Witchfog

by Isobel Robertson

  Fog. I whirled around, my back to the door, aching fists clutched against my skirts. The magic had slipped into my mind so seamlessly that I’d not noticed it. I’d never felt anger like that before. I glanced around me, but no shapes moved in the fog. Where the witches preoccupied with Theodoric? Or did they play a different game?

  I eased myself back along the wall, heading for the door to the main house. I did not want to turn, could not bear the thought of those terrible creatures creeping up behind me. But wait. Which way was the main house? I felt disoriented, lightheaded. How had I ever thought myself well enough for this?

  “Theodoric?” I called. No use trying to stay quiet now. They knew exactly where I was.

  No reply. But the whispers grew louder, spiralling around me in crazy drifts, like storm winds in the tight space of the corridor. My own breathing was high and loud in my ears, my chest tight. I had to stay calm, had to keep moving, the wood and stone behind me agonisingly rough on my battered hands.

  “Theo!” I tried again, screaming through the overwhelming noise of the whispers. I was on my hands and knees now, crawling through the fog. When had I fallen?

  There were shouts mingled with the whispers. Theo? I couldn’t make out any words. No time to stop and listen. I had to keep moving. But was I going the right way? The corridor was surely not this long. The voices swirled through my mind, making me dizzy. I drew in a deep breath and focused hard. I would not let these women defeat me, whoever they were.

  The whispers were not real. There were no witches here, just phantoms of my imagination. I focused harder. Theo was calling out for me. From behind me. The voices swirled up again, trying to block my thoughts, but I knew now what was true and what was false. I changed direction and crawled faster, fighting loose of my skirts as they tangled around me. The fog did not clear, but his voice came louder, stronger.

  “Lily! Where are you?”

  “I’m here,” I called, keeping my voice steady despite the panic shooting like lightning through my veins.

  “Keep moving,” he shouted, more urgent than I had ever heard him. I pulled myself to my feet and staggered forward - slamming straight into something hard.

  I shrieked, stumbling backwards, but strong hands caught my arms and held me steady. Warm, comforting hands.

  “Theo,” I whispered, sinking against him as he wrapped his arms tightly around me, his face buried in my hair.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right,” he said, his voice muffled. “When I saw your room empty - well, I panicked. I may have upset all my careful plans.”

  I pulled back to gaze up into his face, shrouded with fog even at this close distance.

  “What’s happened, Theo?”

  “I pushed her too far.”

  Why was he whispering? After all our shouting, anyone in the house knew exactly where we were.

  “She’s not hiding anymore,” he said softly. “Look, the fog is inside the house. Where we should be safe.”

  I spun round slowly, still clutching Theo’s arm. I’d thought I still stood in the corridor. But no - there was the faint outline of the fireplace, and there, that dreadful tapestry. We stood in the hall, yet the fog swirled as thickly around us as on that first day on the moors. I nearly staggered, held up only by my grip on Theo’s arm. Was nowhere safe?

  “I have to kill her,” Theo said, his voice low and dangerous. “I am not yet prepared, but I will be.”

  Even Monsieur Lavelle had not spoken so easily of killing.

  “You have to be sure,” I said urgently. “Do not risk taking an innocent life!”

  “You see all this and still believe she might be innocent?” Theo demanded.

  “There could be others,” I pointed out.

  Theo stared down at me for a moment, his face half-hidden by the darkness and fog.

  “Be prepared to run, Lily. I cannot guarantee your safety in this house.”

  I nodded, not sure what he was telling me. And then he wrapped his arm through mine and pulled me along, our feet stumbling on the flagstones as we groped forwards for the main door.

  I had expected the fog to thin as we moved away from the abandoned wing, but the corridor grew so solidly white I could barely see my own hands. My fear hung thick and heavy around me now, leaving a metallic taste in my mouth and a desperate dryness to my throat. I could not see.

  Theo shoved open the kitchen door - and then I saw an end to the fog. A tall, dark figure stood silhouetted before the window, mist spiralling out from her like water in a whirlpool, with that still, empty spot in the centre. Her arms were raised, startlingly white where they emerged from the dark folds of her dress. Those terrible red lips were the only slash of colour in the entire room.

  I stood frozen, staring at her as she smiled at us. Had I stopped breathing? Was my heart still beating? The world seemed shifted, changed, utterly unbearable, as she reached one hand slowly towards me.

  “You will not touch her!”

  Theo screamed the words, leaping forwards with a silvery dagger in his hand, the naked blade thrust towards the witch. She faltered, stepping backwards into a shaft of moonlight that slipped through the clouds. It was Mrs Pender, her cap still on her head but her hair tumbling down around her. She looked old, beautiful, and wild.

  “You will not stop me, boy,” she hissed, her words sinking through to my bones. “You are not the man your grandfather was, and you will not keep me from what I want.”

  Theo began to chant, grabbing my arm and pulling me backwards as he did. Mrs Pender howled in pain, throwing her head back. Theo’s words got louder, louder. As we staggered through the porch and out into the night, he had escalated to a scream, his hoarse voice throwing the words like weapons. She did not come after us.

