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The Croglin Nightmare

Through A Wood Darkly

Written by Glynn Barrass : Illustrated by Leon Atkinson

The secretary of the firm ‘Staff For All Occasions’ twirled her fingers around the phone cord in mute frustration while the irate customer continued to give her an almighty ear bashing. “I’m sorry sir,” she butted in, frustrated, “but we’ve already given you six maids and two manservant’s, and considering the circumstances in which they left your service, the directors feel that it wouldn’t be good for the company’s image to continue sending you staff.” 

“Preposterous!” bawled Lord Goatland, “If you lot wouldn’t keep sending me slackers and fools who just stayed for a few days and then disappeared without a bye or leave perhaps the local press wouldn’t have dubbed my estate the ‘Bermuda Triangle of Yorkshire!’” Flustered and hoarse, the voice on the line hung up, and the secretary breathed a sigh of well-earned relief. Placing the phone next to its cradle, she forced the issue of not receiving any more calls from the irate Lord of Oakwood Estate that day.

Lord Goatland paced his study for about the twentieth time since hanging up on the girl at the employment agency, ‘Perhaps I should tell her superiors to send her here to explain herself’ he thought, licking his lips in sly anticipation, then, ‘no, not a very subtle idea that’ and shook his head. He stopped pacing, and sat down at the large oak desk that took up most of his study. The black and dusty tome before him was opened at a well-thumbed page, the illustration at which he stared at greedily had the words: ‘the devourer in the dark’ inscribed beneath it. 

*  *  *

The yellow van lumbered through the moors at a dangerous speed, gaudily painted in red on its sides were the words ‘The Great Pendragon featuring the wonderful transformations of Vampirella!’ With the passenger side window open, the voices of the occupants traveled far across the fog-strewn bogs. “You know Pen, if you took that bottle away from your mouth for more than a few seconds we might actually have a chance of finding the place we’re meant to be,” scowled Vampirella.

The black and dusty tome before him was opened at a well-thumbed page ...

“Fair enough, but I still don’t trust the directions that man at Croglin Grange gave us though,” muttered Vampirella, “he seemed a little creepy to me.”

“He seemed quite charming in my opinion”, soothed Pendragon, “I mean, he must have been at least a hundred years old.  Besides, if what he said was true about this stately old Lord needing entertainment (these eccentric old freaks have a lot of eccentric, freak-like friends, you know), we may be well on our way to seeing my triumphant return to fame (and fortune) on the stages of old blighty!” 

After traveling for far too long a time through the moors without seeing any visible landmarks, a large forest of moody looking oak trees eventually appeared on the horizon. “Oakwood!” exclaimed Pendragon; “We should be sitting (and drinking) comfortably in civilized company in no time at all!” 

Vampirella rubbed her chin in consternation, the gloom that had overtaken her since she’d first arrived in the countryside seemed impossible to shift, and her thoughts continuously returned to Adam Van Helsing and their last night together, before she and Pendragon arrived in England. ‘Could the Cult of Chaos have such as strong hold over this country as Adam's father suspects?’ she wondered, and at that moment decided to blot it from her mind and shut her eyes for a while.

*   *   *

The dream that enters Vampirella’s mind is the same one she’s had since arriving in England, and as in the many times she’s dreamt it before, she finds herself walking (or is it floating?), down steep, damp, stone steps, spiraling down into the bleak, stygian darkness. The darkness almost overwhelming her vampire senses, she feels rather than sees that she has reached the end of her journey, and at this point, the buzzing of what seems to be a thousand angry flies fill her ears. Like in the other dreams, the sound of the buzzing engulfs her hearing so loudly and profoundly that it forces her back into frightened consciousness.

*   *   *

The mansion house rose before them as they turned the last corner of the winding path, and built in the gothic style, the house seemed to be made up of stone of a color and texture as brown and as weather beaten as the forest of oak trees they had just departed.  The house had two wings extending from either side, which were two stories high, with the centre building standing at four stories.  A turret room stood at the end of each wing, and a large clock tower poked out from the central structure. “Wonderful!” Pendragon cried cheerfully, “A regular bastion of the English gentry!”

As Pendragon pulled up before the large, iron-strapped front door, a small but stocky man in butler’s livery lumbered towards Pendragon’s side of the vehicle as he unwound the window. “You’re not the usual types,” the little man muttered, “go straight in”, then he waved dismissively at the front door and waddled off in that direction.

“Well!” smiled Pendragon cheerfully, “That was almost a welcome!”

