Storm Witch

by Alys West

  “I don’t know why you’re so bloody calm. Grace Fenwick is out there with a fucking druid.”

  “Shouting about it’s not going to help anyone.” Felicity sounded as if staying calm was an effort.

  “Do you want me to get them to leave?” A man spoke, with a pronounced Glasgow accent.

  Rachel edged forward. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to see through. She angled her body to keep it out of the gap as much as possible. They were standing in a tight group next to the island unit. Felicity was in profile, her cheeks a little pink, her hands locked together. If Rachel moved her head slightly, she could see three quarters of Andrew’s very red face and half of a burly man’s back, clad in a blue blazer.

  “We can’t,” Felicity said. “Jenna was very clever. She’s publicly acknowledged the druid and if we ask him to leave it’ll make us look bad. Too many of the guests agree with what she said.”

  “I thought you’d said it worked.” Andrew turned to his wife.

  “It did work,” Felicity said. “Someone’s broken it. And I don’t think we need to look very far to know who.”

  “Fuck!” Andrew paced out of Rachel’s sight. “I could have sworn it was working when she arrived. Didn’t you think…”

  “To be honest I’d too much to worry about to pay much attention. As she’d said yes to the flat I assumed—”

  “I found her and the dark-haired girl upstairs,” Andrew said. “Do you think they were…?”

  “No, there wasn’t time. And there’s always a strong reaction when the spell breaks.”

  Rachel’s stomach swooped. Spell? They were talking about spells? Andrew was Nina’s brother but she’d never said he had magic.

  Felicity was still speaking, “Remember what happened with Phil Croy?”

  What about Councillor Croy? He’d been involved in the Nethertown protests. Rachel had seen him talking to Nina on the march.

  “Well, Jenna’s not landed in the Balfour with a suspected stroke or we’d have heard about it,” Andrew said.

  “Phil’s reaction was unusually bad but then the spell had been in place for a while. The point is—”

  “The point is we’ve lost her and she’s out there with Grace Fenwick and a druid saying God knows what to our bloody guests.”

  Andrew’s voice came from closer to the door and instinctively Rachel shrank back. Whatever was going on, she was completely sure they wouldn’t want her overhearing this. As quietly as possible she moved to the outside door, pushed the handle down and pulled. It didn’t move. She tried again. Locked. She scanned the hooks beside the door, searching for a key. Nothing. It might be in one of the drawers but could she really go through them without making a noise and drawing attention to herself?

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Rachel rested her weight against the worktops. The discussion continued next door, their words only slightly muted.

  “If you want to speak to your niece, I’ll get her for you,” the Glaswegian said.

  “Both of them. I want to speak to both of them,” Andrew said. “We have to stop this before she turns into as much of a thorn as Nina was.”

  Nina? What did he mean? Rachel inched forward again until she could squint through the gap. She couldn’t see Andrew. Felicity and the other man stood by the island unit, their backs to her.

  “After the party’s over,” Felicity said. “We’ve got to salvage what we can from today. Make sure Jenna’s little speech doesn’t derail everything.”

  “Got any tricks up your sleeve to help with that?” Andrew returned to Rachel’s line of vision as he spoke.

  “Nothing I can produce at a moment’s notice,” Felicity said.

  “That’s the bloody problem with spellwork. It always needs preparation. You can’t just produce a spell when a man needs it.”

  “If that’s what you wanted, you should have married a druid.”

  Seriously? Felicity was a spellworker? This didn’t make sense. Nina would have known, wouldn’t she?

  “Coming back to Jenna and her friend, do you think it’s worth me having a gentle word, a reminder that there’ll be a reckoning later?” The other man stepped towards Andrew and as he turned Rachel saw his face for the first time.

  His scowl had haunted her dreams for months after Nina’s death. He was older, heavier but she’d know him anywhere.

  Panic lodged in her chest, pressing down on her lungs. She stepped back, her hand raised to her throat as her heart hammered. She’d been trapped in the dispensary as he and his colleague searched Nina’s room on the night she died. He’d not seen her then. He couldn’t see her now. She had to hide. Hide until he’d gone like she did before.

