by Mark Hockley
no joke," he hissed, "Jeremiah was killed as well."
Luke didn't seem particularly moved by this. "That's what you get for being stupid."
Now Zack did pause, his expression bleak. "He didn't even do anything. He was trying to stop them." The boy glanced over at the girls, but they were engaged in animated conversation and were not paying them any attention, at least for the moment.
Luke pulled some offending roots from the ground and tossed them into the basket he was carrying. "So were you out there too? If you were you should count yourself lucky they didn't lynch you as well."
"What is it with you now days," Zack asked with a heavy sigh of aggravation, "why all the attitude?"
This got a reaction from the other boy and he halted his own work , a subdued anger simmering in his eyes. "Attitude," he countered, "You think this is attitude!? Since when have you got so cosy with these people? Jeremiah was one of them, or have you forgotten? And so are they." He gestured over at their two chaperones. "Maybe you're getting a bit too comfortable here. Maybe you are starting to forget who your real friends are. Just like your sister!"
"Watch your mouth," barked Zack and finally Leonie and Allana looked over at them.
"And you watch your back," Luke told him with a glare of such intense loathing that Zack had to turn away. What was going on here, that his friend had developed such a level of mistrust and resentment. It really scared him to see it.
"Is that some kind of threat?" he asked carefully.
Luke held his gaze for several uncomfortable moments. "Just a friendly warning," he offered. "From one friend to another."
Some friend, thought Zack, but he stayed quiet. He didn't want to make things any worse than they already were. But he was very disturbed by his friends words. Whether it was spoken out of frustration or a growing sense of alienation, Zack didn't know. But whatever the reason, it troubled him deeply.
Gazing into the eyes of the boy he had known for so long and considered to be his closest friend in the world, it had been like looking at a stranger. The same features as before, the same facade, but something had altered. Zack tried to shake the feeling off, attempting to rationalise it away. But it was very hard to dismiss.
Zack felt a cold chill creep stealthily up his spine. And of all of the terrible things that had occurred since they had come to this place, just at that moment, this seemed by far the worst.
The man and his car were gone. Whether he had just come to his senses, confused at why and where he was and went on his way, Ellie couldn't say. Or maybe it had been Margaret who had dealt with him. It really made no difference.
She, Helen and Grace were now expected to make their way to London. The girl went over the practical details in her mind. Getting there was one thing, but returning was also a very real consideration. She had queried this with Margaret and the witch had written down a post code on a piece of paper for her. Ellie had found this bizarre and incongruous. Surely Witch Town didn't receive mail! But she accepted it anyway, understanding that she had no way of knowing how to get back otherwise. When the four of them had first started out on their so-called holiday, she had paid very little attention to where they were going or where they ended up.
Ellie began to consider other issues, tying to cover all eventualities and glanced over at her two companions with a rueful look, taking in their attire. She gave a very definite frown.
"You do know we will stand out like sore thumbs looking like this," she pronounced.
The women just stared back at her and the girl rubbed at her chin. "Have you got any money?"
Although Helen was far less assertive with Ellie now than before, Grace still had an air of haughty superiority when she spoke. "Why!? We have no need of it."
Ellie gave a sigh at this. "We will need different clothes if we are going to do this. Surely we don't want to attract unnecessary attention."
Helen gave Grace a quick look as if to assess her reaction. "She is probably right," she offered.
The other witch seemed quite put out that her companion would chose to side with Ellie. "So," she asked irritably, "what do you suggest?"
The girl gave just a flicker of a smile. "Let's go shopping."
"It has begun," Isobel told her subordinate in a tone that suggested both anticipation and disquiet.
Miriam sat opposite her, waiting for the instructions she knew must come.
The situation had escalated far beyond anything she had expected. The knowledge of what may be about to come to pass filled her with an overriding sense of awe.
But she was also terribly afraid. The implications were monumental. "Who should we send?"
"I would go myself, but it would be too conspicuous. Margaret at the very least would suspect."
