Storm Witch

by Alys West

  Respecting that tradition as she blew out the candle and extinguished the incense he dropped her hand. Awen may be available to him all the time but for Jenna, magical energy came and left with the circle.

  ***

  Jenna sank onto the sofa. What the hell had just happened? She’d never felt anything like it, not even when she’d worked with Mum and other spellworkers. God, if awen felt like that no wonder druids were unbearably smug. It was incredible! Like the warmth of the sun on a perfect summer’s day but inside her, heating her from within. The strange tingling feeling was fading slowly, moving down her arm. She flexed her fingers as it receded. Then she looked at Winston.

  He was standing by the window. He picked up the newspaper, folded it. Turning, he dropped it on the pile of books at the end of the sofa, ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t meet her gaze.

  What the hell did you say to a man you’d shared that with? A man who’d poured energy into you and shared the peace that came after it. To give all of that, it didn’t make sense. Unless he cared. Really cared. But he’d never… Or had he?

  “Did it work?” He pointed at the mirror.

  “I think so. But if it didn’t it’s down to me not crafting the spell right. We certainly put enough energy into it. Well, you did. I just held on.” Putting her wand down on the makeshift altar, she glanced at him again. His gaze was fixed on his staff.

  “Do you want some tea? Or something stronger? I think we’ve earned it.” She forced a smile. He didn’t respond.

  “I’ve got to go. We found an incised stone today and I’ve got to write it up.”

  “Oh, okay. If you’re sure?”

  “Got to get back.” Already he was shrugging on his jacket.

  “I’m meeting Hal at The Fiddlers later if you want to come along. I’m going down about nine.” She glanced at her watch. It was already nearly eight. How had that happened? How long had they spent on the spell?

  He placed his staff in front of him, wrapped both hands around it. “I need to speak to Finn and Zoe, have another word with Grace.”

  Jenna knew a ‘no’ when she heard it. “Thank Zoe for me, will you? I mean it’s pretty terrifying knowing what’s coming—”

  “Might be coming.”

  “She’s got a pretty good track record from what you’ve said. But hopefully we’ve done enough to stop it this time.” The urge to touch him was almost overwhelming. He turned away, heading down the hall to the front door.

  He paused as he reached it. “Keep the doors and windows locked.” She opened her mouth to protest and he added, “Don’t give me any of your ‘this is Orkney, bad things don’t happen’ crap. I don’t know why you believe that anyway after what happened to Nina.”

  Her jaw dropped as she stared at him. “That was because of The Order. It wasn’t anyone from here.”

  “Wasn’t it? You told me whoever killed Nina knew where she swam. Who else would know that but someone who lives on these poxy islands where there’s nothing else to do but know everyone else’s business?”

  “But they could—”

  “Think about it, Jenna! For God’s sake, open your eyes and stop seeing only the good in people. Your uncle, Hal, they’re both selfish bastards and you just won’t see it.”

  “They are not!” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s blindingly obvious to everyone but you.”

  “I think you should leave now, Dr Grant.” She gestured to the door. “Thank you for your help. It was…educational.”

  It was a weak line but it was all she could manage. Still, it must have hit the mark as his face twisted as he stepped outside.

  Chapter 35

  Hal couldn’t stop looking at her. Sitting opposite him, tuning her fiddle, Jenna was lit up from the inside. Her eyes shone, a rosy blush warmed her cheeks. He’d not seen her like that since…

  His fingers tightened on the neck of his guitar. Images flashed into his brain. Jenna naked beside him, on top of him, beneath him. The loss was raw again. As if he were again that young man, painfully in love. As if the last six years of getting over her, meeting Cassie, moving on had never happened.

  Had Winston made her look like this? He scanned the crowded pub looking for Archaeology Boy. Had she been with him, making love, before she came here?

  Unable to stop himself, he leaned over to her. “Did Winston come with you?”

  She shook her head, the movement a lot more vehement than he’d expected. “No.”

  “You two fallen out or something?”

  “He said some things that pissed me off. That’s all.”

