by Sara Pascoe
‘This guy didn’t work that way. We should still have a few days.’
‘A FEW DAYS?!’
Pavel blanched – as though he forgot who he was talking to. ‘Look, we’re getting ready to send Bryony back. We’ve been working on it day and night. It’s just a bit tricky to transport someone to an exact time – anything too far off and you won’t see each other.’
‘Bryony? I mean, she seems nice and everything, but isn’t there anyone else? She’s always in a bit in a muddle.’
Ms Watts leaned over Pavel’s desk and stuck her head in front of the ‘camera’. ‘Rachel?’ she said.
Raya nodded.
‘Just hold on. Bryony IS the best person for this mission. We wouldn’t send her if she wasn’t. She should be with you soon. So don’t be surprised and play along with whatever story she concocts to fit in.’
Raya nodded again.
‘I’m afraid we have to sign out – get back to work to give you the best chance at coming home as soon as possible.’ And with that, Ms Watts, Pavel and any shadow of the command centre were gone. She didn’t even have time to ask if there was anything she could do to save Oscar.
The sunset bled into the edges of the village. Smoke curled out of the cottage chimney like a crooked finger. A woman stood at the door, arms folded. She wore a long skirt, a white blouse with a bodice on top and a hat. Raya wondered if these hats helped hide dirty hair. But her musings on the horrors of seventeenth century fashion and hygiene were cut short when the watchdog jumped off the back of the cart and carried her into the house, still tied up.
He plopped her down on a wooden chair. It was in the middle of the main room of the cottage. There were a couple more chairs, a jug, cups, and some candles. Another younger, solid woman stared at Raya. She thought these might be the two she saw arrive in the carriage that came with Hopkins. Hard to tell, with them all dressing the same.
The two women spoke to the man who then left. Raya listened to the cart pull away until the sound of beating hooves and rattling wheels faded to nothing. She started to feel a little less nervous. The younger woman was old enough to be her mother, and the older one, her grandmother. Surely they would show her some kindness.
‘I’m so sorry. This is a mistake. I didn’t hurt anyone, not even that dog. I’m only fourteen.’
The older woman tugged at the young woman’s sleeve. ‘Don’t let the Devil trick you. He takes all forms.’
The younger woman blushed, averted her gaze. ‘Yes, Hester. Thank you.’ Hester straightened with her authority and whispered to the younger one, loud enough for Raya to hear.
‘We might as well get started,’ the older woman said, stepping behind Raya and holding her shoulders firmly. ‘Grace, untie her.’
It felt good to have the ropes removed, but she didn’t want to let go of Oscar. She thought the dashes of black along his back had become a little bigger.
‘Be careful, Grace. Don’t touch that thing,’ Hester said, pointing to Oscar. ‘It could burn you.’
‘Stand up,’ Hester commanded. Raya stood, holding Oscar in her arms.
‘Put that thing down. Now. So we can search you,’ Hester said.
Raya curled him up on the wooden chair. Hester tugged at Raya’s clothing, starting to take it off, grunting and making faces of disgust.
‘Get off me! What the heck do you think you’re doing?’ Raya said. She pulled her clothes back on as they tried to take them off. Raya screeched, wrestled, and kicked, but she was no match for Grace, who restrained her while Hester undressed her.
‘Why is she dressed like a boy?’ Grace asked Hester.
‘Don’t ask me, probably in hiding like the criminal she is,’ Hester suggested.
‘I didn’t DO anything!’ Raya said, but the women acted like they didn’t hear her.
Hester grunted as she wrested Raya’s hoodie off.
‘My word, what odd clothing,’ Hester said. She snapped the elastic on Raya’s crop top. ‘Oy. Watch yourself, Grace. The Devil is as old as time, and much smarter than either of us.’
‘You’re right. I should be more careful,’ Grace said. Hester shook her head.
‘Take those off,’ Hester said, indicating Raya’s crop top and underpants.
‘Forget it!’ Raya said.
Hester grabbed Raya by the shoulders. ‘Grace, get these off this wretch, will you?’ she said.
