Storm Witch

by Alys West

  “Really, Felicity. This is no way—” Dad said.

  “Then tell your daughter to stop asking questions.”

  “Leave it be, Jenna love.” Jenna met Dad’s gaze. The fight she’d seen there earlier had gone. He looked enormously tired. “Let her take them.”

  Jenna sank back into the armchair and ran her hands over her face. She needed to think. When had Felicity sent Ewan to get the grimoires? Was it when Mum was alive? Was that how he’d known Mum was brave? Was that something else Mum hadn’t told her? Or wasn’t it more likely that Ewan was responsible for the break-in, that the chaos in here had disguised his attempts to find the books? Which meant he’d met Mum at some other time when she’d fought. Jenna’s gaze flicked up. She could only see the back of his head as he bent to stack books on the floor. Had Ewan killed Mum and then come here for the grimoires? Her gaze shifted to Felicity. If he had, it was absolutely clear who he answered to. And all promises were off because she would not, could not let them get away with this.

  She needed a weapon. Mum’s athame was in the desk drawer but she couldn’t get over there. She could crack someone on the head with Thor but he was too far away too. Her gaze travelled to the window. Hag stones, witch bottle. That’d do.

  She stood and limped over to it. When Felicity glanced over, she leaned against the ledge and crossed her arms.

  “Sorry, my ankle aches. I thought standing might help.”

  “I doubt it.” Felicity’s attention returned to the bookshelf. “Shame your mother’s not here to produce one of her herbal concoctions.”

  Bitch! Jenna slid a little further along until the witch bottle was within reach. The thin stem of the bottle fitted neatly within her grasp. One smack on the head with this and Ewan would be a lot less handy with that bloody knife. Not that she was going to be able to run but with Ewan incapacitated, she could, at least, try to get answers from Felicity. Something, anything, she could take to the police. Dad wouldn’t like it but she couldn’t give up, not even to protect him, if it meant letting Mum’s murderers walk away.

  She peered out of the window at the view over the bay. She could hear Mum saying, ‘Whatever happens in life, there’s always the view to keep me going.’ Jenna had turned away from it because the memories hurt too much but she was looking now. The mass of clouds were hastening an early dusk. The Kitchener Memorial was silhouetted against the sky on Marwick Head. Across on the Brough, the lighthouse flashed a path of light across the sea. Gulls circled over the choppy waves. Black and white oystercatchers picked their way along the shoreline. A flash of movement closer to the house made her blink. Was there someone in the garden?

  “Now what?” Felicity said.

  Jenna returned her gaze to the room. The shelf was empty. The books and Thor stacked neatly on the floor.

  “The back panel’s false. You need to push on it and it’ll slide aside.” Dad’s hands moved illustrating his words. “There’s a knack to it. If you can’t do it, I’ll—”

  “We’ll manage.” Felicity stepped back and gestured to Ewan. His head and shoulders disappeared inside the empty shelf.

  Jenna turned her head to look out of the window again. The movement had come from behind the pampas grass. She scanned the garden again. Had she imagined it? It was hard to let go of the idea that Winston would burst through the door at any minute. But real life didn’t work that way.

  “Come on, slide you bastard.” Ewan muttered.

  Keeping the witch bottle concealed behind her, Jenna limped back to her chair.

  “There’s nothing here,” Ewan said. “Nothing at all.”

  A voice in Jenna’s head said, “Now.” She blinked but the word repeated itself. “Throw it now, Jenna!” It sounded like Mum. She stared at the witch bottle. Was it possible—?

  “For heaven’s sake I’ve waited six years for these damned books.” Felicity elbowed Ewan aside. “Let me see.”

  Ewan stepped back. “They’re nae there, Mrs S.”

  A sharp click came from the stereo. A series of piano chords burst out of it and, at deafening volume, Carole King began singing.

  “What the hell—” Felicity said.

  Then Jenna knew. “Where you lead,” Jenna muttered as she raised the witch bottle above her head. “I will follow,” she shouted, as she threw it with all the strength she’d got left.

