‘Why do those words always strike fear into my heart?’ Sybil replied dryly.
‘I have no idea,’ said Queenie, striding out of the room. ‘Have I ever failed?’ She ignored the snort behind her and headed down the narrow hall to the kitchen. She brushed the breakfast crumbs from the draining board and carefully arranged the scraps of paper on the top. ‘Now,’ she said quickly, reading the scrawled handwriting. ‘We will need a few things. A mirror. The small vanity compact you have in your handbag will do.’ She looked at her sister with a smirk. ‘And don’t say you haven’t got one, I have seen you primping in front of it when William is around.’
Sybil sighed and looked at her sister. ‘I wasn’t going to deny it. Why can’t you just concentrate on the task in hand and stop stirring!’
Queenie chuckled. ‘Off you go then, and on the way fetch three white candles from my store.’
‘Anything else?’
‘My athame.’
‘And what will you be doing?’
‘Reading Great Aunt Agatha’s notes. I wouldn’t want to make a mistake,’ she muttered to herself.
Sybil lingered in the doorway for a minute watching the grim concentration on her sister’s face.
‘You’ll do fine,’ she said encouragingly. ‘You always do.’
She didn’t answer, just nodded.
‘I’ll get the mirror,’ Sybil said and headed to the front room to find her handbag. The candles were in a wooden box tucked in the cupboard with Queenie’s other supplies. The box containing the athame was on the top shelf.
Sybil carefully withdrew the sacred knife from its silk lined pouch. The edge were razor sharp and she carried it gingerly into the kitchen, placing it next to the notes and a small bag containing a handful of red rowan berries and a few rose thorns
Queenie was searching in the cupboard for a jam jar and the packet of salt; she turned as Sybil re- entered the kitchen. ‘Did you find everything?’
‘Yes. Are you going to use those as well?’ she asked, looking at the berries.
‘I am going to use whatever it takes, and I am more familiar with this spell. ’ She smiled slightly at the worried expression on Sybil’s face. ‘So just call it a backup plan!’
Sybil nodded. ‘I hope it works.’
‘It had better,’ she said. ‘We are running out of options.’ She picked up the knife and slipped it with the bag into her fleece pocket then pulled open the back door. A flurry of flakes momentarily blinded her as the swirling wind blew directly into the back of Queenie’s house. A small snow drift fell forward onto the kitchen floor.
Queenie grunted and kicked the pile of snow out of the way and stepped out into the ankle deep yard. It was freezing and icicles were beginning to form on the leaking gutters. There was no sign of the birds, all was quiet in Hill View Terrace. Queenie looked up at the leaden sky and momentarily closed her eyes as the icy flakes stung her skin; a rough call soon snapped her back to the present. Stepping forward into the middle of the small space she roughly scraped a circle in the deep snow.
‘Salt,’ she ordered and held out her hand.
Sybil picked up the packet of salt and the candles and followed her reluctantly into the yard. ‘Don’t you think we should put some coats on first, it’s freezing out here.’
‘There isn’t time,’ Queenie pointed out and trailed a liberal amount around the scraped out circle. ‘Put the candles down there,’ and pointed in front at a stretch of virgin snow. ‘Place them in a triangle, with the point of it facing us and place the mirror in the middle of the triangle.’ Queenie gestured to her sister to join her within the safety of the circle.
‘I hope this isn’t going to take long,’ muttered Sybil. ‘My feet are freezing!’
‘I shall do my best, Sybil!’ she replied testily. ‘We shall just have to hope they are going to go quietly; but I doubt it!’
She pulled the athame from her pocket and glanced at her sister. ‘Ready?’
Sybil nodded, trying not to look worried. ‘Of course. And don’t forget the protection spell!’
‘As if I would!’ muttered Queenie. She drew her sister close and began to visualise a radiant blue light flowing from both their bodies and filling the circle. She pointed at the surrounding ring of salt, ‘I ask that the God and Goddess bless this circle, so that I may be free and protected within this space. May they guide us and protect us against all evil, so mote it be.’ She carefully nicked the end of her thumb with the razor sharp blade and as a bead of blood formed flicked it into the middle of the triangle. ‘Witch, show yourself,’ she commanded. ‘Blood to blood, I summon thee. Come to us, we call you near. Reveal yourself!’
