Crow Heart (The Witch Ways Book 4)

by Helen Slavin

  At the far end, where the stinging nettles were densest, Velvet Joe prowled. He gave an angry hiss and stepped back as Anna approached. What she found, where he had been standing, was the bedraggled and broken body of a cat. Anna understood the yowling of Velvet Joe, his grief for his compatriot. Had it been hit by a car? She looked around. The lane was unmade, a dirt track overgrown. No one drove up here. She stooped to stroke it. As her fingers touched the still warm fur, she felt the crackle redouble itself.

  She saw that she had been wrong about the fear here. The sense of something hidden was in fact covert, someone hiding; their fear was of discovery. The crackle taunted her, tempted her. Her heart began to drum its heavy beat once more and counterpointed with the low note of her Strength. She felt she was standing at the edge, the very edge, but of what she had no idea. There was one way to find out.

  She reached forward and took hold of the spiny, bristling crackle. It did not shatter this time. It was not just that she was taking care; here, the crackle was stronger, fed by the bone magic of the dead cat. More. There was intent here. It feinted at her, as if readying itself to strike the first blow. The crackle was a glittering burr, snagging at her. It clawed, and, for just a second, Anna’s hand faltered. The crackle seethed and stung. She grabbed for it, tilted the edge towards herself. The crackle was frenzied, burning itself out in an effort to stop her. Her Strength sang out with greater intensity, battling the crackle. She tilted the edge and the surface seared with frittered white light.

  Rain and sky and skeleton ribs shattered across the night. What was that? Not bones, but spokes in the sky. Was that a Ferris wheel? The white light sliced again and the shard shattered. Another piece shied away, but Anna caught it, held the surface steady, the white light, the wheeled spokes like ribs but not ribs. What was it? Lightning illuminated a web. No. Not ribs. Not a web. Something terrible and familiar, but the lightning extinguished it, the slither shattered.

  Anna grabbed for the next piece, the surface pitching away to escape her. It yawed; lightning once more flared acetylene-bright, revealing not ribs, not a web, not a wheel. The suspension wires of the Knightstone Bridge. The Paper Prophets blinked in her memory. Anna did not have to snatch the next piece — it sheared towards her, not hiding: seeking her out. Lightning. The Knightstone Bridge. Rain. Rain. Rain. The barbs and needles of it whetted themselves against the edge of her Strength, but she could not step back. She reached for the thickest blade of it, the surface tilting, glinting. The reflection was vivid, day bright, her grandmother’s face stern, her voice clear, “Don’t do this.”

  Anna needed no further instruction. She did not stop running until she was through the walled garden at Hartfield.

  31

  Maze

  Confetti. Champagne. Even the half-wild owl condescended to bestow the wedding rings on the happy couple, or at least flap its wings majestically as they were offered up on the velvet cushion.

  Owl Jim scrubbed up well in tweed and had been seen dancing a reel with Winn. The musicians were a fiddle band brought by Seren through a contact at her Pilates class at the Moot Hall. Their music wove its own magic, and everyone danced.

  Behind the scenes, Anna was finishing the evening buffet, and desserts were being served up. Charlie was tending bar replete with Herald company wine and champagne. Emz scurried about fetching glasses. She was carting a basket of shot glasses as Aurora almost collided with her.

  “Napkins?” Aurora commanded, and Emz was thrown a little by the staticky dance of her hair. It moved independently of Aurora, or so it seemed. It glowed like embers. Or did it? It was bewildering, some sort of optical illusion in the candlelight and the glitter of fairy lights. Emz’s arms were straining under the weight of the plastic crate of glassware.

  Aurora waved dismissively at her. “Don’t fret. I’ll fetch them.” And with a cascade of that hair, she was on her way.

  It had not seemed that difficult an errand, but somehow, on her way to the kitchen at the rear of Hartfield, Aurora had taken a wrong turn. Where were the napkins after all? Should she be outside? In this maze?

