by Helen Slavin
She let the crackle burst and sting around her as she looked at the surface reflection. Within, a white-haired woman in miniature. Kitty walking along a track at Yarl Hill, a cut through, a stand of trees. Anna set aside a flare of panic and turned the crackle over. The face blurred and smudged itself, but the hair shone out with a white light. Anna’s gaze was drawn to the white light. What was that within it?
Her Strength tugged at her. Focus. Kitty’s hip. The woman, a muffled voice incanting as she cracked the hip. Anna did not care what the spell was; she focused on the intention, like black smoke coming from her mouth. The shiny crackle pulsated with it. She put that to one side, flickered backwards through Kitty’s life, the pages flitting by until, there, she saw the crackle splinter outwards once more. Only here it was heavy, a thick, dragging current of magic. It seared at her. She pushed within, saw Kitty with her feet scuffed and bleeding as she made her way up the Old Castlebury Road as the shiny black magic whispered to her. Where was it taking her? Anna tilted the surface towards herself. She could not see the reflection, only a sifting darkness. The magic was different here, would not let her in. What was it? Younger? Stronger? It broke, just there, a vision of Mrs Massey. She let Kitty’s Flickerbook flip closed.
The tea was delicious, and the two women drank it in an easy silence.
“Did I help?” Kitty asked.
“Yes. Important information.” Anna was sure of this. She needed to look at it alone, piece it together.
“I still have those slippers,” Kitty said. “They always make me feel better.” She gave a soft smile.
“That was Mrs Massey for you,” Anna said. “Always made you feel better.”
Kitty raised her teacup. “To Mrs Massey.”
The china chink was bright as a silver bell. It chimed in Anna’s head as she headed off, her thoughts jostling for space and order.
Anna’s pace was quick as she cut through The Greets out onto Upper Hartfield Road. Her breath was quicker, her thoughts speeding. The white light of the woman’s hair glared and faded. It felt like a warning. Or alarm? Anna could not pin it. It unsettled her. She felt panic. What did it mean? What was going on? She felt the weight of responsibility, felt crushed. She just had to keep walking. Patrol.
It unnerved Charlie Way that, as she drove through town that morning, the Castle gave off a very slight zing. She was reminded of a similar zing present when Mrs Fyfe had been trespassing through town — and she had sent an internal Havoc Beacon winking. Charlie was driving to Drawbridge on a covert mission to remove her personal belongings from the workshop, and she was not certain which was rattling her the most: the situation with Drawbridge or the moment last night when she returned from an uneventful patrol and felt a sting in the air.
She had been overtired, too, which had not helped. It was distinct and edged, and she took a step back to try to work out where it had come from. Her Strength stretched out through Havoc. No Beacons or disturbance, no trails lighting like distress flares. Nothing. She stood for some moments at the steps of Cob Cottage and let her Strength dart. She was exhausted, and her back ached, but she headed out in the direction of the sting. Half an hour saw it die back, and Charlie had to give in.
Back at Cob Cottage, she had slept fitfully on the sofa. Her dreams flickered with lace shadows of leaves and branches and the moon reflected on Pike Lake. Her grandmother leaned close, whispering something about borrowing the moonlight that Charlie couldn’t quite recall on waking.
Now, she pulled up at the traffic lights and wound down the car window, the better to feel the zing. Yep. There it was, low level but certain. She tapped at the steering wheel, deciding what to do. Why did she think there was a decision to be made? She turned her head to feel the breeze through the window and clear her thoughts. As she did so the sign at the roadside caught her eye.
Accident Here PM: Witness?
RING: 0821 368831
The sign was dated yesterday. Charlie took a breath and looked up at the Castle, whose walls loomed atop the green banking. An accident happens, then she feels the zing? Connection.
A kindly commuter pipped to let her know the lights had changed.
She drove to the brewery first — better to get the mundane bits of her day done with, then she was free to head back to the Castle and focus on what was looking like definite Havoc business.