Climbing out of the van, Vampirella felt suddenly distracted by a movement in the peripheral of her vision, and glancing up, saw a dark shape dart furtively away from the window in the room above the doorway. Slamming the door behind her, she followed Pendragon as he skipped in a jolly manner towards the open door of the mansion.

Lord Goatland rushed away from the study window after his keen observation of the old man and the raven-haired woman, and placing his hand in his waistcoat pocket he produced a strange, ornately carved amulet. Made of silver and attached to a thick silver chain, the amulet was about the size a man’s fist, with a large black stone embedded in its centre. As he held it rocking high above his head, a curious glow seemed to emanate from its dark depths.

The butler having disappeared up the mansions huge central staircase, Vampirella and Pendragon sat in a rather large, rather dusty lounge area, which they had entered at the butler’s bequest. The room was about twenty square feet in size, and dotted with large chunks of red furniture. The bay window, facing the front lawn of the house, let in very little light.  Pendragon, having already discovered the drinks cabinet, helped himself to a medium sized bottle of cognac, most of which he poured into a large, dusty tumbler. 

“This place definitely has that lived-in feel,” grimaced Vampirella, tracing her fingers across the small table next to the thick, red leather chair she sat in. She raised her fingers to Pendragon, revealing the thick, grimy dust on the tips of each.

“Well in a house this size,” smiled Pendragon cheerfully, “It’s probably difficult keeping every room spick and span”, and raising his glass thoughtfully in the direction of the door, continued, “And that old codger of a butler probably has enough of a job tackling the stairs (I know I would!).”

As he held it rocking high above his head, a curious glow seemed to emanate from its dark depths.

Interrupting their conversation, a large, podgy looking man in a tweed suit entered the study.  Pendragon immediately rose and gave the man a formal bow, the glass tumbler held firmly behind his back. “Salutations dear sir!” greeted Pendragon, “may I introduce myself as Pendragon the (mostly sober) Lord of Illusion and this my beautiful assistant Vampirella!  I’d like to volunteer our magical services for you and you friends (especially rich old dowagers), for entertainment and enlightenment!”

“Well sir,” answered the Lord, “I am in need of company here, but not of the theatrical sort, I think the agency must have made some kind of mistake, you see I was expecting some new servants.”

“Oh no sir!” exclaimed Pendragon, “Your friend Lord Croglin sent us your way for the purpose of performing for you”

“Well I do believe you’ve both had a wasted journey” replied Lord Goatland, and he turned his ruddy cheeked face to Vampirella, “but you’re both more than welcome to stay the night, ‘Knoll’ fetch our guests some tea and we’ll discuss introducing these fine people to my social set!” 

As Pendragon continued his gracious waffling with Lord Goatland, the small but sturdy Knoll loped into the lounge with a tea set on a silver tray, serving Vampirella with a blank expression on his pasty face. Paying no attention to the conversation, Vampirella stared out of the bay window in a bored manner, and parched, she had drank halfway down her cup before realizing it had a strange aftertaste.  But by then it was too late, and as the room started to spin around her, Vampirella closed her eyes to avoid the dizzy feeling.  That was the last thing she remembered.

Lord Goatland stared down at his two unconscious guests and a moment later, Knoll entered the lounge and started collecting the teacups. “How many years have you been in my service now, Knoll?” enquired Lord Goatland.

“Why, I believe it’ll be one hundred and ten years this summer, sir,” answered the butler.

“And I do believe,” smiled Goatland, “If what I suspect of our new guest is true, it’ll be at least another hundred years after tonight!”

*   *   *

Awakening from her drug-induced stupor, Vampirella found herself in what she assumed was one of the mansions upstairs bedrooms.  

But by then it was too late, and as the room started to spin around her, Vampirella closed her eyes to avoid the dizzy feeling ...

Pendragon lay on the bed next to her, gently snoring.  A blood red sunset filled the room with pink light from the window as she groggily went to the door. Finding it locked, she lunged against it till a reassuring crack splintered the door ajar, and released from her prison, Vampirella turned to Pendragon’s sleeping form and whispered, “I’ll be back for you soon, I think you could do with the rest”

At the moment she entered what must have been the upstairs landing, the small form of Knoll rushed at her from a dark corner, wielding what looked like a small shovel. Using vampiric speed she slashed the weapon out of his stubby hands, and with the flat of her palm mashed his nose to pulp.

