by Mark Hockley
"Change?" queried the woman, "is that what this is about, Husband? And do you hope that by killing a Mother this will bring about what you ask for?"
"I had no part in it," asserted the man, "but that does not change the fact of what I tell you. Things cannot remain as they have been in Witch Town."
The other men seemed content to allow Jeremiah to speak for them for the moment, but they were more than prepared to wield their torches if necessary. Samuel now lay on the ground, still writhing and moaning with pain, not far from the corpse of the witch he had slain.
Abigail's soft peel of laughter was an unpleasant sound. It was full of malice and scorn. "I can see a lesson is needed," she spoke with silken menace. "But I fear that it will need to be a severe one. You Husbands," she turned her attention to the four who stood poised to attack. "You will see that sacrifices are necessary to sustain our prosperity. But I would not ask you to make a sacrifice if I was not willing to do so myself." Her gaze moving lazily back to her own Husband. "Bleed." The word hung in the air, frightening in its simplicity.
Jeremiah stared at her for several moments before a trickle of blood began to run from his nose. His eyes widened in shock and he reached up to dab at his upper lip. Zack gazed at him, not knowing what to do and saw that blood was also spilling out from his ears, becoming a steady flow.
"Stop it!" It was Leonie's voice as she came running to stand between her mother and father.
"Too late," Abigail told her sharply, her amulet already clouded with her essence.
Zack took Jeremiah's arm just as he began to totter, his balance unsteady and the boy was horrified to see that blood was also seeping out from the corners of the man's eyes now.
"Please!" Leonie beseeched her mother, "Please stop it!" She gave a frantic look at Jeremiah and saw him leaning heavily on Zack. The other men had lowered their torches and were inching backwards, this brutally callous display shocking them into retreat.
Zack could not hold up Jeremiah any longer and allowed him to slump to the ground. Blood came from between his lips and his eyes fluttered weakly.
"You are killing him!" screamed Leonie.
Abigail's gaze was cruel and without remorse and her reply was like ice. "He is dead."
The boy cradled the man in his arms, Jeremiah's blood now running freely. Zack wanted to do something, say something, but he was stunned by what he was witnessing. He felt tears burning his eyes and made no attempt to check them. Distantly he heard the sounds of raised voices, deep, guttural calls of distress and calamity. Men's voices. The witches were dealing with the revolt all across Witch Town in merciless fashion it seemed.
Leonie stood helplessly facing her mother. Her expression was one of frustrated rage. But Abigail only regarded her with indifference. "Now, Husbands." Her voice was clear and rang out through the night. "Remember what you have witnessed here and remember it well. Mutiny will never be tolerated here. And our retribution will be final."
Zack knew that Jeremiah was dead. He didn't want to accept it, but he knew. Gently he let go of the man and turned to glare at Abigail. "But he tried to stop them," he said in a choked, husky voice, the words reluctant to leave his mouth. The boy swallowed hard, fresh tears running down over his face. "He tried to stop them!" he suddenly cried out, the sound startling in its intensity.
The witch gave him only the most cursory of glances. "Perhaps he should have tried a little harder," she remarked, turning on her heels and making off into the darkness.
Already the other men had departed without any more argument, taking their two recovering companions to stagger away with them. They were beaten and they knew it.
Leonie came to kneel beside Zack then, gazing down at the body of the man who was her father, even if he had never been allowed to fulfil that role. She fought back her own tears.
Zack sat on the ground and felt utterly useless. He had just watched as Jeremiah had died and did nothing.
The other Green Coven Witch who had been attacked stirred, groaning. Leonie went over to her, wiping away her tears and Zack heard the girl speak a muffled word, although he did not hear what it was.
With a blood stained hand, he touched Jeremiah's cheek. He wanted to say sorry, although he knew the words would never be heard and that there was nothing more he could have done. Even so, he still whispered them. It was really all he had to offer.
Ellie knew she should do something, but she had no idea what.
Grace knelt beside the other woman, a look of desperate futility lining her face. Helen was obviously declining rapidly.
"What can I do?" the girl said aloud.
