by E M Graham
The veil was lifting before my very eyes.
And just that quickly Mark was gone from my side, throwing himself into the melee, not even thinking of his own safety as he sought to bring order to the melee.
‘No, Mark...’ I whispered. He had no idea what he was getting in to. His solid normality would be no match against the magical creatures in the crowd.
I could see beyond the iron gates that the Witch Kin had been alerted to something happening beyond their noses. The bright dresses crowded to the windows, the witches jostling amongst themselves for a view of what was happening outside to the rabble in the park.
‘Come out and stop it! What’s wrong with you all?’ I screamed at them, but they couldn’t hear. They didn’t move from their windows, although I could see by their agitated silhouettes that they were worrying.
Willem remained at the gate, a blue electric power beginning to grow and leap between in his hands as his coven crowded around and swayed and chanted. A sudden wind tore through the treetops, high above all our heads, not touching anyone or stopping, an impotent gust.
I could hear Jack’s electronic band falter, their joyous Celtic grunge failing into minor notes amid the growing mayhem all around them. And still the Witch Kin did nothing, did not exit their stronghold to aid the crowd outside, whose screams of terror showed that the Alt world had fully burst upon them. What was going on with them, why didn’t the Kin stream out and put a stop to this evil, repair the veil between the worlds?
And Willem continued. I saw something glitter in his hand, a glass beaker. I recognized it as he pulled out the cork stopper put with his teeth, it held my power inside it, that which he had bottled those nights previously – it seemed like another century ago. Back when I was still arrogant enough to believe I could get the better of him. The blue light it held within was now pouring out and growing as it hit the open air, mixing with that lightning bolt which jumped from his hand, small billowing clouds of brilliant vapour all colours of the rainbow and it was spreading to the iron gate where it landed and clung, wrapping tendrils all around each post until that too was glowing as if electrified. Soon the entire gate was aglow, each cross post, the curlicues on top, even the lock which held the gate shut.
Iron was not impermeable to magic then, at least not to the sorcerer’s power. I realized then that the gate was now unopen-able - it mattered not if the Witch Kin escaped their stone prison for they would never be able to get out of the enclosed yard, not while Willem held the gate closed with his spell. Using my magic.
The screams from the crowd hardly even touched me now, for my ears could only hear the roaring of his chants like the lure of the ocean waves as they pounded the shore, unceasing and insistent. I found my feet moving slowly towards him now, as though they belonged to someone else, as if they weren’t mine at all.
That part of me which he had branded deep within was responding to the call of my own magic which he had unloosed, as if I was to reclaim it and share with him this triumph. I needed to go over and help Willem, to join with him and let him subjugate my will for this gloriousness. I’d never wanted anything so much in my life – the lure of education, Alice, Jack, all that was nothing besides the enchantment promised by Willem.
The bloodcurdling yells may have been coming from victims or the creatures of Alt in their newfound freedom of blood lust, I couldn’t tear my eyes away to look. Everywhere around me there was blood and pain but all my eyes saw was the glowing gate that held my magic, my power, a physical manifestation that showed the Witch Kin that I mattered, me a half-blood long since dismissed by my sister, my father and his wife.
Then Willem lifted his arms for the last time and chuckling now, met my eyes through the empty space. An unseen wind whipped all around the stone building, lifting the snow in a flurry to blind those within and further mark their defeat at his hands. He turned away, leaving his coven still chanting and entranced with their own imaginings. I watched as he slipped away down the tiny lane between houses which led to the back of the elementary school in real time, a dark shadow among the depths. Alt had taken a firm grip on the neighbourhood by now, and the respectable houses I knew had become shanties and lean-tos in a maze of alleys, and Willem strode into the deep shadows.
‘Wait,’ I whispered at his disappearing back, for he was taking a part of me with him.
But then finally the Kin burst open the grand doors of the ballroom and poured down the stairs, but far too late to stem the damage. The veil was almost fully lifted between the two worlds here at the epicenter of the sorcerer’s spells, and they could only stare at the wreckage of their work. The iron gates still blazed blue-white light daylight, and the Kin were locked inside the prison of their own arrogance. Even my father stood helpless in front of the gate, unmindful of the snow whipping his tuxedo.
My father. Helpless as he watched the terror unleased by Willem and myself. Jon de Teilhard, the most powerful man I knew, he could do nothing. I should have felt triumph over him for all the slights dealt to me by him and his family over the years. Instead, I felt empty.
But not he was not helpless for long. Dad pulled himself together, calling out to his wife and the others. He had seen beyond the gate, and understood immediately that the veil between worlds had been torn asunder. I couldn’t see what they did to work against the carnage, for this magic of witches was invisible, their attempt to rip apart the worlds again, but the wind rose again with a terrible moan and I could almost feel a shift in the air. Almost, but not quite.
In the midst of this, his eyes lifted and caught sight of me in the light of the gaslight streetlamps, and I knew I would never forget that look on his face as he saw, not his shunned daughter Dara in that ridiculous flowered dress of Aunt Sadie’s, but my mother as she had worn it all those years ago, on that long gone summer day.
