by T J Green
As she entered the hall, a deep voice manifested out of the shadows on the stairs, making her jump. “You must be Avery Hamilton. Welcome.”
Avery squinted into the darkness and a figure stepped into the light.
The man the voice belonged to was tall and gaunt, and Avery estimated he was in his sixties. His hair was long, slightly unkempt, and streaked with grey, and he wore an old-fashioned velvet jacket and trousers.
He smiled as he came closer and shook her hand, his grip dry, bony and firm. “I’m Oswald Prendergast. Welcome to my home.”
Avery looked up at him and smiled back. “Thanks for the invite. I hope I’m not too early.”
His sharp eyes appraised her, and Avery hoped she was appearing confident. She wasn’t at all sure she knew what she was doing here. “Not at all. A few have already arrived. Come into the drawing room and I’ll introduce you.”
Drawing Room? Avery felt as if she’d stepped back in time.
He led her up the stairs, the smell of furniture polish surrounding them. “I should warn you that some of our members were unwilling to have you on the Council, but I agreed with Genevieve. In the end we took a vote, and there were more fors than againsts.”
“Thank you, we—all of us in White Haven—appreciate it. My grandmother mentioned the Council to me, but I must admit, I thought she was rambling.”
“I remember your grandmother. Of course, I didn’t really know her, but she’s a fine witch. Anyway,” he said, gesturing to the door on his left and pushing it open, “we’re in here.”
Avery entered a room that looked out to the rear of the house. Three large, leaded glass windows filled one wall, revealing the gardens beyond, but it was the interior that really caught her eye. Despite the fact that it was midsummer, a roaring fire filled the large fireplace and the room was stiflingly hot. Someone had thrown open a window to invite a wan breeze in, and in front of it stood three diverse individuals. There was an old man with a huge beaked nose and a shock of white hair and white eyebrows, and he wore a plum silk smoking jacket and black trousers. Next to him was a middle-aged aristocratic woman with auburn hair, a long, straight nose down which she peered at Avery, and she wore a chiffon gown. She reminded Avery of Margot from the sitcom The Good Life and she tried to keep a straight face. The next person was the one she least wanted to see—Caspian Faversham. He wore a smart suit and he turned and narrowed his eyes as Avery approached beside Oswald.
Oswald smiled at them warmly. “I’d like to introduce you to Avery, our newest recruit. Avery, I believe you know Caspian, but this is Claudia Everley and Rasmus James.”
Avery presumed Oswald must know what had happened with the Favershams, but his tone didn’t betray it.
The older two witches looked at Avery with interest, but it was Caspian who spoke first. “Avery. I must admit I hoped never to see you again. I’m sure you’re aware that I was against your invitation to this group.”
Avery could feel her anger rising already. “I hoped never to see you again either, Caspian, especially after you killed my friend, Gil, and kidnapped Sally, but here we are, having to tolerate each other.”
Oswald intervened immediately, his warm, friendly tone disappearing. “Caspian, I warned you. Your family’s behaviour in recent days almost meant you lost your place on the Council, so don’t push your luck. Your probationary period is not yet over—you haven’t got as many supporters as you think you have.”
“My father has died too, Oswald…”
“But not by Avery’s hand. You know it was Helena’s fault.”
Caspian shot Avery a look of pure loathing. “You let her in.”
As much as Avery didn’t want to start a full-blown argument, she was not about to be blamed for everything. “I don’t control her, Caspian! She’s not a pet.”
Oswald laughed bitterly. “You are a victim of your own crimes, Caspian. Stop blaming others.”
Rasmus interrupted. “Spirits are wildly unpredictable, you know that, Caspian. I suggest you let it lie.” His voice was deep and gravelly, as if it had been dredged from the bottom of the sea. “The Council advised your father against the course of action, and he insisted on doing what he wanted anyway. He brought it on himself.”
“Indeed,” Claudia said, finally speaking. “I am heartily sick of this vendetta against White Haven.”
