Just as well George hasn’t planted anything really precious here in the seventeen years since I put my grimoire away.
About a foot down, the spade hit something. Rose knelt down and brushed soil from the surface of a stone slab, about fifteen centimetres square, with an iron ring at its centre. She got a couple of fingers through the ring and heaved. Seventeen years was a long time, and at first nothing happened. She picked up the spade again and gave the stone a good whack, hoping to loosen it. This time when she pulled, the slab shifted, and she was able to drag it out of the hole.
Beneath it lay the rest of a small stone box, and snug inside was a bundle wrapped in black plastic. Rose put it in her pocket, replaced the stone lid and roughly filled in the hole again.
Back in the house she could feel the grimoire in her pocket, heavier than its size suggested it should be. Heat leaked from it, but she didn’t dare put it down anywhere in case someone else picked it up and opened it.
She hoped Bessie remembered where she’d buried hers.
***
Bessie arrived half an hour later, looking flustered.
“It’s not happy about having been buried,” she said, as they stood round George’s work bench in the garage.
“Neither is Duncan Corphat,” said Rose briskly. “They should get on like a house on fire.”
“There was a tree root cuddling it. I nearly took the end off my foot with a hatchet trying to get at it.”
Bessie looked at Rose properly. “Seriously, Rose, how long do you think it is since anyone tried to raise the Longman?”
“I’ve heard stories of it being done, but I’ve never heard of anyone who’s actually done it.”
“Me neither,” said Bessie gloomily. “Certainly not in our lifetime.”
“Do you know how to raise him?” Josh asked.
“There are various things we can try,” said Rose, a bit evasively. “Callie, you should see this. It will be yours one day.” She took the packet containing the grimoire from her pocket.
“Should he see this, Rose?” Bessie asked sharply, gesturing at Josh.
Rose sighed. “Josh is so deeply tangled in this that I hardly think it matters if he does. Who would he tell, anyway? He’d just make himself a laughing stock.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone about any of this,” Josh protested, offended.
Bessie nodded, apparently satisfied, and bent to take something out of her handbag. She set a package wrapped in a flowery tea towel on the table beside Rose’s.
Rose raised an eyebrow. “Does it not object to that?” She gestured at the tea towel.
“It needs reminding that I’m the boss. That seemed an easy way to do it.” Bessie looked at the tea-towel-wrapped object sternly.
Josh wondered what on earth could be inside. A familiar, maybe?
“What are they?” asked Callie as Rose and Bessie began to unwrap the parcels.
“Grimoires.”
When Callie looked blank, Rose added, “Spell books. They’re passed down from witch to witch. Mine will pass to you when I die.”
“It doesn’t look as if you use them very often,” Josh observed, watching the unwrapping.
“The spells in a grimoire aren’t the sort of spells you use every day,” said Bessie. “We haven’t used ours in seventeen years. They’ve been buried since then. It’s safer for them and safer for us. You don’t want to keep a grimoire where you can pick it up and leaf through it on a whim.”
She laid a small, thin book bound in faded red leather on the table. Rose put a similar book with a black binding next to it.
Callie’s eyes were wide. “Why haven’t you told me about this before? How old is it? What sort of spells are in there? Can I look?” She reached out to pick up Rose’s grimoire and was shocked when Rose slapped her hand away.
“Don’t touch!” she said sharply, then, more gently, “These are dangerous things, Callie. Why do you think we’re not doing this in the house? You’re not ready for them yet, but you will be, one day.”
“Sorry.” She still couldn’t take her eyes off the little book.
“Ready, Bessie?” Rose asked.
“Yes,” said Bessie, getting to her feet. “Best stand back a bit, you two. You can never be quite sure how these things will react.”
The way they spoke about the books made Josh wonder if he ought to pick up one of the hammers from George’s toolbox, just in case.
They pointed at the grimoires and their covers slowly opened. Josh saw pages that were yellow with age, covered in handwriting that was indecipherable from where he stood.
The pages turned themselves slowly, one by one, Rose and Bessie peering closely at them. Callie and Josh watched in silence.
Occasionally one of the books would pause somewhere while Rose or Bessie considered a spell more closely before the pages began to flicker by again.
After about ten minutes, Rose suddenly said, “Bessie, I think this might do the trick.”
Bessie transferred her attention to Rose’s grimoire, and her own snapped shut, almost as though it had taken offence.
“I doubt we’ll find anything better,” she said after a couple of minutes. “Shall we?”
Rose nodded, and the two witches each put a hand on the open pages of the grimoire.
The book twisted and bucked at their touch as if it was trying to escape. Josh and Callie took a step back from the table. They could see how hard Rose and Bessie were having to push down to stop the book shaking itself loose from their hands. A wisp of smoke drifted up from the binding.
“Don’t you dare!” said Rose sharply, and suddenly the book was still, as though the fight had gone out of it. “That’s better,” she said, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose behind her ear with her spare hand.