  We ran, feet slapping harshly on the gravel, legs slipping under us as the fear took hold. My breath came louder and rougher as we turned off the road and fought our way through the bracken.

  “This way,” Theo said, his hand still warm and comforting on my elbow. I followed his lead, splashing through streams and staggering across rocky fields, until at last a small white cottage rose out of the darkness ahead of us, a neat stone wall surrounding it.

  Theo stopped at the stone wall, laying one hand on it and whispering more of those strange words. Then he tugged me through the gate and secured it behind us. Abruptly, the pressure lessened. This place was safe, a bubble of hope and peace amidst the raging magic of the moors. Theo pulled a key from his pocket and ushered me inside, whispering more words as he locked the door.

  I stood close beside him and gazed around at our little sanctuary. White-washed walls, a battered sofa, a cold fireplace. Two doors on the far wall. A sturdy wooden staircase disappearing up into the darkness above. Very simple, very plain, and yet somehow I felt safer here than in any of the castles or beautiful country homes I had visited before.

  “Home,” Theo said, turning to stand in front of me. “Or close enough. You’ll be safe here for now.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. It suddenly felt painful to meet his eyes, yet I couldn’t look away.

  “I’ll start a fire,” he said, turning away. I sank down onto the sofa, and breathed easily for perhaps the first time in days, watching as the fire sparked to life and lit up the familiar lines and planes of his face. My stomach growled, and he turned to smile at me. I had not much seen him smile before, and I couldn’t help but return the expression. He looked so beautiful when he smiled.

  “Hungry, Lady Lily?” he asked. “I should still have a little food left in the kitchen. I’ll see what I can find.”

  I settled myself closer to the fire, enjoying the warmth on my arms. Even my thickest shawl had not been up to the chill of the Yorkshire moors at night. Outside, the wind still howled and battered against the walls, but in here, all was safe and calm. No sounds but Theo, clattering plates and bowls in the kitchen, whistling lightly. I took more pleasure from that safe sound than I could ever have imagined.

&nbs
p; A Dark Heaven

  My eyes still felt heavy, my body aching from fingertip to toe. A ceiling hung low above me, its plain plaster a world away from my own home. I frowned, taking a moment to remember.

  Theo’s house. The little cottage on the moor. Was this his bed? I jolted upright, the blankets slipping down around my waist. I still wore my nightgown from the previous night. There was my shawl, neatly folded on the end of the bed. No sign of Theo.

  Memories slipped back into place. We had eaten a brief meal, and then Theo had offered me his bed for the evening, swearing he would be comfortable enough sleeping downstairs. My reputation would be ruined if any London ladies learnt I had spent a night alone with a man, but I had never much worried for such things. Why should I care about making a good match when I had all the money I needed to live an independent life?

  Still, the thought of Theo sleeping in the same house as me brought heat to my cheeks. I had never even considered it when we both slept in my uncle’s house, surrounded by servants, with so many doors between us. But now, here we were, alone. And no one in the world knew where we were. I hated to think how worried Sir Philip must be. But perhaps Mrs Pender had explained away my disappearance. I could not bring myself to worry about it yet.

  Instead, I descended the stairs to find the main room empty. Theo must already have awoken although I had assumed it to still be early morning. I crossed the room to peer out of the window and realised with alarm that I could not tell the time of day. Heavy clouds blocked the light, casting an ethereal green glow over the rolling bracken that stretched as far as I could see. No direct light filtered through to help me judge the time of day. Was it shortly after dawn indeed, or had I slept for longer than I realised? I did not feel rested.

  “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

  Theo, leaning against the kitchen door frame, his hair all muddled, and a smile on his face. I instinctively stepped towards him before stopping, holding myself in place.

  “Yes, I'm a little tired but greatly recovered. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  I paused, realising how ridiculously formal I sounded. I sighed and sank down onto the sofa.

  “Theo, what’s happening? You have to tell me.”

  He was beside me on the sofa in a second, his hands grasping mine as he stared deep into my eyes. I could not tear myself away.

  “Do you believe in the witches now?” he asked me, his voice deep and gravelly.

  “They still make no sense to me,” I whispered. “But yes. I believe in them.”

  A shiver rippled over my skin at the thought of those white hands and black figures.

  Theo wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me close against his chest.

  “Don’t let them in,” he murmured into my hair. “You’re stronger than that, Lily.”

  He smelt of warmth and safety, his body a strong wall between me and all the terrible things that waited on the moors. I breathed in his scent, letting my forehead rest on his shoulder as I found my own strength.

  At last, I pulled back. I settled more deeply into the sofa, tucking my feet under my skirts and resting against Theo, his arm around my shoulders.

  “Tell me.”

  “It seems that the witches have always been here,” Theo began. “They came with the first settlers on this land, or perhaps they were here even before that. I cannot say for sure. They were driven out of human habitation, whether from fear or from revenge, and so they settled in the wild places - in the forests that lay far from human settlements. But the humans were still afraid, and so they burned down those forests, clearing away any place where the witches might hide. That was how the moors came to be. They were once thick forest, you know.”

  I gazed into the fire in the hearth beside me, shivering to think of such a vast blaze. I shifted a little closer to Theo, his arm tightening around me almost imperceptibly.

