by Cari Thomas
Anna walked in and screamed. Someone was standing beside her.
‘What is it?’ Attis appeared by her side.
Anna realized with embarrassment that it wasn’t a person – it was a mannequin.
‘Nothing.’ She breathed out. ‘Just these.’ There were five old sewing mannequins lined up against the wall – armless, with neat, hourglass figures and wooden knobs for heads. Attis picked out a dressmaker’s pin threaded through one; another still wore drapings of material. It was as if they had been waiting all this time for their pupils to return, their dresses to be finished.
Rowan stared at the mannequins. ‘You have to be kidding me.’
Effie laughed unapologetically. ‘Coming in?’ she said to Miranda in the doorway. ‘Either that or you can wait out there by yourself.’
Miranda made a whimpering noise and stepped inside, eyeing the mannequins apprehensively. ‘They’re terrifying.’ Her voice was full of disbelief, obviously wondering how she’d wound up here, among broken desks and old sewing dummies, with these people. Anna was wondering the same thing. She could feel the mannequins behind her, each one of them wearing Aunt’s murderous face.
Effie swirled into the centre, laughing. ‘Attis, clear a space.’ He leapt into action, dragging desks to the sides. Effie placed a series of candles in a circle and, as she muttered under her breath, a flame burst from each of them. Anna wished she could perform a spell so simple. It changed the room, dissipating the gloom, bringing the walls to life with flickering light and turning the mannequins to silhouettes as if they were an audience watching on.
‘Come on, sit down,’ Effie urged.
Anna took a seat around the edge of the circle of light.
‘I thought we weren’t going to do any spells,’ said Miranda warily.
‘We’re not really,’ Effie replied. ‘This is just a little magic compatibility test to see if we can work together as a group.’
‘That sounds like magic to me.’
‘Look, if magic was sex, think of this as foreplay. We’re not going the whole way. Not tonight.’ Effie raised a salacious eyebrow. Miranda looked more disgusted than ever.
Effie surveyed the room. ‘Attis, bring that sewing machine into the centre.’
The machine was old and cumbersome but he carried it effortlessly to the centre. There was a power lead trailing from it which tapered into frayed wires and its needle mechanism was brown-red with rust.
‘Does everyone know the basics of spell casting?’ Effie asked.
Rowan nodded. Anna wasn’t sure what to say. She only knew what Aunt had allowed her to know.
‘No,’ snapped Miranda. ‘How would I?’
‘Why don’t you spell it out for us?’ Rowan grinned. ‘Get it?’
Effie groaned. ‘Right. To cast you need three things. Magic, a language and Hira. Magic lives over here.’ She held up one hand. ‘And the physical world lives over here.’ She held up the other. ‘They don’t speak the same language. Witches are the translators in the middle. We have to give magic a language to speak so it can transfer its energy to the physical world. We can’t just provide a language though, we have to give it meaning, belief. That’s where Hira comes in. It’s the force within yourself that imbues the language with power.’
‘What do you mean by language?’ Miranda asked.
Effie bit her lip hungrily. ‘There are many types of magical language – candle magic, for example.’ She pointed to the candles. ‘Or words, or song, or herbs and potions, or dancing, or the light of the moon, or the click of your fingers, or wands, or brooms, metal, crystals, trees, runes, circles and seals, blowing the seeds of a dandelion head or spirits from the land of the dead, or rituals which combine many languages into one. You choose.’
Miranda’s cherub mouth formed an O shape.
‘My family use living plants to cast our spells. It’s been my language since I can remember,’ said Rowan. ‘What about you, Anna?’
Anna floundered. ‘My aunt, she – um – uses mostly cords, knots …’
‘Knot magic. That’s hard.’ Rowan nodded.
‘How can I know what language I’m meant to be if no one in my family is a witch?’ said Miranda.
‘You don’t necessarily follow your family,’ said Rowan. ‘Like, my cousin Tansy’s family all work with shrub magic but then Tansy decided she wanted to focus on hedges. Big things can happen.’
