An Arrogant Witch

by E M Graham

  With that he spun around and faced me, the candle lighting his face from below. He loomed over me as I sat.

  ‘Do you know how difficult it is to kill an elf?’

  I shook my head numbly. I had largely skipped over the elf bits in Lord of the Rings. As I said before, the songs bored me tremendously.

  ‘They can be wounded if pierced through the heart, in battle,’ he said. ‘Or, they can die of grief.’

  The meaning of his words slowly sank in.

  ‘But, you sent him into a grief spin, remembering his sad childhood,’ I whispered. ‘You mean he could die of this?

  Willem nodded briskly. ‘Yes, so time is of the essence.’ He laughed, a horrible sneering laugh, and sounded quite pleased with himself.

  ‘But why, Willem? Why are you doing this to Brin?’

  ‘I’m not doing it to Brin, dear Dara,’ he said. ‘Brin is inconsequential to me. I don’t care if he goes back home, stays here, or cries himself to death.’

  He smiled at me. ‘It was the easiest way to ensure your cooperation.’

  Willem pulled up the chair next to me. ‘Now, I’ll just tell you what I need from you,’ he said briskly. ‘And then maybe we can dislodge this spell from your friend.’

  I listened numbly to what he told me, my heart sinking further and further with every word. Finally I nodded.

  ‘Do you promise on your word, for what it’s worth, to let Brin go?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, as if surprised. ‘I told you, I have no need for him.

  ‘And,’ he added as he patted my knee. ‘You shouldn’t worry about the whole ‘dying of grief’ thing. I’m sure that won’t really happen. Besides, he only drank a swallow or two. He’ll be recovering from his woes soon enough.’

  He got up and stretched as if working out a particularly hard knot from his shoulders. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘He can’t move from this spot till I allow him to. This has upped the stakes quite a bit, wouldn’t you say?’

  15

  WILLEM TOLD ME HIS PLANS for the following night, plans in which I figured largely, if unwillingly.

  The Witch Kin Ball, that exclusive display of the wealth and privilege of the witches, this year it was to be held at the old Colonial Building. Recently renovated to a finer state than it had been for decades, this once-forgotten stone symbol of British Colonialism had been left to rot after the province joined forces with Canada and the first premier created his own phallic monument of brick standing high over the city. The original seat of government was used to house the archives of the province and forgotten art works and other things of little importance in the dawning age of oil found in the Grand Banks offshore.

  The building had been rescued at the last moment, however, and returned to a standard of perfection it hadn’t seen for years, even the paintings on the ceilings had been cleaned and retouched, and it was all freshly glowing and ready to be opened to the public.

  But, not quite yet, for the Witch Kin had claimed the right to hold the inaugural event here, and it was to be the exclusive do which kicked off the Christmas season for those in power. Of course it was an invitation only event. Even the catering staff and musicians had to be rigorously vetted before they were allowed in.

  Willem had a chip on his shoulder about the Witch Kin, a boulder in fact as big as Signal Hill. I had seen his reaction to Cate at the craft fair, the loathing in his tense shoulders, and the deportation order from my father must have been the last straw which pushed him to the brink of madness. It was with great glee that he told me he would be interrupting the ball and ruining their night.

  ‘You can’t get in there,’ I told him, still stunned with the realization of how I had let him ensnare Brin. ‘The security at that place, they won’t let you get past the door.’

  ‘I don’t need to get inside,’ he said. ‘Not for what I’m planning. In fact, nobody will be crossing that gate while I’m wreaking my havoc.’

  ‘And how can I help you? Why do you insist you need me?’

  ‘It’s nothing you’ve not already done,’ he replied, a greasy smile breaking over his face. ‘Just like this evening, you will allow me access to your power.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said as I clamped down on the shiver that threatened to take over. ‘What’s the point of all this that you’re doing? How are you gaining here? I can understand the coven – you want their money – their gold and silver and jewels. But why bother with the Kin? You’ll only piss them off and they’ll still run you out of town, if not worse.’

