by H. Y. Hanna
“This sounds like something straight out of a novel or a Hollywood movie!” said James with a scornful laugh. Then he sighed. “Fine. Even supposing that you are right and a secret society was formed back in the seventeenth century… there is no reason to suppose that it would still exist today.”
“Why not?”
“Because people don’t believe in witchcraft and magic anymore!”
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows and James flushed in annoyance.
“Well, all right, some people still do, but you’re talking about people in the countryside where the old folk superstitions and customs may still be strong… not people in government, with science and education and technology on their side.”
“But you believe in witches and magic, don’t you?” Caitlyn asked softly.
James hesitated, then his eyes met hers and he sighed. “Yes,” he said quietly.
“Then why can’t you imagine others doing the same?”
“Do you realise what you’re saying?” he asked harshly. “If I accept that what Gerald said is true, then that means that I am descended from a long line of witch hunters, that my ancestors have hunted, tortured, and killed women like you throughout the centuries!”
Caitlyn drew back. She hadn’t thought about it that way, but suddenly she realised that James was right and she felt slightly sick.
“I can’t believe my father was a part of something like that,” said James, shaking his head. “For one thing, he always treated the Widow Mags with courtesy and respect, despite all the rumours of her being a witch, and he made no attempt to remove her from Tillyhenge. Surely if he was a member of a society sworn to destroy all witches, he would not have let one live practically on his doorstep?”
Caitlyn thought of her conversation with the Widow Mags the other night. “Perhaps something happened for him to make a… a sort of exception in her case.” She looked enquiringly at James. “So your father never talked to you about witches or mentioned anything to do with magic and the paranormal?”
“No. I knew that he had an obsessive interest in the occult, of course—it was evident from his collection of books and artefacts—but he never openly talked about it.” He shrugged. “I suppose Gerald was right in that respect: my father was a man of many secrets. But to be honest with you, we were never close. Father was very much the traditional authoritarian figure and he became even more distant after my mother’s death. I only saw him briefly, between my time at boarding school and university, and when I started work, I was often travelling and away from England. We never had the kind of relationship that allowed for easy confidences.”
“Well, then, if you weren’t that close to him, you can’t really know what he—”
“I know enough to know that my father wasn’t a member of some silly secret society!” snapped James with uncharacteristic aggression. Then he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said in a calmer voice. “I didn’t mean to be so brusque with you. But I don’t think this subject is worth discussing further.” His tone was final.
Caitlyn acquiesced. Then, as James started to turn away, she put a hand on his arm.
“Wait, James—” She took a deep breath and said in a rush, “I also wanted to apologise and… and to explain about what happened at dinner last night…”
James stiffened. “There’s no need to explain anything.”
“Yes, there is. I don’t want you to think that I was trying to keep you at a distance—I mean, I was, but not for the reasons you think! I… um… it was actually because… er… well, I was afraid that if you came too close, you would notice… er… the smell.”
James looked blank. “What smell?”
She looked at him disbelievingly. “You didn’t smell anything?”
“What am I supposed to have smelled?” asked James, furrowing his brow.
Caitlyn squirmed. “Uh… manure.”
“Manure?” James looked even more bewildered. “You were worried that you smelled of manure? Why?”
Caitlyn took a deep breath and told him the whole story, starting from when she spied Louise furtively heading into the forest and what she did to get close to the woman unseen.
“A camouflage spell?”
Caitlyn nodded. “I’d show you… except that I’m scared I might not be able to reverse it fully again and I’ll end up with green hair once more.”
“But… why didn’t you just tell me this last night?” asked James.
Caitlyn shrugged sheepishly. “The whole story sounded so outlandish—I didn’t think you’d ever believe me! I thought you’d think that I was just covering up for a BO probl—” She broke off and hastily amended, “Er… anyway, I know it was stupid but… but I just panicked and couldn’t think of anything else to do but to keep you at arm’s length.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I never thought that you would misunderstand my actions or that I’d hurt your feelings.”