‘You don’t choose a language either,’ said Effie, foot tapping up and down. ‘A language chooses you. Some witches know from seven – when their magic first comes in – but mostly it’s around sixteen when our powers come to fruition; you’ll start to feel drawn to a particular language. It’s not like you can’t use all the other languages out there, just that you’ll excel at one.’
‘I’d say connect,’ said Rowan. ‘You’ll connect to one. I’m unlikely to excel at anything.’
Anna couldn’t imagine any kind of choice. The Binders and their knots was the only path that had ever been open to her – all other doors were tightly locked. ‘Do you know what your language is?’ she asked Effie.
‘Not yet.’ She appeared irritated by the question. ‘I’m not limiting myself right now. I’m tasting it all.’
‘And what’s Hira?’ said Miranda.
‘It’s a force. Your force,’ Effie replied. ‘It sharpens the language of a spell like a whetstone sharpens a knife.’
‘It’s like fire,’ said Attis, his voice undulant. ‘If your casting language is wood then your Hira is the fire that makes it burn, that turns its fuel to sparks, to spells.’
‘I always think it’s like earth,’ said Rowan, spreading her hands along the floor. ‘Your Hira is the soil within you, helping the roots and stems and flowers of your magic to grow.’
My Hira is twine and thorn.
‘Sounds stupid,’ said Miranda.
‘Just roll with it.’ Effie smiled without warmth. ‘Let’s see if we can get this sewing machine to run.’
‘What do you propose?’ Rowan asked.
‘We hold hands, focus on the machine and chant. Keep it simple – see if the magic flows.’
She put her hand out. Anna took it and then Attis’s. She’d never held a man’s hand before. His was warm – burning, in fact. She was sure her own hands were clammy. She could feel her blood pulsing through them as her heart pounded in anticipation of the spell. What if I can’t? What if I ruin it?
But Effie had begun:
‘Path of needles or path of pins.
Thread our magic, let us in.
Sew us a spell, so may it spin.’
Her voice sank lower as she chanted, every word distinct as if each one might contain the power they needed. Rowan joined in, Anna followed and Miranda began to whisper along. They repeated it over and over, voices out of sync, different rhythms, different pitches. Anna couldn’t imagine the needle pulling itself free from the rust and breaking the stale silence of the room. She tried to focus, to strengthen her own voice – but she couldn’t feel anything.
‘Path of needles or path of pins.
Thread our magic, let us in.
Sew us a spell, so may it spin.’
Slowly their voices found alignment and joined in quiet unison. They repeated the words until they seemed to lose meaning, or take on a different kind of significance, deepening. The darkness pressed in around them. The candles flickered. Something began to change though Anna could not pinpoint what. A shift in the air – in the feeling of the air. She began to feel something within herself, like an ache or an urge, like sinking into something half remembered …
Ticker. Ticker. Ticker.
The machine began to jump with a high electronic hum; the needle stabbing up and down, up and down, shrieking with rust, piercing the silence.
Ticker. Ticker. Ticker.
Anna looked again at the frayed wire. There was no electricity.
‘This is so creepy!’ cried Miranda, pulling her hand away and breaking the circle.
Ticker. Ticker. Ticker.
Effie smiled, satisfied as a cat with a bowl of cream. She let go of the circle. The machine began to slow down and the silence took hold again.
‘I guess we’ve got the mojo,’ said Rowan.
Anna let go of Attis’s hand, but could still feel the heat of it. He smiled at her and then handed her a tissue. ‘Your nose is bleeding,’ he said. Anna took it, trying her best to look indifferent about the magic they had just performed, but inside she was jumping up and down as fast as the needle. I didn’t ruin the spell! There’s hope for me yet! And she’d felt something. Something like magic. She couldn’t explain what that feeling had been, only that there had been one.
‘I knew we would.’ Effie looked to Attis triumphantly. She turned to the rest of them. ‘Do you see now? Magic is in our souls. Do you hear them? Longing to be free?’
Miranda had drawn her legs up and crossed her arms over them. Her face shone hot with the energy of the spell. ‘I don’t want to be a witch,’ she said quietly.
