by Mark Hockley
fields, while other women passed her on their way to their homes or their Coven Houses. There was a calm serenity about the place that belied the fierce control the witches held over the running of the town. Ellie had managed to gain a certain amount of freedom, but she knew it was only an illusion. If she attempted to leave or disrupt the social order, she had no doubts that they would deal with her severely. And despite her newly discovered abilities, Ellie would be no match for these witches, some of them obviously able to channel far greater power than she herself possessed.
She had managed to have a brief, rather awkward conversation with Luke to make sure Zack was doing okay. Although her 'husband' had slept in the same building as her the previous night, he had gone off sheepishly to a room somewhere on the third floor. As for what was happening with Beth she knew almost nothing, other than the fact that she was working for the White Coven. It was very frustrating not being able to talk to her friend, but she had soon discovered that each Coven was forbidden from entering another's House. So she was left in the dark.
For now she had decided to get outside and away from the stuffy interior of her newly acquired house and do some reading. She was determined to learn as much as possible.
Already she had been able to successfully use a range of Words in her sessions with Helen. The older woman obviously didn't like her one bit, but that hadn't stopped Ellie from using her time with the witch to test her abilities. She had to admit there was a real adrenaline rush to using her power and there was definitely some kind of physiological effect that took place that was difficult to define. The SpiritHeart, as the witches called the amulet they each wore, was able to channel some kind of internal essence or force and she felt it pulse through her when she spoke a Word of Power. It was both an euphoric experience and a debilitating one. The time it took for the amulet to drain the energy needed for each Word seemed endless, even though in reality it was only a matter of seconds. But she had come to understand that those seconds would be crucial if she was to ever to face another witch in some kind of dispute or confrontation. She had been told these kind of altercations were rare because the Covens had a code of non-aggression against each other. But whatever these women might be, they were still only human and emotion had a way of spilling over into disagreement.
Finding a suitable place under a large tree, Ellie settled herself to study. It shocked her to think how she had come to almost accept her hew life in Witch Town, but despite her own position of some comfort and influence, Zack, Luke and Beth were not faring so well. From the little that Luke had told her it sounded as if they were being worked like slaves. And when she really considered the social order of this place, the men appeared to be no more than that, their duties as husbands apparently comprising of physical labour and fathering children. This last thought gave her a chill and she had to wonder how the men felt about their role and for that matter what attitude the women took towards the men when they required them to become intimate. It all felt rather clinical and there seemed to be no place for feelings or emotional attachment. Ellie found the whole thing repulsive.
She glanced at the volumes she had selected and read the titles. The True History of Witchcraft in England by Alice of the Green Coven, An introduction to Words of Power by Lydia of the Blue Coven, Witch Town: An Overview by Deborah of the White Coven. The other books were similar in nature and although Ellie was interested in their contents, after flipping through several pages of each of them she found herself somewhat disappointed by the content. It all seemed far too neutral and vague, as if reluctant to give too much away .
Even the list of potential Words that she might learn displayed a distinct lack of imagination.
When she had pressed Helen for more information about the kind of Words she might be able to master on the higher levels, the woman had become evasive and was unwilling to discuss anything beyond Level Three. Even the book she was now perusing failed to give her anything concrete regarding the higher ranked Words of Power, only suggesting that Words of such potency would put any witch who spoke them in mortal danger if she had not developed the ability to control her SpiritHeart. Ellie wasn't entirely sure what that meant and the pages didn't make it any plainer.
There must be some more exhaustive volumes somewhere hidden away in Witch Town she concluded. She was certain that Margaret would have access to them, but she knew full well that the elderly witch would never allow her to read them. These women guarded their dominion over others closely and someone like Margaret would be very protective of anything that would enhance her own power and therefore her authority.
Even so, Ellie would keep her eyes and ears open. And she hadn't forgotten about the legendary Rebecca either. There was sure to be a lot of material on her history as well and the Black Coven House would be the most likely place to find it.
It was a boy.
A depressive, heavy atmosphere pervaded the room and to Beth it felt more as if someone had died than been born.
Joan's expression was miserable and the girl couldn't bear to look at it. The other witch who had overseen the birth had placed the baby in a small basket, but neither seemed very interested in it.
While the woman checked over Joan, Beth went to the small child and looked down upon it. So tiny and vulnerable. And yet now dismissed simply because it was a boy.
Abruptly, Abigail entered the room. "Which is it?" she asked brusquely.
Joan lowered her eyes and it was the other White Coven witch who replied. "A boy." The words were spoken with obvious disappointment.
Abigail gave a short nod, her features revealing no sign of emotion. Then she glanced at Beth. "Bring the child," she instructed.
The girl was caught off-guard by this. "Me?"
"Yes," stated the woman, "come with me."
With care, Beth lifted the basket and carried it with her as she followed Abigail out of the room and along a hallway. Other witches watched them as they passed, their faces grim.
Beth had no idea what was going on, but didn't like the way everyone here saw this baby as some kind of embarrassment. The more she found out about the attitudes of these people the more she despised them.
Abigail came to a door and ushered Beth inside. "Put it down over there," she told the girl with cool detachment.
It, thought Beth with disgust.
They were in a well furnished room with bookcases lining the walls, a bureau for study or writing, a large fireplace and a number of impressive paintings. There was one of Abigail herself looking majestic and regal and Beth wondered if this was actually the White witch's own room.
The girl placed the basket down on the table where she had been directed, checking that the baby was okay as she did so. The child's eyes were open but unfocused, but he did not cry.
"What are you going to do?" Beth asked, frightened suddenly.
Abigail gave her an icy stare. "That is no concern of yours. Now return to your duties."
"I don't have any," shot back Beth, reluctant to leave, fearful that something bad might happen to the baby. She felt surprisingly protective towards it.
"Then find one of the boys and ask them what you can do." The witch's tone was impatient and increasingly tense. Beth realised that she was going to get herself into serious trouble if she did not go, so she slowly walked towards the door. "Close the door on your way out."
With a furtive glance over her shoulder, the girl left the room and made to shut the door, but she hesitated. Something was wrong and she knew it.
Leaving the door open just a crack she lingered outside, checking along the hallway to make sure no one else was around and leaning close she pressed one eye against the narrow opening.
Within Abigail had gone to the bureau to open a drawer. The woman took out a small container and then returned to the table where the basket had been placed. Beth looked on as the witch gazed down solemnly on the child and then opening the box she held in her hand, she took out something that at first the girl could not recognise.
Abigail leaned down and lifted the baby out and into her arms. She did this in an effortless way, as if well practiced at it. It was only as the infant was cradled under the woman's left arm that Beth finally realised what the small object held in her right hand was.
A syringe.
Beth almost let out an audible gasp and had to clench her teeth together to stop the sound from alerting the witch to her presence.
With casual deftness, Abigail tilted the baby's head forward and inserted the needle into the back of its neck. Beth could not believe what she was seeing. Immediately the child began to wail.
With a shocked, sickened sensation in her stomach Beth turned away and walked quickly along the corridor. She had no idea what she had just witnessed, but it was horrible and she hated herself for not just bursting in there and trying to stop it. What if the witch was killing him, the girl worried, knowing instinctively that this wasn't the case. She understood that Witch Town needed men, even if they did not value them.
What was going on here? It frightened her to even try to make sense of it.
Beth returned to her room and shut the door behind her. She needed time alone to think, to steady herself. Whatever it was that Abigail had done to the infant it left her feeling as if she now knew something that she wasn't supposed to know. She