She filled a bankers box with her notebooks and few personal items: a waterproof jacket on the back of the door, a lone bottle of Blackberry Ferment she discovered under the workbench. It was hers after all. She did not look up as she walked through the brewhouse, across the yard, to her car.
Charlie was startled, on driving away from Drawbridge for the last time, to burst into tears at the corner of Mill Manor Lane. She sat at the junction for several moments — it was not a busy route — and sobbed until her throat was sore.
As she drove back to the Castle, she thought it clear that whoever this latest Havoc person or creature-unknown was, they were definitely drawn to town. She would take a look around the Castle and then she could head to the pop-up at The Orangery and talk it over with Anna.
No one would have guessed about her tearful interlude as she walked up Barbican Steeps to the Castle some quarter of an hour later. She was shrugged into her jacket, hands deep in her pockets. Very deep, in fact, as she was struggling to locate her Friends of Woodcastle Castle membership card.
Card found, Charlie flashed it at the gate and strode into the grounds. Part of her flinched at the memory of Mrs Fyfe and their showdown here last Halloween. The zing continued as she made a patrol of the towers, walking the curtain wall like a guard. Whatever frequency the stones of the Castle were picking up, it was not strong enough to reveal the culprit. Perhaps the energy released at the accident had set it off. As she walked between the towers, the trees cast pattering shadows across the stonework, and she was reminded of her troubling dreams. What had her Grandmother said? It seemed important. Charlie was frustrated, her thoughts a tangle. Her first plan to head to The Orangery was not sitting well. She needed to go for a drive, clear her head of Drawbridge, and then look at the Havoc business with a keener eye.
Anna did not know how her footsteps had brought her here. They just had. She had left Kitty at the farm with the intention of heading back to The Orangery. She wanted somewhere to go over the pieces of information she’d picked up, and this cool space soothed. In ordinary times, Havoc would have been her destination but today, for many reasons, she found she was turning the key in the door at Half-Built House, her mother’s home.
It had been too much to come here immediately following Vanessa’s death. Today, it had drawn her like a lodestone. Perhaps, Anna thought, that was the idea of a blind spot. Up here she could breathe for a moment. Town didn’t press upon her. She looked out across the landscape, a buzzard’s-eye view.
The house was still filled with her mother’s furniture and belongings, but the sense of emptiness almost overwhelmed her. And yet, she was glad she had come. She had missed the place. It felt, after all was said and done, like home.
She moved through the hall, drawn by the light and the view across Woodcastle through the big floor-to-ceiling windows. She took in a deep breath, sat herself on the edge of the long psychiatrist-style couch and looked out across the town. There was a sudden clattering from the garage. The door opened and Charlie hobbled in, rubbing her shin and kicking a mop bucket out of the way. She looked up, startled.
“Oh. You’re here, too.” Charlie looked relieved. “I just texted you.” As she said it, Anna’s phone chirruped the news, and the front door opened once more to let Emz in.
“Ha ha, we’re all here then.” Emz smiled. It reminded Anna of how little any of them had smiled in the last few months.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Anna said. “I walked up here in a bit of a trance.”
“I drove,” Charlie said. “Also in a bit of a trance, to be fair.” She grimaced.
Emz was unfazed. “Of
course we’re here. It’s a blind spot, remember?” And, as if that explained everything, she moved to fill the kettle.
“The zing at the Castle must be linked to the energy you picked up from Kitty and at Red Hat Lane,” Charlie suggested.
“It wasn’t there before,” Anna conceded. “That is true.”
“I was trying to connect it to the accident at the castle junction, make it seem something simple,” Charlie said.
“Instead of something out of Havoc,” Emz mused.
“Exactly,” Charlie conceded. “But there is no getting away from it. This has all kicked off since that Beacon went off. That’s the starting point.”
“There’s the break-in, too,” Emz reminded them.
“Did Aurora see anything?” Charlie asked.
“Werewolf? Dragon?” Emz was joking. Both older sisters stared her down, disapproving. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Maybe you wouldn’t be quite so full of bants if this white-haired woman had broken your hip.” Charlie did not let up. “This woman wants something, and she went for Kitty Boyle in a big way. Bone magic.”