‘Why not?’ said Effie, jumping to her feet. ‘Why would you want to be like other people? I hate other people. We belong to legend, to fairy tale and storybook, to the blood-red paintings on cave walls. Witches, sorceresses and enchantresses, the strega, the vala, the banshee women, fairy godmothers or wizened hags in the dark of the woods. Sacred. Sinners. Wonders. Wicked. Virgins. Whores. Call us what you will. It’s our duty to bring magic into this world.’
Anna was used to hearing the word duty, only when Aunt said it the word had the lash of a whip about it, a way to control and restrain. Effie’s version was an unlocking, filled with a feverish freedom.
‘Together, with our magic intertwined, our spells can become more powerful than anything we could have imagined. Think of the possibilities …’ She looked up at the swirls of dust in the air. ‘We can change the status quo of this dead-end school. We can right the injustices of this world. We can transform our lives. Nothing will ever be the same. Do you want to change your lives?’
She looked down at them and currents of magic seemed to flow from her eyes. Anna didn’t know what to say. Yes! Yes I want to change my life!
Miranda looked lost for words. ‘But – but – how do I know I’m not committing evil? It goes against everything I’ve been taught.’
Effie snorted. ‘Everything you’ve been taught was stolen from us in the first place.’
‘I think what Effie means to say’ – Attis spoke gently – ‘is that perhaps magic and religion have the same roots. Can they not at least coexist? Are prayers not a kind of spell?’
‘To be fair, Jesus turned water into wine. Hello? Wizard for sure,’ Rowan joked and then realized she wasn’t helping. ‘Manda, magic isn’t evil.’ She reached out and put a hand on her knee. ‘It’s only as good or as bad as the witch who casts it.’
Miranda breathed out as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. ‘But – but – if I start being seen around with you, what will people say?’
‘That’s what’s really worrying you, isn’t it?’ Effie smirked. ‘Your reputation.’
‘It’s a clean reputation.’
‘Clean or boring?’
‘I’m a library monitor. I run clubs. Teachers like me.’
Effie pretended to fall asleep.
‘People will talk. Darcey will make my life hell.’
‘But you’re already set for hell, Manda, remember?’ Effie winked. ‘You’re a witch now; may as well enjoy the fall.’
‘My name is Miranda, people! And you really think that’s going to convince me?’ she cried.
‘How about this? You join me and we’ll take down Darcey for good? It’s about time someone did.’
Miranda shook her head as if the idea was beneath her, but Anna was surprised to hear her relent. ‘Fine! I’ll join your coven, for now. If anything it will be a true test of my faith. However, if you try to steal my soul – I’m out.’
‘Darling, I have my own soul.’ Effie laughed, sounding exactly like Selene.
‘I’m in,’ said Rowan. ‘I have no reputation to maintain. Maybe if I’m seen around with you, people will forget how unpopular I am – and that story about the time I forgot to wear a bra on sports day.’
They all turned to look at Anna.
She shrank from their gaze. ‘I can’t.’
‘What?’ said Effie.
Anna had decided after the spell, with the sensation of magic fading from her body. It had felt too good. If she gave into it – Aunt would know. There was no way of hiding it. In less than a year she was due to become a Binder; she couldn’t join a coven now – it was unthinkable.
‘Scared of Darcey too?’ Effie spat. Anna noticed that her eyes went very still when she was annoyed.
‘I don’t care about school rumours,’ Anna replied. ‘It’s bigger rumours I’m concerned about. Like you said – we’re different. We don’t belong. People will notice. We can’t risk our magic becoming exposed.’
‘I’m not suggesting we go around firing spells in cowans’ faces,’ said Effie. ‘But we can’t not be witches. It’s what we are.’
‘But what about …’ Anna felt her heart beat faster. The others leant towards her expectantly.
‘What?’
‘The Ones Who Know Our Secrets,’ she whispered.
‘The ones who what?’
The Binders rarely referred directly to them. Anna swallowed her fear and said it. ‘The Hunters.’
Effie, Attis and Rowan stared at her for a moment then burst into laughter.