He was silent for a moment, his head bowed, then he looked up at last and said, “I’ll forgive you… on one condition: that you promise not to hide anything from me in the future and that you’ll always tell me what’s bothering you.” He leaned forwards, his grey eyes intent, and said softly: “I meant what I told Gerald: my feelings for you aren’t changed by what you are.” Then he added with a wicked grin, “Or how you smell.”
“Ohhh… James!” Caitlyn blushed furiously and shoved him away in mock reproach, although she couldn’t help laughing in spite of herself.
He straightened and gave her his heart-stopping, lopsided smile. “When you’re fully recovered and things have settled down a bit, perhaps… we could try that dinner again?”
Caitlyn smiled at him. “It’s a date.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Much as she enjoyed Bertha’s maternal attentions, Caitlyn was glad to return to Bewitched by Chocolate the next day and to the quiet and privacy of her own attic bedroom. She had barely been back half an hour, however, when she heard someone running up the spiral staircase and, the next moment, Evie burst into her room.
“Caitlyn! Oh, Caitlyn—you’ve got to help me! I don’t know what to do!”
“What is it? What’s happened?” asked Caitlyn in alarm.
“Inspector Walsh just came to the herbal shop—he wanted to question me about Nadia and her friends, and whether I had any idea where they might be,” said Evie miserably. “Her mother is getting really frantic, because Nadia hasn’t called or texted or anything since she left Tillyhenge two days ago. Mrs Green wants to report her as a ‘missing person’ and the police are starting a search!”
“What? I thought you said you were going to tell Aunt Bertha everything yesterday morning if you hadn’t figured out how to reverse the spell!”
“I was—but then we heard what happened in the icehouse and you were in hospital and Mum was frantic to go and see you… It was all just chaos and I forgot about it.” She hung her head. “And now that the police are involved and everyone’s really upset, I’m even more scared to tell Mum about what I’ve done.”
Caitlyn exhaled in exasperation. “Evie, you have to! You can’t leave all those people worrying—”
“So what?” Pomona appeared at the top of the spiral staircase, looking even more glamorous than usual in a slinky Missoni dress and leather ankle boots. Caitlyn noticed the dark glitter of the black diamond at her cousin’s throat and tried to ignore the disquiet that stirred in her.
“I don’t know why you’re in such a panic. Let those mothers suffer for a bit,” said Pomona, tossing her hair.
“Pomona!” Caitlyn frowned at her. “This isn’t funny. The poor women haven’t done anything wrong and it’s mean to let them worry about their daughters like that.”
“Why do you think their daughters turned out the way they are?” said Pomona. “I’ll bet they learned it from their mothers. I’ll bet those women are total bi—”
“Yes, well, that isn’t the point,” Caitlyn cut in sharply. “It’s still cru
el and wrong to make them suffer and worry like that.”
“Oh, gimme a break!” said Pomona, rolling her eyes. “It was just a prank!”
“This has gone beyond a prank. And by the way, where did you put the chickens?” asked Caitlyn, suddenly remembering Mosley’s struggle to catch them two nights ago.
Pomona waved a hand. “Oh, they’re somewhere in Huntingdon Manor.”
“Pomie, you told me you’d put them somewhere safe—”
“They are somewhere safe,” said Pomona irritably. “They’re on the estate, right? It’s not like they’re wandering around on the street, getting run over by cars.” Her eyes gleamed suddenly. “Although that would be pretty funny, now that I think about it… like ‘why did the chicken cross the road’… get it?” She sniggered.
Caitlyn stared at Pomona, feeling like she was looking at a stranger. But there were other things to worry about first. She turned back to Evie and said:
“You’ve got to tell your mother or Grandma and ask them for help. You have to, Evie! It isn’t fair to Mrs Green and the other mothers, or even to the police who are wasting their time on a manhunt, when we know where the girls are.”
