Jess felt herself shaking with a mixture of emotions, but she was determined to show nothing.
‘You understand, do you not?’ Xanthë went on. ‘You have experienced death and loss. So unusual in one so young. That is why I reach out to you. To ask you to understand us.’
Jess held her hands up. ‘Please. Don’t get me involved. I’m sympathetic, honestly... But I trust Emerald, and she thinks it’s wrong.’
‘But just think, Jessica.’ The witch stretched out a spindly hand, and despite the translucent blueness surrounding it, it seemed somehow solid and real. Jessica stared at the hooked yellow fingernails, the brown liver-spots on papery skin, the knotted blue veins. ‘Imagine if you had the chance to see your parents. Would you not take that chance?’ Her mouth formed a misshapen, toothless grin.
‘No. No!...’ She backed away. ‘What’s done is done. They can never come back. Never! It’s wrong to think like that.’
‘Jessica...’ said the witch softly, and then her voice changed. It became a voice she thought she had heard before - a voice she knew, and yet... ‘Look at me, Jessica.’
She opened her eyes and looked.
Instead of the witch, a young woman stood there. Tall, blonde, in a long black dress. Light shone through her mane of golden hair, illuminated her pale skin. She wore two hooped gold earrings, and her mouth was red and full and kind, smiling down at Jess. She held out a hand with its fingernails painted blue and silver, a loving hand for Jess to hold.
‘Hello, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed you.’
Jess’s heart was pounding against her ribs. She suddenly felt the sense of knowing something, someone that she had never truly known before. A love she had never experienced was rushing into her life like the waters of a swollen river, sparkling and full of sunlight and life.
No! said a dissenting part of her brain, it’s a trick! It’s a witches’ illusion!
But surely it was her?
She drew nearer.
It was just like that time in the High Street, when she had seen the woman’s reflection in the shop window, and had turned to find nothing there.
She felt her right palm moving towards her mother’s, closer and closer. (No, no!) Their hands clasped.
Jess’s palm tingled. There was a harsh, electric coldness against her fingers. No! Something made her pull her hand away.
‘Jessica?’ said the woman quizzically, hands on hips. ‘Don’t you recognise me?’
What would Emerald Greene say if she was here in this strange realm with her? She would tell her that it was all a devious deception, something designed to gain her confidence. She gnawed a fingernail and backed away, shaking her head. ‘It’s not you,’ she said softly. ‘Stop this! My mother and father are dead!’
‘Darling,’ she said, folding her arms and looking down at her with quizzical kindness. ‘I’m not dead. Whatever are you talking about? I’m here!’ She held out a hand again, the nails glittering blue and silver. ‘Jess. Come here, love.’
Jessica closed her eyes, screwing them up so hard that she saw hot, red shapes, and she clenched her fists until they hurt. ‘I’ve visited their grave and I’ve put flowers on it. Every year on November the first, we light a candle to remember them... That’s how it is! You can’t change the past! You can’t!’
The figure shimmered and flickered for an instant, like a poor picture on a TV screen.
‘I deny your illusion!’ shouted Jess triumphantly. ‘Chrissie LaForge is dead! She’s dead!’
And she opened her eyes and looked unflinchingly at the figure in front of her. It was warping, changing back into Xanthë again.
The witch spoke once more, and this time her voice was metallic and cold. ‘Go, then, girl! Go, and be like all the rest!’
And suddenly, without warning, she was back in the school lab again.
Mr Odell, instantly unfrozen at her side, finished his sentence:
‘ - out of here, now!’
The ball sprouted tendrils of light, like guy-ropes whipped by the wind. They lashed across the science lab, searing workbenches and smashing flasks in their crackling wake, with a noise like tortured screaming. The lab was filled with a chemical stench and the odour of burning wood. Windows cracked like icing-sugar, the popping and splintering of glass punctuating the tortured screams like gunshots.
