Bad Holiday in Witch Town

by Mark Hockley

outstretched to seize hold of her. "Do...as...you...are..."

  She didn't get the last word out.

  Beth brought the needle up and over and plunged it straight down into the woman's throat.

  The witch's eyes bulged. She staggered a little. For a few seconds, like in some slow motion ballet, she tottered backward, her hands moving up to flap at the protruding object in her neck.

  Then she collapsed.

  Beth just stood very still, looking down. What had she done? It had all happened so fast. There had been no time to consider the consequences.

  Beth's mind cracked just a little. She peered at the slumped form of the woman on the floor. There was no sign of movement. Her chest did not rise and fall.

  Ding dong, the witch is dead. Beth's thoughts were disjointed and irregular. She felt slightly woozy.

  I need to get out of here.

  She knew she should run, but her legs would not function. Her brain sent the appropriate messages, but nothing happened.

  Go. Go!

  Finally she moved. She stumbled slightly, afraid to get too close to the witch's dead body. There was no doubt in her mind that she really was dead.

  Taking what seemed an endless span of time, she made it to the door. Do not look back, she told herself. But she did it anyway.

  The white scarf the woman wore had become entangled around her neck somehow and half covered the syringe. But she was most definitely dead.

  With a shaky hand, Beth opened the door and slipped outside, pushing it closed behind her as she went. She collected up her mop and bucket that she had left in the hallway and moved as rapidly as she could without spilling any water.

  She felt like she was in a daze.

  They would come for her, she knew it. But where could she hide? There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to. She was lost.

  Beth understood then that her time in Witch Town was truly about to come to an end. And in the back of her mind, a tiny voice seemed to cry out in a lament of despair, that maybe it was for the best. She just really didn't have the heart to continue with this anymore. It had all become too much for her to bear.

  21

  I feel very strange. I can't help it. Having this kind of power is amazing. The way I felt when I sent those two witches flying through the air. It gave me such a buzz. I hate myself for it. And yet, I know it's who I really am. I don't want to be different. But the truth is I always have been. And now I understand why. I was never meant to fit in with those so called 'normal' people. I am a witch and I can do things other people can't. That sets me apart. So even though I might pretend to myself that there's something wrong in that, in my heart I don't believe it. I believe this is who I was born to be.

  They didn't take long to come.

  Zack waited in his room, just sitting there on the side of his bed. He had said a strained, self-conscious goodnight to Leonie.

  They both knew that they had started something that was bound to cause very serious problems, but neither spoke of it. Just before she left him, he touched her hand briefly, no more than the slightest pressure against her skin. When their eyes met it was far more powerful than words.

  Now in his cramped accommodation, Zack asked himself what on earth he was doing. She was a witch after all. Not some girl who worked in a shop. But wasn't that part of the attraction, the fact that she was so different from anyone he had ever known before.

  He suppressed a smile as he replayed their kiss in his mind.

  His door opened abruptly and Jeremiah and another man who he knew by sight, if not by name, entered.

  "Ready?" queried Jeremiah with urgency.

  "Where are we going?" Zack suddenly felt uneasy.

  Could he really trust these men? Maybe it was some kind of trap.

  "To a place we can speak without fear of being overheard," said Jeremiah's companion. "My name is Daniel." He put out his hand and hesitantly the boy accepted it and felt the man's strong grip.

  "There is a watcher," advised Jeremiah.

  "Leonie?" Zack asked with some alarm.

  Jeremiah gave him a knowing look. "No," he remarked, "she needs her rest as much as the next Mother. But you are kept under observation night and day. Leonie of the Green Coven is your daytime guardian. You would be unlikely to see the Mother on night shift. That is, unless you decided to go for a midnight stroll. As is the case this evening."

  "So how are we going to avoid being seen?" Zack voiced this before adding, "and didn't she see you come in here?"

  Now Jeremiah chuckled and Daniel shared his good humour. "This is my house, lad. I come and go as I please. And even in Witch Town I can invite a friend in for a late night drink."

  Zack didn't consider himself to be slow or dense, but questions were turning inside his head. "But you don't sleep here. How can it be your house?"