  The tray slid from her fingers. She tried to catch it but she was too slow. It hit the floor with a sharp metallic clang before clattering to rest on the slate grey tiles.

  Chapter 49

  Rachel turned, searching for a place to hide. She’d hidden before and he’d not found her. She yanked open the door of the ironing cupboard. Could she—? She bent to pull the basket aside. Would that give her room? She heard footsteps behind her and spun. He was coming towards her, a quizzical smile on his fleshy face.

  “No, no.” Her hands rose to protect her face as she backed away. She couldn’t think. All she could feel was her heart pounding so hard it hurt, her chest tightening so each breath was a gasp. Her back hit something solid and she sank to the floor, curling into a tight ball.

  “There’s no need to be like that, lassie.” The man’s hands grasped her arms and tugged her upright. “I’m no going to hurt you.”

  Then why was he holding her so tight it hurt her arm? She tried to wriggle away but his grip tightened.

  “No, this can’t be happening.” Rachel grasped his pudgy fingers and tried to prise them loose. “Not again.”

  “What’s she babbling about?” Felicity said. She stood in the centre of the room with Andrew.

  “She says she’s seen me before,” the man said.

  “What? Where?” Felicity turned to her husband. “Get back to the party. Ewan and I will handle this.”

  Rachel shook her head. Everything was oddly far away. She’d hidden at Nina’s but it hadn’t been enough. They’d found her. All these years later, they’d found her. Now she was going to die, like Nina died. A tear ran down her cheek, dripped off her chin and hit the floor. On impact, it swelled and grew becoming an opaque puddle. Another followed, hit the floor and multiplied.

  “Jesus! Give the kid a break.” Andrew ran his hand over his bald head. “She looks terrified.”

  “When I need your advice, I’ll ask for it.” Felicity flapped her hand at him. “Go.”

  “Don’t do anything hasty,” Andrew said as he headed for the door. “She’s only a waitress. No one’s going to believe her anyway.”

  “What do you want me to do with her, Mrs S?” As the man spoke, he pulled her closer. Rachel cringed away from his face. The tight band around her arm intensified and she screamed. No sound came, only a whoosh of air. It flapped against Ewan’s sports jacket and dishevelled Felicity’s hair. It was as if there was a breeze, a breeze inside, coming from her.

  Hearing only the blood pounding in her head, her heart hammering hard enough to break her chest, she opened her mouth and screamed again. This time there was a sound, a high-pitched yell of pure fear. Air poured from her mouth. Ewan staggered back, releasing his hold on her. Felicity grabbed the worktop, her manicured nails struggling to find a grip as the wind buffeted her body.

  Her wind. The wind she was creating.

  Rachel opened her mouth to do it again. More tears fell. Some hit her clothes and she was instantly drenched, others dropped to the floor and expanded to form puddles of cloudy water around her feet. “Make her stop!” Felicity yelled. “Or we’ll have half of Orkney in here to see what’s going on.”

  Ewan stepped forward. “Come here, you little bugger. No one told me you had power too.” From his jacket pocket he produced a
knife and flicked it open. “But I’ve ways of dealing with the likes of you.”

  “Fuck off!” The words came out as a bellow as Rachel raised her hand. Wind poured from her mouth and from her hand. She raised her other hand, pushed them together and concentrated the blast at the man in front of her. It hit him in the abdomen, his breath going out in a whoosh as he was propelled backwards. He hit the back wall with a sickening thud. A flurry of coats in vibrant, all-weather colours tumbled after him, falling on his slumped body. Felicity darted to him, bent down.

  Rachel took a shuddering inhale and then another. Was it over? Would he stop now? One hand fell to her side as the other brushed tears away. Felicity straightened and in her hand was Ewan’s knife. She raised it above her head and stepped towards Rachel.

  “Pachamama, Goddess of the earth, I call on you to help me.” Felicity enunciated each word very clearly. “Split this wind and let it do no harm.”

