by Mark Hockley
"Remember that time we almost got caught getting our ball back from that house next to the park?" It was just one of the many times they had shared a mini adventure together and Zack really missed their camaraderie. Luke had always been such a good friend. This distance and animosity that was growing between them was really hurting him.
Luke glanced up from his work. He had a strained expression, as if he were at odds with his own emotions. "I remember," he mumbled.
The other boy took encouragement from this and pressed on. "I really thought we were going to get caught. You were such an idiot. You never could kick a ball to save your life!"
There was a moment when Zack believed the other boy was going to ignore him and continue sullenly with his chores. But then Luke gave a grunt. "If you hadn't ducked out of the way, it would never have gone over there in the first place."
Zack chuckled and it was a very good feeling. "I had to or you would have taken my head off!"
The boys were gazing at each other now, dust covered and dirty, sweat clinging to their skin. Slowly, uneasily, Luke began to smile. But it was a genuine, good natured show of humour. It was the first time for a long while. "I thought you said I couldn't kick a ball!"
His friend shook his head. "I meant on target."
"What makes you think I wasn't aiming for your head!?"
And then they both laughed. It was a release. A letting go of more than just what had happened between them. And it was sorely needed.
Leonie and Allana peered at them, not knowing what to make of it and both had identical expressions of bemusement.
And when Zack and Luke looked over at them this only made them laugh all the harder.
Beneath the chapel another chamber awaited them, dank and dimly lit. It was obvious no one had been there for a very long time, cobwebs and moss growing on the stone walls and ceiling. In this hidden place Ellie saw a large wooden chest against the far wall. There was nothing else to speak of. The chest appeared forgotten sitting there as it was. Could this really be the resting place of what Margaret considered to be such an important document, the contract made between the witches and those who governed the land beyond the borders of Witch Town? It seemed so off-handed as if it was of little importance.
Grace stood beside the girl regarding the chest with puzzlement. "Well, aren't you going to open it?" she asked, clearly impatient to complete the task that had brought them there.
Ellie hesitated. "Does this feel right to you?" Maybe it was a stupid question, but she could not shake the sense that something didn't add up.
"It's a little late for nerves now, don't you think?" the woman commented with a tinge of disappointment. Her new-found admiration for Ellie was obviously waning. And saying this, she moved to where the chest sat and taking hold of a silver clasp that secured it shut, she made to lift the lid.
Grace did not get very far. There was a flash of white light, blinding Ellie, despite the gloom. For several moments she struggled to see, rubbing her eyes. Finally as clarity returned, the girl stared at where her companion had stood. Only the chest remained. There was no sign of Grace.
Ellie stepped forward quickly, turning her head from left to right, expecting the witch to be over in one of the corners of the room, perhaps dazed or even injured. But she was quite alone.
It was then that she noticed some fragments or debris just in front of the wooden casket. Gazing down at them in consternation, Ellie knelt to take a closer look and then shot bolt upright as she saw what they were. She felt bile rise in her throat and gagged a little, taking two rapid steps backward.
She hadn't needed to examine the remnants of black cloth and what she now understood to be charred flesh to know that Grace was indeed there in the chamber with her. What was left of her anyway.
The girl held her hand over her mouth, her eyes very wide. She was fighting the strong desire to turn and run.
But she steadied herself and moved tentatively back towards the chest, trying to skirt around Grace's remains. It was true that there was no love lost between the two of them, but she had meant the woman no harm. It shocked her to think that the witch had been killed in such a terrible way right in front of her.
She had been so stupid she realised then. Why hadn't she told Grace not to touch it. Margaret had said that only someone not born in Witch Town could take the document, but it never occurred to her that whatever protected it might have such a devastating effect.
Now Ellie had to think carefully. Could she really be sure that if she tried to open the chest the same thing wouldn't happen to her. Had Margaret been telling the truth? When she thought about in dispassionately, she only had the elderly witch's assurances about any of this. Was it all some twisted story created to further test her?
