“I thought Stonehenge didn’t have anything to do with druids,” said Steve.
“It doesn’t,” said Elsie. “It’s just a really good place for a party, apparently. Anyway, he said in order to free the blood binding, the new one has to be inside the old.”
“Great. Anything else?”
“You have to recite the ingredients over and over until the binding is complete.”
“Please tell me you brought the list,” said Steve.
Belladonna rummaged through her backpack and held the list aloft, triumphantly.
“I imagine it has to be the old names,” she said.
“I should think so,” said Elsie, leaning over her shoulder. “And I should think the order is important, too.”
“Right,” said Belladonna. “Who’s going to do what?”
“I think Steve should pour the potion,” said Elsie. “He can run the fastest. After all, he’s on the under-15 footie team now.”
“I am?”
“They put the notice up yesterday afternoon. We were all on the Other Side.”
“Aceballs!”
“Okay,” said Belladonna. “That means you and I will recite the list, Elsie.”
“I’ll help,” said Elsie, smiling. “But I think it’s the living person who counts.”
“So all that’s left is to find out where the old binding line was.”
All eyes turned to Branwyn.
“Do you remember?” asked Belladonna.
She had an awful feeling that the limits of the old binding might have been connected to items on the landscape when Hegland Moss had been a marsh, all of which would be long gone now.
“Of course I do,” whispered Branwyn. “How could I not? This is the western corner. It goes from here up to that oak just beyond the parade ground, then over to the remains of the watchtower, there, then back down to those bins and then here.”
“Okay,” said Steve. “So if I run the perimeter of the parade ground I should be well inside the old binding, right?”
“They’ll be very angry,” said Branwyn.
“Um…angry?”
“Yes.”
“What do they do when they’re angry?” asked Steve.
“They make you fear things,” whispered Branwyn. “It’s terrible…terrible.”
“You do realize that you’re not helping? A bit of optimism would be nice right about now.”
“Oh, there’s something else,” announced Elsie.
“Of course there is,” said Steve. “There’s always something else. Do we have to do it backward on one foot or something?”
“No,” said Belladonna, suddenly understanding. “We can’t stop.”
“How did you know that?” asked Elsie.
“I don’t know…I just do. It’s all part of the binding: the potion, the words…and the running.”
“That’ll be more Spellbinder hoodoo,” said Steve. “Let’s get on with it. Is everyone ready?”
“Thank you for trying,” whispered Branwyn. “I want you to know…even if it doesn’t work.”
Belladonna smiled, stood next to Elsie and looked over at Steve, who had taken off his jacket and hoody and stood, shivering, bottle in hand.
“On three,” he said, grimly. “One…two…THREE!!”
He took off up the right hand side of the parade ground, the herb mixture pouring from the nozzle of the sauce bottle as he went.
“Mucgwyrt, attorlathe, stune, wegbrade, maethe, stithe, wergulu, fille, finule, herrif, laserpiciferis, mucgwyrt, attorlathe…”
“They know! They know!” Branwyn was on her feet, terror in her eyes.
“…stune, wegbrade, stithe, wergulu…”
The spinning, folding, forming and reforming clouds had changed. Suddenly they seemed to have purpose—two combined and shot across the parade ground toward Steve, who had just rounded the first corner, while another became solid and stretched itself into a black wall in front of Belladonna and Elsie. For a moment it just hung there, suspended in the air like a movie screen, but then it began to throb and started screaming and roaring at the volume a jet engine would have if you were actually inside the engine.
But it wasn’t just noise, it was fear, oozing through the air like syrup, engulfing her, creeping into all the places in her mind where she had hidden the things that made her nervous, or made her scared and escalating every one of those feelings to the level of blind terror. She couldn’t hear her own voice any more, and panic was all she could feel, but she kept going.
