by James Nicol
‘Ssssh!’ Salle hissed back. ‘It’s me and Colin, let us in quickly!’
‘I was just about to go to bed!’ Arianwyn complained.
‘Just let us in,Wyn. Hurry up!’ Salle replied.
She raced downstairs. Bob the moon hare was close behind her, alert, magic crackling around it. She pulled open the door.
Wrapped in black velvet cloaks with hoods pulled over their faces, Salle and Colin bundled into the store. Salle immediately – and a little theatrically, Arianwyn thought – pulled down the blinds on the window and flicked off all but one of the lights, leaving them in some sort of mysterious gloom.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Arianwyn laughed, assuming it was some sort of game. But then she noticed that Colin was carrying the polished wooden case of the evaluation gauge. Bob, fascinated by a new person, raced around Colin’s feet, making excited noises.
‘Hello there!’ Colin said, gazing at the creature.
‘We’ve been plotting!’ Salle exclaimed. ‘You don’t want to face everyone for your evaluation so we’re going to do it right now instead.’ She pulled the hood back away from her face and grinned.
‘Won’t we get in trouble, though? Does it count?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘Yes, now I’m qualified. They can’t ignore the results, even if it’s not done with an audience!’ Colin said, placing the case on the counter and pulling off his cloak. ‘This wretched thing is strangling me!’
‘Why are you wearing cloaks, anyway?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘So nobody would see us coming here, of course. We’re incognito!’ Salle spun, swishing her cloak dramatically. Colin rolled his eyes and laughed.
There was an urgent tap at the door and Gimma’s voice called, ‘Arianwyn. Are you there?’
Everyone froze, Salle in mid-swirl looked as if she was about to fall over.
‘I saw Colin and Salle coming in,’ Gimma said. ‘Let me in, come on!’
‘What’s she doing here?’ Salle hissed, glaring at Colin.
‘I guess your cloaks didn’t quite work as well as you thought!’ Arianwyn replied. There was no point trying to keep Gimma out now; if she’d seen the cloaked Salle and Colin, she wasn’t going to let it rest.
Arianwyn pulled open the door. Gimma walked in and stared at them all, smiling. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. Then her eyes fell on the evaluation gauge box and they sparkled.
‘Ooooh,’ she cooed. ‘You’re not actually going to do Wyn’s evaluation in secret? Won’t you get in trouble?’
‘Don’t you tell anyone about this!’ Salle’s voice was quiet but menacing. She stepped in front of Arianwyn.
‘Oh, relax, Salle,’ Gimma replied. ‘Wyn and I keep each other’s secrets all the time, don’t we Wyn?’
Arianwyn felt her cheeks burn. She glanced away.
‘So, shall we give it a go?’ Colin said in a sing-song voice. He glanced at the evaluation gauge and back at Arianwyn.
She thought of crowds of people watching her fail for the second time. She looked quickly at Gimma, then at Salle. She shuddered. ‘OK. Let’s do it!’
Colin carefully lifted the gauge on to the counter and removed the cover. He uncoiled the power cable and plugged it into the nearest wall socket.
Arianwyn could feel herself start to shake. She sank down in a chair and watched Colin unravel the other cream-coloured wire that attached to the probe, with its familiar shiny sphere at the end. He carefully checked the length of the wire for signs of damage. Then he unfolded the poster that displayed the cardinal glyphs:
‘All ready?’ Colin asked haltingly. His shaking fingers hovered over the tiny metal switch.
Arianwyn nodded.
Colin stretched his arms towards Arianwyn, the probe trembling slightly.
‘Remember, focus!’ he said gently.
She closed her eyes briefly. There was a large seam of magic running right past the window. Her skin prickled.
‘Please let this be all right,’ she whispered to herself.
Her heart quickened and she felt a twinge of panic as the cold metal sphere connected with her skin.
This is a bad idea; it’s not going to work. Her mind raced. Her eyes flew open in fear.
‘Focus!’ Colin whispered. ‘Stay calm, everything’s all right.’
She took several steadying breaths. The room felt suddenly too small and airless. She wanted to run away.
There was the first flicker of power, passing quickly through her.