  “Oh.” That didn’t explain the glow. Unless Winston had screwed her and then buggered off. “You okay?”

  “I think so.” Resting her fiddle on her knee, she smiled unconvincingly. “He’s just a total arse sometimes.”

  “You’re preaching to the converted on that, you know.”

  Her smile was more genuine this time. “He came round earlier and everything was fine. More than fine. We were—” she glanced down, hesitated “—we were getting on really well. Then suddenly he goes all weird on me and can’t wait to get out the door.”

  The tiny pause said so much. Even though he’d been half expecting it, it hurt. Hurt more than it should. “You two an item now?”

  “God, no! What on earth made you think that?”

  “But…” Hal stared at her glowing skin, her shining eyes. “You….” There was no way he could tell her she looked like she’d very recently had mind-blowingly good sex. He glanced away, spotted Kenny at the bar and said, “Want another drink?”

  He was on his feet before she answered, barely heard her reply as he made his way to the bar. Were they having sex and nothing more? That wasn’t Jenna’s style. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d have a no strings fling. Unless Winston had talked her into it and then done a runner. That’d explain her reaction, her anger. That must be it. And if it was, he would break the little black-haired git’s knees.

  His hand tightened into a fist. He’d warned Winston if he messed Jenna about there’d be consequences and the twat had laughed at him. He wouldn’t be laughing next time Hal saw him.

  It took him a couple of minutes after greeting Kenny to focus on the conversation. Mechanically, he asked about Duncan, nodded in the right places as his cousin replied. When he’d got the drinks, his cousin pulled his vape stick from his back pocket and gestured to the door. Hal followed him. Jenna could wait for her beer a minute or two longer.

  “How’s Amy?” Hal leaned against the white pebbledash wall. “She looked tired when you came round at the weekend.”

  Kenny put his pint glass on the windowsill. “That’s because she’s not sleeping.”

  “Not at all?” Hal knocked back a quarter of his beer in one gulp. It helped a little.

  “Three or four hours a night. She’s been having nightmares about what happened and now she says she’s scared to go to sleep.”

  “Not surprising.” Hal gestured with his glass to the Cathedral where the west window remained boarded up. “I’ve had a few nightmares about it too.”

  “I want her to see the doctor. Get some pills or something.”

  “Is she not keen?”

  “No. At least…” Kenny took a long drag on his vape stick. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with her. I suggested the other day she started planning the wedding again. She lost it with me, cried for an hour and said I didn’t understand at all.”

  “Too soon.” Through the window, Hal saw Jenna pick up her fiddle. “Why not do it differently this time? Take her to Vegas or something?”

  “That’s an idea.” Kenny nodded. “But not until the wedding insurance comes through. Everything I’d got saved went on the honeymoon.”

  “You’ll get some of that back, won’t you?”

  “That’s what they say but you wouldn’t believe how slow it all is and how many forms we’ve
had to fill in.”

  A Range Rover turned the corner by the Cathedral and pulled up on the opposite side of the road next to the town hall. Kenny nodded at it. “Bloody Andrew Stewart. If I had his kind of money I wouldn’t have to worry.”

  “He drives that?” When Hal had met him at Nina’s funeral he’d thought he was a flashy bastard. The Range Rover confirmed it. “What colour is it? Putrid gold?”

  “Putrid gold. That’s a good one!” Kenny snorted out a laugh. “It’s got all the toys on it. Look at those alloys. They cost more than I earn in a month.”

  Hal nudged his cousin. “But he looks like a right twat in it.”

  “You’re not wrong there.”

  A man Hal didn’t recognise walked up to the driver’s side window. The tinted glass lowered to reveal Andrew. He looked older than Hal remembered; head completely devoid of hair, face chubbier, lines carved deeper. The man handed something to Andrew and they said a few words. Then the window went up and the car moved away.

  “You singing tonight?” Kenny asked.

