by Mark Hockley
do anything about it. Everyone just accepted their place and did what they were told.
Zack decided he was going to just come out and ask. What did he have to lose. He was stuck in this place possibly for good, although he would never accept that and he would always look for a way to get out. But he had no idea if any of these men ever thought about that, ever even considered it as a real option. So he just went ahead and said it.
"Do you ever want to leave here?"
Jeremiah paused in his work bending to pull carrots from the soil. Luke was off somewhere else doing whatever task he had been told to complete. And there was no one else nearby, except for Leonie who was well out of earshot sitting on a high grass bank perhaps fifty feet away.
"Why are you asking?"
The boy collected up a few more vegetables and placed them in the basket at his feet. "I was just wondering," he said in a non-committal tone.
The man carried on with his work and glanced casually in Leonie's direction. "You come from the outside. Is it so much better than here?"
Zack gave this only a moment's thought and answered emphatically. "At least we would be free."
Without slowing his movements Jeremiah gave the boy a penetrating look. "Others have spoken of such things. Others who are no longer with us."
"What do you mean?" shot back Zack, stopping what he was doing.
Over on the verge, Leonie began to gaze in their direction.
"Work," directed the man firmly. Zack did as he was told and tugged at a stubborn carrot. Jeremiah spoke quietly, his concentration appearing to be on the task at hand. "Our guardian there," he nodded nonchalantly at Leonie, "her Husband was killed about a year ago."
"I know," the boy replied, following the man's lead and speaking quietly.
Without looking at him, Jeremiah gave a humourless smile. "So you also know that a Mother can only take one Husband. It is the law."
"I know that as well." Zack said this in a agitated way, his mind straying to the young witch who sat close by.
"Best remembered," his companion suggested. "But did you know how Robert died? Or Why?"
"Robert?" repeated Zack. "No, I don't. Will you tell me?"
Jeremiah glanced at him very briefly. "Are you certain you really want to know?"
The boy felt as if this had become an unnecessary game. "Just tell me," he asked with just a slight show of irritation.
The man moved his basket along with him and it was almost overflowing now. "I am merely offering you a chance to avoid more trouble. You have already had your fair share."
Considering this, Zack tossed another carrot into his own basket. "I'm still listening."
"Robert had ideas that were not welcomed by the Mothers. He paid the price for suggesting that men should have more say in their lives. More freedom, as you put it."
Zack was trying his best to keep up. What did this really mean? "And what about you?"
The man glanced quickly at him, his eyes masked by shadow. "I am Husband to Abigail of the White Coven. She is the Head of her House. It would be very dangerous for me to think anything."
"But you do," countered the boy.
"Perhaps," Jeremiah conceded, "and perhaps there are others who share such thoughts."
Now Zack was becoming very interested in where this conversation might be taking him. "Others? Can I talk to them?"
There was no more room in the man's basket and he stopped his work. "Robert was just as intent on talking about these matters. Now he is dead. Do you want to meet the same fate?"
With a look of grim resolve, Zack gave his answer. "I'm willing to take that chance. Everything is wrong here. Everything. And I'm not just going to fall in line and go along with it if there's a way to fight back."
Jeremiah straightened and hoisted up the basket of vegetables. "I will pass on your words. Then we will see."
17
So who was this Rebecca exactly? Margaret really idolises her and that gives me the creeps. Every time I walk past that damn statue I feel strange, as if it has some kind of energy or something. I know I'm just being stupid, but I can't seem to shake it off. I'm going to try to get into Margaret's room and see if she has some books that will give me more information. She says there aren't any, but I know she's lying to me. Whatever it is that she's hiding I'm going to find it. And something tells me that when I do, things are going to get even more weird around here than they already are. Which is saying something I can tell you!
The chance to do a little snooping came unexpectedly when Ellie had been summoned for another one of Margaret's chitchats about Witch Town politics. She had been in full flow concerning the untrustworthy nature of the White Coven in particular, when there had been an abrupt knock on the door. The elderly witch had called out in an impatient voice. "Yes!?"