  The hedge was deep green, a colour like emeralds and moss, and here it was almost black and the leaves sparkled with diamond rain. She had to touch it, her hands reaching out, and it felt cool against her skin. The green was deep enough to fall into. Aurora had never seen ivy like this, small constellations of three-pronged stars. A small voice, somewhere inside her head, far away inside, whispered that that fact was important, but it was not. Nothing was compared to this leafy luxury. She moved forward, let the leaves caress her face. The hedge stretched ahead, tall and straight, and it must be followed. No question. Step this way. Turn that way. More voices whispered in her head. One yelled out. What was that word? “No.” And that one was, what? “Do not.”

  Hush them up. The voices were making her head ache just above her left eye. Her hair fizzed with static. The green stars would soothe her. Here was a gap, here a corner; this was a way through into the heart of the hedge. She brushed both hands along the rustling, fluttering leafage as she walked into the tall, lush, green shadow.

  Charlie Way was stacking spent champagne bottles into a crate when the thought burst into her mind. She had been thinking of Roz, and the thread of that had looped and circled in her mind until she saw the red threads of Aurora’s hair and red spider webs, and she thought, almost as if looking at the thoughts from a distance: Aurora lives at Mimosa. Aurora was at the allotments. Aurora had a car accident. It was a triple incidence of Aurora, and a hand clutched at Charlie’s heart.

  She left the bottles and rushed into the winding down of the wedding to find Aurora. In the front hall there were cheers as the happy couple headed off on honeymoon. Charlie weaved through them, looking for Aurora.

  Emz was collecting up glasses as Charlie came jogging through the Long Gallery. It looked bereft, glasses tipped and half empty, the stains and debris of the feast.

  “Where’s Aurora?” Charlie had been through every last bit of the wedding rooms. Aurora was nowhere. “Emz… where is Aurora?”

  Emz shrugged. “Don’t know. She was going to fetch the napkins and I haven’t seen her since then.”

  Charlie managed to not give a shout and wheeled round as Anna moved past with an armful of tablecloths.

  “Anna. Have you seen Aurora?”

  “Not lately. An hour ago maybe?” Anna shrugged.

  Charlie was desperate-looking. “Where’s Winn?”

  Anna nodded towards the kitchen. “She’s sorting the bin bags,” Anna said. Charlie was running before she’d finished. “Why? Charlie, what is it?”

  The ache in Aurora’s head was of a different kind than usual. There was a drumming beat to it that was offset against her own heart. She felt torn in two directions, and the hedge, now on two sides, hemmed her in. They were not beautiful; they were dangerous. She understood now that she was lost in the maze of them. Her vision blurred under the droning of the headache and hands snatched at her hair.

  There was someone there beside her. She wanted to go left but they, yes, there they were, they would not let her and pushed her right. She felt picked at and pulled by thin fingers. There were dead squirrels hanging on a thread alongside her — like a macabre washing line? No. A skirt. Her hair was full of cobwebs. No. Worse, her head was filled with cobwebs, and cold fingers pinched at her thoughts. Was she having a stroke, or perhaps a fit? The old panic from childhood rose up in her, and she gave a cry. It did not sound like her at all, and as she reeled around, she saw Velvet Joe. He winked. Or did he? Hard to tell with that one eye. He knew the way out, but she couldn’t walk anywhere if he persisted in winding himself round her legs like that. He yowled, deep and primal, and darted off. Aurora turned, wanted to call out, “Don’t leave me”, just as a hand grabbed hers.

  “This way.” The voice was very clear and familiar and scented with hedgehogs and tweed. The hedges shivered and let them pass with hurried steps, the hand holding tight, not let
ting her go, even as Charlie Way ran to meet them across the lawns at Hartfield.

  Winn, looking grey-faced, felt safer beneath the twinkled glare of the chandelier in the Long Gallery. Anna and Emz looked worried as they hurried to greet them. Aurora’s face was ash white.

  “She needs…” It was all Winn could manage. Her voice gave out, and she felt very old indeed. Emz guided her to a chair, but she shook her head, keen to stay beside Aurora, not letting go of her hand. Anna put the chairs together, and Aurora and Winn sat. She was anchored if she held Aurora’s hand.

  “Winn?” Emz’s voice was gentle. “What happened?” She was looking at where the fingers of Winn’s other hand were gripping at the fabric of Aurora’s sleeve. Aurora’s too were clawed into the fabric of Winn’s sleeve.