“And the break-in at Mimosa. That crackle was there,” Anna said.
“What did Aurora say?” Emz asked.
“Not much.” Anna shrugged. “She was her usual happy-go-lucky self, told me where to stick it, and that it was only typical of the lovely residents of Woodcastle.” Anna sighed.
“She’s not wrong, I suppose, if you count Havoc as being Woodcastle,” Emz said. Charlie stared at her. “What? What have I said wrong now?”
“Nothing. You’re right. That’s what we are forgetting. The town was built on Havoc land. The Castle, all the oldest buildings would have been surrounded by Havoc trees.” Charlie felt comforted by the thought.
“They’d have felled trees to build. Used the wood probably,” Anna said, her face brightening.
“Maybe this white-haired trespasser woman has come back to find something, maybe something she hid here long ago.” Charlie’s face softened as she looked for further clarity.
“It’s an idea.” Anna was tentative.
“What do we know about the buildings on Church Lane? Or Red Hat Lane?” Charlie’s mind was going up a gear. “Any historical significance?
Anna’s mind coloured in a memory of a walk with Calum, one of their first dates, watching the animation in his face as he talked history. For the first time, it felt good to remember. This was treasure that she held, and she ought to cherish it, not run from the hurt of it.
“It’s old. I’m talking Castle old,” Anna said.
The sisters drank this down with their tea. Out of the wilds of a new Havoc Trespasser, they felt they might be, at last, finding a path.
“Did anyone take stones from the Castle to build with?” Emz asked. “You mentioned the wood, but the Castle was damaged, the stones would be…”
Charlie was nodding with enthusiasm. “Good shout. I like that. That’s a strong connection.” She looked to Anna for confirmation.
“It’s possible.” Anna was trying to recall Calum, other walks. Other memories began to crowd her, familiar, lost, and for a moment she couldn’t think or breathe.
“Anna?”
Anna nodded.
Emz’s face clouded. “No. Wait.” Emz mustered her thoughts. “You said Kitty had been in a similar situation years ago? In the sixties. What if the connection isn’t the buildings, it’s the people? I mean, she broke Kitty’s hip. It was bone magic. She didn’t take anything except that. Nothing from the building, I mean.”
That thought dropped like a stone between them, and there was a deep silence.
“Aurora.” Emz broke it. “She’s not connected to Kitty Boyle, is she? Aurora just happened to be in the building. She lives there.” Emz threw the thought out, and they all picked at its edges.
“It is the buildings. Ragger’s Edge is old, maybe even older than Church Lane.”
Anna nodded, uncertain. “The Trespasser wanted the power. That was her intent.” The silence returned, stretched out a little. Clouds lumbered in over Woodcastle and made the kitchen at Half-Built House ethereally grey.
“You said the power in Kitty’s Flickerbook was different. That the power in the older memory was really strong. But the power in the Ragger’s Edge incident was weak. Maybe she’s just trying to refuel. Like Mrs Fyfe. Whatever power she has runs out. She needed to refuel before she could come into town…” Charlie’s voice faded.
“And she came back to something familiar.” Anna was severe.
“I think that might be right. To attack Kitty once seems random. To come back and have another go is a definite purpose. I think you’re right. She needed to pull a Mrs Fyfe and…”
“Kitty was an easy snack.” Charlie finished the thought.
The sisters were quiet for a moment, digesting the thought.
“You said you’ve seen the brambles at Mimosa before?” Emz was trying to pick out pieces.
Anna nodded. “Ages ago. I just thought it was the window display.” She managed a smile.
A thought spiked for Emz. “They’re protective. That means some sort of protection spe— measure was in place before all this.”
The sisters exchanged blank looks.
“This is like the worst jigsaw ever.” Charlie groaned. “We need some edges, a few corners. All we have is some sky and a bit of the middle.” She looked out across town.
“The spell is protecting the shop, the building, that is, not Aurora specifically.” Emz struggled. “Or is there something about Aurora we haven’t considered?”