A Black Coven Witch who Ellie didn't recognise entered in an obvious state of distress. "Angela and Edith are arguing again. I fear that this time they may lose control of their senses and become violent."
With an exasperated hiss of breath, Margaret left her seat and stalked out of the room without a word or a glance at Ellie, leaving her quite alone there.
Now was the time to take a proper look around. But she knew she may not have very long. The door had been left open so she quickly closed it, taking care to do it softly. She now cast her gaze about the room, scanning the walls. As was the case elsewhere in the Coven House, there were many books stacked neatly on shelves, but Ellie knew instinctively that none of these would prove to be what she was after. If Margaret had anything that was more significant and revealing, the old witch would certainly keep it secret and away from prying eyes.
Ellie moved around the room, examining the furnishings. She took a closer look at Margaret's desk, absently wondering if she might have a locked drawer, but a quick inspection revealed that none were sealed and the contents were uninteresting.
She went nearer to a large bookcase against one of the walls and read some of the titles. They were just more of the same as the volumes she had already read. Ellie glanced back at the door nervously, afraid that the woman would suddenly return and knew she had to find something soon or her opportunity would be lost.
With the fear of being discovered propelling her, she began to move around the interior more frantically, touching the walls, feeling her way around the various ornaments and paintings that adorned Margaret's room. Then she stopped, becoming very still. Something had occurred to her and she felt a buzz of anticipation building within.
I'm a witch, her mind informed her with a certain amount of ironic good humour.
She was and that meant she could use her abilities to help her achieve her goal. Ellie thought back over what she had learnt and also what she had read. Yes, there were definite possibilities she realised. Hurriedly assessing her options she made her choice.
"Reveal," she said and the word felt potent in the silence of the room.
Almost immediately, a small panel slid open that had appeared to be merely another part of the wall. Without wasting any time, Ellie went to it and looked inside. There were several items of note. A large ornate ring was one, but the girl dismissed this for the moment. Another was a small silver key. And beneath these was something that caused Ellie's pulse to race even faster. A book, or to be more exact a weathered manuscript bound in some kind of amber coloured leather.
Taking another anxious glance over her shoulder, Ellie pulled the volume out, leaving the other objects behind. Bringing it closer to her so that she could see if there was a title, the girl became aware of an odd waxy odour that emanated from the binding. She found it quite unpleasant and automatically pushed the book away from her. But then getting a grip on herself she knew she had to act quickly and decisively.
The amulet around her neck had by now become clear and she knew she was would be able to utilise another Word. She spoke this time in more of a whisper, becoming ever more fearful of Margaret's return. "Conceal."
The panel closed and
Ellie unceremoniously stuffed the manuscript inside her garments. Taking one last look around the room to make sure she hadn't disturbed anything she returned to her seat and waited.
As it turned out it was several long minutes before the witch finally appeared, but Ellie still felt as if her guilt was written bold upon her face. But Margaret swiftly sent her away, apparently now preoccupied with the internal squabbles among her Coven.
Of course, Ellie knew full well that if the woman checked her hiding place she would be identified instantly as the thief. But it was too late now. She had taken action and she did not regret it.
Leaving the Black Coven house she walked with purpose along gravel pathways, past many buildings that loomed over her, stark in their antiquated construction.
She just wanted to get back to her own residence, intent on examining the strange manuscript, confident that its contents would disclose to her valuable knowledge that Margaret had hoped to keep hidden.
And whatever that might be, Ellie knew that she had stepped over a line now. If Margaret did find out what she had done, any allegiance the elder witch might have towards her because they shared the same Coven would soon be forgotten.
What had Abigail done to that baby? Beth couldn't shake the mental image of the syringe going into the infant's neck and how he had cried out in pain. It made her feel sick inside. She had gone back to check on Joan as soon as she was able to and had found the mother with the