With a dismal glance, Grace shook her head. "This poison must be very strong to not respond to my power. There is nothing to be done."
"Shall I try?" offered Ellie, sensing that time was running very short for the afflicted woman.
Even in this grave situation, still Grace found the ability to be both irritated and offended by the girl. "Do not presume," she chastised, "you are in above your head already."
But Ellie's mind returned to what she had done to both of these witches when they had challenged her before and she doubted the woman's words. "I'm going to try," she announced and set her concentration on Helen, who had begun to gently shake, her pallid skin breaking out in sweat.
Grace ignored her, apparently content to let her Sister succumb to a slow death.
"Antidote," the girl voiced, the sound small even in the quiet. Ellie felt the back of her neck tingling and knew that her SpiritHeart was responding to her, the connection between her being and the amulet indefinable but potent.
Helen's breathing was shallow, but her eyes fluttered open to stare up at Ellie. Time seemed to crawl by, each moment drawn out, the girl's hope and expectation caught in slow-motion.
Grace was holding the other witch's hand and squeezed it comfortingly, as if in commiseration.
"Not so hard," muttered Helen.
Ellie almost laughed. The woman's skin was regaining colour, the shaking had stopped.
With a look that revealed little pleasure or relief, Grace removed her hand from the other woman's and stood up. She regarded Ellie with something close to distaste. "It would seem you have saved her." It was a reluctant statement.
The girl made no reply. There didn't seem to be any point. But in her heart Ellie knew that what had just happened meant a great deal. It demonstrated at least one important fact.
She was stronger than Grace. Stronger than her and quite probably more powerful than Helen too.
With a meaningful glance at both woman, Ellie went to the door and taking care to avoid the poisoned needle, she turned the knob, now ready to take the lead.
Within was a room all in white and at its centre a glass cabinet. Nothing else but that. Ellie almost had to shield her eyes against the luminous glare of the walls and ceiling.
She stepped inside, only a few paces into the room, but no sooner had she done so than there was an automatic hiss and the door closed behind her. She spun around and tried to re-open it, but it was sealed shut.
Now she found herself separated from her companions. Alone. Her power against whatever defences protected the room. She would have her chance to prove herself sooner than she had expected or indeed, wanted.
She took a tentative step forward, scrutinising the glass cabinet ahead of her. But she could not see what was inside.
Now another sound broke the stillness, an electronic hum. Ellie paused to examine the interior, looking for potential threats. The entire room appeared clinical and unadorned by any kind of furnishing. And yet, there was a strange fluorescence upon the far wall. She peered at it, trying to make out if there was something there and even as she looked, it began to flicker slightly.
A face began to form in profile, the features indistinct, as if through some kind of filter. The image covered the entire wall. Ellie just stared, unsure what to make of it.
Then it spoke. "Welcome." It was a female voice, but there was something
odd about it as if it was through a filter of some kind. It echoed around the interior, resonating through multiple hidden speakers. "So you have come to claim the amulet." She said this with what the girl considered to be quiet mirth."And yet," she continued, tone altering to one of muted disappointment, "I must apologise."
The girl waited for the phantom to explain, but there was only a lengthy silence. Finally, Ellie could not contain herself. "Apologise for what?" she demanded loudly.
The image distorted a little and still she could not make out very much about the identity of its owner. "For killing you, of course," the woman said matter-of-factly.
Zack carried Jeremiah's body back to the Green Coven. Leonie had insisted. His heart felt cold, as if something had died inside him. He couldn't think of anything to say to the girl so he remained silent. The night had become still too, only the occasional hoot of an owl or cry of a fox interrupting the eerie silence after so much commotion.
Outside the Coven House Zack halted and waited while Leonie went inside. After a few moments she returned accompanied by two of her fellow witches. Their faces were solemn and respectful. Obviously not all of these women were quite as ruthless as Abigail.
The first, a woman in her fifties, but with a pleasant countenance directed him towards the side of the building. "Take him to the storeroom please," she said mildly, "we will clean and dress him there."
Leonie's expression was bereft and Zack hated to see