  Chapter 54

  “I want you to cast a circle.” Grace’s instructions came clearly through the door. “Do you remember how to do that?”

  “Yes, Nina taught me.” Rachel bit her lip and then splurged the rest out. “But I didn’t do that when I called the storm at the Cathedral or the rain this afternoon.”

  “I know, pet, but the circle will contain the energies you’re going to raise. It’ll help to stop your magic getting out of control.”

  “Okay.” Rachel scanned the utility room. It was barely big enough when it wasn’t a miniature swimming pool. How was she going to do this when the place was filled with water? “But I haven’t got any equipment with me.”

  “Use your hand. You don’t need anything else.”

  “Use my hand,” Rachel muttered. This was insane. There was no way she was going to be able to cast a circle when she was trapped in here and soaking wet. Grace was crazy to suggest it. Could she pretend she was doing it, wade around a bit and then tell Grace it hadn’t worked? She glanced back to the door. It wasn’t as if Grace could see what she was doing. She boosted herself up on the workbench and splashed her feet in the water. She’d have to say the words as well. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember them and heard Nina’s voice lingering over spells as if they were poems. Rachel hunched her shoulders. Who was she kidding? She was going to have to try.

  She landed in the water with a splash and glanced around the room. She had to begin in the east. Where the hell was east? She looked out of the window. Across Scapa Flow the sun, barely visible behind a mass of clouds, sank towards the mountains of Hoy. She turned in the opposite direction and walked towards the wall. She saluted the east as Nina had taught her and then wading deosil she visualised light flowing from her hand. “I conjure this circle as a sacred space, a place between worlds where the worlds meet. I conjure this circle as a safe space where the Goddess holds sway.” She turned three times, repeating the words each time. When she’d finished she splashed to the centre.

  “Grace? I’ve done it.”

  “Good. How do you feel?”

  “Kind of calmer.”

  “Excellent. Now I want you to call on air.”

  “Okay.” As the words flowed from her tongue, she visualised wind against her skin, wind whipping white tops to waves, wind flattening the grass and making leaves dance. Her hair gently ruffled. It was only a breeze, a mere wafting of the air. Nothing like the gale she’d conjured before. She sighed out a long breath.

  “It’s working.”

  “There’s no need to sound so surprised,” Grace said. “This is the tricky bit so you’re going to have to concentrate really hard, you need to call on the Goddess and ask her help to unblock the door. Once you’ve done that you direct the wind you’ve created at the door.”

  “But I don’t know what to say.”

  “The exact words don’t matter. Simply say what sounds right to you. The Goddess will hear you.”

  Rachel closed her eyes. She’d call on Cerridwen, Celtic Goddess of magic and transformation. With Nina she’d done exercises to discover which form of the Goddess she was most attuned to and, for this kind of magic, it was Cerridwen. She ran through the spell in her head, rejected a couple of words and tried again. “I call upon Cerridwen to hear me and to help me. Transform my imprisonment, let me break free of the bonds that trap me. With air to aid you, let my magic be free.”

  A whoosh of energy ran through her body from her toes to the crown of her head. She raised her hands and felt the power within her. It was even stronger and more concentrated than when she’d worked with Nina. She moved her feet until t
hey were hip width apart and brought her hands to shoulder height. Holding them together, palms out, she focused the energy at the door.

  A channel of air formed, swirling like a tornado, so concentrated she could see it. As the air hit, the wood splintered, creating an explosion of tiny darts. Instinctively, she raised her hands to shield her face and the air darted upwards, sheering off plaster and chips of breezeblock. But they didn’t hit her. They rained around her, falling outside the circle which protected her.

  Rachel redirected the channel of air at the door. The wood disintegrated. The water around her remained static, held by the barrier she couldn’t see. She pushed out her awareness, trying to sense what held her. The messages created a picture in her mind. The barrier was solid as a concrete wall. But even concrete eroded over time. Where would it be weakest? Think!