Just for an instant, before Mr Odell pulled her away to safety, Jess saw a tall, grey figure forming around the globe, holding it in both hands as the light coruscated around the room. Its face was twisted, enraged, a mask of pure hatred.
And then the door slammed shut, blocking it from her view.
Part Four
Alarums and Excursions
10
Witchcraft
A storm was gathering above Meresbury.
Clouds clashed like gods in the steely sky. They loomed above the Cathedral, vast and black. When the thunder rolled, it was like a stentorian voice from down the centuries, bellowing into the valley. At the centre, the Darkwater pulsed, shimmering with a gentle light which caught the raindrops and froze them for a millisecond at a time. Wraithlike clouds of steam billowed from the surface of the lake, twisted upwards into unearthly patterns.
Things were changing.
‘Those clouds don’t look normal,’ said Richie.
They were thick, black, evil-looking clouds, he thought, edged with a crackling energy. The air hissed, as if full of static electricity.
‘The witches are mad,’ said Jess, shivering. Outside, one of the operatives had thrown a quilted foil blanket around her shoulders, and she wrapped herself in it like a successful marathon-runner. She didn’t seem to have heard Richie.
‘We have enraged them, yes,’ Emerald agreed. ‘But that may be to our advantage.’
‘No, Em, I mean mad,’ said Jess. ‘Bonkers. Barmy. Nutcases.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Emerald. ‘Mentally unstable? No, no. They are logical and sane. And that makes them a most fearsome adversary.’
Every window in the school was pulsing with a spectral, bluish light. It reflected in the puddles, broken into sparkling dots by the rain. Everyone had retreated to the school field, where the helicopters had been joined by black cars, including Mr Courtney’s Mercedes; nobody seemed bothered about keeping Jess, Richie and Emerald away, so they had just followed.
Richie counted about thirty Special Measures men and women spreading out to encircle the school, little black dots against the green. It occurred to him to wonder why they carried those mean-looking machine-pistols, as he didn’t imagine they were all that effective against spectral beings from another dimension. Maybe they were just showing off?
He glanced at Jess. ‘You okay?’
She nodded, tried to smile. But she looked pale and shaken, and she kept glancing anxiously back towards the school - as if she had lost something, Richie thought.
The rain was turning the field into a quagmire. Emerald Greene produced a small, pen-shaped object, which blossomed into a giant golden umbrella. Richie only had a second to be impressed before he saw Mr Courtney and Mr Odell bearing down on them.
‘Look out,’ said Richie. ‘Here come the Chuckle Brothers.’
Mr Courtney folded his arms and glowered at the two girls and Richie. ‘You lot have got some explaining to do. Especially you,’ he added, pointing at Emerald. ‘You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?’
Emerald shrugged, smiled. ‘I did try to warn you.’
The warble of Mr Odell’s phone cut through the conversation. He flicked it on. ‘Odell, Special Measures?... Oh, I see... Yes... yes, just one moment, Madam.’ He winced and held the phone at arm’s length. ‘Sir?’
‘What now?’ Mr Courtney snapped, turning on him.
‘It’s... the Prime Minister, sir. Wants to know
what the latest is.’
Mr Courtney hesitated only for a second. ‘Ah, I see. Harrumph. Err... well, summarise the situation, Odell.’ He waved a hand. ‘Key salient points, and all that.’
‘Me, sir?’
‘Yes, you, lad! Didn’t you go on a course last month?’
‘That was just about problem-solving, sir.’
‘Well... just do your best! This is a problem. Solve it!’
‘Sir,’ said Mr Odell resignedly. He retreated to a discreet distance and began murmuring into the phone, occasionally nodding.
Mr Courtney turned back towards the children, to find Emerald Greene looking at him slightly pityingly.
‘Please understand,’ Emerald Greene said, ‘I do know rather more than you about what we are dealing with.’
‘And so what are we dealing with, you young madam?’ growled Mr Courtney.
