by E M Graham
That was all the answer he was going to give me. He lifted a glass beaker in triumph.
‘No more. It is time for us to begin.’
‘Where are the others? Zeta and Carrie and everyone?’ I asked suddenly, desperately grasping at the only straw I could find. Yes, I wanted to free Brin, and I wanted the medallion, but at what cost? The world as I knew it was threatening to shatter.
If the sorcerer succeeded in his plan, and even if he didn’t, my education would never come about, not when the Witch Kin elders found out about my participation in this night’s work. ‘Your coven? Don’t you need them here to help you with the spell? Surely, with more involved in your spell, it will make for more power. More guarantee of success.’
He dismissed the ten women out of hand. ‘Yes, they insist on playing their part, but that is later. If they had any magic or power in them, they would be useful,’ he said. ‘But not for this. You on the other hand, you have power.’
‘But Alice – she could help,’ I said. ‘She’s part elf, I know she has power. And she would do anything to free Brin.’
He thought for half a moment, then shook his head. ‘No time for that. Come.’ He snapped his fingers at me.
‘It’s not a problem, look,’ I said and I brandished my phone. I started typing in a text to her. ‘She’ll come right over. She’s fast, like an elf, even if she has to run here.’
‘Leave it!’ he said as he strode over to where I stood and knocked the phone from my hand. It went spinning along the floor towards the shelves, and I had no idea if the send worked.
He took a deep breath, shut his eyes and let it out again. When he re-opened his eyes, they were calm again.
Outside the shop, there was the sound of movement and voices and music. The parade had begun, and the mummers were walking by right at that moment. The cheerful cries and catcalls were made in merry ignorance of the events about to happen not twenty feet away from them in this very room. They didn’t know of the horrors which were about to descend upon them.
‘Now, you need do nothing,’ he said, ignoring the hubbub outside. ‘Merely come into the circle and hold my hand.’
I couldn’t do it. Not for fame or fortune, not for Brin, not for Alice. Not for all the misbegotten souls in Alt. Not even for Mom. I couldn’t allow this sorcerer to wreak this havoc on my world, so I stood my ground, blocked my mind from him and refused to move closer.
Where was Hugh when I most needed him?
Willem saw my resolve written on my face, and he lost his cool again so suddenly that I doubt he had regained it to begin with. ‘You will do this!’ he screamed.
Suddenly he was upon me, striking out with his closed fist against my temple. I began to feel myself falling to the floor but he took my arm in a firm grasp and yanked me over to his pentagram and started chanting, both his hands on my shoulders like an iron vise. I fought and I squirmed through the dizziness but he had the advantage of madness in his body which lent him unnatural strength.
As he held me and looked deep into my eyes he began the chant again, the same as last night. My brain scrambled from the blow, I struggled weakly in his arms but couldn’t break free. His pale eyes pinned me again and spoke right into that fouled corner of my mind as he whispered the words, the merest hint of a smile on his face as he watched my internal struggle, the triumph spreading over his visage just as my will broke and I allowed, I had no choice, I let the darkness swell over me and I found myself looking at him with hunger, with lust, willing him to enter me again and use me. I felt my lips part and I reached to him, but he kept me at arms’ length, his voice running over and through me and the dark corner of my mind jumped up to lick the flames.
I felt it happen, the magic, like a burst of electric blue light through my head. I might have been able to prevent it if not for the blow to my head which had scrambled my senses, but I had no desire to stem its flow. It ran through me like a lightning streak, leaving me gasping and weak. Willem let me fall with a thud as he raised his arms in triumph.
He left me lying shivering on the wooden floor as he turned the overhead lights back on and snuffed the candles.
I felt used, raped. I had no strength left in my body. Still trying to catch my breath, I managed to push myself up with the arm he had not grasped so hardly. The other was paining me mightily.
‘Now,’ I gasped out. ‘You’ve got what you wanted. Free Brin.’
