Spells & Life

by Rachel Medhurst

  “You haven’t said a word,” she muttered as I followed her instructions and set the boundary of the salt circle.

  Putting the top back on the glass jar, I watched her as she poured water into the bowl of ashes, slowly mixing it into a paste. “I trust you. If the ancestors think that my father being resurrected is the best course of action, then I have to believe that it’s true.”

  “What about your own death?” Helga stepped away from the table, coming closer to the circle. “How do you feel about that?”

  Glancing at the ground, I pushed down the rising fear that laced my veins. I had barely taken in the witch’s comments about my own death. Okay, so I had to face reality. I would die. At some point soon, my link would be severed, whether by the serial killer, or by Mother Earth, who knew... until then... “Maybe I need to not think about myself. Sometimes, it’s best to put others first. Right now, the Earth is in danger of being drained of magic. I need to save it.”

  The tiny incline of her head made me look at her. A pang of sadness sprung to my eyes when her bright grey eyes blinked slowly. For my whole life, I’d put the ley line and everyone else before me. Maybe that was my life purpose. To help everyone else.

  “A very valiant way of looking at it.” Not saying anymore, she moved into the circle and placed the bowl on the floor in the centre.

  As she retreated, she waved her hands several times until she was outside the salt barrier. A blast of energy made me clench my hands into fists. Helga was an ancient witch with tons of experience. Maybe I could get her to teach me a thing or two. Bringing someone back from the dead wasn’t exactly the easiest spell in the grimoire.

  “Why are the ancestors taking the impure balance for my father’s return?” I asked, still unable to understand why he was so important to our mission.

  Glancing at me sideways, Helga blew her fuzzy hair out of her face. The intensity of her gaze made me swallow. Had I asked an insulting question unknowingly?

  “We cannot question the ancestors. Their reasons will never be known to us, so we must do their bidding.”

  Trying to push my rebellious thoughts down, I remembered the words my mother had said about respecting the ancestors and never going against them. Small questions had often come to mind when I spoke with others about the dead witches who had been before, but I had never voiced them out loud. Now that I’d met with them, I had even less reason to fight against their rule.

  “Hold my hand,” Helga said, reaching for me. “I need to use you as an anchor.”

  Tentatively placing my palm against hers, I closed my eyes when she threw her head back and started a Latin chant. It was the same as the one the witches in the factory had been chanting. One to raise the dead. Although, hadn’t they brought up a demon?

  Sweat broke out on every inch of my skin as I opened my eyes, staring at the bowl of pasted ashes on the ground. Wanting to rip my hand away, I gulped in fresh air as the temperature in the room rose, causing my hair to stick to my neck.

  Helga’s chanting grew louder as the church started to vibrate, the walls echoing the sound of her cries. As the bowl started to shake, I squeezed Helga’s hand, trusting that she wasn’t bringing a demon back, but my father. If she dared to drag something untoward up from hell, I would kill her on the spot. Okay, maybe I was a little afraid. This wasn’t a horror film, there would be no demons. I just had to keep telling myself that.

  The bowl smashed suddenly, the loud shattering blasting my ears as the glass smashed against the invisible barrier. A puff of dust flew in the air as a human formed in front of my eyes, the body of a man growing on the ground. Helga stopped chanting as the dust settled. My father’s bare back faced us as he shivered in a foetal position.

  Letting go of my hand, Helga grabbed a robe and threw it into the circle. My father’s hands felt for it, dragging it over his body as he slowly rose facing away from us.

  The hunch of his shoulders and the dusty brown grey of his hair made me swallow. My heart rebounded off my chest repeatedly, causing my stomach to churn as he turned towards us. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to hurl all over the church floor.

  “Jeremy Abbott,” Helga said loudly. “Welcome back to the living.”

  Breathing incredibly slowly, my father glanced between us, his dark green eyes not focusing properly. Had his soul been aware that he was going to be brought back from the dead before it had happened?

