by Willow Mason
“If you follow me, I’ll lead us into the circle. There’ll be a lot of pushback from the witches, but just keep heading into the centre. If I get held back, you might need to talk to the coven without me. Are you able to do that?”
Mandy stepped forward. “I can do it. I’ve been rotting away in that grave with nothing to do for the past three years, except to plan my revenge.”
The other ghosts gave a cry of solidarity. Fine, then. Revenge it would be.
Glynda was still holding court when we reached the edge of the meeting place. I called up the new powers, holding them in my chest, ready to fire. The crimson glow that crept into the edges of my vision revealed the converging ley lines of the earth, picking them out like neon signs.
“Ready?” I asked my assembled group, more for my own benefit than theirs. With a flurry of agreement, I headed into the centre, pushing back the first guard with a gentle ball of light.
“Glynda? I have something important to say. Please let me speak.”
The witches at the outer edge of the gathering drew back with a collective gasp. Within a few seconds, they’d pulled back enough that I was onto the inner tiers.
“Get her out of here,” Mrs Eggsby called out. Her face was mottled red and purple in the light from the centre circle. “She’s not a witch. Intruder!”
Her cry was echoed half-heartedly by a few die-hard purists, but more of the crowd were turning to me with bright interest on their faces. I understood. Having attended more than a few coven meetings, I could attest they were dry as a desert, boring as a slice of white bread. Anything to liven up events was welcome.
“These ghosts have information about a threat to our community,” I called out. “A man who targets witches.”
“And warlocks,” Angus called out, earning a small laugh.
“I’ve never seen any of you before,” Mrs Eggsby said with a snarl. Since she’d appointed herself gatekeeper, I turned my attention to her.
“They’re the hidden witches from this district. Instead of our coven sisters nurturing them and bringing them into the fold, they were left alone, undiscovered, prey to a monster who shows no signs of stopping.”
“Witches die,” Glynda said, her voice full of the confidence of a leader. “And if these witches were hidden, how do you even know they’d pass the test?”
“Because they’d—”
Silla had been sitting near Glynda. As treasurer for the coven, she was always afforded a seat near the inner circle, but now she was running.
“Stop!” I cast a lasso of black magic out, cinching it around Silla’s waist and drawing her back into position. “You work with Wilson Banner. Tell the coven what you know.”
“Let her go.” Glynda drew up a sword of white magic and used it to cut straight through my rope. “Our upper echelon is not here to answer your questions or accede to your demands. Now, get out.”
“I will not.” I repaired the lasso and drew Silla close enough to me that I could grab her with my hand. “You’ve been in league with a dark magic practitioner for years. How could you?”
“You’re the only one throwing around black magic here,” Glynda shouted. “If you don’t—”
She stopped. Her body juddered from head to toe. I saw the echo of Fenella’s face in Glynda’s and understood what had happened. The ghost had possessed her body, bringing it under her control.
“I visited a fair and this creature”—Fenella pointed to Silla—“appeared to me as a giant kitten. I played with her for a half house, then she disappeared. Later, when I went to find my family, she drew me into a fortune teller’s tent. It was a trap.”
Fenella held up her hand, the stamp from the fairgrounds shining on it like gold. “When I was inside, she stamped this onto my hand. It contains a poison that made me susceptible to suggestion. After her partner, Wilson Banner, sucked my soul out of my body, he told me to walk into traffic.”
She transformed Glynda’s body, twisting and bending it until it resembled the crumpled form of a car accident victim.
“Who is next?” she called out and Angus stepped forward, taking her place inside Glynda.
“I visited the fairgrounds, but I saw her as a large puppy, like one I’d had as a child. When I gave chase, I ended up inside the fortune teller’s tent. The Great Fortini read my fortune until Wilson Banner arrived. This witch must have called him.”
Angus gave a violent roar, holding his hands up to the sky and shaking them in anger. “He tore my soul from my body, then told me to drive home and park my vehicle inside the garage, closing the door, but keeping the engine running. My death was ruled a suicide, but it was murder at the hands of Wilson Banner and this wretch.”
The warlock’s ghost stepped out of Glynda’s body, rushing towards Silla with his hands raised as if to choke the life from her. Instead, he ran straight through her and me and popped out the other side.
Glynda immediately placed a magic shield around her body. “How dare you take hold of me?” She raised her wand and pointed it at each ghost in turn. “The next one of you to even try will suffer a fate worse than death.”
“What fate?” I stepped forward, pushing Silla along in front of me. “These people, who should be our brethren and under our protection, have lost everything to an evil monster. Silla, your friend and treasurer, has been working in league with him for all this time.”
I threw Silla down, binding her to the forest floor with magic ropes and spikes as if she were Gulliver in Lilliput. I glanced around the circle of shocked faces, then pointed at Silla’s face, sending a spell of compulsion her way.
“Answer for your crimes!”
“He caught me,” Silla yelled. “When I was using the tunnels for smuggling, he caught me in the act. When I tried to turn myself in rather than work for him, he stole away my child.”
“What child?” Glynda stared at the woman who’d served beside her for a decade. Her face was contorted with confusion. “Since when have you had children.”