‘Your elf?’ He laughed casually and clicked his fingers. ‘There you go, and good luck with him. Why don’t you come with me to see the show, see what wonders you have wrought?’
‘You’re serious?’ I said with a sinking heart. ‘You’ve lowered the veil?’
‘We, my dear Dara, we together have begun the process of raising the curtain between the two worlds,’ he said. ‘Did you not feel the bliss? Now we should go and claim our success and adulation from those whom we have freed.’
‘What comes next?’ I slowly helped myself to stand, nursing my sore arm. I leaned against the counter. ‘What other evil have you unleashed?’ I refused to take any credit for the night’s doing.
‘How well you know me,’ he said thoughtfully as he looked at me again. ‘You understand that the veil was not my only goal. Come with me. Watch the fall of the Witch Kin at their grand ball. Watch as those they have subjugated for so long revolt in fury against them. I am the conductor of the grand orchestra of destruction.’
My heart fell into the pit of my stomach. ‘Haven’t you done enough already?’
‘No, my dearest Dara, the night has only just begun,’ he said softly. ‘Come watch as I lead my minions through the fall of the Witch Kin. Come and be by my side as I am crowned the Lord of Misrule. You shall be my consort.’
He extended a hand towards me, and when I didn’t move, he merely laughed and placed his sorcerer’s hat upon his head. Willem turned off the overhead lights and stood silhouetted in the opened door. ‘I will not forget, you know,’ he said in a terrifyingly gentle voice. ‘Thank you for your help, it will not go unrewarded. Your medallion can be claimed whenever you desire.’
My help? I spit on the ground in disgust, feeling the path of magic through every vein in my body. His words were as appropriate as a date rapist thanking his victim for such a lovely time.
‘And should you change your mind, well, the ship sails tonight. If you hesitate, you may be lost.’ He paused before shutting the door. ‘The witches... if they survive tonight, they will see your imprint on the magic along with mine. You would do well to hope for the worst for them.’
He hoisted two large duffel bags onto his thin shoulders. Whatever was inside was stirring.
‘We must depart, my creatures and I,’ he said. ‘They are awakening. The veil dissipates.’ The door shut quietly behind him.
I became aware of faint music, the song of Isindor sounding through the ship. The ringtone I had allocated to Alice. The phone had skittered away in the darkness, and I felt beneath the shelves.
I found it too late to answer her call, but then she burst through the door, out of breath and her phone still in her hand.
‘Where is he?’
‘Downstairs,’ I said. ‘The spell should be lifted.’
I hoped desperately that Willem had told the truth.
She ran directly over to the curtain and down the stairs in the dark, her flashlight app already turned on. I was right behind her, and switched on the overhead bare bulb on the string.
Brin sat still in his chair, but this time we were able to reach him. She took his tall form awkwardly in her arms and crooned his tune again, the song he had sung to entrance the crowd. He stirred a bit, then looked up at her.
‘My Alice,’ he said weakly.
‘He needs food,’ she said briskly, meeting my eyes. ‘What do you have?’
I ran back upstairs to rifle through my bag and found a half-eaten chocolate bar. When I presented it to her, she looked at it with disgust, and took it between two fingers. With her other
hand, she distastefully picked off the accumulated lint and then broke off a piece to place in his mouth.
The effect was immediate. Brin brightened and was able to stand with her help, banging his head off the rafter.
‘My hat?’
I found the watch cap tossed into the corner on top of Zeta’s junk piles and dusted it off for him. We made it back up the stairs and he placed it on his head.
‘Help me bring him round the corner to the Rocket,’ Alice demanded, her eyes hard on me as she supported the elf. ‘He needs real food too.’
‘I can’t,’ I told her. I glanced out the window. The parade had long passed, the street was empty. ‘I need to go after Willem.’
‘It’s the least you can do,’ she scolded me. Her eyes were furious. ‘After getting him into this mess.’
‘Look, I don’t know what Willem has got planned, but I have to go warn Dad,’ I said vehemently. I bit my lip. ‘Brin is okay in your hands now, and I’m afraid...’