There was only way to find out.
Ellie took hold of the silver clasp and lifted the lid. It came up easily enough.
This time there was no flash of destructive light. Only the distant sound of dripping water, somewhere in the walls. She looked down into the chest and saw that it was empty.
She stared, puzzled. Then she checked the interior more carefully and saw that yes, there was something, a tan coloured piece of cloth pushed into one corner. Ellie reached in and took it.
It was soft to the touch and felt like some kind of animal skin. It was only perhaps ten inches in length and less than half that in width. It was rolled into a tube and very carefully Ellie inspected it, moving her fingers gently over its smooth surface.
With great reverence she began to unfurl it and looked down expectantly as symbols and words became legible. The lettering was strange in many places and she had great difficulty in understanding the script, but she did so as best she could in the dull light of the secret chamber.
This covenant...name themselves witches...hath taken residence...known at Witch Town... hinder the good offices...King and all his rightful heirs...this pact endures shall suffer grievous harm...to hell's fire...who should endeavour to remove this contract...bind all offspring...the King promises...denizens shall be left unmolested.
This was as much as she could decipher and beneath the writing were a number of signatures, one of which Ellie believed to be James the first, King of England.
She held this ancient document in her hands and marvelled at it. So it was actually true, the witches had made a deal with the Crown to allow themselves to live in safety and anonymity. Ellie supposed that it had been a compromise they were willing to make, particularly during a time when anything remotely connected to witchcraft was treated as an abomination and was punishable by death.
Whatever their reasons, the witches had signed this contract to guarantee that they would keep to themselves and live a relatively isolated existence. But as Ellie considered this further, she saw that it also meant that the King and his advisors had been afraid of what the witches were capable of.
For now though, she just really needed to get out of there. The gloomy chamber had become unbearable and the gruesome sight of Grace's corpse, what little there was of it, laying only a few feet distance, was enough to motivate her to get moving.
As she began to climb the stairs and make her way back up to the chapel she wondered how she was going to explain to Helen what had happened down there. She didn't know how close the two women had been, but all of the Coven members appeared to be invested in their 'Sisters'. Ellie knew it wasn't going to be an easy conversation.
But when she came out of from below the altar into the sun lit chapel she never got an opportunity to find out.
Sprawled on the stone floor lay Helen's still and lifeless body.
35
I have come face to face with death. Not in the way you do when a relatives dies, but in a very raw, in your face way that is shocking and horrifying. I feel my heart and my mind reeling, but I can't change the way things are. The life I'm leading now is a billion miles away from anything I used to know. And I don't feel like a girl anymore. I am a witch and I will need to really tap
into the power inside me if I'm going to avoid ending up dead myself.
For a long moment of uncertainty Ellie just stood there.
She guessed she was in some kind of stunned shock. Her mind felt sluggish and would not process her thoughts properly.
Slowly, as if moving in a surreal dream, she moved forward and knelt down beside Helen. She wasn't proficient at taking pulses, but she gave it her best effort.
The woman was dead.
Ellie didn't even have to assure herself by checking for a heartbeat or breathing. It was the utter stillness. There was no life in this woman's body. It had been taken from her.
As if emerging from a trance, suddenly Ellie became aware of movement around her and she turned her head sharply upward to see figures appearing from behind the tall columns of the chapel. There were three of them, all female. They were clothed in casual attire, but what struck Ellie immediately was the red sashes they wore. She knew them for what they were.
"Why are you here!?" she demanded, her voice even. "What business is this of the Red Coven?"
"You can save the pretence," said one of the woman. It was Miriam, now dressed in a blouse and jeans. Her expression was almost feral. "We have slain one of your companions. It was easy enough. Where is the other? Is she hiding below?"
Ellie nearly spat at the floor, her fury surging within. "Why have you done this? What do you want!?"
"You