A deep croak answered her, coming from the direction of the graveyard. It was quickly followed by the sound of beating wings as the three crows appeared swooping low over the roof tops. Their claws scratching and skittering on the shed roof as they attempted to land on the icy tiles. Bright eyes glared through the falling snow at the two old women who had summoned them.
‘Witch,’ called Queenie. ‘Take your true form, I command you!’
The bird’s angry calls quickly turned to cackles of laughter as one glided down to settle in the yard in between the candles. It spread its wings and the lines of its feathered body quickly blurred and expanded, growing larger until the hare lipped woman stood before them. A crooked smile spread over her face. ‘You summon me?’ she scoffed. ‘You miserable creature!’
‘I do summon and command you!’ asserted Queenie, glaring at her. ‘I bind you between these flames and you will do as I command.’
The witch’s mocking laughter echoed around the tiny yard, while up on the shed roof her companions waited anxiously, keeping their beady eyes fixed on the two women. ‘You do not have the power to command me, you are nothing!’ She raised her arms and closing her eyes raised her face to the falling snowflakes. ‘I am all powerful,’ she announced to the dark sky.
‘Be quiet, you old harpy!’ interrupted Queenie. ‘You will do as I command. As you stand within the boundary that I have created, I bind you.’
Her companions glided down to join the woman in the yard and as their clawed feet touched the snow they too assumed their human forms. One cowered slightly behind her companion and watched Queenie and her sister cautiously. Barefoot and dressed in filthy rags that barely covered her thin and wasted body she nervously picked at the scabs on her shaved head.
Her red haired companion advanced into the middle of the yard.
Queenie eyed her, no fool this one, she thought.
Although filthy and dressed in the remnants of what was once a fine dress, her poverty had not diminished her poise and aura of power. She moved confidently towards the sisters then hissed angrily as she spotted the jar in Queenie’s hand.
‘She thinks to best us with her parlour tricks,’ she cackled and began to circle Queenie and Sybil who were safe within the circle. ‘That protection will not hold against us.’
‘Do not flatter yourself, you old biddy,’ said Queenie confidently. ‘You won’t get through this protective circle.’ She held out the jar that was half full of water from the christening font of Paul’s church to which she quickly added a handful of salt. ‘Saint Michael the archangel, defend us in battle,’ Queenie said, keeping her eyes fixed on the women’s faces. ‘Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.’
The shrieks of laughter that echoed around the yard drowned out the rest of her prayer and she paused.
‘Oh, protect these pathetic creatures,’ one tittered nervously, mimicking Queenie’s words.
‘The snares of the devil... she must mean us!’ taunted the red head. She smirked and suddenly lashed out with a clawed hand, swiping the jar from Queenie’s hand. ‘Oh dear,’ she mocked. ‘Now what are you going to do?’
They closed in on the circle as Sybil clutched at her sister’s arm.
‘Angels of protection, guard us, help us, remove all unwelcome spirits from this place,�
�� Queenie said quickly.
‘Angels! No angels for the likes of you!’ the hare lipped woman snorted, shuffling closer through the falling snow. ‘You have something of mine. Return it and we will depart.’
‘No,’ said Queenie. ‘I will not. I will destroy the doll and you with it.’
She threw back her head and howled with laughter. ‘You!’ she spluttered. ‘You have not the skill to stop us! Return the doll!’ she commanded.
‘If you are so all powerful why don’t you just take it?’ put in Sybil.
The woman turned her chilly gaze on the old woman standing behind her adversary and for a second hesitated. ‘Because I command you!’ she added quickly.
‘You can’t!’ said Sybil in surprise. ‘You can’t enter the house!’
Her eyes darted to the open kitchen door. ‘Bring me the doll!’ she commanded shrilly.
‘Get it yourself,’ suggested Sybil.
Her face darkened with fury and she drew back her hand to strike Sybil.
‘No!’ said Queenie. ‘I forbid you to touch my sister!’