As Josh and Callie watched, the ink seemed to lift away from the paper and coil round their fingers like the tendrils of a plant. It sank into their skin and disappeared, leaving the open pages blank. When Rose and Bessie lifted their hands away the grimoire closed softly with a sound like a weary sigh.
“I didn’t think we’d have to fight the spell out of the pages of that one,” said Bessie. “Mine was always more temperamental than yours.”
“Even mine has its little ways.”
“You’re talking about those books as if they’re alive,” Josh said, trying to inject a moment of reality.
Rose and Bessie stared at him.
“Your point is?” Bessie said in a combative tone.
“Well, they’re… they’re just books.”
“Of course they’re alive,” said Rose, as though it should be perfectly obvious. “They’re grimoires. They wouldn’t work if they weren’t alive.”
Josh opened and shut his mouth. Really, faced with a statement like that, there was nothing he could say. He turned to Callie, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Clearly she had no more idea about all this than he had.
“So,” she said to the room in general, “now what?”
“Now we have to get you ready to winkle Duncan Corphat out of that house, and ourselves ready to raise the Longman from his grave,” replied Rose. “So you’ll be having a crash course in advanced witchcraft for the rest of the day, and tonight we make our move.”
“Does it have to be at night?” asked Josh. “Isn’t it safer in daylight?”
“We can’t raise the Longman in the middle of the day,” said Rose. “We can’t have someone blundering across him in the middle of a family walk.”
“No,” agreed Bessie. “We need to do this when as few people as possible are around.”
“Er… there’s one thing we haven’t mentioned yet,” said Rose, carefully meeting no one’s eyes. “Duncan needs to be transported from the house to Dane’s Dyke.”
“Can’t you drive us?”
“That’s not what I mean exactly, but Bessie and I will have to be down at the dyke before you get there.”
“George, then? Or I could…”
“Callie, just listen, would you?” Rose interrupted in exasperation. “I’m not talking about cars. Duncan Corphat needs to be secured… inside a person.”
“And that’s me,” said Callie.
“No, that’s not you. You’ll be busy imprisoning him in the other person.”
There was a short, awkward silence.
“You mean me, don’t you?” said Josh slowly.
15. THE WITCHES’ PLAN
Rose looked uncomfortable.
“If I was sure that either Bessie or I could raise the Longman on our own, then of course it would be one of us,” she said. “David and Julia are no good and George… George would do it, but I’ve spent nearly forty years trying to keep him out of things, whereas you’re already involved in this.” She looked at him steadily. “I know I’ve no right to ask this of you.”
“What if Callie puts Duncan into me, but you can’t raise the Longman, or he won’t take him? Am I Duncan for ever? Half Duncan for ever?”
“Absolutely not,” said Bessie crisply. “If necessary, we’ll simply let him loose at Dane’s Dyke, and everyone will just have to avoid the area. We’ll know to, anyway, and it’ll soon get a reputation as a place to keep away from.”
“That doesn’t sound very good.”
“It’s not, but there’s nothing else we’d be able to do.”
Josh tried to think, but it was almost impossible. Rose and Bessie looked at him silently, waiting for a reply. Out of their line of vision, Callie was giving him a death stare. She shook her head, mouthed, Don’t do it.
He looked back at her and knew he had to. “All right,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as scared as he felt.
“Thank you, Josh,” said Rose, relief clear on her face. “You should go home now; see your mother, have a rest, have something to eat. Will you say you’re coming back here to spend the night or will you have to sneak out of the cottages later?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll see what Mum says, then text Callie.”
“That’s fine.”
“Come on,” said Callie. “I’ll see you out.”
When they were alone in the front garden she rounded on him furiously.
“I don’t want you to do this. You shouldn’t have let Rose talk you into it.”
“She didn’t. I decided.”
“You can’t do this. I’ll have no idea what I’m doing. What if something goes wrong? What if Duncan does become part of you for ever?”
“You heard what Bessie said.”
“Yes. But she doesn’t know what she’s talking about either. They’ve never tried anything like this before. Just because they’re witches doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing. This could all go wrong.”
“Look,” said Josh slowly, “if this was happening the other way round – if I was the witch and you were me – would you walk away now? Would you really leave me to deal with this on my own?”
“I don’t suppose so,” Callie replied reluctantly.
“Well, I’m not going to either. We can only do this together. There’s a link between us now; you know that.” He took a breath. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and left her standing there.
When Callie went back inside, Rose looked at her quizzically, but said nothing. Instead, she picked up the grimoire, safely sealed inside its waterproof wrappings again.
“Come on. You should know where this is kept, just in case you ever need to dig it up,” Rose said to Callie. “After that, Bessie and I are going to force-feed you as much advanced magic as you can hold.”
She cast a look at Bessie’s tweed skirt and polished shoes.
“You’d better go home and change into clothes that are a bit more suitable for grave opening.”
“I’m sure I’ve got the perfect hat somewhere.”
***
Callie was sweating. She, Rose and Bessie were closeted in Rose’s little sitting room with the windows and door firmly shut and seven candles burning in front of them. Bessie was now wearing a pair of trousers that looked as though they would survive a nuclear war, hiking boots and a fluffy purple beret with a brooch in the shape of a Highland Cow pinned to one side.
