Storm Witch

by Alys West

  “Are you sure?” He thought back to Thursday. She’d been angry with Winston then. Anger was easier to deal with than this. Whatever this was.

  “Absolutely sure.” She put her beer bottle down and reached for her fiddle case. “You ready to rehearse? We need to decide on a set list for tomorrow.”

  He slugged back a mouthful of beer to give himself time to think. He should be pleased. He’d been wanting Archaeology Boy out of her life since he’d first met him. Only it didn’t feel right. Jenna was never like this, never detached. She was passionate and emotional even if, in the years since her mum died, she’d hidden it behind sarcasm and slightly caustic wit.

  But he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe music would return her to the Jenna he knew. “Sure. Where do you want to start?”

  “How about with Farewell to Stromness?”

  He opened the lid of his guitar case, balanced the instrument across his knee and checked the strings. “That’s beginning to sound a bit too appropriate. We’ll only get to play it at your uncle’s and the gig next Friday and then you’ll be gone.”

  “You’ll find someone else to play with.” Jenna plucked her A string, winced and tightened the peg. “And Cassie’ll be here.”

  She would. She was arriving the day after Jenna left. It wouldn’t fill the gap. He could feel that already. Because this evening it was as if she’d already gone and the lack of her was as bad as it’d been six years ago.

  He picked up his beer bottle and raised it to her. “‘Let us drink and be merry, from all sorrow refrain; For we ever or never, may we all meet again’.” The words from the song had never felt more appropriate.

  “That’s my line.” Jenna put her fiddle under her chin to tune it.

  Her sense of humour was AWOL this evening as well. He slugged back another mouthful of beer. “Just borrowing it. That’s all.”

  ***

  The beach was on South Ronaldsay; a beautiful arc of white sand, sheltered by rocky promontories. The wind had dropped as evening fell and that had brought the midges out. Winston slapped at one on his arm as he leaned against the rear of Finn’s Honda. The beach was nearly empty. There were a couple walking a tan dachshund at the far end and a woman in her fifties, trailing along the sea edge, stopping frequently to pick up shells. The sun dipped towards the horizon, a glowing ball draped with skeins of cirrus cloud.

  Grace and Zoe stopped three quarters of the way up the beach, looked around, spoke for a minute. Then Zoe turned and waved. Must be the spot Grace had chosen. He moved around to the back of the car and hefted the firewood into his arms. Finn had got everything sorted while he was caught up with the dig’s open day. He’d checked tide times, located elder leaves and sourced the kind of candles Grace wanted. All before meeting him at Stromness to see Rachel.

  Winston scratched his nose. The bloody blisters itched like hell. Grace had taken one look at him and despatched Finn to the nearest pharmacist for calamine lotion but he’d washed it off before he came out. There was no way he was coming out bearing a strong resemblance to a Dalmatian. It was bad enough that he already looked like a smallpox victim.

  Finn picked up the rucksack before closing the boot and locking the car. They crossed the road and walked in silence along the beach. At least Finn had stopped needling him. Usually he didn’t mind the banter, he gave as good as he got but since they got back to the B&B he could feel the tension building. He couldn’t endure another nine days until the new moon to get her back. Nine days in which she’d finish packing up her flat, leave her job, move to Edinburgh and let Zoe adopt Mansie. There was no way back after that. The Jenna he knew would be gone, destroyed by what her uncle had done to her. They had to break the spell tonight. Only Grace wasn’t sure it would work. She’d been rather too open about that. Right now, he’d have welcomed a bit of misplaced confidence.

  There was a ring of charred stones in the soft sand above the tideline. He dropped the firewood where Grace indicated and took the kindling from his coat pocket where he’d stuffed it to keep it dry. He kneeled, sinking into the pale sand, hands busy with the familiar motions of building a fire. It lit on the first match and there was a faint flicker of pride that he could still do it. It was one of the few useful things he’d learnt at hippy school at Glenard.

  Zoe moved around him, setting out candles, removing boxes of herbs from the rucksack, piling everything neatly together as Jenna had when they’d discovered the pentagram in Maeshowe. He shoved the memory away.