Evie hung her head. “I… I know. I’m just terrified of what Mum will say. You don’t understand, Caitlyn, because you were never raised as a witch, but… using black magic is the ultimate taboo, especially when it’s used to inflict harm on those who cannot protect themselves, such as normal folk—”
“I don’t know why there’s so much fuss about black magic,” grumbled Pomona. “It’s no big deal, really. And it’s not like you put some kind of death hex on the girls—you turned them into chickens!”
Caitlyn bit back the retort that sprang to her lips, and instead turned to Evie and said: “Come on, let’s go to Huntingdon Manor now and get the chickens, then take them to your mother and ask her what to do.”
It took them a while, but they found the chickens at last in a temporary pen in a shed at the rear of the Manor grounds. Caitlyn was relieved to see that someone—probably under Mosley’s directions—had provided them with grain and water, and some hay for nesting in, and the hens were contently scratching about and clucking to themselves.
“There are five of them… can you manage two and I’ll take two, and then Pomona can take the last one?” suggested Caitlyn.
“It better not poop on my new dress!” said Pomona sourly.
Caitlyn started to bend over the pen but Evie put a hand on her arm and said breathlessly: “Wait! Caitlyn—before we give up… can you try? Please?”
“Evie, if you can’t do it, why do you think I can—”
“Because you’re a stronger witch than I am,” said Evie, looking shamefaced. “You have a natural gift for magic, even though you weren’t raised as a witch. You’ve only been training with Grandma for a few months, and already you’re able to do things that took me years to learn. Please, Caitlyn—can’t you just give it a go? If it works, then we won’t have to tell Mum. Please!”
Caitlyn sighed, unable to resist Evie’s pleading expression. “Oh, all right. I’ll give it my best shot, but I really think it’s a waste of time. I don’t have any idea how to reverse your spell or what to say—”
“Well, you can change things into chocolate and back again, so can’t you do something similar but instead of chocolate, think of returning them to their human form?”
Caitlyn hesitated, then leaned over the side of the pen and grabbed the hen with the freckled feathers—the one that she thought was Nadia. It flapped its wings and struggled, clucking loudly, and she had to hold on tight. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard, and visualised the chicken in her hands transforming, shedding its brown feathers and scaly feet, and turning back into a teenage girl…
“Bok… bok-bok… BOK!”
Caitlyn opened her eyes and looked down at the hen in disappointment.
“Try again!” Evie urged.
Caitlyn sighed. “Evie, this is a waste of time. This isn’t like a normal transformation. I can feel some kind of… of resistance. I’m sure that’s from the revenge spell—it’s forming a sort of barrier around the girls, so unless we break it, nothing will work.”
“Man, who would have thought that a revenge spell could be so powerful,” said Pomona, sounding impressed.
Caitlyn froze. Pomona’s words made her recall Bertha saying: “Revenge is one of the most powerful—and deadly—of human desires.” The whole conversation with her aunt came rushing back, especially the end when Bertha had said: “The darkness is there in all of us, you know, and it takes great strength of character to make the right choice—the difficult choice. To choose understanding over judgement, forgiveness over revenge.”
“Evie! I think I might know how to break the spell!” Caitlyn cried, turning to the younger girl. “There is one thing which can match the force of revenge—the power of forgiveness!”
Evie’s mouth fell open. “Forgiveness?”
“Yes, you need to forgive Nadia and the other girls for what they did to you,” said Caitlyn. “That’s what will break the revenge spell.”
“But… but I can’t forgive them! They did horrible things to me! They—”
“It’s the only way,” insisted Caitlyn. “Unless you want to go to Aunt Bertha and tell her—”
“No!” said Evie quickly. She turned to look at the chickens, an expression of anguish on her face.
“I think it’s a dumb idea,” said Pomona. “Evie’s right: why should she forgive them? She has every right to be angry and make them suffer—”
“Pomona!” Caitlyn looked at her indignantly.
