To Catch a Witch

by Sharon Booth

  He turned back to me and studied my face, looking slightly anxious. I managed a smile, and he smiled back. 'It must be all the drama,' he said at last. 'Shall we head back to Castle Lodge? Your nose is turning pink with cold.'

  Great. So not only was I a poor substitute for my ancestor, but I was sporting Rudolph's nose, too. 'Yes,' I mumbled. 'Let's go home. Shall we go back the way we came, or do you want to go the long way around?'

  'Whichever you prefer,' he said.

  I didn't fancy the climb up the castle steps again, especially in the dark. 'Let's continue down Riverside Walk,' I said.

  We walked on, and he made no further attempt at physical contact. In fact, it felt as if a huge invisible barrier had slammed down between us. The shadow of Jennet was right there, separating us, even though he wasn't aware of it. But the day was coming when he'd remember her all too clearly. How could I bear seeing him so broken-hearted over another woman, knowing there was nothing I could do to put it right? And poor Jennet had already gone through all this, I realised. On this very day, three hundred and fifty years ago, she was sobbing inconsolably as people searched for the body of her love. Well, I thought bitterly, Bevil would no doubt have been there to comfort her. My ancestor had a lot to answer for.

  Before I knew it, we'd reached the spot where my family had dragged Blaise from the water the previous night. I didn't think he'd realised that fact, thank goodness, but it meant we were also at Witch's Leap. I looked up at the little shrine on the cliff side, not sure whether to mention it to him.

  It seemed he'd noticed my not-so-covert glance. He stopped in his tracks, and I turned to face him, dreading the inevitable questions.

  'This is it, isn't it?' he breathed. 'The shrine you spoke of.'

  I hesitated, but decided he had every right to see for himself. 'Would you like to go up there?' I asked.

  'I would,' he agreed. 'Very much.'

  Not entirely sure it was such a good idea, I led him up the path towards the shrine where a plaque marked the spot where Blaise St Clair had leapt to his "death" to escape the witchfinder, Tobias Palmer. Hurriedly, I covered the plaque with my hand.

  Blaise, at first, was too busy staring at the flowers and cards to notice. 'All these are for me?' he queried. 'After all this time?'

  'They are,' I said, feeling a surge of pride that this wonderful man still drew the crowds. 'You're so loved, Blaise, you really are.'

  'But why?' He shook his head, bewildered. 'I don't understand. What did I do to deserve such devotion?'

  'You're — you're sort of a celebrity,' I explained. 'Famous.'

  'But for what?' He looked up from examining the flowers and stared at me, puzzled. 'It makes no sense. I've never—' he broke off, frowning. 'What are you hiding?'

  'Hiding?' I tried to sound nonchalant but ended up coming across sounding about as casual as if I were reading a formal declaration. 'I'm not hiding anything.'

  'Yes, you are!' He reached out and moved my hand, so the plaque was in full view. 'What does it say?'

  Thank goodness for the darkness deepening with every moment. 'It says this is the spot where you jumped into the river.'

  'And that's all?'

  'That's — all.'

  'Celeste?'

  'Please, Blaise, ask no more questions. It could be dangerous. You need to remember in your own good time.'

  'But surely, one little thing—'

  'It's not a little thing,' I said. 'It's huge. Enormous. I can't let you see it.'

  'If you don't,' he said calmly, 'I'll return here tomorrow alone, and read it for myself in the daylight.'

  'You wouldn't!'

  'If our positions were reversed, wouldn't you?'

  He had me there. If I were him, I'd be ransacking Castle Lodge looking for clues. I couldn't deny it.

  'Okay,' I said reluctantly. 'Hang on.'

  Even though I could recite the words on the plaque word for word, I turned on my mobile phone's torch and shone the light on it so he could read for himself. He was so desperate to see that he didn't even remark on my phone. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined the writing in front of him. I waited in silence, watching him as he absorbed the brutal words.

  We dedicate this place to the memory of Blaise St Clair who, on December 24th 1669, was hounded to his death by the witchfinder, Tobias Palmer. Leaping from the castle walls to escape capture, we believe Blaise drowned in the River Hrafn. His body has never been discovered. May he be at peace.