‘Fine,’ she said in that tone which meant it was not fine at all. Alice turned her back to me and began to lead the elf to the door. ‘Go after your stupid witches. Never mind you almost got him killed.’
I almost went to help her, but knew this was a far more important thing than even our friendship. Yet as the door slammed behind them, my thoughts went also to the medallion which waited, hidden, down in the cellar in Alt. I could nip down there now and flip into the other dimension, quick as a flash, and try to unwork the spell Willem had undoubtedly placed over the lock and finally get my hands on this only clue to my mother’s life.
But even that would have to wait, for as I’d told Alice, this was way more important, and Willem’d had a head start on me. I had to go after the sorcerer and stop his awful machinations, or at least warn my father of the havoc the sorcerer planned to wreak.
I quickly put on my parka and hat, then the dress and the flowered pillowcase over my outside clothes, for I needed to hide from the sorcerer. The flimsy costume wasn’t much, but it was all I had.
17
THE NIGHT AIR WAS CRISP and cool even through the fabric of the pillowcase and I adjusted the cut out eyeholes so I could see. I retraced my steps up the hill towards Queen’s Road, the most direct route to the park and the Witch Kin’s ball, for the parade was taking the long way, down Duckworth and on past King’s Road till they reached Cochrane Street. I hoped I wasn’t too late.
Was there something different in the air? I sniffed deeply, but smelled only the laundry scents of bleach and fresh air dried cotton covering my face, and the wood smoke on the breeze, all odours of real time. But wait! Was that a faint undertone of the gutters of Alt, or was it merely the sour smell of my own parched mouth being breathed back in? I pulled the case away from my face and drew in another breath. I could have sworn that the moldering scents of the Boreal forests and winter fields were closer tonight, but it could have been my imagination.
Was the veil lifted or not? I couldn’t tell, not right yet, but I caught slithering wet black shadows out of the corner of my eye and I could sense loose unanchored magic in the air.
What would be unleashed with the lifting of the veil? Vampires would be free to feast on the Normals to their cold hearts’ content, the humans here would literally be fresh blood for them. Fairies and trolls would emerge from under their rocks and make up for lost time, and all sorts of unmentionable ancient gods could throw off the mantle of their hibernation and battle for their lost crowns. And I could kiss my future education goodbye – if the veil was lifted here in Newfoundland, one of the last true strongholds for the Witch Kin, it would quickly spread all over the earth and civilization as we knew it.
And if Willem’s plan didn’t work? Well, my world was still lost, for the Kin would smell my touch on the magic he had wreaked.
The roads were clear and slippery by now, but they were easier to travel than the sidewalks which had long since hardened to ice. I ran as best I could, but I’ve never been in the shape that Alice was and found myself huffing and short of breath by the time I crested the hill towards Rawlin’s Cross.
The frozen slush crunched underfoot as I hurried across the roundabout encircling the buildings. I could hear music from a distance, and at last I saw the lit torches at the head of the parade begin to come round the curve of Military Road past the Lieutenant Governor’s estate.
Crowds of people lined both sidewalks to watch the spectacle. These inhabitants of the real time world were unaware of what was about to be set loose upon their lives. Little children clapped their mittened hands, led by their older siblings as they skipped along the route. Those not in costumes kept time to the music, dancing their ways up the road and accompanying the mummers on to the big party planned at the park.
The merrymakers were now drawing level to the old Colonial Building and as a body, they paused to see the wonder of all windows glowing from the light of the chandeliers, a sight not seen here for more than fifty years. The soft light sparkled on the untrodden snow outside, secure within the iron fences designed to keep the populace in their place. Music streamed lightly from the open door, classical waltzes from composers long dead, and the silken gowns of the women flashed brightly through the space. As I drew closer, I could even see the glittering face masks of the masquerade. That red glow passing by, surely that was Sasha, my sister, in her signature colour.