  “I want to meditate for a while before I begin the ritual,” Grace said. “We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

  Grace looked between them but it was Zoe who checked her watch. “It’s half-past eight. We’ve got loads of time.”

  Forty-five minutes to moon rise. He looked up, scanning the dome of the sky as if that would make the moon appear faster.

  “We’ll leave you to it,” Zoe said. “Come on, boys.”

  She walked back up the beach, Finn falling into step with her. Winston glanced at Grace. She was seated on a fold-out chair, eyes closed, hands turned palms up. She opened one eye. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  He was too wound up to meditate. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  Finn and Zoe were holding hands, strolling along the beach as if they were out for a romantic evening walk. He didn’t really want to be with them. He didn’t want to be with anyone. But he didn’t want to be on his own either. They turned, waiting for him and he headed over to join them.

  As he got closer, Finn dug in the pocket of his waterproof. He pulled out his car key and handed it to Winston.

  He stared blankly at it. “What’s this?”

  “What do you think it is? Just don’t drive it like you ride your bike. I’d like it back in one piece.”

  “But…” His gaze moved between them and caught the look they shared.

  “You’re going back to Kirkwall,” Finn said.

  “I’m bloody not.” He shoved the key back but Finn kept his hands by his sides, refusing to take it. Winston dropped it into the sand at his feet. “I have to be here. For the ritual.”

  “No, you don’t.” Zoe stepped closer, put her hand on his arm. “You need to be with Jenna.”

  “In case you’d forgotten—” enunciating the words slowly, he pulled away “—Jenna doesn’t want to see me.”

  “Because she’s under the spell.” Finn straightened from bending to retrieve his key. “As soon as the spell’s lifted, she’s going to need you. You’re the only person who can explain to her what she’s been through these last couple of days.”

  “But Grace…” His arm swung out a little wildly.

  “She’s been avoiding Grace for weeks. You know that. It’s you she’s going to want to see when she comes round.”

  “If she comes round.”

  “We have to believe she will,” Zoe said. “And if she doesn’t, what’s the worst that’ll happen? She slams the door in your face again?”

  This was a bloody ambush. Bastards. The pair of them.

  Finn moved to stand right in front of him, his face shadowed with the sun behind him. “Do you want her to wake up from this alone?”

  The image of Jenna clutching the duvet as she scrabbled backwards across the bed returned like a knife thrust. “She was scared of me.” The words came out hoarsely as if they’d been scraped from the back of his throat.

  “But that wasn’t really her. That was the spell talking. That was what her uncle wanted her to feel. He needs to keep her from you so she’ll do what he wants. And if you don’t go to her, if you’re not there when she wakes up then you’re playing right into his hands. Do you want him to win? Do you want him to keep you from her?”

  Unable to hold Finn’s gaze, Winston half-turned. “I know what you’re bloody doing.”

  “What am I doing?”

  “Trying to make me angry.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I’ll try harde
r. Andrew sees you as a threat. He doesn’t want you close to his niece, doesn’t want you looking into him in too much detail. He knows you’re a druid and he thought you and Jenna were an item before—”

  “We’re not an item.” The denial came automatically.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Zoe folded her arms as her chin came up. “You so are. You might have only just done the dirty but you’ve been spending every spare minute with her for weeks now and if that doesn’t make you an item I don’t know what does.”

  “Anyway—” Finn shot her a glance which clearly said ‘back off’ “—Andrew wants you out of Jenna’s life and for Jenna to stop asking questions about the Nethertown development and Nina’s murder. Coercion spells have worked for him before so he gets someone, we don’t know who yet, to put a spell on her. But it’s not enough for him that Jenna packs up and goes to Edinburgh, he needs to make sure she’s not listening to you so the spell makes her scared of you too.”

  “But as soon as the spell goes the fear goes. Along with the freaky black eyes,” Zoe said.

  “And you think she’ll want to see me?” His gaze fixed on Zoe. She was a woman. She’d know what Jenna would want.