“That she’d give Mrs Fyfe a run for her money?” Charlie growled. “Aurora can take care of herself, the way she weaponises that hair.”
Emz was jolted at the recollection of the tweaked curtain sensation she had had concerning Aurora’s hair. A memory bobbed about in the distant tides of her head and would not quite surface. Charlie sighed.
“It’s a shame Aurora isn’t more friendly. We could blag a coffee and take a look inside. I don’t think I’ve ever been in Mimosa.”
Anna had a fleeting notion of Kitty Boyle’s hand in hers and of the Flickerbook. It would not be so easy to read Aurora.
“It’s odd, Grandma never paid Mimosa any attention. Never said anything about it being important or touched or whatever. I mean, did she ever even go there?” Charlie asked.
“Maybe she set the protection spell?” Anna clutched at the thought.
Emz felt the memory nip at the surface and sink once more. “Or perhaps the spell belongs to someone else. Someone Grandma Hettie didn’t know about?” Emz suggested.
“Could there be something so old even Grandma Hettie didn’t know about it?” Charlie asked. The idea lodged itself into their minds like a bramble thorn.
“I never thought of that,” Emz said. “I suppose this is the job, isn’t it? There must have been things that Grandma had to find out about. Think on her feet.”
“Make mistakes,” Anna intoned.
Charlie raised a mug in a mocking toast. “Well, here’s to whatever it is.” She chinked Emz’s mug.
“Whatever? What do you mean, ‘whatever ’?” Anna was on edge.
Charlie frowned. “I mean, whatever is coming out of Hav—”
“But why are you using that word? ‘Whatever.’ You think it’s a whatever, not a whoever? It isn’t just this white-haired woman?” Anna’s voice had spiralled upwards, her breath catching.
Charlie and Emz watched the anxiety torque a little tighter in their sister.
“It’s just a wo—”
“No. No. Be careful. Nothing out of Havoc can be pinned by just ‘a word’. We dealt with a whoever. We fought Mrs Fyfe.” Anna was breathless, her face whitening. “What the hell is a ‘whatever’? A creature? A beast? A monster?”
“Anna…?” Emz’s voice was soft and calm but had no effect.
“Why would you even say that? Why throw that into the mix?” Anna was shrill.
Charlie tried to speak. She wished that her Strength was the power to take it back. Instead she pushed ahead and made the matter worse. “She mentions werewolves and dragons, but you shout at me?” Charlie was indignant.
“She was joking.” Anna’s face was ashen.
Charlie was unrelenting. “This is Havoc, Anna. We don’t know…”
“We don’t know what? Why are you making this into a scary monster?” Anna’s voice piped alarm.
“It isn’t my fault. This is the Russian roulette we’re playing with the wood.” Charlie gave up on mollification.
Emz gasped. “What we need to remember, Charlie, is that if what comes out of Havoc is a werewolf, we are the silver bullets.” Emz was passionate, her voice pushing at her sister so that Charlie leaned back.
She was about to reply but Emz kept on.
“We are the Gamekeepers. We need to remember what Grandma Hettie taught us.” Her voice creaked like Havoc oak. “We need to remember that ‘whoever’ or ‘whatever’ comes out of that wood is probably scared of us.”
22
On Guard
The following day appeared to have forty-eight hours in it, the majority of which were squashed into the early morning when Anna, in the Chinese Room, was woken by a whispering.
It was not Grandma this time. She reached for her T-shirt and her kitchen trousers. There was a familiar weight in the pocket. She had reached in for the small deck before she thought about it, and once the cards were in her hand, she felt that it was rude to put them down. There was no doubt about it; the cards, she understood, would be offended. They had woken her up because they had something to say. Her thumb rubbed at the foxed edges and, despite a sinking feeling in her stomach, she had no choice but to slip off the elastic holding them together.
The cards stretched themselves in her palm, settling to be dealt. She wondered if it might be wise to have a cup of tea first. She wondered what Mrs Massey might do.