  “Aurora?” Anna touched her shoulder. At once there was a wild flurry of jackdaws, a fleeting image of dead squirrels and cobwebs, and more jackdaws flocked to hide it. Anna let go, shocked.

  “Winn, what happened?” Emz persisted.

  “Had to find her. In the maze.” Winn spoke in measured tones. Was that all? Winn felt sure there was more, that that was only the most basic idea of what happened. Yes, her memory shoved the information forward. There was more, and she could tell them, because they were the Witch Ways.

  “Someone, in the maze, was after Aurora. Danger to her.” Winn felt the warmth of the small leather pouch at her neck, the scent of it, of Havoc Wood and a long-ago day at Cob Cottage with Hettie Way. “I led her out of the maze.”

  Emz and Anna looked at one another.

  “Maze? What maze, Winn?” Anna asked.

  “The one in the garden. Charlie went in to investigate.” Winn stated the facts, blanked of emotion, her lips white and dry.

  Anna looked alarmed.

  “There is no maze at Hartfield, Winn,” Emz said. “Where did Charlie go?”

  The maze was quite a construction. Charlie saw the roots of it, and her Strength picked up a trail at once, a thin red thread. She stood at the threshold. Whoever had worked this, and Charlie saw the workmanship, had put in the effort. The red thread curled and twisted in a net around the heavy hedging. Yew, naturally, tangled with ivy. It creaked with age, not of the maze as such, but the magic required for this grand illusion. No. Charlie snatched back the word and substituted one more suited. Trap.

  What she had seen was Grandma Hettie, black raincoat and all, leaving the maze. The vision was clear as day, and then it was ghostlike, a visual anomaly superimposed over the hurrying figures of the two women, Winn and Aurora, stepping from the maze. Charlie was jolted and comforted by this. The two women had run past, Winn looking to Charlie, who nodded. Winn upped the pace to get Aurora indoors.

  Charlie crouched down to take a closer look at the red thread but did not touch it. She was not afraid; rather, it seemed possible that touching it might give her away. The red thread, she now saw, worked against the maze. It tangled the entanglement; hobbled the magic. She called to mind her grandmother, the twist of red thread she always carried in her pocket.

  Her Strength crackled and fizzed as she entered the maze. She was unhurried, a few turns, take this corner, follow that curve; she was watchful, saw where the maze sought to lose her. In moments, she was at the heart.

  As she entered the central clearing, the woman, white-haired, was focused, her fingers working black thread around small bones. Charlie reached for the red thread. As she did so, the woman dropped the bones and fled, thrusting her way through the hedge behind her. Charlie’s Strength tensed, and as it did so, the maze shivered, the red thread pulled taut, and a struggling grunt reached Charlie. The thread began to pull harder. Charlie reached for the thread, and the maze began to fall, leaves tumbling, dried up. The white-haired woman was only a few steps beyond reach.

  Charlie held the red thread, and the idea of spooling it in was clear in her mind. She began to wind it onto her fingers. As she did so, the white-haired woman was dragged back a few feet, her hands clutching at the remnants of the disintegrating maze. Charlie reeled harder. She thought of a fish on a line and let the tension ease a little, even though it would not snap. The white-haired woman pulled against it. Charlie ravelled steadily. She was gaining on the woman with white hair. At the last moment, within reaching distance, the maze collapsed and vanished. The red thread unspooled, and the woman was gone.

  Charlie caught her breath, rushed to the line of trees where Leap Woods sneaked its way past Hartfield. In the cluster of trunks, there was no sign of the woman, just a bent bough swinging in the wind.

  32

  Not for the Telling

  “Not here,” was all Charlie said as she entered the Long Gallery. “We need to get her to Cob Cottage.” And she made to help the still-shocked Aurora out of the chair. “Leave the wedding mess. Leave everything. We have to go now.” Charlie looked in charge and unflustered, and the other Way sisters clucked about like anxious hens.

  “Charlie, what is going on?” Anna asked.

  “We need to leave.” She saw where Winn was still holding Aurora’s hand and sleeve. They exchanged a look.

  “Not Cob,” Emz piped up, adopting Charlie’s enigmatic and decisive tone.

  Charlie and Anna took their turn at furrowed brows.

  “Why not, we…” Charlie began.

  “Blind spot,” Emz stated.