‘The Hunters!’ Effie guffawed. ‘If you mean the Hunters, they don’t exist. And besides, witches haven’t been hunted for centuries. That’s like worrying someone with a cold has the plague.’
‘Effie’s right,’ said Rowan more sympathetically. ‘The Dark Times have long gone. We don’t live in that world any more. I mean, back then people believed in magic and feared the Devil. Now no one believes in anything and the only thing people fear is, you know, terrorism, or global warming, or a picture of their face becoming a meme.’
Anna could hear nothing but their laughter. She knew the Binders were mad, but still, she’d always presumed there was some basis to their insanity. She thought about bringing up the news story – the Faceless Women – but she didn’t want to be laughed at again.
‘Even so, my aunt would kill me.’
‘Are you not sixteen?’ Effie rebuked. ‘Should you not be in charge of your own life by now?’
‘Easy for you to say. Selene’s your mother, she’s the best—’
‘You don’t know anything,’ said Effie sharply, her breath making the candle flame flicker in Anna’s direction. She composed her features and laughed. ‘I’ve met your aunt – she was positively psychopathic – but are you going to let her control you? It’s ridiculous. I’ve been doing magic since my seventh year and no cowan has ever batted an eyelid. They don’t see it. If I hovered in front of the whole school and unleashed bats from every orifice I doubt they’d look up from their phones long enough to notice.’
‘Why would you do that?’ said Miranda, aghast.
‘Anyway, no one will find out,’ said Effie. ‘We’ll meet here where we can’t be found. I’ll leave an apple in your locker in the morning if we’re going to meet that night so you all have time to call your parents, aunts, whatever, and come up with some excuse.’
Anna had wondered if Selene had told Effie about her aunt, about the Binders, but Effie’s casual disregard suggested not.
‘Come on, Anna.’ Effie smiled. ‘What are the chances of there being so many witches in the same year? It’s extremely rare. We’re meant to be – we’re fated.’
Fate, an enchanted apple and a lot of careful manipulation, Anna reflected sceptically.
‘What’s your choice going to be?’
That word again. Choice. It was strange how easily other people used it. Anna had never really considered if she had a choice; choice was simply not a
consideration. If she continued to play the part of the diligent niece, she’d have to become a Binder. If she joined the coven and was caught, she’d still have to become a Binder; there’d just be more pain and punishment involved. She was doomed either way. Why not just do it then? One year of fun before it’s all over.
‘I’ll think about it, OK?’
Effie looked as if she was about to argue when Rowan interrupted. ‘And what’s his part in all this then?’ She made eyes at Attis, who was inspecting the needle mechanism on the sewing machine. He took a screwdriver out from inside his blazer. Anna wondered what else he had in his pockets.
‘I’m here to make sure you don’t get into too much trouble.’ He began to unscrew the side of the machine. ‘Or to get you into trouble. I forget.’ He shot them all a sideways grin.
‘Attis, will you stop taking that apart. He does this.’ Effie rolled her eyes. ‘Put it back. We’ve got five minutes before the teacher wakes up.’
He jumped to his feet and picked up the sewing machine as if it weighed no more than the needle itself.
They locked the door behind them, leaving the mannequins alone once more. Anna shivered as she thought of the sewing machine coming to life on its own again in the dark silence, feeding off the tendrils of magic left in the room. They made their way back into the normality of upper school. Where they had just been, what they had just done, quickly felt like a dream.
Miss Pinson was coming round as they hurried to their seats. Thoroughly disturbed by her second unexpected nap, she fled from the room.
‘Shall we get some food?’ Attis suggested.
‘Finally, someone talking sense.’ Rowan grabbed her bag. ‘There’s a noodle place on the way back to the train. Amazing veggie dumplings.’
‘I like you,’ said Attis, coming over and throwing an arm over her shoulder. ‘Take me to the dumplings.’
‘I love being in a coven.’
Effie turned to face them. ‘Next Friday is Halloween. Let’s meet then. Work it out. Coming?’
Miranda shook her head. ‘My mum is picking me up. She thinks I’m in an after-school study club.’