She smiled derisively, flexing her bony fingers. ‘You cannot command me. I and only I command here and all bow down to me!’
‘Not all,’ pointed out Sybil. ‘You seem to have forgotten one disobeyed you and withdrew her power from the doll.’
The silence that followed was ominous; all eyes were fixed on the quaking woman. Sybil’s knees trembled beneath her and she clutched at her sister for support.
‘But that’s right, isn’t it?’ she persisted. ‘One defied you and that’s why the curse didn’t work. The spell will never be effected and you all placed so much of your essence within the doll that you are trapped within the two worlds.’ She paled as the three women moved closer. ‘Once we destroy the doll you will be gone forever,’ she blustered, trying to sound brave.
‘You cannot,’ the woman said, her lip curling in disgust. ‘You do not have the knowledge.’
‘Who was it?’ Queenie asked, ignoring her taunts. ‘Who turned her back on your coven and destroyed the curse?’
A snarl answered her as the woman raised her fists. ‘A foul slut! A good for nothing turncoat, a traitor to her sisters and to me. She will die at my own hand... I will cut out her heart and offer it to the Prince of Darkness myself. I will have my revenge!’
‘You can’t, it’s too late, don’t you...’ Sybil’s words were cut short as the woman angrily lunged at her.
‘Enough!’ she screamed and reached out for the quaking Sybil. Her sharp clawed fingers tried to grasp her sleeve and draw her out of the protective circle towards the eagerly waiting coven, but it would not allow the creature through and she grunted in exasperation.
With the woman’s arm just inches away Queenie angrily lashed out with the sacred knife, the sharp blade sliced cleanly through the ragged clothing and nicked her withered skin.
A small drop of blood lay on the shining blade.
‘I have your blood,’ Queenie said in amazement. ‘I have your blood!’ And stared triumphantly at her, holding the blade in front of the woman’s face. ‘With this blood I banish you to the dark realm!’
The witch faltered, her eyes widening as she realised the significance of the glistening red bead. ‘You cannot stop me,’ she scoffed, stepping backwards reluctantly. ‘We are three and you just one.’
‘Stop talking and go!’ Queenie ordered. ‘I have your blood, your life force, do as I command!’
With that last order she deftly flicked the blood onto the small mirror nestled in the snow at their feet and jumped forward, with finger and thumb she swiftly extinguished the candle closest to the circle. She moved to the next and did the same, then a contemptuous laugh stopped Queenie in her tracks.
‘You think to trap me within the mirror? You are mistaken if you think I can be overcome that easily. We are three, an all powerful trinity, and you, just one pitiful creature ranged against my might.’ With that she kicked the remaining candle to one side and crushed it beneath her foot.
Queenie straightened slowly and eyed her coldly. ‘Three or not, you will go.’
‘But you are just one.’
‘Two!’ exclaimed Sybil indignantly, ‘if you don’t mind!’
‘Your powers are insignificant,’ she said coldly, eyeing her from head to toe. ‘So give me the doll and we will depart. If you resist I will summon my familiars to rip you to shreds.’
‘I should warn you I can summon up a few demons myself,’ Queenie replied, flexing her fingers, ‘if required.’
‘No, Queenie!’ said Sybil urgently, tugging on her sleeve. ‘This is Dorchester! We can’t have demons marauding through the streets.’ She looked nervously over her shoulder at the two other witches who were hovering eagerly at the edge of the protective circle. ‘Not even to destroy these awful women.’
‘That’s right, listen to your sweet sister,’ the witch urged, leaning closer. ‘Forget all this; it’s none of your concern.’
‘But it is,’ replied Queenie. ‘You killed a young girl in my town, an innocent young girl, slaughtered for no reason!’
She shrugged. ‘She was nothing, just another mortal. Easily dominated.’ She smiled, showing her stained pointed teeth. ‘Such a weak fool; no thought but for her own wants. She deserved her end.’
‘Nobody deserves a death like that,’ Sybil exclaimed in dismay.
‘Then you will be anxious to avoid that fate for yourself,’ the red head hissed in her ear.
Queenie swung around angrily to face her. ‘We will not be so easily dominated.’