  I knew he must have finished reading, but still he stared at the plaque, not speaking.

  I shuffled uncomfortably. 'Are you okay?'

  Slowly, he turned to face me. 'I was escaping from a witchfinder?'

  'Yes,' I whispered. 'Do you remember him? Tobias Palmer?'

  He shook his head. 'I don't remember any of it, Celeste.' He stepped out from under the small roof of the shrine and looked up towards Witch's Leap — the spot on the castle walls where he'd made his bid for freedom. 'Except ...'

  'Except what?'

  His eyes narrowed, and I saw the effort he was making to recall that night. 'A flash of light,' he said. 'There was a flash of light.'

  He'd already remembered that, I thought sadly. Nothing new there.

  'And a punch in the stomach,' he added suddenly. He clenched his fist and gently thumped his upper abdomen. 'Here. Right here.'

  'A punch?' I touched his arm, eager to know more. 'Someone punched you?'

  His forehead puckered with the effort to remember. 'Not a punch,' he said at last. 'A pressure. A force.'

  I remembered the night Sky was hurled over the castle wall when Father accidentally lashed out at her. How had she described it? I closed my eyes, trying to remember what she'd said.

  "His hand shot out and there was a blue flash. I was flying. It was like something hit me in the stomach and lifted me up."

  I grabbed hold of Blaise's arm, feeling suddenly weak. 'You didn't jump at all,' I gasped.

  He shook his head. 'No, Celeste. I didn't jump at all.'

  Chapter Nine

  The time between Christmas and New Year's Day passed in a blur. The house was noisy and busy, which wasn't surprising given that we had a new baby living with us. Zephyr had been true to his word and had visited Aurora and Aither, bringing with him both Elvira and Easton, and masses of flowers, chocolates, teddy bears and baby clothes. The Lodge was looking like a flower shop, since both Star and Sky had also presented Aurora with bouquets of flowers, and Aither had so many soft toys and sweet little outfits that his parents had no need to buy him anything.

  It was lovely to see Elvira again. Like Easton, she was Benedict's half-sibling, having the same mother. Easton and Elvira were Aurora's half-siblings through their father. Benedict had never met Easton before, so Mother invited them all to dinner and, although it was rather awkward at first, Benedict and Easton seemed to hit it off, eventually. Easton was a bit of a computer geek, and Benedict connected with him through that. Elvira had been in Castle Clair the previous spring, and she and Benedict were already close, despite only knowing each other for a short time.

  Zephyr barely spoke to Benedict, which infuriated Star, but I calmed her down in the kitchen, pointing out that he probably felt guilty. His awful wife, Titania, hadn't even bothered to show up to see Aither, which had no doubt upset him. She'd probably been too scared to bump into Benedict, the child she'd abandoned as a baby. Zephyr wasn't a bad man and it must be difficult for him, caught as he was between the two of them.

  'You're too nice,' Star said. 'I think he's as horrible as she is. They deserve each other. What sort of man could fall in love with someone who has so little regard for her own son? I mean, she dumped him! And all because he wasn't a witch.'

  I couldn't deny that was an awful thing to do, but as I pointed out, it was hardly Zephyr's fault. And anyway, they say love is blind.

  We had a lovely time on New Year's Eve, all together in the Lodge, with even Mrs Greenwood present. We watched
the celebrations in London on the television and when Big Ben bonged, we all cheered and kissed and wished each other a happy New Year. It all rather overwhelmed Blaise. Seeing moving pictures on a box in the living room was weird enough for him, but as we toasted a new year and a new decade, I could see the sadness in his eyes, and realised it was yet another reminder of how far away from home he truly was, even though he was, strangely, still in the same house he'd lived in all that time ago.

  He'd been distracted all week, but who could blame him? There was so much for him to take in. Sirius had explained the shower to him all over again, and I'd demonstrated the use of a toothbrush and toothpaste. Sirius had shown him how to use an electric shaver, and we'd conjured up a whole new wardrobe of clothes for him to wear. One present we'd given him for Christmas was a set of three large, hardback books, detailing British history from Stuart times onwards. Blaise spent a lot of time poring over them, fascinated by what had happened in the years between his disappearance and the present day.