  “Who are you?” His voice hissed from his mouth, his gaze finally concentrating on me.

  As his eyes roamed over my face, I cringed, wanting to duck my head so he couldn’t study me so intently. I had been a very young child the last time I’d seen him, aware of what his fate would be the day he was killed.

  “Gemma?” his voice softened as he stumbled forward, blinking in confusion when his outstretched hand met with the barrier spell around him. He looked at the ground, his head swinging around to check the circle of salt he stood in.

  Trying to keep my hands from shaking, I cleared my throat. His attention came back to me as he shook his head. “You’re not going to let me stay alive, are you?”

  The question threw me. I hadn’t really considered what would happen after we got the information we needed. Not that I knew what the ancestors wanted with my father, that had been a mystery.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Helga said, retreating as she waved me forward. “Gemma needs some answers.”

  His gaze hadn’t left me the whole time Helga spoke. The intensity of it made the skin on my arms heat. Bending his head to the side, Jeremy Abbott clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. A tear rolled down his cheek, shocking me into inhaling sharply. Was the man crying?

  “I can’t believe how grown up you are.” Rubbing his head, he moved closer.

  “Yes,” I said with a shaky voice. “It’s been a few years since I last saw you.”

  Ah, there was the bitter tone, the resentment laced words. I hadn’t even realised how much anger I felt towards him. My whole being boiled with rage as he held his hands up in surrender.

  “Yes, I did you and your mother wrong. I... had an addiction I couldn’t control.”

  Leaning forward, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Couldn’t control? You gave me away in a bet!”

  Wounded child alert. My brain almost imploded when he smiled to himself. Did he think it was funny?

  “You’re so feisty, just like your mother. I’ve missed you both terribly. However, you’re right, I was wrong for making, and losing, that bet. Are you married to him yet?”

  My mouth hung open as I stared at him. Was he fucking insane?

  “I take it from your expression that’s a no.” He sighed as he cracked his knuckles. “That’s not good, Gemma.”

  “Excuse me?” If he wasn’t careful, I was going to shoot a fireball spell right up his backside.

  Coming even closer to the wall of his prison, my father’s teeth pulled up in a snarl. “The witch I made a bargain with isn’t someone to avoid, my love.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I hissed, clenching my fists hard to prevent myself from hurting him.

  Holding up a hand, he licked his lips. “Do you not know who it is that I made a bargain with?”

  Shaking my head, I flicked my hair behind my shoulder. “No. Mother won’t tell me. In fact, she only mentioned the whole first-born thing the other day.”

  A hiss left my father’s mouth as he spun away from me, his movements becoming jerky. “What is the woman playing at? He’s the most dangerous witch in the country.”

  “Who is it?”

  Maybe knowing who the man was would help me in the case. The sneaky suspicion that the killer had something to do with the bet was getting stronger and stronger.

  “His name is Xvair Harvey. He’s...” Looking back at me, he stared hard. “...ancient. He’s been around for a very long time, using a spell so powerful, he’s able to live an immortal life. He’s constantly having children to keep his Essex line alive.”

 
; “He’s an Essex witch?”

  Nodding, my father closed his eyes tightly for a moment. The movement was uncomfortable, jarring. Was he in pain? What was it like coming back from the dead? Maybe it would be the same for me.

  Opening his eyes, my father came back to the wall of the barrier. “He’s the oldest Essex witch alive. He keeps himself hidden because as you can imagine, he’s a target for other witches who want to know his secret. You must find his son and marry him, for all our sakes.”

  “Huh? How are you involved anymore? You’re dead.”

  “And so are you, my love.” He waved away the protest that was about to leave my lips. “That doesn’t matter, I’m affected more than you know with what goes on here.”

  Not caring about his wellbeing, I stepped up to the line of salt and leant as far forward as I could. “I’m not marrying anyone that isn’t of my choosing, do you hear me?”