  "You forget I am Husband to Abigail of the White Coven. This gives me certain privileges."

  "Privileges that I do not share," added Daniel dryly, "as I am Husband to Claire of the Blue Coven, a mere level two!"

  The boy shook his head. "So there is no equality even among the men."

  This got both of them laughing softly. "Equality is not a word used much here," was Daniel's amused comment.

  "So how do we get out without her seeing us?" Zack asked, wanting to get on with it.

  Jeremiah gave a sideways glance at the other man. "Daniel doesn't hold his drink too well, now do you, Dan!" he said with a wink at the other man. "And I think maybe he's had a little too much already!"

  Daniel grinned. "I really hope I can avoid making a fool of myself on my way home. I wouldn't want to cause a disturbance."

  Zack gazed at each man in turn. "A diversion," he asserted.

  With an even wider smile than before, Daniel clapped his hands together. "Maybe he's brighter than he looks!"

  Jeremiah came closer to his friend and gestured towards the door. "Maybe, maybe not" he said, giving Zack a strange look that implied that the words had a deeper meaning, "but let's get on with this, or our friends will get restless."

  Immediately Daniel was all business, his expression set with steely resolve. "Good luck," he voiced and then turned to make his way out of Zack's room and through to the front door.

  The sound of his voice singing in a slurry baritone disturbed the quiet of the late evening as he went.

  "Give him a minute and then we leave. The others will not wait for us all night."

  Ellie looked on as John poured a herbal brew from an ornate, silver teapot. Margaret sat silently opposite her.

  "Thank you, John," the girl said with a brief smile. It still felt entirely abnormal to be waited on, but then her life was nothing but abnormal now.

  The boy left them alone and Ellie tensed as she prepared herself for the conversation to come.

  The arrival of Margaret so late had not been entirely unexpected, although at first she had been convinced the old woman had come to demand to know the whereabouts of her book, but Ellie quickly realised that this was not why she was there.

  "I have been told that Helen and Grace are feeling somewhat tender," the elderly witch commented wryly.

  "What was I supposed to do!?" Ellie responded, instantly defensive. "They attacked me!"

  "Quite so. What were you supposed to do?" The woman's eyes were like glittering marbles, catching the light of the many candles that lit the room.

  For a fleeting second Ellie had a sudden nostalgic longing for a good old electric light bulb. But there was no such thing in Witch Town. It was back to basics here. "She was trying to kill me," she added almost as an afterthought.

  "She attempted to use Dismember I believe. A very unpleasant Word. Rather messy."

  Ellie just stared back at her. "And what if I hadn't been able to stop her?"

  "You would be dead." Margaret said this in a detached, matter-of-fact way.

  "I can't believe this!" Ellie stormed, "you people are totally insane, you do know that don't you!?"
<
br />   "Really? And yet you live. I never expected any other outcome."

  "So you were just testing me?" the girl said with disgust. "Just a game, is that it?"

  "No games," corrected the woman, "there is too much at stake for that. But yes, you must prove your worth. So what did you learn?"

  "I don't know what you mean." Ellie felt very angry and didn't want to indulge the old woman, knowing this was yet another example of her attempts at manipulation.

  "You used a Word of Power by instinct I presume. One you had not read in any book. Propel? Very well chosen. And you will see too that once an adversary is incapacitated any Word they have already spoken is negated. Fortunate you discovered this at a most opportune moment."

  The girl absorbed this information and searched her mind, remembering how she had felt just after she had used the Word against the two women. "I liked it." Ellie spoke very quietly, her eyes cast downwards. She felt ashamed at even speaking this out loud, but she had to say it.

  "Of course you did, my dear," Margaret told her soothingly. "It is power. And to master such power is exhilarating. But the key will always be control. You must be able to command your thoughts or another who is more adept will control you."

  "So what now?"

  The witch considered this question for a long time and took a sip of her tea. Eventually she answered and in her voice there was just a hint of something akin to longing or perhaps anticipation. "There is a task that needs to be performed. One for which you may be well suited. I believe you are proving yourself to be a formidable witch. One who can make this Coven proud."

  "What kind of task?" Ellie wanted to know, a little anxious and