  'Well,' Sky said as he headed upstairs yet again, books clutched to his chest, 'if you still fancy Blaise, even knowing how boring he is, it must be love.'

  'He's not boring,' I protested. 'He's an intelligent man who wants to learn all he can about the times he finds himself in, and everything that led up to them.'

  'Honestly, Sky,' Star said, rolling her eyes, 'as if Celeste would ever consider Blaise boring for reading so much. Have you forgotten what a bookworm she's always been?'

  'Maybe so,' Sky said, 'but I'm sure even Celeste would rather he sat and talked to her. Learning about the past is all very well, but he ought to open his eyes to what's in his present. Or rather, who's in his present.'

  I suppose she had a point, but in the scheme of things it didn't seem that big a deal to me. Not yet, anyway.

  I had more important things to worry about. In the rare times Blaise and I were alone — usually when we went for a walk — we would discuss his recollections of that fateful night in 1669.

  The realisation he hadn't jumped from the castle wall that night still shocked me. It had all seemed set in stone. Blaise St Clair had leapt to his death that December night. The spot where he'd done so was even named "Witch's Leap". But evidently, we'd got it all wrong. He hadn't leapt. Someone had pushed him — and not by hand either. A magical force had blasted him over the castle wall, as one had blasted Sky when she was a little girl.

  Sky!

  'Sky saw you!' I'd blurted it out before I could stop myself.

  We were sitting on a bench in the castle grounds, gazing out over the town. It was a grey, miserable sort of day, and the sky hung low over the viaduct, threatening rain at any moment. No wonder Spirit had stayed indoors by the fire.

  Blaise turned to me, tilting his head slightly as he considered my words. 'Saw me when?'

  I hesitated, wondering if I should continue with the conversation. Yet I couldn't stop myself. It was too puzzling to keep quiet about it.

  'The night you fell,' I said. 'Sky saw you fall, and she saw you land in the river.'

  'I don't understand,' he said. 'How could Sky have been there?'

  Briefly, I explained to him what had happened to Sky; how she'd been wandering the castle grounds as a little girl, looking for Father, only to find him in a compromising position with a local barmaid. Shocked at being disturbed, Father — who at the time was a rather irresponsible, heavy-drinking witch — had unthinkingly lashed out, sending her hurtling over the castle wall. Thankfully, her nightdress had snagged on the apex of the shrine's roof, and she'd hung there helplessly. She'd let out a scream and at that moment, someone had whooshed past her in the darkness, turning his head to look at her briefly before landing with a splash in the river.

  'She saw a golden light around him as he hit the water,' I remembered. 'Just like the light we saw when you first appeared in the river.'

  'But how?' he puzzled. 'How could she have seen me when I fell so many centuries earlier?'

  'I don't know,' I admitted. 'I suppose there must have been some psychic connection between you. Maybe,' I reasoned, 'the fact it was in the same spot, and you were both blasted over the wall in the same way, equally terrified, forged some bond between you.'

  Blaise sat up straight. 'You said Sky screamed!'

  'That's right,' I said. 'Her nightdress tore, and she thought she would fall the rest of the way.'

  'But I heard a child's scream that night,' he said excitedly, and I remembered what he'd told us all when we were sitting before the High Council.

  'So you did,' I said. 'Are you saying the scream you recall was Sky's?'

  'I can't be sure,' he admitted. 'But it makes sense. I could have transported myself away from the water, but to do so I'd have needed intention and focus. If Sky distracted me ...'

  'She said you turned your head to look at her,' I remembered. 'You would definitely have been distracted.'

  'Then that explains it,' he said. 'Why I landed in the river, at any rate.'

  'But surely,' I said, 'whoever blasted you over the wall would have known you could transport yourself to safety? They couldn't possibly have known Sky would break your focus.'

  'Maybe,' he suggested, 'whoever sent me over the wall didn't intend to kill me? Maybe it was an accident, in the same way your father accidentally lashed out and sent Sky tumbling?'

  'It's possible,' I conceded. 'Golly, this is so frustrating!'

  'You think?' He gave me a wry grin. 'Try being in my head.'