She focused on the poster. The glyphs seemed to swim and merge, as she had almost expected them to. She closed her eyes and immediately she saw the unknown glyph. Her mind began to reach towards it and she felt the flow of energy change. She heard the fizz of the single light and knew that it was flickering just as they had done at the Civil Witchcraft Authority offices.
‘Arianwyn!’ Salle’s voice was cautious, warning.
The unknown glyph hung there, bright and real and tempting.
She felt Bob nudge against her leg, a low threatening growl rumbling in its throat.
No, don’t reach for the glyph, she told herself.
She stared hard at the poster again, but she could still feel the icy grip of the unknown glyph, as though it lurked just behind her eyes.
Eventually, after what felt like for ever, Colin shifted in his seat. ‘I’ve got a reading!’ he said quietly.
Arianwyn’s eyes flashed open.
She looked at the gauge straightaway. There was no smoke rising from it this time. Colin sat studying the thin strip of paper churning from it, his brows knitted in concentration. Salle hovered close by, fidgety and distracted. The moon hare was curled at Arianwyn’s feet. Gimma watched coolly from a distance.
The only sound was the ticking of the clock and the whir of the gauge.
‘Well?’ Salle and Gimma asked simultaneously.
‘Just give me a minute.’ Colin waved his hand, dismissing them. He scanned the strip of paper again.
Arianwyn took a deep steadying breath. She was thirsty, her head foggy as if she had a cold, and her vision swam a little. She shouldn’t have reached for that glyph.
Colin got to his feet very slowly. He gazed at Arianwyn, his face white.
‘What? What is it?’Arianwyn muttered.
‘The reading is . . . strange. I’ve never seen one like this.’
‘I’ve failed again?’Arianwyn said, sinking a little in her seat.
‘No, no, it’s not that. But I can’t work this out. I need to go and look at some notes. I might have to check with someone at the C. W. A. in the morning.’
Arianwyn still couldn’t quite understand it all. Everything was blurry and it sounded as though everyone was underwater.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Colin asked. ‘You look a bit peaky – perhaps you should go and have a lie-down?’ The air crackled around Arianwyn’s fingers. She saw tiny sparks.
Not again, she thought to herself.
‘Want me to help you up?’ Salle asked. She reached out to help Arianwyn from her seat. ‘Ouch! You gave me an electric shock!’ The girls stared at each other for a long moment, the memory of the last time flooding them both.
‘Sorry!’Arianwyn said. ‘I’m rather tired . . . I think I’d just like to go to bed . . .’
‘Yes, come on, we’d better get away before anyone notices we’ve gone out.’ Colin smiled at Arianwyn, but she didn’t have the energy now to smile back. She could still feel the magic fizzing around her. She was thankful nothing worse had happened than the electric shock she had given Salle. Gimma hadn’t moved from where she had stood and watched everything happen, as though she was watching a play. Was she worried or scared by what she had seen? Arianwyn had no idea. Then she casually tossed her golden hair over her shoulder and looked away, heading for the door.
When Colin, Salle and Gimma had left,Arianwyn locked the door and climbed back upstairs. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.
It felt as if everyth
ing had come to a head at last. She felt lost, more lost than ever.
She was lying to herself if she thought she knew what was going on. She had made a colossal mistake – or several! – and she had no idea how she could unravel it all. The unknown glyph, the rift in the wood and the strange creature . . . even if Miss Delafield hadn’t found anything, Arianwyn was certain something was out there.
It was all her fault. And now she’d probably failed another evaluation! She was sure of it, no matter what Colin had said. She had no hope of being able to sort everything out, however hard she tried.
Chapter 34
CONFESSION
rianwyn looked into the mirror. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes – she had barely slept all night, her mind whirring over and over.
The re-evaluation had been the final straw.
She splashed cold water on to her face and peered into the mirror again. She knew what she was going to do. She had to go and see Mayor Belcher and tell him everything. About the rift that she and Gimma had failed to close and the creature that was probably roaming the Great Wood somewhere. About the illegal evaluation she had willingly taken part in last night. And about the unknown glyph she kept seeing and the trouble it had brought her, time and time again.
And then she would resign.