  Felicity kept repeating the words, each step bringing her closer. Rachel screamed again, the sound loud and high, full of fear but the wind went around Felicity, losing force as it touched her. Felicity kept moving towards her, the knife poised and ready to fall.

  A wave of heat rushed through Rachel’s veins. Her head swam, nausea swept up her throat. She closed her eyes. This was it. She was going to die and she’d not lived. She’d screwed up so much and there was no time to put any of it right. Everything tumbled through her brain: Mum, Kenny, Amy, Nina, Dad.

  The floor shook, groaned. She looked down. A giant crack snaked across the floor, starting from her feet and ending next to the outside door. Water streamed through it, joining the puddles from her tears.

  “What the hell—?” Felicity had a foot on either side of the split. Water poured into her ridiculous expensive shoes. The knife wavered above her head as she looked down. Behind her, Ewan stirred. His movements dislodged the coats which covered him and they fell into the water like giant confetti.

  From behind the sink and each of the appliances came a grinding noise followed by the screech of splitting metal. The washing machine and dishwasher burst forward as water jetted out behind them. The taps shot upwards on a fountain of water. One hit the ceiling and the other the window behind it.

  Water cascaded over Rachel’s head, trickled down her face and drenched her already sodden clothes. She raised her hands and screamed again. Wind poured out of her mouth, down her arms and out of her palms. It hit Felicity and she stumbled backwards. The knife fell from her grasp. Three quick steps propelled Rachel forward to kick the knife out of Felicity’s reach.

  There was a commotion outside the door to the kitchen now. A raised voice, someone tugging on the handle, hammering against the wood when they couldn’t open it. Felicity turned to the kitchen door as Ewan struggled to standing. She raised her hand. The door flew open, the water whooshing aside. Felicity and Ewan stumbled through. Before Rachel could react, it slammed shut. A second later, the exterior door opened an inch and then slammed closed.

  Rachel blinked at it. It’d been locked. She’d checked. Then the penny dropped. She sank to the floor and curled into a ball, her head on her bent knees. She was trapped in here, trapped by magic. Sobs rose up her throat and she let go, let the tears fall to join the water around her, let the pain flow out and didn’t care where it went.

  ***

  “Thanks, I appreciate you saying that. Yes, I’ll tell Pippa and we’ll make sure you know the date of the next meeting.” Jenna smiled at the couple. They owned the bookshop in Stromness and, like the man before them and Elaine from The Oystercatcher Café, had assumed she was stepping into Mum’s shoes in the campaign against Nethertown. She’d not thought that far yet but she’d not told them that. It’d been easiest to let them assume. She’d already done more than enough difficult things for one day.

  Winston was standing by the patio doors with Finn and she crossed the room to join him.

  “Anything?” She glanced at the weather as she spoke. The rain had cleared and the sun peeked from behind a large cumulus cloud. The blue sky over Hoy held the promise of a fine evening ahead.

  “Not yet.” Winston slipped his arm around her waist. “It’s like waiting for bloody Godot.”

  “But Godot never comes and we know this is coming.” It was so nice to relax against him, to enjoy the solid strength of his body next to hers.

  “We’ve lost track of Rachel,” Finn said. “She’s been gone a while. Zoe’s talking to the lady at the bar to see if she can find out where she is.”

  Jenna glanced over to see Zoe and Grace leaning against the bar where Debbie was looking increasingly hassled.

  “Is it worth looking for her?” Jenna said. “Or do we work on the theory that as long as the weather’s good everything’s fine?”

  Winston’s hand tightened on her waist. “Hold on, your uncle’s coming over.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Plastering on a fake smile, she grasped Winston’s hand and turned to see Andrew towering over her.

  “Jenna, a word.” Andrew gestured with his head for her to come with him.

  “I think the days of you ordering me around are over.” Her chin came up as she spoke. “If you’ve got things to say then do it here. There’s nothing you can say to me that my friends can’t hear.”