‘Stop it, you pervs! You can see I don’t have any weapons!’ The three of them struggled and tussled. Raya had never been so humiliated, angry and embarrassed at once. Grace pulled her crop top off, Hester ripped off her panties. God almighty! She started to cry and hated herself for it. She had thought having to go for a bra fitting with a rubbish foster carer – the one before Angie – was the most awful experience. That didn’t touch this. Raya stood before them naked and shivering trying to cover herself with her hands.
Grace blushed.
‘Keep a lookout for any odd moles, extra teats, anything at all unusual – these are the marks of the Devil, you know,’ Hester instructed and Grace nodded.
‘Extra teats? OK, you two have REALLY gone too far. I have two – like everyone else!’ Raya thrashed against Grace, who only clamped down harder.
Hester looked at Grace, satisfied. ‘See. What did I tell thou? She must be hiding something. Bring her over here, so I can get a better look,’ Hester said.
Grace dragged Raya to the wall and pinned her there. Raya grunted and strained. Hester grabbed a lit candle from the mantel.
Raya gave a small shriek, whimpered, and clamped her eyes shut. ‘Don’t burn me. Please,’ she said.
Raya could feel the older woman’s warmth on her goose-bumped skin. ‘Ah, the fires of hell will get you soon enough,’ Hester cackled. She inspected Raya’s back in great detail, touching, poking, and scratching at places as though she was trying to loosen old paint.
The two women conferred and clucked but were not satisfied with anything they saw. At Hester’s command, Grace turned Raya around like a rag doll. Hester continued to poke her. Raya could have killed them, and not by witchcraft.
Grace gasped. ‘Hester. There it is.’ She nodded towards Raya’s waist. There was a mole that had been rubbed raw by the waistband on her trousers. Grace seemed delighted and disgusted in equal measure.
The two women quickly finished searching Raya for any other incriminating marks, then Grace shoved Raya towards her clothes. She stumbled and fell to the cold floor. The two women spoke in hushed tones by the fireplace. Dirty clothes never felt so good.
She remained crouched down next to the chair with Oscar on it, stroking the warm but still unresponsive cat, trying to buy a few moments. The black on his back had joined up again into a thicker stripe. She slipped Oscar’s paw into her hand and tried to transmit to IHQ.
‘Anybody there? Pavel? Ms Watts? Anyone know when Bryony’s coming? I don’t know how much more I can take.’ She cried as quietly as she could.
‘Pavel? Please? I need your help.’ The briefest static-y flash of Ms Watts at the screen came through.
‘Please come back.’ She didn’t realise she was talking out loud. Another brief flash of IHQ came across. ‘Please, I’m scared. Ms Watts?’
Raya realised the two women had become quiet. Raya turned and rose from her squatting position to see Hester and Grace huddled together. Grace clutched Hester’s arm. The fire flickered across Grace’s frightened and Hester’s smug faces.
Hester’s eyes narrowed and her voice was low and steady. ‘Calling more of your familiars, are you? A wee thing like you and one familiar is not enough?’ She turned towards Grace. ‘Master Hopkins will be well pleased with this.’ She turned back to Raya. ‘Stand up, you evil creature.’
‘Now walk!’ Hester commanded.
‘Walk? Walk where?’ Raya said.
Hester waved her arm across the room. ‘Across the room, around the room, back and forth, however we say. Now move!’ Hester snarled.
Raya walked and w
alked. ‘Can’t I sit down for a minute, please?’ she asked from time to time, which only got her shoved, kicked, or prodded to keep her moving. She was exhausted, frightened and parched. Hunger came in waves. Her stomach growled, tied itself in empty knots.
‘Did you lay down with the Devil? What form did he take? A handsome lad? A goat? What other witches do you know?’ Hester peppered her with questions.
As much as she tried not to, there were moments when Raya whimpered, cried or pleaded. ‘Please, miss, can I have something to eat? A bit of bread?’
Grace slapped her on the cheek, ‘Stop your begging, you’re making this hard on us,’ Grace said. They did allow her the occasional sip of water.
After a while, Hester and Grace’s chatter and insults blurred into white noise. Another feeling brewed – anger.