  “Of course, she’ll bloody want to see you. You’re the last thing she remembers from before the spell took hold. For her the last thirty-six hours haven’t happened.”

  “We don’t know that,” he said.

  “What are you scared of?” Zoe said.

  Finn opened his mouth and she silenced him with a look.

  What was he scared of? Everything. That was the truth. Jenna throwing him out was only marginally worse than her falling into his arms as the spell lifted. Because either way he felt too much. Far, far too much. “Caring,” he said.

  “Then it’s time to man up.” Zoe’s gaze was painfully candid. “Caring hurts. That’s the truth and I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. When you care for someone, they can hurt you. But do you know what’s worse? That’s not caring for anyone. Do you want to go back to that? Do you want to spend the rest of your life like that?”

  Emotion caught, twisted, tightened deep inside of him. He lifted his gaze to the sun, closed his eyes against the light. When he opened them, his vision blurred for a second before everything resolved into sharper focus.

  “You’re as bad as him.” Winston gestured at Finn. “Neither of you play fair.”

  Finn shrugged before dropping his arm around Zoe’s shoulders. “That mean you’re going?”

  “Give me the bloody key.” He stretched out his hand and Finn dropped it onto his palm. His fingers closed around it and he began to walk backwards over the sands towards the car. “Ring me when Grace starts the ritual. Then I’ll know when to go in.”

  “It’s not a dark op,” Finn shouted. “You’re only going to see your girlfriend.”

  He gave him the finger and turned to sprint over the sand, his feet sliding awkwardly until he reached the grassy bank. He raced across the road and into the car park. He’d got less than twenty minutes to get back to Kirkwall. He hoped Finn’s heap of junk was up to it.

  ***

  “It’s time,” Finn said. Zoe scanned the sky. His hand landed on her shoulder. She looked along the line of his finger, out above the sea, and there was a ghost moon, three quarters round, almost translucent against the evening sky.

  Grace stood by the fire. She turned, looked at Zoe. “Further back. In case I can’t hold what I call up.”

  “Okay.” Zoe took three steps back. She was feeling anxious enough about this already. That comment really wasn’t helping. “This far enough?”

  “Should be. Ready when you are, Finn.” He’d been co-opted to provide assistance, to hand Grace what she needed when she needed it. But awen had no place in her circle so his staff and the leather thong were in Zoe’s pocket. She wrapped her fingers around it and said a prayer to a God who seemed increasingly like a Sunday school myth. But old habits and all that. Sometimes the myth was reassuring and, right now, she’d give a lot for some reassurance.

  Pulling her mobile out she pulled up Winston’s number. “Grace is starting now. Go get your girl!” she said when he answered.

  She waited for the reaction but none came.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Go on then!”

  “Zoe?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long pause. “If it doesn’t work—”

  “It will. Now go. Jenna needs you.”

  She rang off before he could argue anymore. Honestly, he was a complete wimp sometimes. He loved Jenna. It was obvious to everyone but him and it was about bloody time he grew a pair and admitted it.

  “Clear the circle please, Finn,” Grace said. He lit the smudge stick, holding it between cupped hands until the smoke billowed out. Walking widdershins, as Grace called it, around the circle they’d drawn earlier, he waved the smudge stick to cleanse the circle.

  When he’d finished, he stepped back and picked up the grimoire. Grace raised her arms. “I cast this circle in the name of the Mother of Life and of the Horned God, nature’s guardian. May it be a meeting place of love and wisdom.”

  With her wand raised, Grace walked clockwise three times creating the magical circle for the ritual. As she returned to the centre, Finn lit each of the chunky white candles with a twig from the fire and placed them at the circumference of the circle, marking north, south, east and west. Grace turned to each compass point saying words Zoe couldn’t hear. And although it was different, although it was a beach at twilight and not a stone circle in the darkness before dawn, the memories crowded in.