  She pointed her hands towards the top right corner for a few seconds and then the left. The barrier didn’t shift. “Come on,” she muttered. She’d got all of this energy inside her and she was still trapped. She had to get out. She just had to now she’d done all of this.

  She visualised the barrier popping, the energy Felicity had created dispersing, the water flowing out of the room as she stepped out. Would Grace give her a hug? Nina had been a big one for hugs. She missed them. Since Kenny dumped her, no one hugged her anymore.

  The channel in her hands wavered. “Shit!”

  She repeated the words she’d said before and then again, whispering them like a mantra but it didn’t help. The tornado was slowing down. She was never going to get out of here. She’d failed, like she knew she would. Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her face. They fell onto her soaked clothes and into the water surrounding her. She looked down to see if they grew like they’d done before but they only became another drop. Then she blinked. Water. It wasn’t only air she could call on. There was water too.

  The sea eroded concrete. Would water break Felicity’s barrier? She didn’t bother with words this time. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what she wanted. She felt the energy in the water change, heard it slap against the walls. She spun and the water inside the circle moved with her, rotating as if it was going down an enormous plughole. Slowly she raised her hands and the water climbed too. She was the centre of the centrifuge. She was the power that held it in place. Opening her eyes, she saw the column of water rising above her head. She was surrounded by it, encompassed by it and she’d never felt so alive.

  She stepped out of the magical circle and the water moved with her. Relying on sensation, she concentrated on the cold tiles beneath her bare feet as she walked forwards. Glimpsing the doorframe, she positioned herself between it, raised her arms and spun. The funnel revolved with her, crashing against the barrier, pounding it. She was a whirlpool, a maelstrom. The water was in her and she was in the water.

  A rushing sensation made her ears pop. She staggered forwards. Water cascaded around her; soaking her hair, her clothes, falling into her mouth, her ears, her eyes. She gasped and fought for air but there was only water. More and more water.

  Hands grasped her, yanked her forwards. She sucked in a breath, shook her head and blinked.

  “It’s alright. We’ve got you.” Her vision cleared. Leaning over her was a middle-aged woman, wet hair curling over her shoulders in spirals of red, pink and purple.

  “You’re Grace,” she said.

  “I am that, pet. And Hal’s here too.”

  “Hal?” She craned her neck to find him. He stood behind her. His face was tight with something which looked a lot like shock. She wasn’t surprised, she felt pretty shocked herself. “I did it! I actually did it.”

  “You did.” Grace’s arms came round her, hugging her despite the water dripping from every inch. “You were amazing!”

  As Grace released her, she tried to push herself up from the floor but her muscles had the strength of cooked spaghetti. Her head swam. Her hand rose to her forehead. A headache was building, a bad one. “I feel weird.”

  “Of course you do. After the amount of power you’ve raised, it’s a miracle you’re not passed out on the floor.” Grace grasped a stick and slowly pushed up to standing. “Hal, will you take Rachel somewhere dry? I’m going to see if there’s anything still working in this kitchen so I can make her a cup of tea.”

  ***

  The witch bottle hit the opposite wall and shattered. Felicity’s mouth fell open in a scarlet zero. Ewan didn’t wait for instruction. He was already crossing the floor towards her, knife in hand. As he did, something burst from the broken remnants of the witch bottle, something black and large, something that flapped, something that looked a lot like a crow or a raven. But bigger, far bigger than any crow or raven she’d ever seen. With cruel, curved beak and jagged claws, the bird broke free. It was the bird Zoe had drawn but there was only one. It headed for Ewan. He pivoted brandishing his knife, stabbing upwards at the bird. As his knife connected, the bird faded becoming nothing more than black smoke.

  Behind Jenna came a sharp crack. She spun. A stone was sailing through the air. Instinctively she ducked. It struck the pane, cracking the outer glass. Another stone followed it. Was it Winston? Was he out there? She limped over to the window ledge and peered out. It was Zoe. What the hell was she doing? Zoe darted away towards the bungalow. If she was here, then Winston must be too.