  ‘No one will be running me out of town,’ he replied haughtily. ‘I’ll leave under my own volition. The point of it all is that they will know my name then, and they will not be laughing. The Kin think I’m nothing but a failed sorcerer... and they will see their mistake. I will undo their own work! They will know the extent of my power, and that, my dearest sweet Dara, that is my sole purpose.’

  What could this one small man possibly do, outside the Ball, to harm and bother the Kin? The Colonial Building would be packed to the rafters with powerful witches. He was a single sorcerer who never graduated, who needed even my untutored skills in magic to help him cast his spells.

  But if he was able to do serious damage.... I realized the implications of his plans. Christ. My little forays into Alt and inadvertently bringing an elf back were nothing in comparison to this. He was going to actively cause havoc at the Witch Kin Ball, and only because he was so pissed at them for not allowing him to join, for rejecting him. It was an act of pure spiteful insanity. Worse, if my part in this was found out, even though I could argue I had been forced to help him, I would lose all my dreams for the future so quickly I probably wouldn’t even remember that I was ever magic.

  I had a choice of course. I could simply say no, and in doing so lose any chance of getting the medallion which was the only clue to my Mom’s disappearance. Brin would be left in God only knew what hell hole Willem had forced him into, and Alice would never again know her true happiness.

  But that deep place within me where he’d left his mark like an infected bite, that dark little corner of my mind where he’d left his foul touch, it wanted more, it wanted nothing more than to peel off the scab and see the pus ooze, probe it deeper and relieve the itch.

  I told myself my actions were done out of nobility, out of a desire to see my friends’ happiness.

  HUGH HAD ACCUSED ME of arrogance. Maybe he was right, maybe I was more arrogant than an unread half-blood witch had any right to be, but that arrogance helped me quickly work through my despair so that all I was conscious of was a deep and thorough anger.

  And now I should tell Alice that Brin had returned to Alt. It wouldn’t be a lie, for in his head he had returned home, or so Willem said. And the elf would be going soon enough, right after I helped with the final plans tomorrow night. Willem would get his revenge on my father and his Kin, this harmless prank he was playing. Then he’d send the elf back where he belonged, I’d get my medallion and pack my bags for Scotland. I could only pray that my part in Willem’s doings would not come to light.

  On the other hand, Alice could help me, and would, if she knew the truth. Oh sure, she’d be plenty pissed at me for allowing Willem to enchant the new found love of her life, so much so that our friendship might never recover. We went back a long way, me and Alice, right from grade school when we were both two little weirdos no one else wanted to play with. She had never cared about the stuff the other kids thought was so important, like money and who your folks were. Hey, she was the great-granddaughter of Nan Hoskins, the terror of Southside Road, so she had no room to be snobby, did she?

  But if I didn’t tell her the truth, well what kind of friendship was that? I would always know what I had done, and not being able to tell her would place a barrier between us.

  The band was still on their second set - how little time had passed since I’d brought Brin up to the store. It felt as if a day and a night had passed, but it couldn’t have been more than
an hour.

  She was waiting by the bar, all hunched over on her stool like she wasn’t enjoying the music and couldn’t wait to leave. Her eyes brightened when she saw me, but strayed to the door behind me.

  ‘Where’s Brin?’ she asked immediately.

  ‘He’s...,’ I didn’t get to tell her because the band finished their set and the room was full of loud clapping and cheering and then Jack was at our side, all perspiring and happy and pumped with his group’s success. He gave me a hug and greeted my friend.

  I introduced the two of them, not mentioning the elf.

  Jack couldn’t wait to tell us his news.

  ‘We’re going to be playing at the Mummer’s Parade tomorrow night! At the bandstand in Bannerman Park, where it all wraps up,’ he said. ‘How cool is that, right? The guys who were booked had to drop out, so it’s pretty last minute, but whatever!’

  The Mummer’s Parade. That glorious celebration of make believe for Normals, where they dressed up in costumes and pretended to be mean and scary, but meanwhile everyone knew it was just for fun. And no one would suspect that any real wrong doing was to occur.