  She’d been half expecting them but that didn’t reduce their power. Maeve’s athame drawing blood, the chalice by the fire, the chanting, the ritual, the fear. The certainty that she would die there. Or Finn would. She sucked in a long inhalation, moved her gaze to the coral and apricot light staining the western sky and tried to keep her mind in the here and now. Beach, Orkney, Jenna. She repeated it like a mantra. Beach, Orkney, Jenna. She pulled the leather thong from her pocket, tugged it over her head and wrapped her fingers around it. Beach, Orkney, Jenna. Her breathing slowed as the panic faded. Was that down to residual awen from Finn’s staff or the sense of safety that always came from him?

  She looked up, seeking Finn. He was standing on the opposite side of the circle. As if he felt her gaze, he gave her a quick smile, mouthed what looked like “You okay?” She held her hand flat, waggled it. His mouth turned down in a pantomime of sad face. Then he stuck his tongue out, widened his eyes and waggled his ears. She laughed, the sound breaking the silence around them.

  Grace said his name a little sharply and his face returned to normal. He picked up a bowl of herbs and handed them to her. Grace threw a handful onto the fire. Smoke billowed as the leaves burnt, scented with the sharpness of bay, the tang of fennel.

  “Great Mother,” Grace said, her hands raised skywards. “You who are the creative power of every cell in our bodies, in the stars above us, in the plants and animals of land and sea I call upon you to waken within me the power to cast this banishing spell. Make all things well as you are the wisdom of nature and the pattern of harmony throughout this world. I am here to work magic to banish the evil that holds Jenna Henderson. Assist me in my purpose, Great Mother and help me to free her mind of enchantment.”

  There was a crackle of static in the air like before a thunder storm. Even for Zoe on the outside, there was an increased sense of connectedness. The circle was formed, the spell was starting.

  Chapter 43

  They came to the end of the Hills of Glenorchy pretty raggedly. Hal put his guitar down and pushed his hand through his hair. There was more wrong than he’d thought. Jenna never played like that. Technically it’d been fine, flawless in places, but it was devoid of the style which was essentially her. Should he tackle her about it or leave it and hope she was back to normal tomorrow? Tomorrow at her uncle’s party which she’d not wanted to go to in the first place. Was th
at what was bothering you?

  “I’m going to open the window.” She stood up, stripped off her hoodie. “It’s a bit hot in here.”

  It felt fine to him but he didn’t argue. Traffic noise drifted up from below but the air barely stirred.

  Jenna went to the kitchen and took out a glass. “You want some water?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She turned to move to the sink. Half way there, her body stiffened. She cried out, a single, high-pitched sound. The glass slipped from her hand, smashed on the floor. Her head fell back, her body shook uncontrollably and then went limp.

  “Jenna!” He wasn’t fast enough. By the time he got to her she was already on the floor, sprawled across the broken glass. Blood seeped from beneath her left arm, staining her t-shirt bright red.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Where else was she hurt? He slid his hands beneath her. His finger caught on an unseen sliver of glass. Pain sliced but he ignored it. Bending his knees, he scooped her up.

  As he carried her over to the sofa, her entire body tensed and convulsed. Her head rolled backwards, a hand shot out and smashed him on the chin. He clutched her to him, heart pounding as he fought to keep his balance.

  Was it a seizure? It looked very much like one but she didn’t have epilepsy. What else could cause a seizure?

  He laid her down on the sofa as gently as he could. The convulsion stopped as suddenly as it’d begun. He tucked a cushion behind her head, brushed her hair back from her face, eased off her shoes. He stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth. What else should he do? Think. Recovery position. But not until the fit had finished. Had it finished?

  Her eyelids flickered open, her strange black eyes blinking rapidly until they focused on him.

  “Hal.” He could barely hear her.

  “I’m here. You’re going to be fine.”

  He took his mobile from his pocket and dialled 999.

  ***

  Winston tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, peered up at Jenna’s window and checked his mobile again. It was five minutes since Zoe had rung to say Grace was beginning the ritual. That’d got to be long enough, hadn’t it? Long enough for the spell to begin to lift and for Jenna to remember she didn’t hate him.