Stepping over the still form of the butler, Vampirella entered the room in which she had first glimpsed Lord Goatland upon her arrival at Oakwood Hall. Filled to the brim with old, musty books on stacked oak bookshelves, with an impressive globe in one corner.  Vampirella approached the huge desk at the room’s centre. Examining the contents of the desk, she found a small leather-bound diary, and a huge tome bound in what looked like bark, entitled, ‘The Lord of the Forest’.

Shoving the tome aside, Vampirella opened and examined the diary, and in a scrawled and spidery hand, the first lines read, ‘ upon my uncles suicide I took this position, but never dreamt what I would be accepting along with his title as the Lord of Oakwood, it was pure chance that I found the book and amulet, the only things stopping me from joining my wife in hell”

The subtle creaking of the door interrupted Vampirella’s study of the diary, and spinning round she ducked down like a cat ready to pounce. Before her, the Lord of the Manor stood in the doorway, hands behind his back, smiling down at her.

Rising from her crouch, Vampirella prepared herself to rush at Lord Goatland only to be stopped dead in her tracks by a large nickel plated, chunky looking revolver produced from behind his back. Waving the gun in her direction, he edged her towards the door.  Smirking at her he said, “You wouldn’t believe the grief I felt when my wife disappeared the first month we arrived here in eighteen eighty six”, he licked his ruddy lips and continued, “but of course, when I read my late uncle’s journal and learned of the, what shall I call them? restorative powers of the surrounding oaks, I soon recovered from my 

loss and decided to take advantage of my new situation” 

“So you sold your soul to Chaos!” Vampirella sneered as she slowly and imperceptibly closed the gap between her and Goatland. 

“It would seem that your curiosity will be the death of you, young lady,” he smiled

“Not really” he replied, “I just renewed my uncle’s contract and started sacrificing the hapless and the foolhardy to that thing in the woods!” Vampirella swiftly went to grab the pistol from Goatland’s chubby palm, and a struggle ensued, a struggle ending in Goatland forcing the gun against Vampirella’s throat. “I’m stronger than a human you know!” he gloated, “and a vampire for that matter” With a gentle shove he led her down the stairs of the mansion, through the front door and across the gravel to the leprous woods beyond the house.

Struggling through the tangled undergrowth, Lord Goatland soon herded Vampirella into a small clearing between the gnarled oaks.  The smell of rotten vegetation, soil, and something quite unwholesome permeated the whole area.

Beneath the jaundiced sky, Lord Goatland leered triumphantly at Vampirella. “It would seem that your curiosity will be the death of you, young lady,” he smiled, “and I do believe that my quite demanding master will be very sated once he’s had his fill of a supernatural bitch like you!” 

Vampirella smiled and reached into her coat pocket, Lord Goatland exclaiming loudly as she opened her palm to reveal the Black Amulet. “I read some of your uncle’s diary before you found me” she grinned, “and managed to extract this from your pocket in the study!” 

The ground erupted beneath Lord Goatland with a sickly ‘plop’, and engulfed by the stench of the pit, Lord Goatland was literally sucked down into the gaping hole in the earth. A mewling, moaning, screech accompanied his screams as the ground gobbled him up till only his neck and flailing arms were visible to Vampirella. “For pities sake woman!” howled Lord Goatland over the spitting and gurgling emanating from the pit, “get me out of this!” 

Vampirella crossed her arms and looked down at the wretched man; “It looks this time like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew!” she smiled, “and it was about time you paid the devil his due.”

“No, no!” he cried, “ I’m the bearer of the amulet, my God! what have you done?”

“Saved my life and a lot of others,” Vampirella replied, “Oh, and just for a bonus, got rid of one evil bastard?”

*   *   *

Driving away from Oakwood Manor, with the unconscious form of Pendragon slouched on the seat next to her, Vampirella tried to concentrate on the road ahead rather than the fact that oak trees surrounded her, and soon after, she and Pendragon were back on the open road. Yawning, Pendragon opened his eyes and looked around, “Good Lord, what a hangover!” he moaned, “How did I get here?” 

“I carried you mostly,” Vampirella sighed, “It’s a long story”.

“So where are we going now, my dear?” Pendragon enquired, discovering Lord Goatland’s tome and amulet laid out on his lap. 

“I think we’ll give Croglin Grange another visit,” Vampirella replied, “ I’d like a word with the owner as to his choice of directions…”

  All images on this site are copyright © 2004, Harris Publications, Inc.  VAMPIRELLA ® and other characters are trademarks of Harris Publications, Inc. Text and concepts © 2004 Mike Grace. All rights reserved.