  Ten minutes saw them all in the kitchen at Half-Built House with Anna organising restorative teas. Their general unease was soothed by the view over Woodcastle. Charlie stood sentinel by the window, the town lit up with street and house lights and, for Charlie, the intricate Beacons of Havoc holding steady in the near distance and, threaded through that, the mycelium of Havoc’s paths and routes. She was hyperaware, her Strength running wild, exhilarated.

  “The maze.” Charlie began.

  “What was that about?” Anna asked.

  “There isn’t a maze at Hartfield,” Winn stated, not daring to look at Aurora. “There has never been one. There’s a walled garden. No maze.”

  Aurora’s mouth opened in outrage, but no sound emerged.

  Charlie confronted all her thoughts, doubts, and misgivings. “It was a trap.” She looked at Aurora. “Set for her.”

  Aurora’s mouth opened and closed, and tight, huffing sounds came out. She slammed her hand on the worktop. “Excuse me?” She stared them all down.

  Charlie continued. “Aurora’s car accident. The break-in at Mimosa. Aurora at the allotments.” As she spoke, Anna and Emz caught the thought with a gasp and a moan.

  Aurora was irate. “Don’t tell me there was no maze. I know what I saw. I was in the maze.” Her face registered two layers once more, outrage and terror. Her hair seemed to billow and fill the room.

  “It’s a big ask, I understand that, but you have to trust us,” Charlie said.

  Aurora’s mouth opened to protest, but instead a scared sigh breathed out. “I don’t understand.” Her voice was hoarse.

  Charlie nodded.

  “That’s why you have to trust us.” Anna put a hand on Aurora’s arm.

  Aurora pulled herself free and tried to outstare Anna, but it was hopeless. She looked away, her eyes blurring with frightened tears. “A trap? What do you mean?” she said. “It wasn’t a trap. It was a maze… Winn, you were in it too. Tell them.”

  “Just be quiet and listen, and we will get to the bottom of things,” Charlie insisted.

  Aurora, scared and not used to authority, shut up for a moment. The sisters focused attention on Winn. Winn was looking more herself. Her ruddy cheeks were returning, currently a perky cinder-rose pink.

  “Winn?” Charlie prompted. Winn looked uncertain. “What happened?” Charlie was encouraging and sat down beside Winn. Aurora gasped and huffed a little more, but Emz saw where her hand was shaking on the worktop.

  “I was taking the bin bag out from behind the bar and…” Winn faltered, licked at her dry lips.

  Emz put a hand on her shoulder. “You can tell us any
thing, Winn.” She was reassuring.

  Winn’s face was deathly serious.

  “Tell you any…? It’s me who should be being told. What the hell is going on?” Aurora was wild-eyed and, what was worse, wild-haired. Emz could see the embers, feel the heat.

  “Shut up and listen.” Charlie was firm. Aurora was affronted but silenced. Charlie turned back. “Winn?”

  Winn took a deep breath. “It was very odd. I put the bin bag in the bin, and then all the hairs on the back of my neck…” She fanned out her fingers, finishing the sentence visually. “Then I saw the maze and… well… there isn’t a maze, and as I was trying… to reason that out… a voice said I had to go in and find Aurora.” Winn looked uneasy. “I couldn’t help myself. That one-eyed cat… erm… well, no other way to say it really… he led the way.”

  “Who spoke to you?” Anna asked. “Someone nearby? Someone from the wedding?”

  “The cat?” Aurora was sarcastic even with a quivering lip. Winn looked very uneasy.

  Charlie stepped in. “Winn, who spoke to you?”

  Winn hesitated.

  “Grandma Hettie?” Charlie asked.

  Winn’s eyes widened. “How did…”

  “Stop just a minute,” Aurora barked. “Your dead grandmother. The dead one. The one who is dead?” Everyone ignored her.

  “I saw her,” Charlie confessed. They all looked at her. “Her ghost was just ahead of you both as you were coming out. Whatever was happening in the maze, it brought Grandma Hettie out to help.”

  Anna and Emz reacted with deep intakes of breath.

  Aurora gaped and grunted. “Ghost? Grandma?” She had nothing to say, her mind was listing the impossible possibilities of this conversation. “I was in the maze. I was. I know it was there. It was real.”