That split second lasted an hour, I watched as his face registered joy, then realization of what was gone and finally recognition of myself. The terrible love still rested in his eyes as he looked at me through the fence.
And in that moment I knew right then that he had had nothing to do with her disappearance ten years previous, that his heart had surely been broken as hard as mine when she left us.
This knowledge ended the spell I’d been under as surely as a splash of water in my face on a freezing winter’s night – it loosened the hold that Willem had on my heart, cut the knot of hatred and confusion that the sorcerer had snagged on deep inside.
There wasn’t much time. Willem was headed back to Zeta’s store, I knew. I also knew this would be my last chance to retrieve Mom’s coin. I had an advantage over him, for he was on foot, but I – I had Mark’s SUV at my disposal.
I tore off up Military Road towards Mark’s SUV, the keys already in my hand. I reached it before I remembered the automatic lock, unlike Edna’s ancient jeep, this was a recent model. I clicked it twice impatiently, then threw myself into the driver’s seat, turned the engine over and wrenched her into reverse.
We were almost fully in Alt now, so no need to obey the twenty first century rules of the road with all the one way lanes and four stops and roundabouts. I needed to get to the store before Willem did and so took the most direct route.
That the vehicle even worked with so much Alt all around was a miracle, but I didn’t have time to ponder the ins and outs of the dimensional interfaces. I tore off down Prescott, now a frozen lane of cobblestones and horse muck with wooden steps for sidewalks despite the grandeur of the towering houses on either side. I had to take a sharp right onto Gower for as I approached the intersection, a whole army of the poor and wretched from the rum shops of Alt were making their way up the hill. These were human beings, even if they didn’t belong to my world, and I couldn’t simply mow them down. I skidded round that corner, and then almost immediately down the last leg of Victoria Street, remembering only when it was too late that it ended in stairs.
Turning again, I heard a noise, but this was coming from inside th
e vehicle. My spine froze and as I turned the wheel, I glanced into the rear view mirror.
There loomed a large head with horns on either side of its animalistic skull with two eyes green and rheumy with snot.
Dear God. Mark had left the troll inside the vehicle instead of bringing it safely into the office at the RCMP building on the White Hills overlooking the city, and it had come to life this night with its siblings. Unable to get out of the locked car, it had lain in wait for a victim on which to unleash its terror. It roared and lunged over the back seat at me.
I swerved the car again, to try to knock the creature from its perch, but to no avail, it kept coming at me. One eye on the road and the other on the troll, I dipped and swerved all over the hills of Gower Street, but still it kept on.
In Alt, the east gate to the Anglican Cathedral had never been closed, so I ran the truck up over the rotted wooden walkway and to the south side of that church, yet this was worse, for the ghosts of the thousands buried in the sloping boneyard were rising along with the resident ghouls, and they flocked to the vehicle, too stunned to know they couldn’t get at me in my modern metal tank.
The tortured souls long dead, their lives cut short in the brutal climate from plagues and worse, all those in unpeaceful rest rose up with the lifting of the veil. I didn’t have time to pity them.
From the crannies underneath the cathedral and from the old forgotten doors of the crypt slithered the nameless demons banished long ago, bound by the magic of the Christian church, and unloosed by Willem’s actions. Like sightless moths to a flame they sensed my living blood and hungered for its warmth.
They all passed through my consciousness but I didn’t have time to register them. I could hear the troll breathing heavily as it steadied itself in the back seat and rustled next to my ear, then felt its cold claw come over my face.
18
THE VEHICLE WAS NOW HEADED down the short run of Cathedral Street, slipping in the muck as it slid sideways down the length. I could hardly see to steer past the hairy arm of the troll which was determined to choke the life out of me.
The snow began in earnest now and the wind was picking up speed so that there was nothing but a solid blanket of white in front of me. I flicked the windshield wipers faster to clear my vision.
I tried braking hard again and again as we slid down the hill, and I finally succeeded in knocking the troll’s horns so hard against the roof it lodged through, poking a hole in the metal. I could now see to steer, yet he fought back. The sturdy back of my seat protected me, but wouldn’t hold out too much longer, not with the way the claws were ripping through the leather. Enraged and stymied, the troll was eating its way through the foam and polyester and steel frame in order to get to me.
I heard something heavy rattling around the foot of the passenger side and when we almost flipped onto Duckworth Street, I ducked down to retrieve.
A lug wrench, a car wrench, the one Mark had looked out to attend to Edna’s snow tires.
Finally out onto the cobbled stones of Alt Duckworth, the large tires spun for a moment before regaining their grip on the wet rock. The buildings, what I could see of them through the storm, were fading in and out of Alt and real time so they looked like organic breathing monsters lurching up above my head.
With a yell, I stepped full on to the accelerator and simultaneously swung the wrench over my head, connecting with solid bone behind me, a satisfying crunch which took the pressure off my throat.
I drew up to Zeta’s in the middle of the road – more fully into Alt now, there was no other traffic and I locked the car door behind me. I had no idea if the troll was living or dead, and I didn’t know either if the car would remain as Alt closed in.