  “Probably.” They’d worked hard on getting Farewell to Stromness right on Tuesday night and after the first run through it hadn’t been as awkward as he’d feared. But Jenna hadn’t looked like that. Could he sing it with her when he couldn’t stop thinking about what had once been between them and how great it had been?

  “Jenna looks good this evening.”

  Hal groaned. “You don’t need to tell me.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “About Cassie coming? No, it’s —” There was no one else he could talk to and Kenny was the closest thing he’d got to a brother. “Maybe.”

  Kenny slapped him on the back. “Never thought I’d see the day. Captain Sensible with two women on the go.”

  Hal pushed him away. “Shut up. Nothing’s happened between me and Jenna.”

  His cousin grinned. “But you want it to.”

  ***

  He’d been riding for the road; his thoughts only on the coming bend, passing the next car, the lean of the bike as he cornered. And the road had brought him to Nethertown. Climbing off the bike, Winston stowed gloves and helmet away. He scanned the path. Left would take him into Stromness. He didn’t need people. He needed exercise, movement, wind, waves and space to think. He turned right.

  A stiff breeze swept his hair from his face, pressed his clothes to his body. It was whipping white horses on the tips of the waves, flattening the grass by the side of the path. Across Scapa Flow the mountains of Hoy played a game of peek-a-boo, disappearing and reappearing behind huge cumulous clouds.

  He should never have helped her. Laws were there for a reason. How could he not have learned that after what happened with Amber? What kind of fucking idiot was he? At least he now knew the reason why druids were prohibited from sharing awen with spellworkers. It was because the urge to screw them afterwards was close to unbearable. He’d had to get away. He’d no choice. Because if he hadn’t, he’d have grabbed her and taken her on the sitting room carpet.

  She’d looked amazing when they’d finished the spell. As if she glowed from the inside. As if she’d had the best sex of her life. If they ever did it, would she look like that? Like he’d lit a fire within her? He liked to think so. But it was hard to keep believing he’d ever find out.

  Not after the way he’d behaved earlier. He’d hacked his way out. Said the first thing that came to mind to deliberately hurt her. Because it had been as if they bloody breathed together. He’d felt the beating of her heart, the pulsing of the blood through her veins. It was more connected than sex, more intimate than sharing a bed.

  He’d panicked. That was the truth. He wasn’t proud of it. He’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again. Which he’d be fine with — he needed to put some distance between them — if she weren’t in danger.

  Once he got his hands on whoever had cast this spell, he was going to skin them alive. He didn’t know how to use awen to do that yet but he’d find a way. They needed to suffer. She’d been really scared when he’d shown her the drawing. Brave as hell, that was Jenna, but still scared. She’d come so far since he’d first met her. The uptight woman he’d first met had gone and been replaced with someone who was sharp and funny and sexy.

  If this spell took her back inside herself then he was going to do more than skin alive whoever was responsible. He’d break every bone in their body as well. Only he didn’t have a clue who it was. His theory was falling apart. However guilty Andrew Stewart looked, he didn’t have magic. So the spell couldn’t be down to him.

  Had Rachel got some help? It was too much of a coincidence that this was happening immediately after Jenna made contact. Perhaps someone she’d met on the Crystal Goddess forum was assisting her. Whoever they were they must be adept at dark magic to cast that kind of spell but they could be literally anywhere. That was the great strength of spellwork, no geographic proximity required.

  If Rachel wanted to scare Jenna she’d made a big mistake. They’d been too cautious with her. He should have insisted they do it his way from the beginning. He was going round there and he wasn’t going to let the nosy neighbour stop him from getting answers. Because Rachel had gone too far. He was the threat. He was the one with power but she wasn’t attacking him. She was directing it at Jenna who had next to no magic to protect herself and what she had got was so rusty as to be practically useless.

  Turning to look out to sea, his hair whipped across his face. He pushed it back. The North Link ferry was coming around Hoy, heading for Stromness. He watched it as his breathing slowed.