  I laughed. 'Come on, it'll rain at any moment. We need to get home.'

  At that moment, Bran and Belasko swooped down upon us. Bran landed on the back of the bench, but Belasko hopped onto Blaise's shoulder.

  'Wow,' I said. 'You're honoured. He rarely goes near anyone but Sirius.'

  Blaise stroked the raven's head. 'He's beautiful,' he murmured. 'He reminds me ...'

  'We have a painting of you,' I said, rather bashfully. 'I have a copy in my bedroom. I can show you if you like. You have a raven sitting on your shoulder. Your familiar, no doubt.'

  'Nightwing,' he said. 'Her name was Nightwing.'

  'Oh, wow! That's great. Something else you remember,' I said.

  'Another loss,' he said quietly.

  I could have kicked myself. 'I'm sorry.'

  'No.' He turned to me, smiling. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so negative when you're doing everything you can to make this easier for me. Your family are lovely. So welcoming.'

  'They're your family, too,' I reminded him.

  'Indeed. Descended from my brother Bevil. He must have been a wonderful man. I wish I could remember him.'

  Hmm. Tricky.

  'And he must have married a good woman. Between them they created a most marvellous line.'

  Uh oh. Even trickier.

  'It seems our ravens have a friend,' Blaise said, and I followed his gaze to where a third raven perched on the bench next to us, watching us closely.

  'Hello,' I said. 'Who are you, I wonder?'

  The raven tilted its head and stared at me.

  Belasko hopped off Blaise's shoulder and went to stand beside the newcomer, while Bran stayed put, watching them.

  'Do you think she's Belasko's lover?' Blaise asked, grinning.

  'She's a girl?'

  'Oh yes. Females are smaller than the males, and look, compare the feathers on her throat to Belasko's and Bran's. The males have longer, scruffier feathers there. She's definitely a girl.'

  A thought occurred to me. 'She's not — I mean, she couldn't possibly be your raven?'

  'Nightwing?' He shook his head. 'Definitely not. Don't ask me how, but I just know I'd recognise her. Besides, I know familiars live much longer lives than ordinary members of their species, but I think three hundred and fifty years is pushing it, don't you?'

  I blushed. 'Sorry, I said. Stupid idea.'

  'A nice idea,' he said. 'I wish it were possible. She seems quite attached to Belasko, whoever she is.'

  'Come on,' I said. 'It's h
ot chocolate weather. Let's go back to the Lodge.'

  Luckily, he didn't seem to pick up on my discomfort. He got to his feet, and Belasko flew back and landed once again on his shoulder.

  'He's really taken to you,' I said, unable to hide my astonishment. 'I don't think he's ever landed on me. He's quite guarded, and he keeps his distance. It's weird.'

  'I must have a way with ravens,' he said, grinning at me.

  I smiled back, but a cold dread suddenly overcame me. The prophecy was all about ravens, and Aveta's warning returned to me in stark clarity. Someone, somewhere, was planning to go back in time and change everything. But who was it, and when would he do it? Aveta had promised the Council would do everything it could to find out, but would they succeed?

  I took Blaise's hand in mine and squeezed it. He looked at me, then glanced around, obviously worried that someone would see such a public display of affection, so I let go.

  We set off towards East Gate, Bran flying ahead of us while Belasko hitched a ride on Blaise's shoulder. I glanced back, unable to dismiss my anxieties when I saw the female raven was still sitting on the bench, watching us. It could be a coincidence, I thought, but it was a stark reminder that everything around us could change. For now, I would make the most of every moment.

  Chapter Ten

  January brought with it colder weather, and a return to what passed for normality in our family. Father and Aurora returned to their home in Ballydraiocht with Aither, which left the Lodge feeling suddenly empty and quiet. Sirius admitted to me privately he was quite relieved.

  'I thought you enjoyed having them around,' I said, surprised. 'You were the one who invited them.'

  'I did,' he said immediately. 'I do. It's just ...' He broke off, running a hand through his hair and looking distracted.

  'What?'

  'I don't know. I feel a bit swamped. I've got used to quiet and privacy, I suppose,' he admitted. 'It was a bit much to take, having all those people here over Christmas.'