Avery suppressed the urge to whoop with delight, and instead turned to Claudia and Rasmus, thinking she detected a twinkle of delight in Claudia’s eye that was swiftly hidden. “I’m sorry, it was not my intent to argue. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
They both shook Avery’s hand, and Claudia pulled her to the drinks cabinet. “Welcome, Avery, let me pour you a drink. Wine, whiskey, brandy, gin and tonic?”
“Gin and tonic please,” she said, relieved to be away from Caspian.
“I meant what I said,” Claudia continued, dropping her voice. “But others agree with Caspian. You may find you’re in for a tricky evening.”
“That’s okay, I’m a big girl,” Avery said, grinning. “But thanks for your support anyway. I’m very curious about tonight, and looking forward to meeting everyone, friendly or not.”
Claudia passed her the drink. “This meeting doesn’t encompass everyone, just families or coven representatives, much as you are representing your own coven.”
“I don’t know if we’re anything as formal as a coven,” Avery said.
“Whether you have declared it or not, you really are. And powerful, too. We all felt that wave of magic you unleashed from beneath the town. It nearly knocked me over. Good thing I was sitting down. I was watching a replay of Strictly Come Dancing—I was quite distracted after that.”
Avery laughed. “Sorry.”
Claudia waved her apology away. “I live close to Perranporth, so I couldn’t see the effects, but I hear you lit up the sky—magically, that is.”
Avery gasped. Perranporth was on the north coast of Cornwall, so the blast must have been huge—although, no doubt those with magical powers would be far more attuned to it. “I saw it as an aura. It was quite impressive. I must admit, we had no idea it would be so large.”
“You had no idea your magic was bound?”
“No! We didn’t know we had missing grimoires, either. Did everyone know except us?”
“Only Council members knew—no one else. We insisted upon knowing the details if we were to support the Favershams’ request to keep you isolated. Many of us thought it extreme, but the Favershams are powerful. Or rather were, they have less influence now. But we didn’t know where your power was bound, or where your grimoires were, either. That has been a mystery to everyone for centuries.” She smiled in admiration. “Well done for finding them. Helena’s power sits well on you.”
“Thank you,” she said, flushing slightly. “Before he died, Sebastian suggested we would attract creatures to White Haven, and that we put everyone at risk. What did he mean?”
“That’s what we shall discuss at the meeting,” Claudia said, her eyes clouding with worry.
Before she could say anything else, another flurry of activity interrupted them. Avery turned to see another few witches arriving, and she took a large gulp of gin and tonic to fortify herself.
Oswald tapped his glass and the sound echoed around the room, magnified by magic. “Welcome, everyone. Please, grab yourselves a drink and let’s get this meeting started.”
They made their way to the room next door and sat around a long, dark wooden table inlaid with arcane symbols.
Avery sat between Oswald and Claudia. Caspian sat opposite her, and she saw Genevieve Byrne enter and sit at the head of the table. She looked as imposing as she had the other night. The other witches were a mixture of male and female, young and old, mostly white, but there was also a black male witch, and young Indian female. As they all took their places, they glanced at Avery with curiosity, some welcoming, some not.
Silence fell and Genevieve spoke. “Welcome all. Thank yo
u for coming today, I realise it is outside our normal meeting time, but events of the last few days made me act quickly.” She glanced around the room, and as her gaze fell on Avery, she smiled briefly. “I’m sure you all felt the wave of power the other night. It was caused by the actions of the White Haven witches.”
There was a murmur as heads leaned close together, and Avery was stared at with renewed interest.
She continued, “I’m sure you’re all aware of our history. Helena Marchmont and the other witches of White Haven bound Octavia Faversham and her demon over four centuries ago, and then their grimoires were hidden to prevent them from falling into the hands of the Witchfinder General.” A collective shudder seemed to run around the room. “These grimoires have now been found and the binding spell broken—hence, the wave of magic we all felt. With the breaking of that spell many things have now changed. I have formally invited the witches of White Haven back to the Council, and they have agreed. Avery Hamilton, the descendent of Helena Marchmont, is our new member, and as such I’m sure you will treat her with respect.”