“…fille, finule, herrif, laserpiciferis, mucgwyrt…”
On the other side of the parade ground she could just make out Steve and the other Spirits of the Black Water. They seemed to be trying to entangle him in inky tendrils. Once he almost tripped, and then seemed to choke as shadowy fingers encircled his neck. As he turned the corner near the remains of the old watchtower, Belladonna could see tears on his cheeks, but a look of grim determination on his face. She wondered what the spirits had found inside his head, the thing that he most feared.
“…attorlathe, stune, wegbrade, maethe…”
Branwyn staggered and sat, her hands over her face and her body heaving with sobs. It didn’t take any leap of imagination to know what fear the spirits had found within her, but Elsie stood fast, repeating the words with Belladonna, attempting an encouraging smile, but not quite managing.
“…stithe, wergulu, fille, finule, herrif…”
Out of the corner of her eye, Belladonna could see that the ghosts from the ruins were converging on the parking lot. One man, with patterns dyed on his skin like Cradoe, separated himself from the crowd and walked up to her.
“Is it a binding?”
Belladonna nodded, but didn’t stop. The man stepped away respectfully and rejoined the other ghosts.
“…laserpiciferis, mucgwyrt…”
Steve stumbled again, but didn’t fall. He rounded the final corner, the Spirits of the Black Water had enveloped his body, and were grasping and writhing so that his face was the only part of him still visible. Belladonna could see his jaw tighten as he sprinted the last few yards as the final drips of the binding potion fell from the bottle and joined the first. He dropped to the ground, gasping and coughing. The binding should have been complete, yet still the shadows screamed. Belladonna knew she couldn’t stop speaking.
“…attorlathe, stune…”
Steve rolled over.
“Why hasn’t it worked?” His voice was a rasping gasp.
“You must bind it,” whispered Branwyn, her voice barely audible. “You must bind it.”
“…wegbrade, maethe, stune…”
Belladonna stopped. Mrs. Jay had been wrong, this did need the Spellbinder. It did need Words of Power, just not ancient Sumerian ones. It needed English words. English words to imprison the worst of the Old Magic of England in this ground forever.
“This is a seal of the Old Times,” she yelled, each word coming faster than the one before. “A vexation to fear, a mortification to pain, a shackle to disease and despair. It has power against three and against thirty, against the hand of a fiend and the spell of vile creatures. It has might against the onflying, it binds you here until the seas slip apart, until the sky falls away, until the earth beneath the feet of men turns to salt. This spell is bound, the Spirits of the Black Water are bound, the ground beneath them is bound, the air above them is bound. All is bound and will not be undone. By the power of Nantosuelta, who is the Queen of the Abyss, and the power of the Spellbinder, you shall move not, live not, die not!”
She stopped. That was all. She hoped it was all…that it was enough. She could sense Steve and Elsie staring at her, their mouths hanging open, and she could feel the crowd of ghosts watching and waiting behind her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the Spirits of the Black Waters.
The screaming stopped first. Then the roaring whine that had followed Steve around the parade ground. Then the spirits themselves split apart and flew, swirling i
nto the sky, only to recombine and like an arrow shoot towards the ground, vanishing beneath the muddy grass with a mighty groan.
The crowd of ghosts cheered and applauded.
“That was amazing,” said a man in a smart suit.
“Fantastic,” enthused a 1920s Flapper, the fringe on her dress swaying as she ran to congratulate the live girl.
“You must be a mighty seer to your people,” said the man who had asked about the binding.
“Thank you,” said Belladonna, suddenly feeling very shy. “It was nothing. Steve had the hard part.”
“Best Halloween ever,” said a girl who looked an awful lot like Jane Austen.
“Seriously, Belladonna,” said Steve, scrambling to his feet, “that was even better than the standing stones thing!”
“It would’ve been better with a few “thees” and “thous,” though,” said Elsie. “Maybe a “begone” or two as well. More Shakespearian.”
“But I’m not Shakespeare,” said Belladonna, feeling a tiny bit deflated.
“Well, thank goodness for that,” said Steve, laughing. “I wouldn’t have understood a word you said!”
The crowd were still talking and laughing when a small voice broke through the cacophony.