This door to the shop in Alt had only a flimsy lock, easily smashed by the heel of my boot in one giant kick and I was in. I stared around me, catching my breath and the smell was horrific. Blood and entrails and slabs of meat. A butcher’s shop? That would explain the giant meat hooks in the cellar. I had no time to wonder, but I grabbed a huge knife from behind the counter as I ran in case the troll found me again.
I felt my way carefully down the rough wooden staircase, holding my breath the whole while. When I reached the bottom, I felt around for the flint box that Willem had left by the rough iron sconce. It took me ten full tries to light the tallow candle, my fingers were shaking so much.
Finally, I had a small light. I ripped the candle from the wall and brandished it before me. The rounded arch of the ancient door was directly ahead.
And the medallion was inside, I could feel it so strongly my bones were aching with longing. In fact, here in the heart of Alt as I was I could see a dim glow through the cracks in the wooden door ahead, just like in that dream. So close I could almost touch it if it weren’t for the immovable oak door.
The street door creaked alarmingly above my head and I could hear the wind whistling through and all around the store. Only a colder draft penetrated down below, but it pushed me to move. A few quick steps and I was there, but the old lock held solid. Not a padlock here in Alt, but the original medieval iron lock set fast within the oak. The hinges had rusted into the very grain of the wood, I would never work them out, and I had no time to run back upstairs to look for a bone cleaver to smash my way through.
The blue power. I could summon it and make it do my bidding, surely. I set the candle down into the dirt of the floor next to the carving knife and I closed my eyes in concentration.
What were the words of the incantation? My mind went blank, so instead I concentrated on instead on the glow itself. I rubbed my hands and started over, and there! A spark came from my left hand, then one from my right.
But it was no use, I could get nothing but a weak glow – without Willem connecting with me, I didn’t have the necessary words to summon this power.
I was a failed witch, useless. And by this time I knew I’d screwed up my future so irrevocably, so totally, the power that I did have was no good to me anyway. There would be no magic in my future, not once the Witch Kin found out who was responsible for lifting the veil between the worlds, and my part in it.
All was lost.
The beads of the curtains at the top of the stairs clattered lightly in the breeze, or maybe it was a stealthy hand drawing them apart. There was no hope now. The medallion was so close, but just out of my reach.
I shut my eyes and would have cried if I’d had the strength.
But it was then that a memory of Hugh’s voice came upon me. ‘All those spells, and incantations and magic dust,’ he scoffed. ‘They’re nothing, only for second rate magicians to bedazzle with, the better to stroke their egos. The true power of a witch lies inside you.’
What did I have to lose? I could hear the rustle of a long gown and sensed the silent footsteps as my opponent made his slow way down the stairs behind me.
In my mind’s eyes I examined the lock, that huge iron mechanism all rusted. It was medieval in origin, in its design, based on the earliest of lock mechanisms.
I recalled the only book I had really flipped through of the pile given to me by Hugh, the encyclopedic knowledge, the one that claimed to have all knowledge you needed to know. I’d dismissed it as a child’s book at the time, thinking it an insult from Hugh, but it at least had had pictures in it. And one section had been about locks and their construction.
I sent one quiet tendril of my mind’s sensor in, and felt the cold touch of the metal. I was inside the lock, and could see that it was a warded lock. Like the old locks on the doors in my house, the ones requiring the big ancient iron keys, this lock had slots to guide the right key into place.
I could feel the inner notches that the right key would fit around, could almost see them before me as if I was peering into the innards of the lock itself. Now I had to find the inner lever to release the lock.
The quiet measured steps behind me didn’t disturb me, were not allowed to disrupt my concentration. It was Willem, surely, for his troll would ne
ver have been so subtle. I could have allowed him to step forward and open the lock for me to retrieve my treasure, for he surely owed it to me as I had helped him achieve his ends of lowering the veil between worlds and proving to the Witch Kin his power as a force to be reckoned with and not for mockery.
But I had no reason to trust him to keep his word. I doubted that he’d had any intention of ever delivering up to me what was mine.
I could feel a cold breath of movement behind me, but still I pushed with my mind. And there – that was it, the slight small knob. If I were made of iron or sterner stuff I could click it and be done, but no, my soft mind muscle could not rely on strength but a constant pressure, upward, always upward, then I had it. The lightest touch, a nudge was all it needed, and the less I tried the better it worked.
The sweat was standing out on my forehead and my heart was racing, but I forced myself to breathe slowly and regularly, and let that one forgotten muscle of my brain do the work needed. I eased into it and then - success!
The moment I felt the click I reached out and took the handle of the door and swung it open.
But Willem was standing there before me in the archway. He had beaten me to it on his silent feet and reached behind him to take up the medallion. It glowed in his hand as he held it aloft, the magic sparkling in the dim light.
19
‘VERY CLEVER, M’DEAR,’ he said. ‘I’ve taught you well.’
‘You taught me nothing!’ I was so mad I could spit, and I did. ‘Your stupid magic didn’t work, that was just an illusion, there was nothing to it. Nothing you showed me helped to open that lock.’
It was all Hugh, I realized now, and myself. It was the information in the books Hugh had demanded I read that had given me the knowledge of what needed to be done, and it had been Hugh’s insistence on the source of my power that had shown me how it had to be done.