Miriam became even more uneasy. "This is very dangerous for all of us. What if we are unsuccessful?"
With an expression of hungry desire, Isobel made it obvious that she did not consider this to be an option. "The Red Coven will not accept failure. For any reason. We will send three. That seems fair, don't you think? The odds will be even."
The other witch seemed less certain. "They are strong," she observed, "and the new Mother, she is unpredictable."
Isobel considered these words for a few seconds. "Take two of our Sisters with you. Two who are accomplished in combat. That should be sufficient."
"Me?" Miriam asked, clearly astonished.
"Yes, you," directed Isobel with firm assurance. "You are my right hand, are you not? Who better for me to rely upon. This is more important to our House than any undertaking in our history. You should be honoured."
The younger witch swallowed and tried her best to maintain a show of composure. She was only partially successful. "I am, Isobel, of course. But..."
"Do what must be done," interrupted the other woman. "They will be no match for us anyway. They are so full of their own self-importance, but they have always been weaker. And you will have the advantage of surprise. They will have no reason to expect you."
Miriam nodded tentatively. "I will not fail you or our Coven," she stated, her voice more resolute now, her conviction set firm. She was completely devoted to the Red Coven and all of her Sisters.
And she was powerful, strong enough to one day succeed Isobel as Head of their House. Her success in this matter would no doubt do much to support any such future claim.
"Make the arrangements immediately," Isobel ordered her. "Let the Glory belong to the Red Coven."
Miriam's expression was fierce. But ambition and fear vied within. "The Red Coven," she repeated with only just the slightest trepidation in her voice.
"Do you know, I think I remember my dear Mother saying to me, Gladys, don't you ever pick wild berries. Not only might you poison yourself, but you could soil your dress. She was a great one for cleanliness, you know. Said it was second only to the Lord. I can see her now, in her white apron standing in the kitchen, as clear as day. She was always baking cakes. My favourite was cherry pie. Homemade pie is the best don't you agree..."
"Sleep," said Grace and the elderly woman next to her immediately closed her eyes and was gently snoring within seconds. On the other side of her, Helen gave a gentle sigh of relief.
In the front of the car, Ellie sat beside the middle-aged woman who was driving them on a country road in what she hoped was the general direction of London. The elderly figure who dozed in the back was most probably her mother, although they hadn't bothered with introductions. One thing was for sure though, just this once she and Grace were in complete agreement. Ellie would be very happy if there was no more talk for the rest of the journey.
They motored on, passing a signpost that had definitely seen better days. 85 miles to London it signalled. And then she would find out just how far her new power would be able to take her. In and out of the Tower she hoped, although the thought had crossed her mind on several occasions recently that getting in might be the easy part. Getting out again might be a little more problematic.
> Already Beth was seriously questioning if she hadn't been better off with the White Coven. The boys who acted as servants for the Blacks were even more obsequious and clearly wanted nothing to do with her. The very idea of a female working alongside them seemed to offend them deeply.
And what was worse, she had made an enthusiastic enemy in Allison. Everything Beth did was scrutinised by the witch and found to be inadequate. It was driving her crazy. Beth had come so close to throwing her dustpan and brush at the woman, that she had to grip them with painfully tightening fingers and nails to stop herself.
Now she was working with a younger boy of perhaps thirteen or so who said his name was Michael. He was pleasant enough in a fawning, pathetic kind of way and the girl decided that she would try to get some information out of him about what had been going on outside.
"So what was all the fuss about last night..." She searched for something to add that might sound more friendly. "Mike," she finished with her best winning smile.
The boy gave a slight scowl. "My name is Michael," he told her curtly.
"Oh," Beth replied, "I see. I'm sorry. Okay, Michael." She came a little closer to him and he shot her an anxious look. "But do you know what's been going on?"
Michael moved a few steps away, obviously uncomfortable at the girl's close proximity. "Some of the Husbands were punished," he informed her without any sign of distress or concern.