The usual people waved and called greetings as Arianwyn walked along Kettle Lane and across the town square, which was being dressed in festival bunting and flags. Arianwyn ignored it all as she passed by.
‘Morning, Miss Gribble!’
‘Hello, miss!’
‘Hi, Arianwyn.’
She smiled faintly at them all but kept on her course towards the town hall. Miss Prynce was at her desk, the large black receiver of the telephone wedged against her neck.
‘Oh, I know! And did you notice that hat she was wearing? What a sight! Oh, Miss Gribble, you’re early. The mayor is busy right now. Miss Gribble? Did you hear me?’
Ignoring Miss Prynce’s calls, Arianwyn climbed the stairs up to the mayor’s parlour two at a time. She could hear Miss Prynce’s shoes click-clacking down the hall, hot on her trail.
The mayor’s parlour door stood ajar and, without knocking, Arianwyn pushed the door wide and strode in.
‘Miss Gribble, what on earth?’ Mayor Belcher jumped from his seat, shuffling a pile of papers across his desk, unsuccessfully hiding a plate of cream cakes. He blushed and wiped stray crumbs from his little beard.
At that moment Miss Prynce trotted through the door, theatrically out of breath, a hand held to her chest. ‘Mayor Belcher,’ she puffed. ‘I am so, so sorry. I informed Miss Gribble you were not to be disturbed but she just barged right past me. I couldn’t stop her!’
Mayor Belcher studied Arianwyn carefully and a flicker of concern flashed across his eyes. ‘It’s quite all right, Miss Prynce. I am sure Miss Gribble would not have dreamt of rudely bursting into my parlour, uninvited, without good and proper reason!’ His stare was questioning.
‘But Mayor Belcher, this is quite against protocol!’ Miss Prynce’s usually serene and organized manner was giving way and her face glowed with two large angry red splotches.
The mayor raised a hand. ‘Yes, that will be all Miss Prynce, thank you!’
‘But—’
‘Thank you, Miss Prynce!’
Arianwyn heard the door click shut and the secretary’s slow retreating click-clack footsteps.
‘Now then, Miss Gribble, how might I be of service?’
The calm and certainty that Arianwyn had been feeling up till now was suddenly gone. Her legs trembled and her throat was dry, her tongue felt twice its usual size.
The mayor waited. Still standing, he folded his hands across his velvet-clad belly. ‘Well?’
‘Mayor Belcher, I’ve come to ask you. No, to tell you, actually . . .’
‘Yes?’ Mayor Belcher peered at Arianwyn.
‘You see, the thing is, I’ve been doing an awful lot of thinking and I think – no, I know it would be best if I—’
‘MAYOR BELCHER! WHERE IS THE MAYOR?’
The scream startled Arianwyn so much that she lurched forward in fright and grasped the mayor’s desk.
Out in the town square came the sounds of a commotion. Voices full of fear and anger filled Arianwyn’s ears. And beneath these angry shouts was the gentler sound of a woman sobbing.
‘Good heavens, whatever can be happening now?’ The mayor moved quickly to the long glass doors that opened on to the small balcony which over-looked the town square.
‘There he is!’ somebody called as the mayor came into view.
Something made Arianwyn edge a little nearer the doors so she could hear, though she couldn’t see past the mayor into the square below.
‘What seems to be the matter?’ the mayor called.
‘It’s my boy, Your Worship. He’s been hurt!’ The woman’s voice was strained and terrified and fractured with sobs.
‘Hurt how?’ The mayor leant further over the edge of the balcony.
‘He was attacked!’ came another voice, louder, angrier.
‘Attacked by whom?’ the mayor called.
‘Not a “whom”,Worship. A what!’
Arianwyn felt a nervous chill fall upon her and she stepped through the doors on to the balcony to stand beside the mayor. Below stood a small crowd of children and adults. Two women carried a still and pale figure in their midst. The boy’s shirt was in tatters and across his chest was a huge black mark. The bitter tang of dark magic wafted on the air. There was something familiar about the boy. Arianwyn peered closer.