  I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but deep within me I knew it couldn’t just be a harmless display of the sorcerer’s power to the witches, despite Willem’s assurances.

  ‘Where’s Brin?’ Alice interrupted Jack and was almost beside herself now as she shook my shoulder. I had to look her in the face, and she knew me well enough to see the truth there.

  ‘What did you do with him?’ she shouted over the noise of the crowd. ‘Dara, is he in danger? Did you trick him into going back to that place?’

  I sent an apologetic look at Jack and dragged Alice out of the bar.

  She was almost in hysterics by this time. ‘I know something’s wrong with him, I can feel it,’ she said to me furiously.

  This might be the first time she ever admitted to having intuition or anything that wasn’t in fact based on scientific origin.

  ‘Okay, ‘I said to her at last. ‘Just calm down. He is in trouble, and it is my fault.’

  ‘I knew it! What did you do to him?’

  I glanced up above our heads to where Brin was sitting in the middle of the inlaid pentagram inside Zeta’s store. The side window was blank and covered with the heavy damask curtain still, with no hint of the evil it was hiding from prying eyes.

  ‘Is he up there?’ She made to run up the concrete stairs, but I grabbed her arm.

  ‘You can’t get in there,’ I said. ‘And yes, he is there and can’t get out. But he’s safe enough where he’s to.’ I hoped that Willem was telling the truth about the grief potion wearing off before it could stop the elf’s heart, before he simply pined away in anguish.

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He’s very sad, isn’t he?’

  ‘Alice,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing we can physically do for him at the moment. Like I said, he’s safe enough, and nothing can touch him. But...’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Maybe you can send him love,’ I said wretchedly. I was really grasping at straws here. ‘Love and hope and knowing that the two of you have found each other, and you can be happy again in the future.’

  Hope. That might be the only thing that would save the elf’s life. If she could somehow convey that to him and keep him strong, well, that was one less thing I had to worry about. And I knew for certain at that moment that I wouldn’t be sending Brin back to Alt, back to that cold and loveless land where he’d been rejected all his life.

  She stood on the stairway and stared up at the window, and began humming a tune. I recognized it as one of Brin’s own that he had cast for the crowd last night.

  I felt a movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned to find Jack standing in the doorway staring at us, his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.

  ‘What’s going on?’ His voice was quiet against the buzz of the crowd inside.

  I left Alice and walked over to him. ‘I don’t know where to begin,’ I said, keeping my voice low. ‘And I don’t think you’d understand.’

  A look of accusation had crept into his eye. He had just watched me devastate my best friend in the world. While he didn’t understand what was going on, still he had every right to be suspicious of me and not want anything to do with me.

  ‘Whatever, Dara,’ he replied. He made to turn away, but hesitated, giving me one last chance. ‘You going to the parade tomorrow night?’

  The parade. Oh, yes I would be there, an unwilling accomplice to Willem, but yes, I would be there. I nodded.

  I could see a reluctant hope flare in his eyes again. ‘Catch you later, then.’

  There was one thing I could have done for Alice, and that was to unlock the door to Zeta’s store to allow her in to sit vigil with Brin. That lock was an easy one, for Zeta had no magic to cast on it and Willem had never bothered. I also knew Willem would have come up with some excuse for Zeta not to enter her own store, and that she would go along with him, lovesick fool that she was.

  But I couldn’t do it, couldn’t allow her to sit with him overnight, for it would only torture her more. Instead, she called up her brother Benjy to come pick her up, and she left without a word, not even offering me a lift home.

  My thoughts did stray again to the idea of going into the cellar and switch to Alt and look for Mom’s medallion, but I quickly realized the foolhardiness of that plan. Willem would find out, and then he’d never release Brin from enchantment. I couldn’t risk it – I’d just have to pretend to go along with the sorcerer.