  “Ever since, the witches have fought for control of the land with whichever fresh wave of settlers drives them away. The Celts, the Romans, the Saxons. The Normans tried to burn this land again, but even they could not eradicate the witches.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “I have seen the witches, or something that you call witches. I will acknowledge that. But how can they have survived so long? How could there be no trace in all our history books, in the old stories?”

  “The traces are everywhere,” Theo said gravely. “But you have to look for them. My grandfather did. He searched through the histories of England, through secret manuscripts that university-educated men will never find. He gathered stories and charms, whispered folktales, and half-forgotten ballads. The witches may have always been here. But it is my family’s mission to create a time when there are witches no more.”

  He had hinted at this before, this family mission. I should have thought him mad, obsessed, controlled by an insane grandfather. But after what I had seen - what I had felt - his words rang true. I needed him.

  “How will you do that?” I asked him, twisting to look up at his face. Behind him, through the window, I saw evening closing in over the moors. Late indeed. I had slept clean through noon.

  “It will take a long time,” Theo said slowly. “Witches are almost impossible to kill. They can be harmed and kept away with old chants and protective boundaries - you’ve seen me use both. But to kill a witch requires a special magical weapon. And those must be created through magic.”

  His words made no sense.

  “So only a witch can create a weapon to kill another witch?”

  He sighed. “More or less. There are some others who have magic, without being a witch. Perhaps they are the result of witch ancestry, distant enough to be well-hidden. But such people are rare indeed, and I have never met one. So yes, weapons intended for witch warfare must be seized and turned on the witches who made them. It is the only way.”

  Creatures that were vicious, heartless, and almost impossible to kill. What had I stumbled into?

  “But witches are not all-powerful,” Theo continued. “Most of their deep magic requires the performance of careful rituals by an entire coven. If they are disrupted or separated, they can become very weak. It’s at those times they are easiest to kill.”

  I nodded, thinking back over my encounters with the witches. Every time, there been more than one woman in the fog - except that last time, when we had escaped. Would we have made it out of the house if Mrs Pender had brought her sisters with her? I shivered to think.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  Theo sighed, resting his head against mine so naturally that I took a second to realise how intimate the gesture was.

  “You need to return home,” he told me. “I’ll find a safe way to get you out of this area. The witches will not follow. And then I will return to the house and do my best to destroy that witch who is calling herself Mrs Pender. She is the only one I have yet identified for sure since my grandfather destroyed their coven leader.”

  I would not be returning home without my stone. But I did not tell him that. Perhaps I could creep back into the house while he kept Mrs Pender occupied. The stone must be in the abandoned wing. I had almost heard it calling out to me, foolish as that sounded. I had learnt a long time ago that my scientific instincts were good, and I would not lose trust in them now.

  “Do you plan for me to leave tonight?” I asked hesitantly. It was nearly dark outside, and I could not quite bear the thought of another long journey through the wet bracken and muddy darkness.

  “No. We’ll stay here for tonight, where it’s safe and warm.”

  He paused for a second as if only just grasping the reality of the situation.

  “If that suits you,” he said awkwardly. “It’s still some way to Elspeth’s inn, and there’s no other place I’d trust to keep you safe. I understand that this is an… unusual situation, and one that could cause you a lot of harm. You have my word that I will never reveal to anyone that you spent the night here with me, unchapero
ned. Elspeth will vouch that you were at the inn if necessary.”

  I took a second to place the name. Of course. Elspeth Drake, the gossipy landlady with the pretty face and friendly chatter. She and Theo - Mr Amberson - seemed on good terms.

  “Do not worry yourself over my reputation, Mr Amberson,” I told him graciously. “I find I have little use for it. As long as I am on my way tomorrow, all will be well.”

  He frowned, easing away from me on the sofa. All for the best. Things had already gone too far. Let him leave this place in the morning, return to his Elspeth, and forget all about me forever.

  “Let us settle in for one more evening here before you return me to Elspeth’s inn tomorrow,” I said, turning to gaze into the fire.

  There was a second of silence, then a muffled chuckle.

  “Elspeth is my sister,” Theo explained, and I could not stop my head whipping around to stare at him.

  “She married a local innkeeper,” he explained. “When the man died a year after their wedding, she took over running the inn - and did a damn fine job of it. You don’t think I would trust your safety to just anyone?”

  His eyes still laughed at me, but they were deep and kind. As I looked into them, I saw that he truly did care for me, no matter how little I had done to deserve it.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “How should I know who you would entrust me to?”

  His face was close to mine now, his gaze on my lips. That messy lock of hair tumbled down again, brushing against his forehead. My hands ached to move, to brush it away, but I dared not. I held my breath, too terrified that I might break this spider’s web of a connection. My lips trembled.

  And then he stood, stepping away from me, one hand running through his hair. As he stood there in his shirtsleeves, watching me with an expression like panic, I could not help but notice that he was more finely built than any normal servant. He did not walk or talk like one either, now I stopped to notice. What a fool I had been, to look no further than his facade, and assume him just another faceless servant. In truth, what did I know about the lives and secrets of my own servants? I barely knew their names.