  Screaming inside the room made Jenna turn. There were two birds now. Whatever Ewan had done to the first one hadn’t stopped it. It continued to attack him and now it’d got a mate which was heading for Felicity. The spellworker cringed against the wall, shielding her face with her hands. Ewan sliced and stabbed again, fighting the bird’s onslaught. When the knife caught the bird’s body, it faded to smoke which divided and seconds later reformed. And all the time, Carole King kept singing.

  Mum had done this. Only she could have created these birds, only she’d the foresight to know her family would need them. She turned to grin at Dad but his head was bowed, looking away from her.

  The third bird joined the attack on Ewan. He ran across the room, grabbed the door handle and threw it open. Two of the birds followed him, tucking in their wings as they navigated the narrow doorway. Ewan sprinted past the window. In two flaps of their enormous wingspan the birds were on him, beaks tearing at his clothes, talons gripping his bald head.

  Across the room, Felicity shrieked each time the bird came near her. She batted ineffectually at it and her hands came away bloodied from contact with its claws. Jenna limped around Dad to the door. She wasn’t going to let Felicity get away as well. She slammed the door, locked it and pocketed the key.

  “Call it off.” Felicity punctuated the words with a scream as the bird tangled in her hair.

  “I can’t. I didn’t make them. Mum did.”

  “Your mother has been dead for six years! There is no way—”

  “There was for her.” Jenna’s fingers closed around Mum’s pendant. “Clearly. Because I wouldn’t have a clue how to do anything this good.”

  “Fuck!” Felicity screamed out the word as she pushed herself up to standing. The bird flapped its wings angrily before it renewed the attack. A black feather floated down and landed on the rug. “Pachamama, Goddess of the earth—”

  “No!” Jenna launched herself across the room. Pain shot up her ankle. She gasped but kept going.

  “I call on you to help me.” Felicity shrieked the words as the bird dived towards her face.

  Jenna limped as fast as she could across the rug. The air moved each time the bird flapped its wings, rushing past her face. Oddly, it smelled of herbs, exactly as it had when Mum was alive.

  “Unlock that which is locked.” Felicity raised her hand, palm out. The door slammed open, followed by the one into the dispensary.

  “You bitch!” Jenna screamed the words into the cacophony of sound. Carole King had moved on to telling the world she felt like a natural woman. Like dominoes falling, came bang after bang as every door in the bungalow was flu
ng open.

  Jenna glanced at the bird as it flapped around Felicity’s head. Judging its next move, she hurled herself at her aunt’s body. Her head connected with the spellworker’s middle, propelling them both back towards the wall. Felicity fought to keep upright but the bird dived at her head. She fell, taking them both backwards. They landed half on the floor, half against the wall.

  “Did you do it? Did you send Ewan to kill Mum?”

  “As if I’m going to tell you!”

  Felicity’s hands came up, reaching for Jenna’s face. Jenna grabbed them, tried to force the curved red nails away. Felicity was strong, much stronger than she’d anticipated. One hand got loose, tangled with Jenna’s pendant and pulled. The chain dug painfully into her neck before it broke. Felicity flung the pendant away. The same hand came back, reaching for Jenna’s face. Jenna rolled her head away but Felicity’s fingers tangled in her hair and pulled hard. Jenna screamed. If Winston was here, now was the time to make an appearance.

  ***

  After throwing the stones, Zoe darted back into the house. The bird was one of the ones she’d drawn. But where had Jenna got it from? Winston said she’d next to no magic but that bird was definitely magical. Nothing real had talons like an eagle, a beak like a gannet and wings as wide as an albatross. And why was Carole King singing? Now really wasn’t the time for heartfelt love songs.

  Gently she pushed the front door closed behind her, putting the kitchen knife down for a moment so she could snick the lock. She picked it up again and crept into the sitting room. Zoe pushed behind the sofa, stepping over dog toys and a half-chewed bone.

  She pushed the curtains a little further closed and then stepped into the space she’d made. She’d a clear view along the path towards the room where Jenna was and over half of the garden. If anyone came past she could duck back and make sure they didn’t see her. Although it was probably a bit late for that after the stone throwing.