The American girl scowled but she lapsed into silence. Caitlyn turned back to Evie and raised the hen she was still holding.
“I think this is Nadia,” she said gently, holding the chicken out towards Evie. She smiled at the younger girl. “You can do it.”
Evie stared down at the hen, which tilted its head and eyeballed her back, saying loudly: “Bok-bok!”
Evie swallowed. “I… I forgive you, Nadia… for all the times you made fun of me and laughed at me… for all the horrible things you said…” Her voice faltered, then she took a deep breath and chanted:
“I abandon regret,
And no longer fret.
Let the moment reset.
I forgive and forget!”
There was a flash of light that exploded in the shed, blinding all three girls momentarily. When the brightness faded and they looked around, blinking, they realised that they were no longer alone. There were four teenage girls in the pen, ankle-deep in straw and looking very bewildered. And the most perplexed of all was Nadia Green, standing face-to-face with Evie, their hands joined together.
“Wh-what am I doing here?” said Nadia, looking around in a daze. She glanced down and her eyes widened in surprise. She dropped Evie’s hands as if they were hot coals and made a big show of wiping her palms on her skirt. “What are you holding hands with me for?” she hissed. She glanced around the shed and made a disgusted face. “What is this dump? Why am I here?”
Caitlyn glanced at Evie, worried that the other girl would react badly again to Nadia’s unpleasantness. Then she felt relief—as well as a sense of pride in her young cousin—as Evie simply regarded the other girl calmly and said:
“You’d better go and find your mother, Nadia—she’s really worried about you.”
“What do you mean?” Nadia demanded. “She knew I was going camping with the other girls…”
“Well, you’ve been missing for three days. Maybe you went on a bender and ended up passed out in here,” said Pomona with a malicious grin, indicating the piles of straw in the pen next to them.
“I don’t get drunk!” said Nadia, curling her lip. She gave them a scathing look. “You’re obviously all playing some kind of mean joke on me. Well, it’s not funny. I’m leaving!” She turned to go, then stopped and gave a shriek, staring at her feet in horror. “There’s… there’s chicken poo on
my Skechers!”
The other girls looked down at their own feet and started gasping and shrieking as well.
“Get us out of here! Get us out of here!” they cried, pushing and shoving in an attempt to rush out of the shed.
In a minute, they were all gone, still wailing and screeching as they rushed back towards the manor house.
Evie hesitated, then said, “I’d better follow and make sure they’re okay,” and hurried after them.
Caitlyn turned back to Pomona, who was standing with her arms folded and a dour expression on her face.
“Man, Evie’s too nice,” she grumbled. “Look how Nadia treated her as soon as she was back to her old self. She’s just going to go back to making Evie’s life a misery once the school term starts again.”
Caitlyn was barely listening. She was staring at the choker around Pomona’s neck. Despite the dim lighting in the shed, the black diamond seemed to glow with even more brilliancy than ever, shimmering and sparkling with each breath that Pomona took.
“Um, Pomie…” Caitlyn hesitated. “Do you think… Maybe you shouldn’t wear that necklace all the time?”
The American girl looked up, instantly defensive. “Why?”
“Because—” Caitlyn broke off, not knowing how to voice the unquiet she felt.
Pomona’s brows drew together. “Is this something to do with what Gerald Hopkins said at dinner that night?”
“No! That is… well… maybe,” Caitlyn admitted.
“Caitlyn! The guy is nuts! He’s, like, a total psycho who hates witchcraft and magic—you’re not telling me that you actually believe the crap he was spouting?”
“Pomona, we both know that there are forces of Dark Magic out there—Gerald Hopkins wasn’t wrong about that,” Caitlyn said. “And maybe… well, there is something weird about that stone.”
“What do you mean?” said Pomona, looking hurt. “I think it’s beautiful.”