Rose had rolled her eyes speechlessly when she opened the door to her.
“Do you like the brooch?” Bessie asked. “I thought the horns would make him feel at home.”
“What on earth are you blethering about, you daft old woman?”
“Vikings – horns – helmets. You know.”
“They didn’t have horns on their helmets, Bessie.”
“Oh. Didn’t they? Never mind. He probably likes cows.”
“I hope so,” said Rose darkly, ushering her into the sitting room where Callie waited.
That had been nearly three hours ago, Callie realised, as the clock in the hall struck eleven. George, Julia and David had been sent to the cinema to keep them out of the way, but they’d be back soon. The room smelled unaccountably of vinegar. She wiped her sweaty forehead with her hand.
“Ready to try again?” Rose asked.
Not really. I’d like to sleep for about 24 hours now, would have been the truthful answer, but that wasn’t an option. They were picking Josh up from the road end at East Neuk Cottages at one in the morning. Anna wasn’t prepared to let him spend the night at The Smithy in case he was in the way. That meant Callie had less than two hours to get this right.
Rose and Bessie had somehow put two complex spells straight into her mind simply by joining hands with her, but it was one thing to know what the words were and another thing entirely to operate the spells correctly. Callie could tell the older witches were getting worried that it wasn’t going to work, though they tried not to show it, so she summoned a smile and said, “Ready.”
“You’re still holding back too much,” Bessie pointed out. “You need to surrender yourself to the spell, become part of it, not try to stay separate.”
Callie nodded and began.
The candles burned with black flames. Callie drew them out and wove them into a seven-stranded rope, then wove the words of the prisoning spell into it as well, until the rope was so drenched in power that it sank to the floor under the weight of it.
She cut it loose from the candles with a gesture and brought the ends together with her mind, working the spell back and forth like a needle now to unite them until the rope formed a dense black circle.
That was the easy bit done.
She wiped her face again and moved the second spell to the front of her mind. The embedding spell. The one that could leave Josh stuck with some horrible remnant of Duncan Corphat for ever, if something went wrong.
“Callie?” Rose said quietly, bringing her back to where she should be.
I can do this.
Callie began to draw the rope tighter with her mind, imagining it containing and restraining all of Duncan Corphat’s power. It shrank slowly, until it was the size of an armlet, heavy and dark as night.
She tried to gather all the power she had and pour it into the words of the embedding spell:
Let this power be held within my power
Let this power be mine to wield
Embed it in my helper
Let this power not hurt him
Let this power leave him when I so command
I will this. So let it be.
The black rope faded away and Callie stood in the centre of the room, drained.
“Better,” said Rose. “Definitely better.”
“Good enough?” Callie asked, not daring to hope.
“Have a break and we’ll try once more,” said Rose, dodging the question.
***
Josh was terrified he’d fall asleep and not wake up, and he didn’t dare set the alarm on his phone in case his mum heard it, so when he said goodnight to Anna at half past eleven he sat on his bed, fully clothed, trying to make sure he didn’t get too comfortable.
He read for a bit, but he couldn’t concentrate. His heart rate was already higher than usual and his mouth
was dry with nerves. Once again, he’d agreed to a crazy plan, and now he was regretting it. Why on earth had he said he’d do it? Even Callie thought he was nuts to say yes.
It was because of her, of course. Callie might be strange, but she was way more interesting than his friends back in Edinburgh. He’d just got caught up in the whole thing without having time to think. Until now. But he knew there was more to it than that. There was something special about Callie – nothing to do with her being a witch – that meant he didn’t want to let her down. He cared about her; he didn’t want her facing this alone.
The last crazy plan worked out okay, he told himself. Sort of okay. Although it didn’t go the way Rose and Bessie said it would.
This’ll be different.
This’ll be worse.
***
At a quarter to one, he put a torch and his Swiss Army knife in his pocket, opened his window wide and climbed out into the night. He didn’t put the torch on, letting his eyes adjust to the dark instead. He could see the glimmer of a few lights in Pitmillie and the more distant general glow of St Andrews. There wasn’t a sound from anywhere. Josh started towards the road a couple of hundred metres away, moving slowly at first, then with increasing confidence. He reached the road without incident and a few minutes later saw car headlights approaching.
“Evening,” said Bessie cheerfully as he climbed into the back seat beside Callie. “Isn’t this fun?”
“How are the spells?” he asked Callie.
“Fine,” she said, not entirely truthfully. She knew that Rose and Bessie had their doubts about whether she could make them work, but there was no alternative and they’d run out of time.
“We’ll drop you at the house then get down to Dane’s Dyke and start work there,” Rose said as she turned the car.
“How are we getting to Dane’s Dyke?” Josh asked.
There was a horrified silence.
“We’re getting too old for this,” muttered Bessie.
“I’ll have to get George, get him to pick you up,” Rose decided.
“I thought you were trying to keep him out of this?” said Bessie.
Dark Spell Page 13