All three cackled and began to circle the two elderly women.
‘Just give it to us,’ she said eagerly, an evil grin on her face. ‘Step out of the circle and join us.’
Sybil’s leg twitched involuntarily and she grabbed Queenie’s arm in panic.
‘No,’ she said weakly. ‘We will not.’
A strange feeling of pressure began to build in the pit of her stomach and it began to draw her towards the waiting women and their eager outstretched hands.
‘Sybil! No!’ exclaimed Queenie, dragging her back from the edge of the salt line. Dirty fingers plucked at her sleeve as she wrapped her arms around her sister. ‘You cannot harm us within this circle!’
‘But you are all alone,’ said the woman.
‘No.’
The three witches spread out and began to cautiously test the boundary of the protective circle.
‘It will not stand against our collective power,’ she said, with a contemptuous smile. ‘You will bow down to us!’
Sybil’s body jerked beneath her restraining arms.
‘Sybil!’ Queenie said. ‘No!’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, sinking to her ground. ‘I can’t...’
Dropping to her knees Queenie wrapped her sister in a tight embrace and glared up at the hare lipped woman. ‘You cannot cross the salt,’ she said coldly and tightened her grip as Sybil began to writhe in her arms. ‘For goodness sake Sybil!’ she said crossly. ‘Get control of yourself.’
The women fixed her eyes on the struggling Sybil and beckoned with a bony finger. ‘Come, come to us. You cannot resist.’
She groaned and twisted her head away from the gloating face. ‘Stop it! I won’t!’
‘No, she won’t,’ said Queenie, unceremoniously thrusting her sister face down onto the snowy ground. ‘I’ll sit on her before I allow you to take her.’
‘Nobody will come to your aid. You know I am right. The townspeople will not help one such as you. I know; they turned their back on me and many of our kind.’ She reached out a hand towards the women. ‘Come.’
A flicker of movement caught Queenie’s eye and a grim expression of satisfaction crossed her face.
‘But you’re wrong; things have changed since you were of this world.’
Paul had appeared in the kitchen doorway, his face pale and horrified as he gazed at the figures in the snowy backyard. ‘What’s going on?
/> The smile instantly disappeared from the woman’s face and she staggered backwards crushing the mirror under her foot. ‘Priest!’ she hissed. ‘What business do you have here? Content yourself with your masses and litanies and leave well alone.’
He stepped hesitantly out of the warm kitchen and sank into deep snow of the yard. Keeping a wary eye on the women, who quickly backed away at his approach, he moved towards Queenie and Sybil who were still huddled within the circle.
‘This is my business,’ he said. ‘You have brought evil into my parish. You tried to control my daughters!’
‘So easy to enslave their little souls,’ she rashly boasted.
An expression of fury swept over his usually mild face and he fumbled angrily in his pocket.
‘This is your last warning,’ he shouted.
‘What have you there, Priest?’ one scoffed.
‘You’ll see,’ he muttered and withdrew a carved wooden cross about six inches high and held it front of the witch’s face. Her face paled as she set eyes on it and threw up her hands.
‘Take it from my sight!’ she commanded. ‘I reject your false piety, you and your church!’
‘Your path is the false one,’ he spluttered. ‘You are damned for worshiping the antichrist, doomed to burn in hell.’
‘It is my choice,’ she stated.
‘Then you will reap what you sow.’
‘I know,’ she sneered. ‘Suffer not a witch to live; that has been cast up at me time and time again!’
While she was talking Paul was slowly edging in front of Queenie and Sybil. ‘Then I have no choice,’ he said. ‘O Divine Eternal Father, in union with your Divine Son...’
‘Stop,’ she screamed and clapped her hands over her ears, her face twisted with pain as Paul’s words drove like skewers into her brain.
Encouraged by her reaction he stepped forward keeping his gaze fixed on her face, there was a clang as his foot connected with the solid brass candlestick. He stumbled; the crucifix flew from his fingers and landed in the deep snow just in front of the scrawny witch. Her face brightened and she pounced gleefully on the wooden cross. There was shriek and she fell back sucking the tips of her fingers.
The Doll Page 10