‘The wraiths will attempt to manifest themselves at different access points on the ley-line,’ Emerald said, beginning to pace up and down in her cone of dryness.
‘They will?’ Mr Courtney folded his arms and glared at her.
‘They must be prevented,’ she said firmly, ‘otherwise the... entity will draw power from their breakthrough and emerge through the access points. Now - there is a way we can contain them. You have the equipment to set up a strong magnetic field?’
‘Magnetic field?’ Mr Courtney tutted. ‘What is this, school Science Week?’
Mr Odell finished his conversation and hurried over, snapping his phone shut. ‘The PM gives us full Situation X approval, sir. The decision is in your hands.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Richie, looking from one to the other.
Mr Courtney sighed. ‘Situation X,’ he said, ‘is the PM’s way of saying nobody at Westminster has got a clue what’s going on here, and can we please sort it out without anybody having to know about it. Least of all the Government.’
Mr Odell stood with his hands behind his back. ‘Elegantly put, sir, if I do say so myself.’
‘Thank you, lad.’ He shot a look at Mr Odell. ‘The PM definitely said Situation X?’
‘Yessir. She did.’
‘Right. Just checking.’
Emerald directed a look at Mr Courtney, one which Richie knew well by now, and whose impact he could almost feel himself. ‘Well?’ she said coldly. ‘Do you wish to listen, or not?’
Mr Courtney shook his head and gave a sigh of frustration. ‘Have I got time to listen to prattling schoolgirls? We’ve got a serious situation here!’
‘Wait, sir,’ said Mr Odell. ‘Let the girl speak.’
Emerald smiled her thanks at him. ‘You need a few hundred metres of cable and a wire mesh,’ she said. ‘And some junction boxes, and a transformer.’
Mr Courtney’s moustache bristled. ‘And that’s all, is it? Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, young lady, hmm?’
‘Allow me to spell it out to you.’ She squared up to Mr Courtney, rain streaming off the shiny surface of her umbrella. Richie, despite the cold rain and his concern for Jess, watched the exchange in fascination. ‘There are two ways you can contain a wraith in the Otherworld. One, a psychic barrier - which means controlling your own belief in something equally strong. Or two, a physical barrier - which means containing it within the medium it has chosen to manifest itself through. These wraiths have chosen electricity.’
‘So?’ Mr Courtney muttered, folding his arms.
‘So hit them with a dose of magnetic force and it will scramble them like eggs. Or you could try putting up your psychic defences. What do you believe in, Mr Courtney? Anything strong enough? Guns, perhaps?’ She stood close to him, nose-to-nose. ‘You like guns, do you not? Your operatives seem to brandish them menacingly enough, despite the fact that they are utterly useless. Or did you think we had not noticed that?’
Mr Courtney’s nostrils flared. Emerald Greene stood her ground, her red hair fluttering in the wind. The few seconds in which they stared at one another seemed to last forever.
‘We’ve tried your way, Mr Courtney,’ said Emerald, ‘and it was spectacularly useless. So why don‘t we try mine?’ She raised her eyebrows impudently.
Richie held his breath, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Mr Odell give a little half-smile.
Then, to Richie’s delight, Mr Courtney - nodding slowly and resignedly as he maintained eye contact with Emerald Greene - lifted his radio. ‘I’ll get my specialist in,’ he said, and thumbed the call button. ‘Mr Vance? Going to need some equipment. Get over here and make it snappy.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said an efficient-sounding voice.
Mr Courtney clicked the radio off. ‘This had better work,’ he snarled.
‘Oh, it will,’ said Emerald Greene. She pulled a notepad and pencil out of her pocket and scribbled a brief diagram in less than five seconds. ‘Provided you set it up like this.’ She tore the page off and handed it to a bemused Mr Courtney.
‘Right,’ he said, staring at the piece of paper for a moment or two. He nodded. ‘That’s actually... quite clever,’ he admitted through gritted teeth. He lifted the radio again. ‘Vance? Cable, wire mesh, junction-boxes, heavy-duty transformers. Got that?’