Genevieve looked at each and every one of them in turn, some longer than others, and Avery noticed a skinny, beady-eyed male witch squirm and drop his gaze to the table, as did a young blonde female. Faversham supporters, Avery presumed. Caspian glared at her and then stared defiantly at Genevieve.
Genevieve went on, undeterred. “The release of the magic has placed us all in danger. As you all know, many creatures wander our Earth, some friendly, others not, and they are also drawn to magical energy. Our role is to keep our communities safe from them, and fortunately, they mostly keep to themselves. But now…” Her words hung on the air and Avery felt a flush of guilt. She glanced at Claudia, and then kept her eyes firmly fixed on Genevieve.
Caspian leapt into the silence. “So, once again I ask why Ms Hamilton and the other witches should be allowed into our Council. They have caused enough trouble already.”
Avery was just about to respond when Genevieve beat her to it. “Because, if they had been part of this Council in the first place, they wouldn’t have been in the dark about the threat of releasing this magic. They would have understood their history.”
“I agree,” another middle-aged witch with grey hair sitting across the table said. “Nothing good comes of secrets, Caspian. And frankly, your family have had their own way for far too long.”
There were a few nods of agreement, but the room was otherwise silent. Genevieve frowned at Caspian. “That’s the last I want to hear of that, Caspian. The White Haven witches are here to stay. They now provide us with our thirteenth coven, and we have missed that over the years. We all know the significance of that number. Any powerful spells we need to do in the future will now have a far greater chance of success with thirteen covens. Agreed?”
Avery felt a strange realisation settle upon her as she looked around the table at those who nodded their assent. They were now part of a much larger collective, and would probably be required to be involved in decisions and spells previously unknown. That was daunting.
Genevieve hadn’t finished. “On to the important question. Has anyone noticed anything untoward in the last few days?”
A young woman of about Avery’s age nodded. She had long, dark hair that fell in dreadlocks down her back. They were kept off her face by a bright red scarf, wrapped around her head in a band. “St Ives has had several spirits manifest in the last twenty-four hours, most of them harmless, but a couple have been a little more malevolent. We’ve managed to banish most of them quickly. One, however, may need a little more time.”
Avery wondered who ‘we’ was, and presumed at some point in the future she’d find out.
“If you need any help, let us know,” Genevieve said. “Anyone else?”
There were a couple more strange reports. The beady-eyed male witch said there had been reports of howls at night on Bodmin. “Something is there. We have no idea what yet, but we’re monitoring it.”
Almost everyone around the table had noticed increased spirit activity, and Avery felt she should share about the activities in White Haven and the sighting of the strange lights in the sea.
There was a gasp of concern around the room at her news, and Genevieve narrowed her intense gaze at Avery. “When?”
“Probably a couple of nights ago now. Just one report about lights in the sea, but there’s some at the castle, too.”
Claudia leaned forward. “Lights in the sea are very worrying, Avery. Sea creatures carry their own power that’s very different from ours, and the power they exert on humans is significant. You need to start searching now.”
Avery was confused, and slightly embarrassed. She felt out of her depth. “But what are we looking for?”
“Unexpected behaviours, such as people acting out of character, strange obsessions, and unexplained absences.”
Avery nodded. “We had a few theories, but weren’t really sure if we should take it seriously.”
Rasmus spoke, his voice unexpected as he’d been silent so long. “Not many of you young ones will have experienced the lure of the Mermaid, but trust me when I say they are evil, dangerous creatures.”
“Mermaids?” Avery asked. “Is that what this is? We thought of them, but also considered Selkies.”
“Possible, but less likely,” he said.
“Mermaids are very powerful, very frightening beings,” Claudia said. “We all need to be on guard against them.”
“There have been a few Mermaid encounters over the years in Cornwall,” Rasmus continued. “Many are romanticised.”
“The Mermaid of Zennor,” Avery said nodding. “We’ve all heard of her.”