‘He was attacked near the Great Wood, by one of them demon creatures – a terrible, black thing it were, like a shadow come to life.’ The woman who spoke knotted her grubby apron between her fists. Arianwyn locked eyes with her and realized with a sickening lurch of her heart that it was Mrs Myddleton and the boy was her son, Cyril.
Arianwyn went cold. She thought back to Mr Turvy’s warning in the store: ‘There are shadows singing.’ Her blood turned to ice. She gripped the edge of the balcony and stared out across the rooftops of Lull, unable to look down into the square again.
Chapter 35
BLACK AS A HOLE AT MIDNIGHT
hat had she done? What had Gimma done? Why hadn’t they stayed and closed the rift for certain?
Arianwyn staggered back, away from the balcony, her heart pounding deep in her chest. She felt sick.
She should tell the mayor right now about the rift. But, just as she was about to, the sounds of the crowd echoed up the staircase, punctuated with gasps and cries from Miss Prynce. Mayor Belcher followed Arianwyn back into the parlour and they stood staring at each other, Arianwyn biting her lip and the mayor fiddling with his tie. He had gone pale as well.
Suddenly the study was full of people, shouting, crying. Arianwyn kept well back until she saw Cyril being laid slowly on to the small couch by the fireplace.
There was a loud gasp from Miss Prynce.
The group of women and children spread away from the couch where Cyril now lay, his skin sickly grey and shiny with sweat.
‘Miss Gribble?’ The mayor’s voice wavered although it was deep and grave. He gestured to the couch. Arianwyn took two halting steps forwards and crouched down. She took Cyril’s small hand in her own. He was so very cold and still – but alive. The pungent stench of dark magic filled her nose, so strong she thought she might gag.
‘The wood . . . monster!’ Cyril’s voice came between huge ragged breaths.
Arianwyn could feel everyone’s eyes on her. All thoughts of her planned conversation with the mayor had now fled: this was more important. ‘It’s all right, Cyril. Just stay calm now.’ She placed a soothing hand on his forehead. ‘Can you tell me what the creature looked like?’
The boy’s eyes widened in sudden fear and he started to struggle, as if trying to escape the memory.
‘Sshh, stay still or you’ll hurt yourself.’ Arianwyn put a hand on Cyril’s arm, holding
him down. He was too weak to resist.
‘I think you’d better send for my grandmother and Miss Delafield at once.’ Arianwyn looked at Miss Prynce, who nodded mutely and ran from the room.
‘And the doctor as well!’ Arianwyn squeaked, unable to hide the panic in her own voice.
‘Found’ im near the orchards,’ Mrs Myddleton said. ‘He was playing with his ball and then . . . we heard him screamin’.’
Hot angry tears blurred Arianwyn’s vision. This had happened because of what she and Gimma had failed to do.
‘It hurts, Miss Witch . . .’ Tears trickled down Cyril’s face.
‘You’re brave, young Cyril. Very brave indeed.’ Mayor Belcher came to stand beside Arianwyn.
Cyril was suddenly racked with a coughing fit that shook his whole body; the spittle and phlegm were blackened and a foul smell of dark magic was on his breath as well.
‘Did you see the creature, Mrs Myddleton?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘It were right big, miss,’ she said. She was nearly as pale as her son. ‘Bigger than any of’ em spirits I ever saw before. Black as a hole at midnight and with long tentacles, not arms! It didn’t have no face either, just blank except for its huge gaping mouth. Was like looking at terror itself.’
Just then, Cyril moved to touch the wound on his chest but winced and cried out in pain.
‘Miss Gribble, you have to do something for the boy’s pain at least,’ Mayor Belcher hissed into Arianwyn’s ear.
‘But there’s nothing I can do,’ she replied quietly. She so wanted to help him, to not have another person be in pain or frightened because of her mistakes. She looked at Mrs Myddleton, still furiously wringing her apron between her hands. She knew she had to try.
Arianwyn rifled through her bag and pulled a charm free. ‘Without knowing more about the creature that attacked him, it’s too dangerous to use a spell, but a charm might . . . help a little.’ She could hear the desperation in her own voice.
‘Anything you can do, miss.’ Mrs Myddleton smiled weakly and came to stand by her son. She placed a trembling hand on the back of the couch and gazed at Cyril.
