tombs. His voice was a mere whisper in the wind, but it carried the weight of impending doom. "Tombs," he said, "two shadow figures have met in the alleyway. I fear Mortalfrighty is up to something."
Tombs listened, his face growing graver with each word. When Skully finished his report, Tombs was silent for a long moment. Then, he spoke, his voice echoing with a grim determination. "He's trying to create a paradox," he said. "Allowing the White Chapel and Ghost Crypt killers to meet. The alleyway is in between worlds. If they crossover it will destroy both worlds and who knows what will emerge. Death and life will no longer be separated. Death will himself perish. We must stop him."
Tombs' words ripped the quiet of the night. Mortalfrighty's plan was far more treacherous than we had imagined or ever could have imagined. He wasn't just targeting cadavers; he was trying to disrupt the very fabric of our world.
7
The message arrived at the stroke of midnight, a spectral raven dropping a parchment at our feet. It was an invitation from Mortalfrighty, asking Tombs to meet him in the Moors of Lament, a secluded area of Ghoultropolis known for its eerie stillness and haunting beauty. The message was clear: if Tombs refused, something terrible would happen.
Tombs read the message, his face ashen. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a grim determination. "Moonhowl," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I have to go."
"But Tombs," I protested, "it's a trap. You know it's a trap."
He nodded, his gaze steady. "I know. But if I don't go, we'll never know what he's planning. And we can't risk that."
And so, under the cloak of darkness, Tombs set off for the Moors of Lament. I watched him go, my heart heavy with worry. The Bonery Boys and I were left behind, our task to protect Jessianna and keep a vigilant watch over Londgloom.
As the night wore on, the city held its breath, waiting for the dawn and the news it would bring. The Moors of Lament, once a place of solitude, was now the stage for a confrontation that could decide the fate of our world.
Despite Tombs' explicit instructions, I couldn't abandon him. As he disappeared into the darkness, I followed, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. The Moors of Lament loomed ahead, a desolate expanse bathed in an eerie glow.
As I neared the meeting point, I saw them. Tombs and Mortalfrighty, their figures silhouetted against the moonlight. In their hands were swords, not of steel, but of fire, their blades casting an ominous glow on their faces. The air crackled with tension as they circled each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
The duel began with a clash of fire against fire. Sparks flew as their swords met, illuminating the darkness with their fiery dance. Tombs moved with a grace that belied his size, his every move a blend of power and precision. Mortalfrighty, on the other hand, was all brute force, his attacks wild and unpredictable.
The battle raged on, neither giving an inch. But then, with a swift and unexpected move, Tombs disarmed Mortalfrighty, sending his fire sword flying into the air. There was a moment of silence as Mortalfrighty stared at Tombs, his face a mask of disbelief.
But the victory was short-lived. Mortalfrighty's face twisted into a snarl, his anger palpable. "This isn't over, Tombs," he growled, disappearing into the shadows.
As I watched Mortalfrighty retreat, I knew the conflict was not at its end, but for now, Tombs had won a small victory. And in the face of overwhelming odds, sometimes, a small victory was all you needed.
Tombs collapsed. I ran to him, picked him up in my arm, carried him to my carriage and drove him back to 333b Sanguin Place. It wasn't until we were in our rooms that I saw he was wounded. Mortalfrighty's had run his fire sword through Tombs' shoulder. I called for Mrs. Boneson who among other things was an apt healer in a pinch.
8
Some time had passed since the duel in the Moors of Lament. The city of Londgloom had returned to its usual rhythm, and it seemed as though Mortalfrighty had retreated, nursing his wounds. But the calm was deceptive, a lull before the storm.
One morning, as we were taking breakfast in the dining nook, a letter materialized out of thin air and floated down onto Tombs' lap. It was an eerie sight, the parchment glowing faintly in the dim light of the waxing crescent moon. Tombs picked up the letter, his face growing serious as he read its contents.
The letter was from Mortalfrighty. It spoke of his near-fatal wound from their duel, a testament to Tombs' prowess. But it also carried a warning. Mortalfrighty was not defeated. He was merely biding his time, healing, preparing for his next move.
Tombs looked up from the letter, his eyes meeting mine. There was a grim determination in his gaze, a silent promise that he would do whatever it took to protect our world.
"It is not over Moonhowl and I doubt it ever will be. I believe Mortalfrighty sustained a greater wound that he is admitting otherwise he would have been back already. I think losing his edge with the curse he placed on Mistress Screamina has hindered his plot as well. Maybe not tomorrow or the over morrow or even in the months to come but sooner or later he will come back.
As the reality of the situation sank in, we couldn't help but feel a chill run down our spines. The peace we had been enjoying was merely the calm before the storm. Mortalfrighty was coming back, and we had to be ready.
The days following Mortalfrighty's ominous letter were filled with tension. We were on edge, expecting the worst at any moment. But life in Londgloom had to go on.
One day, Mistress Screamina paid us a visit. Her presence, usually a source of dread, was oddly comforting in these uncertain times. She offered her assistance, promising to lend her powers if Mortalfrighty dared to attack again. Her offer, though unexpected, was a welcome relief.
Not long after, Inspector Jawbone dropped by with some news. They had finally caught the Ghost Crypt killer, a menace that had been terrorizing Londgloom for months. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It lifted our spirits, giving us hope that we could overcome the challenges ahead.
Finally, Tombs and I decided to visit the witch. We needed to discuss our plans for Mortalfrighty's return. The witch, with her vast knowledge and powerful magic, was our best hope for devising a strategy. As we sat in her dimly lit hut, surrounded by the scent of herbs and the soft whisper of magic, we began to plan. We knew not when Mortalfrighty would return, but we would be ready. We had to be.
As we left the witch's hut, the waxing crescent moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets of Londgloom. The city was quiet, its inhabitants unaware of the storm brewing on the horizon. But we knew. And we were prepared to face it, come what may. For the sake of our world, we had no other choice.
In the days that followed, I was sent off on a correspondence mission to the West Reaches of the Underworld. There was a conflict brewing between the gargoyles and trolls, a dispute that seemed to have no end in sight. I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was an outside influence at play, stoking the fires of discord.
I penned a letter to Tombs, detailing my observations and suspicions. But I dared not mention who the culprit might be. Not yet. Not until I had concrete proof. I sent the letter off, watching as it disappeared into the ether, bound for Tombs.
Back in Londgloom, Tombs sat in the dining nook during the new moon hours, a cup of coffee in his hand. The letter materialized out of thin air, floating down onto the table. He picked it up, his eyes scanning the contents.
As he read my words, his face grew serious. He knew as well as I did what this could mean. If my suspicions were correct, then we were dealing with a threat far greater than we had anticipated. But for now, all we could do was wait, watch, and prepare for what was to come. The storm was brewing, and we were right in the eye of it. But we would not be caught off guard. Not this time. We were ready. Ready to face whatever came our way.
Tombs wrote back. Moonhowl. Return home soon. I have a most intriguing case I am sure will suit your chronicles. I suggest you call it The Beast Of Ghosthaven Manor.
PS. "Kindly give my regards to Commander Leadwing of the Gargoyle Faction. Then duck.