She was angry at Matthew Hopkins. What an arrogant hypocrite – a witch gone monumentally bad himself. Angry at these ridiculous women Watchers. How could they believe all this rubbish? There was another, larger feeling growing in her like a snowball rolling into an avalanche – sadness. She missed Pavel, Emma and Ian, the aromas of the cafe, the jingle of the bell on the door. She laughed as she remembered some of her joking around with Jake. She felt wistful remembering working with Bryony and Pavel trying to find Jake.
‘Rachel, Rachel Hollingsworth. Do you hear me?’ It was Ms Watts. She snapped into focus in Raya’s head. She was surprised at getting a transmission without even touching Oscar’s paws.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ms Watts. Were you trying to reach me?’ Raya blinked out of her melancholy musings.
‘Don’t worry. We know what you’re going through. You’ve been transmitting quite well. Your skills are coming along. You don’t even need contact with the microchipped cat any more. Well done.’ Ms Watts smiled – a real one, then went back to her game face.
‘Ms Watts, I’m frightened.’ Raya didn’t realise she was talking out loud.
‘Anyone would be. Hang tight. We’re about to send Bryony back to you.’
‘Thank you, thank you all so much,’ Raya said, but the transmission broke. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Who is she talking to?’ Grace said to Hester, she sounded genuinely scared.
‘She sounds desperate,’ Hester said as she spat on the floor. ‘Good, she should be. We got her now.’ Hester poked Raya in the leg with the toe of her shoe. ‘Keep moving, you disgusting creature, no rest for the wicked.’
* * *
The dawn broke with a mocking glare through the bare windows. Raya squinted and tried to shield her eyes with her arm, but Hester slapped it away then pointed to the middle of the floor.
‘Ha. I knew more familiars would come,’ Hester said then stepped away from Raya and stared at a spot on the floor. Raya and Grace joined her to see what it was – a spider.
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, it is just a spider,’ Raya said.
Hester got close to Raya’s face. Her breath was vile. ‘I’m no fool. That is not a natural spider; it’s a minion of Satan! Is this the one you call “Ms Watts”?’
Grace kept a safe distance and said, ‘It must be. I saw it come in under the door when this witch–’
‘My name is Rachel,’ Raya snapped. ‘And don’t be ridiculous. What the heck does a spider have to do with anything?’ Raya said and stomped on it. ‘There, no more spider – satisfied?’
The two women shrieked. ‘You killed your own familiar! What sort of demon are you?’ Hester rubbed her hands together. ‘Oh, Master Hopkins will be well pleased. Grace, pick up that poor dead creature and put it in an empty glass. I will delight in watching you hang!’
Two sharp raps at the door were followed by Matthew Hopkins striding in before anyone answered. He had on the same getup as before – ridiculous cape, feathered hat, and shiny boots – but this time he was also holding a staff and had a greyhound at his side. Oscar gave a low growl.
‘My good Watcher Women, what did you find?’ he sang out. Hester minced up to Hopkins, batted her eyes.
‘Oh, Master Hopkins, you will be well pleased. We proved this wretch a witch through and through,’ Hester said.
Grace flounced up to them. ‘We found an extra teat where she suckles that familiar she calls Oscar.’
‘And we heard her calling other familiars – three of them, Ms Watts, Pavel and Bryony,’ Hester said.
‘Yes, and one of these imps came. The one she called “Ms Watts” – a spider, but like no spider I’ve ever seen before,’ Hester said in hushed, reverent tones.
Raya gathered Oscar in her arms and edged towards the door.
‘Its eyes were like a human’s. Grace and I could feel it staring at us,’ Hester added.
‘Yes, sir. This is God’s truth. This was not a natural spider. And what’s more, she killed it without a moment’s hesitation,’ Grace said.
Hester nodded sagely. ‘Yes, that’s the truth. Killed her very own familiar!’
Raya took a few more steps towards the door.
Hopkins’s arm came up like the barrier at a tollbooth. ‘Don’t think you can outsmart me, you wretch.’ Raya tried to push past him, but that human watchdog, the one who had brought her in, appeared. He snatched her up while Hopkins’s greyhound went wild, jumping towards Oscar. The brute carried her to the cart waiting in front of the cottage.
‘You scum!’ Raya screamed. She loathed Hopkins as she’d never hated anyone before. He was despicable.