  “You’ve got an odd taste in friends, hanging out with a druid.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say ‘two druids’ but she didn’t think that’d help. “What do you want, Andrew?”

  He ran his hand over his head before he spoke. “You must know that after your little speech, the flat in Edinburgh’s off the table.”

  “That’s fine. I didn’t want it anyway.”

  “But don’t think you’ll be able to stay where you are. I know your landlord. I can have you out next week.”

  “Fine. I’ll go back to Dad’s.” It wasn’t fine at all but she wasn’t going to show him that. Winston’s hand tightened in hers.

  “Don’t you think that’s low, even by your standards, Mr Stewart?” Winston said. “Making your own niece homeless because your other plan didn’t work? And we know about that, by the way. Lucky Grace was on hand to put a stop to it.”

  “You know…? But—” Andrew shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. What I was going to say is if you’ll meet me halfway, you and Pippa, maybe we can work something out for Nethertown. I need this to work, Jenna. There’s more riding on it than you know. I can’t…”

  He broke off as a scream penetrated the room. Heads turned looking for the source of the sound.

  Andrew stepped away from Jenna and raising his hands, spoke to his guests, “Nothing to worry about, ladies and gentlemen. One of the waitresses is having a bit of an episode. My wife’s with her. I’m sure she’ll be fine—”

  Another scream, louder this time. Somewhere a door slammed shut.

  “Where is she?” Jenna grabbed Andrew’s arm. “Where’s the waitress?”

  “In the utility.” Andrew ran his hand over his bald head. “But there’s no need to worry. Felicity’s got it under control.”

  “I very much doubt that.” Now it was actually happening, Jenna felt strangely calm. “Finn, get Zoe and Grace. We need to try to talk to Rachel before this gets worse.”

  Another scream pierced the chatter in the room. All of the windows in the room rattled as a gust of wind blew through the house. The light was changing. Jenna blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sickly yellow light that presaged a storm. Enormous dark clouds were massing over the sea. As she watched, there was a concerted flutter of wings as all of the sea birds within half a mile took flight.

  Winston’s grip on her hand loosened. “Shit! Coming in fast.”

  Andrew folded his arms across his chest. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Mr Stewart, much as I don’t like you, I don’t want you to die.” Winston pulled his staff from the thong at his neck. “Mainly because it’d upset Jenna and one of the thi
ngs I really don’t like is Jenna being upset. This party needs to end now. Send everyone home. Immediately.”

  “What? Why?” Andrew looked between Jenna and Winston.

  “Because there’s a storm coming. A storm that’ll make the one at the Cathedral look like a light summer shower. Now are you going to send everyone home or not?”

  “Why—”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake! Jenna, you do it. They’ll listen to you.”

  ***

  “The handle won’t even move.” Winston pushed down with both hands but it didn’t budge.

  “Definitely magic then.” Grace leaned against the kitchen’s island unit. The wind blew her hair around her face in a swirl of reds, pinks and purples.

  “I can remove the handle.” Winston didn’t take his hand off it. “Do you think that’ll do any good?”

  “I doubt it. When you seal a door you usually bind the spell to the whole door, not just the handle.”

  “Right.” Winston rubbed his nose. The blisters he’d got at Rachel’s house still itched. They demonstrated she could do some magic which didn’t involve water and air but why had she trapped herself inside the utility room? It didn’t make sense. “Why don’t you try talking to her again?”

  He stepped back and Grace moved to take his place. The wind buffeted her as she moved and he took her arm to keep her steady. She tapped gently on the utility room door. Her voice was calm and soothing although she had to raise it to be heard over the whistling, keening noises the wind was creating. A particularly vicious blast caused the toaster and kettle to skitter across the work surfaces. As both crashed onto the tiles below, the noise reverberated around the kitchen. Grace spun, one hand on her heart. Winston went to her.

  “How long will it take you to open it?” he asked.

  “If I had the ingredients for the spell, about five minutes provided I’d got somewhere safe and relatively peaceful to do it. I don’t much fancy casting in this.”