“Yes, she entered the village of Zennor disguised as a beautiful lady, bewitched the men and ensnared young Mathew Trewella. He followed her and was never seen again. Then, many years later, a ship cast anchor off Pendower Cove and a beautiful Mermaid asked the captain to move his anchor, as it was blocking her way back home where her husband, Mathew, and her children were waiting. The captain weighed anchor and got out of there as fast as he could. And then of course there are Mermaids who lure men to their deaths with their singing, much like Sirens of the Greek myths. Also, there was the village of Seaton, which was cursed by a Mermaid because a fisherman insulted her. The sea rose and sand swallowed the whole town.”
The table had fallen silent, and all were now watching Rasmus as his dry voice captured their attention.
“Have you ever met one, Rasmus?” a dark-haired witch sitting across from Avery asked.
“Once, as a young man, a teenager. I was poking about in the tidal pools, collecting seaweed and things for my mother’s spells, when I heard singing and caught sight of a flash of silvered tail. I squinted, blinked, and then a woman appeared on the beach, literally just appeared out of nowhere, her eyes a shining green. She beckoned to me, singing all the while with her hypnotic voice, and without a second thought I followed her as she walked into the sea. And then my brother shouted, sending a well-timed curse at her, and she disappeared and I never saw her again.” He looked up, his vision returning to the present. “Mind you, it was a long time before I went back there again.”
“If Mermaids are returning to White Haven, it’s likely they’ll turn up in other places, too,” Claudia said.
“Maybe not,” Genevieve argued. “White Haven is the only place which has magic hanging over it.”
“Children of Llyr,” Oswald said, shaking his head, his eyes haunted. “They’re always trouble.”
“Llyr?” the young blonde witch asked, the one Avery presumed had sided with Caspian.
“The Celtic God of the Sea. He represents the powers of darkness, and fought the children of Don, the powers of light. Llyr’s son is Manawdyan—or in Irish myth, Manannán mac Lir—Son of the Sea. They are dark, old gods, best left sleeping. Their children are the mythical creatures of the sea—the Mermaids, Selkies, water spirits, serpents, the Kraken, Leviathan, the Hydra, and others.” Oswa
ld turned to Avery. “Let’s hope your magic has not stirred the depths of the ocean, or trouble will indeed come.”
If Avery hadn’t fully understood the threat of the magic they had released before, she did now, and she felt her throat tighten. The spirits that were now rising in the town could be just the beginning.
***
After the formal part of the meeting, most of the witches hung around chatting idly amongst themselves, and Avery had the chance to meet a few of the others.
It seemed the witches represented most of the major towns and some of the villages on the north and south coast of Cornwall. Avery knew that Claudia was from Perranporth, and she found that Rasmus was from New Quay, and due to the distance was stopping at Crag’s End overnight, with Oswald. She gleaned he despised witch flight; it made him feel sick. Oswald represented the Mevagissey coven, and the young blonde witch represented the Looe witches, of which there were only two.
Avery met the young woman from St Ives with the dark dreadlocks, who had spoken about the spirits. Her skin was tanned and her smile bright, and she grinned and stuck her hand out. “Hi, my name’s Eve. Good to finally meet you, Avery, you’ve created quite a stir.”
Avery knew she’d get on with her straight away. “It seems so. Sorry.”
Eve laughed. “Caspian’s an ass. Serves him right. And Sebastian was an infuriating, superior nightmare.” She lowered her voice. “I should be sorry he’s dead, but I’m not.”
Avery leaned closer, too. “I do feel bad about it, but then I remember everything he did to stop us, and that helps.”
Eve looked at her curiously. “You really had no idea about the Council?”
“No. I feel we’ve been isolated for years.”
“Well, the connections are useful of course, and the wider knowledge about what’s happening in Cornwall, but to be honest, the politics are a bit of a drag.”
“How many of you are in St Ives?”
“Two of us. Me and Nate.” She rummaged in her bag for some paper and scribbled her number down. “Here you go, my phone number in case you need anything.”