  After he’d been to Rachel’s, he could check Jenna was alright. Nothing more. Awen could be used to block doors and windows. He could add that to her own precautions. He was going to have to apologise though. Otherwise she’d never let him through the door. Not that she was going to make it easy for him. ‘An apology, Dr Grant?’ she’d say, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  He could handle sarcasm. It was his stock in trade. He wasn’t going to blame her for using it back. What he couldn’t handle was her contorted by the power of a spell, her eyes almost black as the dark magic spread through her body.

  Tugging his staff from the thong at his neck, he tapped it on the ground. When it had returned to full size, he turned, heading back the way he’d come. As the staff hit the ground, with each step awen flowed into him. He picked up his pace. The wind was behind him now, pushing him along and he was soon moving faster than he’d done before. It wasn’t enough. It was too late to wish he’d taken Finn’s advice and spent more time in the gym. He drew more awen into him, directed it to his muscles and his legs powered him forward.

  ***

  There was no reply. He’d hammered on the door fairly consistently for the last five minutes and she’d not answered. A dog had barked and barked from next door but the neighbour’s curtains were drawn and she’d not appeared. Winston leaned on his staff and looked up. No lights were visible. The curtains were open. Rachel wasn’t in.

  There was one other option though. One Jenna would never approve of. But what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Especially as he was only doing it to keep her safe.

  He placed his palm on the wooden door and directed awen into it. Under the layers of paint was a memory of the tree it’d once been. He had to reawaken that and quickly before the nosy neighbour or her Yorkshire Terrier came to find out what he was up to. The wood grew warm to his touch. He pumped more awen into it and it soaked it up like a plant in the desert. The metal lock was alien. The trick was to persuade the wood to reject it. After long seconds, a crack spread from the door handle outwards. The door bowed slightly inwards, another crack opening up. With a long tearing screech which sounded far too loud in the quiet street, the lock shot forward and whacked him on the thigh.

  He bit back swear words, scooped the lock from where it’d fallen on the door mat and slipped inside. There was no carpet in the hall. Must be a casualty of the flood. He opened the nearest door
into the sitting room. It didn’t look like the room of a twenty-three year old. A navy-blue sofa, forty-inch TV and a bookcase with volumes on birds and boats. The dead father’s presumably.

  On a coffee table next to the sofa was a pile of papers. He started across the room and then froze. He was visible through the window. Dropping to his knees, he crawled across the carpet. He couldn’t help grinning at the absurdity of it. This never happened on cop shows but they’d got the law on their side and, as Jenna kept reminding him, they weren’t CSI Kirkwall.

  He grabbed the papers, settled back on his heels and leafed through them. They were instructions to perform spellwork rituals involving air and water. There was some fairly advanced stuff here, about creating an intention and binding it to the elements. If Rachel did these in her current state of mind then it’d be more than her house that got flooded. She could bring down a storm that’d destroy half the islands.

  The back page was an email from someone called Sarah Parry inviting Rachel to a summer school in Yorkshire in September. Quickly, Winston scanned it. Sarah had told Rachel to practise the rituals using air and water. Was she mad? The girl was a storm witch for Christ’s sake!

  Folding the page, he stuffed it in his jacket pocket. There was no point worrying about leaving things as he’d found them. As soon as Rachel saw the front door she’d know someone had broken in. He crawled across the room and looked at the framed photos on the top of the bookcase. They showed Rachel growing from young girl with bows in her hair to Emo teenager to shy young woman. In some she stood self-consciously alone, in others she had her father beside her. He was a big man, with a thick thatch of hair that went increasingly grey as Rachel grew older. In the most recent one, they were in a sailing dingy tied up by the quay, heads thrown back as they laughed together.

  Back in the hall Winston stood and opened the next door. Downstairs toilet. The door at the end of the hall led to the kitchen. It was a disaster area. There were gaping holes where the appliances had once stood. A tidemark along the wall, eighteen inches above the shattered floor tiles, showed the height the water had reached. There was a colossal dent in the middle of the ceiling. Only the sink, shiny and new, marked the start of the process of repair. A dirty pan, a plate and a mug stood beside it.