  WHEN I WENT BACK in the bar to pick up my bag, Jack was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t bother trying to get him through phone or text; instead I made my slow way up the west end of Water Street by myself, past the stumbling drunks on their way to George Street, past the homeless drifters looking for a bed to stay at the hostels and decrepit boarding houses in the neighbourhood.

  I paused under the overpass, looking across the road to where Brin’s humble cottage was located in that other realm, Alt, now just a sea of concrete and iron link fences, and the reality of my situation burst upon me. As I headed up the long dark driveway to my home the tears ran cold down my cheeks, almost freezing in the north wind.

  Edna and Mark were still up, and the kitchen was alight with their laughter. I brushed aside the wet from under my eyes before coming through the back porch to join them.

  ‘Mummer’s Parade tomorrow night!’ Edna sang as she saw me. ‘Are you excited?’

  She held up a baggy pair of woolen trousers from the last century. An ancient steamer trunk lay open before her.

  ‘Mark lugged this down from the attic for me,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten about all of Dad’s old clothes. Perfect for costumes! Whadda’ya say, think these’ll fit me with a pillow stuffed down the front? I even have the matching suspenders.’

  Mark just sat at the table with his coffee mug in front of him, grinning like a fool at her childlike anticipation of the seasonal celebrations.

  ‘And look, Aunt Sadie’s house dresses,’ Edna was truly in her glee. ‘She was a big woman, Mark. I think I’ve found what you’re going to wear!’

  ‘Oh, no,’ he laughed. ‘Sorry to burst your bubble, but I won’t be dressing up tomorrow night.’

  She turned a mock frown towards him, blue eyes peering from behind her brown curls.

  ‘I’m on duty,’ he explained. ‘I’ll be at the parade, but not in costume. We’ve been seconded to the RNC for the night.’

  ‘Why the big police presence?’ she asked. ‘Sure, it’s only a bit of fun, the Mummer’s Parade.’

  ‘Technically, mummering is still illegal, at least in some parts of the island,’ he noted. ‘But there’s also a big gala happening at the same time in the old Archives Building. A costume ball for the high and mighties of town.’

  ‘A masquerade?’ Edna slowly lowered the tatty old trousers in her hands, her eyes softening. ‘You mean, like with big fancy-dress and feathered
masks?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘They’re celebrating the opening of the building, all the renovations finally finished done and over with, even the little glass tower atop which hadn’t made it into the original building because of budget over-runs. It’ll be a slap-up affair.’

  ‘Can anyone go?’ She dropped the pants and rooted through the trunk, finally pulling out an old silk ball gown of her mother’s. It was the colour of autumn leaves, the golden satin all shimmery and shot with russets and ochre. Edna shook it out and stood with the dress held against her body, her face shining. ‘This would be perfect.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Mark said, shaking his head. ‘Invitation only, I’m afraid. We won’t even be inside, just on the periphery outside, to ensure it remains private.’

  He harrumphed, and continued. ‘I don’t necessarily agree with using publicly funded police resources on a private function, but then again I’m not in charge, am I?’

  I remained silent throughout their discussion, my heart rising with hope at Mark’s news. If the police were going to have such a large presence at Bannerman Park and its environs tomorrow night, then surely Willem wouldn’t be able to get up to much mischief, would he?

  Would he?

  ‘Well, I don’t want to go to their stupid hoighty-toighty ball anyway,’ Edna said as the silk fell back into the trunk with a rustle. ‘I’ll stay with the proletariat on the sidelines, and we’ll make our own fun, won’t we, Dara?’

  I wouldn’t call my plans fun, but I smiled at her weakly anyway.

  ‘Oh Dara, I almost forgot,’ Edna said. ‘Speaking of the upper classes, Hugh is trying to reach you. He phoned twice tonight on the landline.’

  ‘He didn’t try my cell?’

  ‘Said he did, but it was cutting right into voice mail,’ she said, fishing out the pants and suspenders out of the trunk again. ‘Not like you not to have your phone on.’

  I shrugged, but she didn’t see it. ‘Did he say what he wanted? Or was he just sending me a long-distance nagging to remind me to get on to the books he wants me to read?’