"What do you mean, punished?"
"They were hung by the neck. It was a lesson." The boy said this in a matter-of-fact way and Beth just stared at him in shock.
"A lesson for who?" she managed to ask, her mind racing now, afraid that Zack might have been among them.
"For all of us," Michael said as if it was obvious. "For all of the Husbands and the Sons. To remind us of our place in Witch Town."
Beth thoughts were a jumble of dread, horror and rage. "Do you know my friends, the ones I came here with? They weren't part of it, were they?"
The boy named Michael continued with his work and Beth thought that he had no intention of answering. But when he finally did, she wished he had kept his silence. "Maybe," he said, "maybe they were there. And if they were, then good riddance. They would have deserved to die along with all of the other traitors."
It was all Beth could do not to cry out then. If anything had happened to Zack she wasn't sure she would be able to go on with this. And where was Ellie?
She had come here thinking that it would be better to at least to be closer to her friend. But she felt just as alone as ever. And her fear was growing, a ravenous thing that fed on her spirit, that occupied her heart.
She was at its mercy and it would not be denied.
33
Well this should be a shopping trip to remember. Trying to kit out Helen and Grace will be a fashion challenge if ever there was one. What should we go for? Smart casual, the geeky look or maybe something glam! It's a real dilemma! If there was ever a time for a little humour, this has to be it. My life has become totally insane. But what can I do? So if I'm going to die, I might as well go out looking good . Which brings me to the most pressing question. Skirt or jeans. I know, you don't have to say a word. I need to get a grip. I need to focus. So...skirt?
It was Ellie's idea to go into the bank, queue up at the counter and then tell the cashier she would like some money. Well, to be more precise, use a Word of Power on the young woman who worked there. Control seemed to do the trick.
Ellie decided not to be too greedy and withdrew a thousand pounds. It occurred to her that she could has requested any amount that came to mind, but she didn't want to draw unwanted attention and a thousand would be plenty for their purposes. Even so, she felt a thrill of excitement about getting hold of what was a fortune as far as she was concerned. Before now, she had become pretty excited at having fifty pounds in her purse, let alone this much cash. She did have to concede that she was experiencing some pangs of guilt. After all, it was theft and she wasn't the kind of person who stole things, but her need was greater than her conscience, so it just had to be done.
After that, it was off to the nearest department store. The three witches drew many curious glances and some unequivocal stares. Ellie decided she would be glad when they were dressed to blend in a little more.
Even so, it proved a lot more difficult to persuade the two older woman to try on some of the clothing she picked out for them. Their distaste at what they considered to be immodest and overly revealing dresses caused Ellie a great deal of argument and cajoling. But eventually they all found suitable outfits that met the girl's criteria for not standing out too much.
Also, there had been the initial insistence on everything having to be black to counter.
Eventually, Grace had settled on a rather formal high necked dress in dark blue with black pumps. It was the best compromise they could agree on. Ellie had managed to talk Helen into some beige slacks and a reasonably fashionable green blouse, although of course there were mutterings about betraying their Coven by wearing the colour of a rival. Ellie thought it all very petty and silly, but did her best to talk them both around. For herself, she chose a pleated Blue skirt and a blue top. But any thoughts of admiring her new look were soon set aside as they began to make their way through the busy London streets towards the Tower.
Once they got inside they didn't really have any kind of clever plan. They would just locate the chapel, find the hidden entrance to the vault, get the document and then get out. Sounded very straight forward. If only she really believed it would be, Ellie found herself thinking.
Zack was taking a break and unsurprisingly Luke had put as much distance between them as possible. The other boy was laying on a glass verge with his hands behind his head, the afternoon sun beating down upon him.
The one good thing to come of this was that Allana had now taken up station close to him, leaving Leonie alone with Zack.
"What were you talking about earlier?" Zack asked her, keeping his voice low. They sat on some bales of straw stacked beside one of the numerous barns that were situated around the town.