  Red flared in his eyes as he thrust forwards, the barrier spell the only thing keeping him from getting to me. A roar left his lips as I stumbled backwards, my feet catching on the uneven stone floor.

  “You will marry him! If you don’t, the ley line will drain and your life will be lost. As will every single creature on this Earth. Marry him, save the world.” My father thumped against the wall with his fists, his eyes bright red. The evil had taken over. We must have dragged him from hell.

  Helga started to chant as I raised my arms, ready to join her. She grabbed my wrist, forcing it down. Her sharp shake of the head made me step back even further. I understood. It was too personal for me to do the job, especially when she’d been the one to resurrect him.

  “Find Xvair and offer yourself to his son,” my father screamed, one arm still trying to push through the barrier, the other hitting his own head. “It’s the only way to save the world!”

  Holding my stomach as it rolled, I breathed slowly, allowing Helga to cast her magic. I felt useless, unable to provide a powerful link to the line.

  “You need to leave,” Helga shouted when my father’s fingers started to push through the barrier.

  Shit, he had more strength than we’d realised. Maybe being in hell had turned him into a demon, although I wasn’t sure that was possible.

  Standing my ground, I felt into the line and threw my hands in the air, casting a fire spell around him. The circle was reinforced, the flames singeing his hands where he tried to get free. Retreating, my father howled and hissed in my direction as I kept my spell strong. Helga was shouting now, almost struggling against whatever my father had become.

  “We are coming,” he shouted, a high pitched laugh following his crazed words. “The dead will rise if you do not fulfil your duty! So, marry him. If not, we’re waiting patiently for our time.”

  His sentence echoed as he popped out of existence. Shit. My breath huffed in and out of me as I released the fire spell. Helga was rushing around, cleansing the area to prevent any loopholes that demons could access.

  About to take a step forward, I fell to the ground when my knees gave out. A puff of air next to me alerted me to someone’s energy about to appear. Feeling into it, I smiled to myself.

  “It’s okay,” I muttered when Helga swung around, obviously feeling the impending witch.

  Dave’s form evolved between us, his eyes quickly finding me. He knelt, his hands on my shoulders. “What’s going on? I felt something... I dunno, I just had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right.”

  My breath was shaky as I tried to speak. The words wouldn’t come. My father...

  “She’s got to marry some bloke,” Helga said, nodding to herself when she was satisfied that her work was done.

  “No,” Dave said through his teeth. “She’s not going to marry some bloke!”

  Gripping my shoulders, Dave helped me to my feet. I leant on him as I sucked air into my lungs. “My father,” I said between gasps. “He’s evil. We brought him back to life.”

  “What?!” My desk friend spun on his heels, his ire aimed at Helga as she meandered back to her stone table.

  Raising her hands, she shook her head slowly. “The ancestors decreed it, not us.”

  Looking into my eyes, Dave chewed on the inside of his cheeks as he raised his eyebrows, obviously waiting for an explanation.

  “When the ancestors gave me my memory back, they insisted I raise my father to find out how to stop the draining of the ley line. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Scratching the stubble on his chin, Dave stared at me. His intensity was unnerving. It had been amazing to have his support through my shit-fest recently, but my reliance on him was becoming a little uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to disconnect a bit.

  “What did your father say?”

  I’d expected a tirade of stupidity accusations, but instead he waited for my answer, prompting me with a nod of his head.

  “If I want to stop evil from being able to come up from hell, I have to marry the son of an ancient witch. Apparently, once that’s done, whoever is draining the ley line will stop.”

  “The killer is related to the bet, isn’t he?”

  Shrugging, I hugged myself as I backed away from him. “It’s not completely confirmed, but it does look likely.”

  “Okay,” he said, waving at Helga as he took my hand. “Let’s go and work out how to lure the bastard out.”

  Chapter 9

  “You’re that Gemma Abbott,” someone said behind me as I walked down the street.

  The pub was just a few footsteps away, but the sarcastic tone was too much of a pull to ignore. Spinning, I faced whoever had spoken. Two witches, one male, one female. The man had spoken.