“My daughter, Heather. She was only four years old when he took her.” Silla turned pleading eyes on Glynda. “He cast a spell to wipe her out of existence. Only I remember her. Only my mother’s love is keeping her alive.”
I stepped back, pressing a hand to my chest. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“Nobody would help me rescue a daughter they didn’t believe existed. His magic was stronger than mine. He’s fed it over the years, with these poor witches.”
She turned back to Glynda, her eyes pleading. “He said if I tried to free her, he’d provide evidence of what I’d been doing, funding my smuggling from the coven’s funds. Even though I stopped and never did anything like it again, I knew once the group heard of my wrongdoing, I’d never be able to convince you of anything. Heather would disappear from the world.”
“You sold all our souls to buy back a daughter who might not even be real?” Mandy and Rosemary stepped forward, the ghosts holding hands. “We’ve been stuck underground with no recourse, scared we’d lie there for eternity.”
“I’m sorry,” Silla sobbed. “But Heather’s real. She’s my daughter. I can’t just let her die.”
I buried my head in my hands, unable to process the new information. Silla could be lying, or Wilson might have conjured her child out of thin air. It appeared he was strong enough.
“How did he find you?” I asked, desperate for a sign one way or the other for what was true. “Why are you hiding away in the tunnels in disguise?”
“I wear the disguises so no humans can see me.” Silla’s tears were flowing so hard she had to stop, sniffing and shaking her head to try to drive them back. “Wilson saw his sister notice me, years ago. Until the moment she did, I don’t think he knew I was there at all.”
Silla began crying so hard, she couldn’t keep talking. I waited, unrelenting. Her sniffles didn’t mean much with the ghosts of her victims floating behind.
When she regained enough composure to speak, Silla kept her eye
s closed. “I don’t know who taught him, but Wilson sucked his sister’s soul out, giving him enough fuel to become a bad witch. Only then did he understand how much the witch’s network keeps regular humans from seeing. He made me parade myself around the fairground in disguise until a hidden witch would spot me. When they did, I called him then used my magic to draw them into his lair.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Just the four,” Silla said, and sniffed. “Each time, I’d think ‘this will be the last one,’ but every few years another would turn up.”
Glynda held her hand up and I nodded to let her speak. “Why only the hidden witches?”
“The coven in Riverhead is too strong. Until he gained enough power, he couldn’t feed on a known witch without turning every one of us on his trail.”
“But four souls?” Glynda’s voice was shrill. “Isn’t that—”
A flurry of barking cut through the air. I’d know that sound anywhere.
Turning, I ran back through the slack-jawed witches and bent down to scoop Beezley into my arms. “You’re back. You’re safe.”
“My brother has some explaining to do,” Madison Banner said, her ghost hands gripping tightly onto Wilson’s upper arm. She’d used the small ball of magic I’d sent after them to give solidity to her hands.
“This is ridiculous,” Wilson said, pulling his mouth down at the corners. He shoved his large glasses up with the side of his hand and they promptly slid back down his nose. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You took our souls,” the ghosts cried out. “Give them back.”
“See what I mean,” Wilson said to me, holding his hands out to either side. “It’s just nonsensical. What would I do with a soul?”
“Feed on it. Use it to power your magic. Use it to control the people around you until they believe whatever you want them to.” I stepped back, not wanting to be anywhere near the vile creature. “You stole their eternal lives just to gain their power.”
“But it doesn’t even make sense.” He laughed, turning in a circle to make eye contact with the other witches. “If I was so powerful, how could a ghost lead me into a coven meeting?”
My spells wriggled in my belly, their siren songs changing to a tune of warning. I glanced down at Beezley, my eyebrows raised, but he appeared nonplussed. Silla cried out, and I turned, seeing the panic in her eyes.
“Stop hurting her!” I yelled, throwing a bolt of magic at Wilson’s face. He leaned to one side as though taking a blow, then straightened up with a huge grin on his face.
“Thanks for that,” he said in a whisper. “Your power is so tasty. If that was a little apéritif, I can’t wait to sup on the entire meal.”
He threw his arms out, bolts of energy flying from his fingertips and lighting up the forest like floodlights at a big game.
“You don’t belong with these witches, either. Why don’t you join me, baby? We could rule the world.” Wilson licked his lips, making me gag.
The black magic pulsed inside me, ready for use but I didn’t have experience forming it, moulding it, controlling it. If I threw another bolt, he’d just absorb it again. My only instinctual use would make him stronger.
“Step back,” Glynda cried, and a waterfall of bright white magic came tumbling past, millimetres from my head. It struck Wilson squarely in the chest, making him glow. He cried out in pain.
“Join me,” she called out, and the coven converged into a group behind her, feeding their magic through her as though they were one. The stream turned into a deluge, knocking him back and smacking the grin from Wilson’s face.
Then I looked into his eyes and saw the dance of glee. The magic hit his chest and was absorbed.
He was feeding on it.
Every muscle in my body tensed, shrieking for help, calling for guidance. The song of the occult spells drifted into my ears.
I closed my eyes, listening to the melody, letting it fill me.