He found it very difficult not to reach out and touch her, but he knew it was too dangerous. The frustration that he felt was maddening nonetheless.
The girl looked at him and there were conflicting emotions in her green eyes. "Allana has many questions about you. She is far too inquisitive about our relationship, despite the fact that she believes it to be a mercenary one on my part. I think she finds it...titillating." The boy tried not to laugh and managed to mask it with a cough. Leonie gave him a dark look. "It is no laughing matter. Do not forget that I have forfeited my honour."
Now Zack's expression became grave. "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm just finding all of this very hard to get my head around." He reached out and took her hand, glancing quickly about to make sure no one was watching. "I hate it that I've caused you so many problems."
The girl squeezed his hand and then released herself from his grasp. "We must be very careful," she told him softly. "After last night, there are even more eyes turned towards the men. And that includes you. It has been noted that you were involved, even if you did not side with the rebels."
"Neither did Jeremiah," the boy said without thinking, a bitter note in his voice.
The young witch gazed at him with a sorrow that made Zack's heart ache. "No my father did not and yet he is dead."
"Because your Mother killed him." Zack saw no point in pretending otherwise. He loved this girl and whatever pain she was experiencing was now his to share.
Leonie looked down at the ground. "Abigail of the White Coven may be my birth Mother, but no more than that. I am a great disappointment to her. I did not choose to follow her because I never want to be like her. Now more so than ever."
"I'm proud of you for that," the boy said gently, meaning it.
Her eyes met his then and there was just a glimmer of a tear in the corner of her eyes. "No one has ever been proud of me. I have always been a fai
lure."
"No," Zack stated forcefully. "Jeremiah didn't believe that. And neither do I."
As real tears rolled over her cheeks, Leonie gave a slow shake of her head. "I want to be faithful to my Coven, but how can this be right. He was innocent of any crime. Why did she do it? To hurt me, to punish me? Why? I don't understand."
Zack could bear it no longer. He got up and went to her and held her tightly against him, stroking her hair. "There are things happening here that are very wrong. But you're not part of that. I know you're not. But things have to change, one way or another. Murdering your father, killing those men, this is madness."
Leonie's face was close against his chest, but he still heard her words. "But how can I stand against my own Sisters and everything I have been taught since I was a child? This is all I know." She pulled away a little and looked up at the boy. "I know you don't understand, but how could you. Witch Town is not your home."
Zack struggled to know how to continue. He didn't want to hurt her anymore than she already had been, but he could not pretend that there was nothing more to be said. "You're right," he began carefully, "I don't understand. I don't understand why the men are treated like slaves, why the women abuse the power they have. This thing you can do, these Words, it's amazing, it's incredible! But why aren't you using it to do good, to help people. When I think how much you could do outside." He paused as the magnitude of what he was saying hit him. "Why are you doing this, staying in here, hidden away? Why aren't you using this power, whatever it is, to benefit everyone, the whole human race?" His face was flushed, his throat felt dry.
Leonie gazed at him, her expression hard to read. "We are bound," she said, "I thought that you knew."
Now Zack was confused. "Bound by what?"
"Bound not to interfere in the dealings of the Crown or the government."
The boy didn't know what to think. It made no sense. "Why? By who?"
Shielding her eyes from the sun as it began to set, an orange sphere on the horizon, Leonie gave her reply. "To honour the contract between Witch Town and the King. So that we can live our lives in peace without persecution."
Ellie didn't really know what she had expected, but once inside the Tower of London she was surprised to find that they could wander about unsupervised.
Although there were guides and employees about, they were able to make their way without incident following convenient signs towards St John's Chapel. It was located in a separate building known as The White Tower.
There were many tourists milling around, perusing the historic site, but the three women were intent on their goal and moved on purposefully. Nobody seemed to take any notice of them, despite their obvious disinterest in anything on display. However, she became slightly anxious when she caught the gaze of a middle aged