He stood akimbo in the doorway, Grace and Hester by his sides. His cape fluttered, he tossed back his hair. A sneer crawled across his lips. How can this egotistical, complete idiot have so much power? She strained and twisted to get free. She thought if she did, she’d go back and literally scratch his eyes out.
* * *
‘Hey. Hey! Where are we going?’ she said as they bumped back over the country road away from the cottage. But Watchdog Man looked away without answering. She crouched with Oscar still in her arms. The chill of the morning lifted to a bright, warm July day. Farmers drove carts of goods, others led sheep to graze. It was a bucolic scene that belied the rot underneath.
Oscar started purring. She looked down to see that the lone black stripe down his back had shrunk to a faint line of dots. Then she remembered someone once told her that cats don’t only purr when they’re content and happy. Sometimes they purr when they’re very, very ill.
‘Oh, Oscar.’ She buried her face in his fur. It seemed like everything she did lately hurt those around her.
Soon there were more houses and shops and the streets became cobbled. She recognized things they’d passed on their way out. The driver pulled up the horse and cart at the east gate of the Colchester city wall, the same one she’d tumbled down a few days ago. He waited until there was a sufficient break in what Raya had already come to think of as normal traffic – people, horses with and without carts, and strings of sheep. The driver gave a cluck of his tongue and shake of the reins and the cart jolted forward. People stared and pointed.
Raya felt ashamed even though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Some people threw things or spat at her. Watchdog Man told them off and brushed them away. The cart continued until they reached another wall she hadn’t seen before. Watchdog Man spoke to a man at the gate then drove through.
Beyond the gate was a cluster of small buildings in front of a massive, rundown stone castle. There was a canal between the village and castle with a wooden bridge connecting the two. People bustled to and fro, carrying bread, sacks of grain or flour, and pails of water. The wooden slats on the bridge clacked in rhythm as the cart crossed. The moat stank like a fetid swamp and open sewer. At the end of the bridge was a huge stone archway, like the gaping, toothless mouth of an ailing monster. The hairs on her neck stood up. Oscar stopped purring.
The driver pulled up at the arch. Watchdog jumped out and walked into the darkness. He returned and untied the rope around Raya’s torso, but left her ankles tied together. He carried her into the arch, holding
her in his arms like a child. Oscar burrowed his head into her.
Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw a large, rough man. He looked worse than Watchdog Man – he looked mean.
‘Mr Hoy, this is the prisoner.’
‘Aye, that Mr Hopkins ridding the world of evil, eh?’ Hoy arched an eyebrow at Watchdog. ‘Well I am not going to carry the witch like you are. Put her down – let her walk,’ Hoy said.
Watchdog put Raya down and cut the rope. Hoy grabbed her upper arm and dragged her.
‘I can walk,’ Raya snapped.
Hoy looked at Watchdog. ‘Another troublemaker, eh?’
Watchdog looked uncomfortable. ‘A mere child is all. Says she’s Dutch, but she doesn’t sound like it to me. I don’t know why she’s done this to herself. I’m told she cut her own hair off.’ He shook his head. ‘And hiding as a boy in those odd clothes.’
Watchdog glanced behind him across the bridge before turning back to Hoy and Raya. ‘My job is done,’ he said and hurried off.
Hoy held Raya until Watchdog and the cart pulled away. Then he slapped her hard in the face with the back of his hand.
‘That will be the last time you speak to me unless I speak to you first. Got it?’ Hoy crouched down at Raya’s feet. Before she realised what was happening, he was clamping leg irons around her ankles. Raya was gobsmacked.
‘What the hell’s going on here?’ came out of her mouth, which earned her another slap. He shoved her forward. She struggled to keep Oscar hidden.
‘Oy, what have you got there?’ Hoy said and prized open her arms. Oscar batted his eyes up at Hoy, then meowed.
‘Ach. A miserable cat. Well, he’ll have plenty to eat here.’ Hoy’s laughter echoed down the stone passageway. He knocked Oscar out of her arms and clamped irons on her wrists as well.
Raya stared beyond Hoy into the cavernous dark ahead. Oscar made his way along, staying in the shadows.
Hoy grabbed a lantern from a niche in the wall and hurried Raya forward with regular prods and shoves. It was hard to walk in the shackles.