When they reached the end of their song, I opened my eyes and stared into the gaze of my enemy.
With a battle cry, I let the spells loose.
They spiralled out in front of me, a red stream of music, a cacophony as beautiful as it was loud. Beauty was power.
“Free their souls,” I commanded, and the spells twisted into a sharp spear, piercing Wilson’s chest and slicking open his blackened heart.
My crimson beauties intercepted the white magic, absorbing and amplifying it like a piccolo being echoed by a full orchestra. Using it as a propellant to dig into Wilson, deeper, thrusting further, letting loose the magic he’d stolen over the years.
His fake cries became real, and I moved closer, shaking my body to let the black magic pour out however it pleased.
“Take what’s yours!” I screamed to the ghosts, and they crowded close to the sagging body of their nemesis, drawing back their souls and draining him of their borrowed life.
Wilson’s eyes rolled back into his head. His mouth opened, spewing out magic. He no longer made a noise. His body was close to spent.
“No!” Silla cried, struggling against her bonds.
I jerked around in surprise, lifting them from her so she was free. She rushed across, heedless of the magic storming through the air. Her hands reached out for Wilson, clutching at nothing as his body crumbled into dust.
“Stop!” Beezley screamed. “Don’t kill him!”
He too, stumbled forward, trying to clutch at the motes of dust as they spun through the air to settle upon the ground. With frantic paws, he shoved the remains into a little pile, gathering up more dirt than Wilson.
“What’s wrong?” I called out, fearful. “He deserves to die.”
“My child,” Silla screamed at the same time Beezley yelled, “I want to be human.”
Glynda drew back, the covens’ magic now circling with no enemy to fall upon. I felt my chest heat as my own power returned to the haven of my body.
On her knees in the dust, Silla wept and Beezley continued his frantic, useless efforts.
While the ghosts crowded near, patting her back with their ethereal hands, I heard someone stumbling through the bushes on the far side of the clearing.
“Mummy?” a young teenage girl called out, tears streaking down a face wiped blank from shock.
Silla turned, her face bursting into joy. She ran across the circle, pulling the teen into her arms and twirling her around. “Heather,” she whispered, stopping still and staring into the girl’s face. She pushed her tangled fringe back to stared into her eyes. “You’re back.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I closed the lid of the box, sitting on it to keep the flaps in place until the masking tape could take over the job. “Last one,” I called out to Beezley.
The dog scampered out of the kitchen, a guilty expression on his face and a dusting of icing sugar around his nose.
“You’ll end up with diabetes,” I warned, “or whatever the canine equivalent is.”
“It’ll be worth it,” Beezley said with a nod. “And don’t rag on me about lifestyle choices. You’re the one who ordered a dozen doughnuts for breakfast.”
I patted my own straining belly. “And I stand by that decision.”
Glynda had relented on the matter of rent but I’d made the decision to move into the house with Beezley. If we were going to keep working together—and that was my short-term plan—then it made things easier all around.
It also meant we’d soon be sick of the sight of each other, but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
“You really don’t have a lot of stuff, do you?” Beezley nosed at the side of a box labelled books, which really contained a bulging chest of computer games. Close enough, I figured. Amongst all the alien shoot-ups and post-apocalyptic squabbles, there were storylines in there somewhere.
“Travel light,” I said, giving him a pat devised to move him closer to the door. “That’s what a wise woman once taught me.”
“Was that me or your mother?” Glyn
da called out from the doorway, her nose twitching with curiosity.
“Neither,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I think I learned it from watching the telly.”
“It seems to be where you learned everything else,” Beezley said in a resigned tone. He fixed Glynda with a companionable stare and rolled his eyes. “I just don’t know about this younger generation.”
“This younger generation doesn’t know about you either.” I gave him a poke in the ribs, then carried the box out to my repaired car. Glynda had pooled some of the coven’s finances to cover the bill, an act for which I was profoundly grateful.
As I tried to make the box fit into a space three sizes too small, the occult spells twisted and cartwheeled in my chest. We can help with that was their constant refrain. Just let us try.
It seemed an innocent enough offer, but I was reluctant to let them loose. Now I’d seen their power in full swing, a lot of training seemed to be in order. To let them out, willy-nilly, just hoping it would all turn out okay was irresponsible. Since I was in the midst of turning over a new leaf, that just wouldn’t do.
“Have you had any luck?” Beezley asked Glynda as he accompanied her down the front steps.
He meant with finding a spell to transform him back to human, and neither of us was surprised when Glynda shook her head. “I’ll keep trying,” she promised. “But I’ve spread my enquiries far and wide without so much as a nibble.”
I held open the passenger side door for Beezley to jump in. “Look on the bright side. If you changed back into your old detective sergeant self, you wouldn’t have me as a chauffeur.”
“Sounds like another reason to change,” he muttered and Glynda laughed. I gave a huff and closed the door a tad too firmly.
“How’s Heather doing?” I asked, leaning back against the rear door. “Is she adjusting to life back with her mother?”
“She doesn’t remember anything of the time that Wilson had her, apart from the few periods when Silla was allowed to visit.” Glynda patted the side of her stiff hair. “At least, that’s what she maintains.”