  “I’ve heard she’s lost it,” the female spoke to him conversationally.

  They were staring at me, their eyes watching my every move, even though I stayed completely still.

  I’d been on my way to the karaoke night at the pub. Brianna had invited me, although I was extremely unfashionably late. She probably would’ve gone home by now.

  “What do you want?” I instantly regretted my decision to join my friend.

  My book was waiting on my bedside table at home, the pages perfectly neat where I never folded them. People who did that were monsters worse than vampires. Not that all vampires were terrible, that was a pretty big statement, but still, it was a bad thing to do.

  “We know what you are, who you are...”

  As the man lifted his arms to tug his denim jacket closer to his body, I spotted a tiny tattoo on his outer wrist. When the woman’s arm lifted to flick her hair back, the same tattoo glinted in the overhead streetlamp.

  “I can’t be bothered with this,” I muttered, turning to leave.

  Before I could take a step, the concrete in front of me cracked, forming a small sinkhole. Managing to keep my balance, I dragged on the ley line, feeling the magic pour through my feet and up my legs. My swift movement had me facing them, my arms outstretched, an agony spell chanting from my lips.

  “Leave me alone!”

  Dropping to their knees, my apparent enemies clutched their skulls. Their screwed up faces didn’t make me feel guilty as I advanced on them. Wind whipped around us, sending my ponytail flying behind me. My eyes were almost closed as it attacked my face, the power of my spell kicking old dead leaves up into the air.

  About to intensify my magic, I paused when the wind dropped and the magic drained from my feet. The ley line’s power slacked as I stared at my hand, unsure why the surge of energy that had come through me had died.

  “See? You’re not quite as powerful as you thought you were,” the woman said as she rose to her feet.

  Her companion stood beside her, shaking his head clear of the pain I had inflicted. My weakness made my palms line with sweat as I glanced behind to check if there was anyone within distance. The dark street was empty which was unusual in London.

  Coming closer, the pair suddenly threw a fire spell at me, the ball of flames aimed towards my head. Throwing myself to the left, I rolled int
o the road, grunting from the impact of my shoulder against the concrete.

  “Haven’t you got the memo, Gemma?” the man said, smiling down at me as they got closer. “No one wants the Essex witches to protect the lines anymore. We’re forming a democracy. Time you were taken out of power.”

  Getting to my hands and knees, I dragged in a breath as my heartbeat resounded in my head. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time to share the protection of the lines. My mother’s voice rang in my mind, her words loud and clear. If an ordinary witch was allowed access to the magic, the power would go to their heads. They would never take care, always tempted to use the power for their own good. Greed in the magic world was a vile disease. That’s why humans had it easy. There was no magic to cloud their judgement.

  Springing to my feet, I accessed the ley line again. The tingling sensation of magic entering my body grew as I pulled as hard as possible. Yes, the magic was still weak, but I wasn’t going to allow anyone to step all over me. I was the protector of the ley line. It had been my job since I was born, something that I had no choice in. And, I would never allow anyone else to take that away from me.

  Raising my hands palms upwards, I invoked deep dark green roots to break through the concrete on the ground. The witches saw them too late, their eyes widening as the plant grew and wrapped around their ankles.

  “No matter how many times you threaten me,” I said, moving closer to them. “I will always protect the lines, it’s in my blood. Only Essex witches can connect to the ley line, which means that whoever...”

  My mind snapped into place instantly, the enemies in front of me forgotten. Essex witch blood was the only DNA that could connect to the ley line. Which meant that the killer, or whoever was helping him, had to be an Essex witch. Whoever was draining the ley line had to have the DNA, otherwise it wouldn’t have been possible. Shit, why had I not made that connection before? It was such a simple one.

  “Your time is up.” The female struggled against her bonds, almost falling over when she reached out a hand to try and cast a spell. Waving my hand, I laughed when the roots grabbed her wrists and held them firmly together.