‘Wilco, sir. The truck’s on its way.’
To Richie’s delight, Emerald Greene gave a dazzling smile. ‘Well done, Mr Courtney. You may just have saved your career.’
‘You okay?’ Richie asked Jess.
She nodded, smiled weakly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Fine.’
Emerald strode over to them. ‘There is no time to waste,’ she snapped. ‘I have a plan, and I need to put it into action.’
‘Oh, good,’ muttered Richie. ‘I’d hate to think you were just improvising.’
Emerald peered at them over her blue glasses. ‘I need someone to come back to Rubicon House with me.’ She produced a coin. ‘No prestidigitation, agreed? A straightforward flip?’
Richie peered at the coin. ‘Right.’
‘Richie, you call.’
‘Tails!’ said Richie firmly.
Emerald flicked the coin and caught it smartly on the back of her hand. She lifted her hand. It was heads. She shrugged, flipped the coin at Richie, who caught it instinctively. ‘My apologies,’ she muttered. ‘Must be your unlucky day... Still, the universe is essentially a random construct.’ Emerald nodded to Jess, and they started to hurry off, but Emerald turned as she remembered something. ‘Oh, Mr Courtney? One other thing. Get your people at the stone circle to switch off all their equipment.’
‘What, everything?’ Mr Courtney scoffed.
‘Yes, everything! You do realise any emission of energy is a potential source of power for this thing? So turn it all off! Come on, Jessica.’
The girls hurried away, heading for the car-park.
Richie realised he was clasping the coin so tightly that it had left a red mark and a metallic odour on his palm. He flipped it over and realised he was still staring at the Queen’s head. Puzzled, he flipped it back again. Still heads.
‘Wait a minute!’ he exclaimed.
But the girls had already disappeared.
‘Mr Odell,’ said Mr Courtney through gritted teeth.
‘Sir?’
‘Radio to Arossi, get her to close down all equipment at the stone circle.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But tell her to leave the radio channel open,’ Mr Courtney added, wagging a finger. ‘I don’t want anybody left isolated,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘Good afternoon - I’m Mike Devenish, coming to you live at County TV with a special news report. Freak weather conditions in the Mere Valley have resulted in what the Met Office this afternoon called “strange phenomena”. Torrential rain, flooding and strong winds have been reported, while o
bservers report seeing “unusual” lightning in various parts of the city.
‘At 15:05 hours this afternoon, the Met Office issued a special warning, advising people in the area to stay indoors unless their journey is absolutely vital. The Meresbury Transport Executive has also given a statement, informing us that all bus and train services in the area are subject to severe disruption. Emergency services will attempt to run as normal, although we understand that flash flooding is making some roads difficult to pass.
‘Stay tuned to County TV - your only TV station for the very latest live updates! For the moment, though, we return you to Win It Or Bin It.’
An early dusk fell. On the darkening horizon, fork lightning with a vermilion glow played across the valley.
Richie was observing the Special Measures team encircling the school in a ring of wire mesh. It looked like a gigantic doughnut of closely-knit wire, and formed a fence around the school at a distance of about fifty metres from the walls. It went round into the car-park and back again. He watched as two of the team, under Mr Odell’s direction, started connecting the wire with heavy cables to a couple of insulated black boxes.
He polished his glasses and squared up to Mr Courtney’s ample waistline. ‘So, you’re going with Emerald’s idea. Better make sure she gets the credit, hadn’t you?’
Mr Courtney turned, pointed his radio at Richie with a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘Listen, sonny.’ He squatted down so that their faces were level. ‘I don’t know where your young friend’s gone, but you seem to know enough about her.’ Mr Courtney narrowed his eyes. ‘So you’re staying right beside me!’
‘Sure,’ said Richie. ‘But only because I don’t want to miss anything.’
Emerald Greene and the Witch Stones Page 17