“I’m free.”
Belladonna whirled around. For a moment she’d forgotten why they were there. It was for Branwyn, the girl who had been sacrificed, who had spent two thousand years, wet and muddy and protecting the world from the Spirits of the Black Water.
She was still sitting on the railway tie, but the mud and water had gone. She was holding her hands up and staring at them. Staring at the pale skin she must have forgotten she ever had. She turned to Belladonna, her face flushing with joy and her eyes a sparkling blue. The linen dress was white again and the flowers fresh in her hair, which turned out to be light brown, not red at all.
She stood up and flung herself at Belladonna, but fell right through her.
“You’re free,” explained Elsie. “Not alive.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care. This is…how do I get to…to…”
“Um…actually, I don’t know,” said Elsie. “I seem to remember someone helped me. I’m not sure how it’s done. Not the first time.”
She looked toward the crowd expectantly.
“A charnel sprite showed me the way,” said the smart-suited man.
“Me too,” said the Flapper.
Most of the others agreed and started discussing their own experiences, and how nice it was to get some tea and cake and relax a bit underground with the charnel sprites after all the fuss of their funerals.
They were still comparing notes when the bushes next to the parking lot started rustling and a small purplish man stepped out onto the gravel. Silence fell over the crowd.
“Perhaps I can be of help,” said the purpleish man. “I received word from regional head office that there might be someone in need of a guide for the initial journey.”
“Yes,” said Belladonna, stepping forward. “That was Aya. We spoke last night.”
“Oh, right,” said Steve, “and I was the one who stayed up too late.”
“I visited the graveyard for five minutes, I didn’t stay up all night watching a zombie flick!”
“What’s…I mean who…?” Branwen was staring at the newcomer, confused and a little worried.
“This is…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” said Belladonna, anxious to do things properly.
“I am Nolo, and I will be your charnel sprite.”
“This is Branwyn,” said Belladonna. “She’s been waiting for two thousand years.”
“Well, then, we’d better get going,” said Nolo. “It is my job to show you the way to the Other Side, young lady. Unless you’d prefer to stay for a party? There are a great many of them tonight, you know.”
“Does the sun shine on the Other Side?”
“Almost all the time, I believe.”
“Then I’d like to go. I’d like to be warm again.” She turned to Belladonna and Steve. “Thank you. Thank you both. I didn’t think it would work. But…oh, I wish I could touch you!”
“Perhaps you’ll meet again,” said Elsie, helpfully. “When they’re over on our side, you can hug to your heart’s content…if you’re that sort of person. It’s not very British, you know, all that display of emotion.”
Branwyn smiled.
“I don’t care,” she said. “I’ve waited a long time.”
Nolo held out his hand and led Branwyn gently back toward the bushes. She glanced back, her eyes shining.
“Goodbye! And thank you. Thank you all!”
The crowd of ghosts applauded again, then started wandering away in small groups, still chatting excitedly about what they’d just seen. Belladonna watched until Branwyn and Nolo had vanished into the thicket, then picked up her backpack and turned back to Steve and Elsie. Steve brushed himself off and shrugged on his jacket.
“Right,” said Elsie. “Shall we go?”
“Go?” said Steve. “Where?”
“Why to Belladonna’s house, of course.”
“My house? What for?”
“Well, partly because I’ve never seen it and it’s Halloween, so I can,” said Elsie. “But mostly for the party.”
“What party?”
“Oh, you are dense! The party your mother’s been planning for months.”
“So that’s why she hasn’t been home so much?”
“I think this might be a ‘duh’ moment, Belladonna,” said Steve, grinning.
“Did you know?”
“No, of course not. But it makes sense. Come on, I think there’s a bus in a few minutes.”
“A bus?” said Elsie, excitedly. “An omnibus? Oh, how spiffing! My parents would never use them. They said they were--”
“Yes, we know,” said Belladonna and Steve, laughing. “Vulgar.”
The Blood Binding Page 5