And by her side - that tall figure in a black tuxedo, could that be Hugh? No, he had no business being here, unless Sasha was his business. ‘Christ,’ I swore. ‘Don’t let that be Hugh. Don’t let him be in town.’
Those indoors did not spare a thought for the crowds outside now silently watching. The mummers’ accordions and fiddles and bodrans and tin whistles had stilled at the display of luxury within the stone walls, the evidence of the old order alive and well. The commoners in their ragged and patched clothing, coverings made of old flour sacks and threadbare pillow cases and moth eaten scarves, they all looked upon the magnificence through the grills of the newly erected iron fence, the gate now tightly locked against invasion of the less fortunate of birth.
It was a momentary pause only, the contrast forgotten in a heartbeat as the rough music picked up again outside, the fingers of the musicians having to play on lest they freeze on the strings, and all were eager to press onward to the bandstand where mulled wine and hot drinks awaited.
I cast my eye over the crowd, looking desperately for Willem but caught no sight of him. I did see some odd costumes among the heaving throng of people though, as if the simple traditional attire of mummers had not been enough to satisfy their urges for the fantastic and the terrible. A pointed but crooked hat rose up, and next to it a broom stick. One figure towered over the crowd, horns on his head and a devilish mask hiding his identity. They were good, these costumes, yet familiar at the same time.
And I realized then that they weren’t costumes, for these were Willem’s creations come to full sized life in all their terrible glory. Grylla the Christmas witch cast her eye about at the closest children, the mini-mummers all bundled in their snowsuits and scarves, forgotten for the moment by their parents in this gathering of neighbours.
And there, standing too close to my aunt were the Icelandic trolls, their long limbed bodies hungry for the blood of sinners and thieves and the petty miscreants of human life.
All of the anti-Santas had come out to play, brought to life by their creator. I looked on in abject horror, yet that tiny dark space inside me rejoiced at his success. At our success.
The solid wall of figures poured through the gates of Bannerman Park where the band stand and skating rink waited, all brightly lit and welcoming. The smaller gazebo also had its share of lights on, a band beginning to play there, the Celtic tinged grunge striking a familiar note as it pushed through the noise of the crowd.
Jack’s band. Of course, the last minute gig. I wondered if he were still speaking to me, if he had seen me for who I truly was and wanted nothing more to do with
me. I brushed aside that worry for the moment, for I had to concentrate on saving the world as I knew it.
Wildly turning my head, trying to pick out individual figures in the forest of the crowd, Military Road was almost empty before I spotted Willem His black-robed arms were lifted high in the air as if he really was a conductor of an unseen orchestra. He lingered almost alone on the gates of the iron fence of the Colonial Building, just a little distance from a group of women. Zeta, Carrie and the others. His erstwhile coven.
They were waving their hands in the air in time to his chanting, believing themselves caught up in a greater cause than their own small lives, unaware that they were contributing to anything other than Willem’s overarching ego. And maybe to his mind that was contribution enough, giving him more reason to believe himself worthy of the task he had set himself out to do. Confidence was everything in matters of magic, that I knew. If you didn’t believe you had the power, then you didn’t and never would have. It was that simple.
The door to the Colonial Building slammed shut, seemingly on its own.
What could I do? I should run over and... and what? Knock Willem to the ground? I had no doubt that Carrie and the others, whipped into a frenzy by now, would make short work of me. They’d tear into me like harpies on a hapless rabbit. No, there had to be another way...
‘Did you get lost, little mummer?’ The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. I turned around and there was Mark right behind me, his plains clothes not disguising the fact of his copness, never in a million years.
‘Great Aunt Sadie’s dress is unmistakeable,’ he added with a smile.
I whipped off the pillowcase. “Mark, oh Mark thank God!’
He frowned at my obvious terror.
‘Jesus, Dara,’ he said. ‘What the hell’s going on with you?’
But then screams erupted from the crowd inside the park, and I could see slithering black creatures creeping from the shadows, those who were emboldened by the smell of the fear of the humans and attracted like magnets to the terror.
