by Alys West
Once she’d softly closed the bedroom door behind her, she walked through to the kitchen. Pulling out a chair, she let the dream wash over her again. Then she started to draw.
Sometime later she stretched, yawned widely and returned to bed; leaving the sketchpad, face up, on the kitchen table.
***
Winston’s mobile rang as he was half way through his full Scottish breakfast. Glancing at the name on the screen, he knew immediately what she was going to say. “Hi Zoe, got a dream for me?”
“How did you know?”
“Why else would you be ringing me before eight on a Thursday morning?”
“Because I’m worried.” Her voice rose. “The dream’s got a woman in it. Something bad’s going to happen to her. I just know it.”
“Deep breath, Zo.” He didn’t have time to cope with her panic attack. That was Finn’s job. “Put Finn on, will you?”
Hearing her mutter “the bastard wants to talk to you” as she handed the phone over, he realised he’d put his relationship with Zoe back weeks, if not months. Then Finn said, “She’s not over-reacting. It’s ugly.”
“How ugly?”
The hesitation was so long he nearly asked again then Finn said, “Like something Maeve’d do.”
The image he’d had of Rachel raising a storm somewhere immediately identifiable, both in terms of date and geography, instantly vanished. “You mean dark magic?”
“Looks like it to me. But you’ll know better.”
“Perhaps. I’m starting to realise just how little I know about spellwork. How soon can you email it to me?”
“We’ll send it now.”
Putting the phone down, Winston pushed his half empty plate away. This didn’t make sense. Dark magic wasn’t Rachel’s style. She didn’t need spells when she’d got the power of air and water behind her. Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed back to his room and opened his laptop.
When his emails loaded he clicked on the top one; tapping his fingers as the software slowly opened the attachment. When the picture filled the screen, his throat constricted. The woman’s face was contorted with pain, thrown back as her body arched into an impossible position. But it was instantly recognisable.
Grabbing his mobile, he called them back. “Put Zoe on,” he said as Finn answered.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Put Zoe on.”
“Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” There was steel in Finn’s voice. Normally that’d make him back off but not today.
“Fuck it, Finn. Let me talk to her.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Jenna. The picture’s of Jenna.”
“Shit!”
Seconds later, after a whispered explanation that he heard every word of, Zoe said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Tell me everything you remember.”
“You know my dreams don’t work like that.”
“Damn it, Zoe!” His hand slammed down on the desk. She had to be able to recall something. “Just try!”
“Alright, I’ll try. But it’ll take time. Grace said I need to calm my mind. I’ll ring you if I come up with anything.”
“Good.”
“What are you going to do? Are you going to tell her?”
He hadn’t thought that far yet. “Yes, she needs to know. I’ll ring her now.” He needed to catch her before she left for Maeshowe.
When he rang off he forced himself to look again at the drawing, to study every detail. She was in bed, the covers thrown back. Instead of the teddy bear pyjamas he’d imagined, she wore a camisole that was tight across her breasts with a pair of checked bottoms. As her body arched it revealed the smooth skin of her stomach. One hand was thrown above her head, the other made a tight fist by her side. Her hair was tossed about as if she were thrashing, flailing. But it was her eyes that made his throat dry. The pupils were enlarged, blacking out the iris. He knew what that meant, as Finn did. Someone had put a spell on her.
***
Jenna tried to repress a yawn as the meeting dragged on. She really wasn’t getting enough sleep at the moment. After she and Winston had left Nethertown yesterday evening, they’d picked up fish and chips in Kirkwall and eaten them back at her place. It’d been after ten when he’d left, and she’d had to iron enough uniform shirts for the rest of the week before she went to bed. When her alarm went off at seven she’d wanted to throw it at the wall and spend another two hours in bed. She’d barely made it to Skara Brae in time for this meeting.
Hannah, her immediate boss, had flown over from Inverness to meet with the duty managers of the Historic Scotland sites in Orkney. Hannah was keen to capitalise on the media interest in Orkney generated by the Ness of Brodgar dig and the increase in visitor numbers brought by the cruise liners. As Hannah droned on about visitor engagement and learning and development opportunities, Jenna fiddled with her pendant, sliding it up and down its chain.
She’d not heard from Rachel. Perhaps it’d been optimistic to think she would. She’d teased Winston about patience, but she wasn’t feeling all that zen today. Not with only three days to go until the party. At least Winston would be there to worry with her.
It was going to be far from ideal having both him and Hal there, but Winston might be able to do something to stop Rachel, although he never sounded all that confident when they discussed it. If everyone at the party thought, as Winston said Andrew did, that there was something between them then she’d have to deal with that. Because increasingly it did feel like more than friends. She’d seen him three times already this week and, weirdly, it didn’t feel too much. He was good company. Really good. With anyone else she’d have been interested. Well, if she was honest, a lot more than interested. Except this was Winston and he’d a woman at every dig. She couldn’t be his Orkney woman and then wave goodbye when he headed back to Glasgow.
Not that it wouldn’t be fun while it lasted. She was quite sure he’d be a lot of fun. Only she wasn’t cut out for no-strings sex. She had to be in love. That was just who she was. And there was no way she was falling in love with Winston.
Even if there were moments when he looked at her like he really cared. Moments when his dark eyes studied her and it felt like words unspoken but not unshared passed between them. Moments, like the one on Monday evening in her kitchen, when she’d thought he was going to kiss her. Until she’d panicked. Which was a good thing. Absolutely a good thing. But she’d bet he kissed like a God…
“Jenna, how do you see that working at Maeshowe?” Hannah asked.
Jenna straightened the pile of papers in front of her and picked up her pen to buy herself some time. “I’d need a bit to think about it. Do you mind if I email you with my ideas?”
“I’m simply asking for an initial opinion. You don’t need to have all the answers now,” Hannah said.
“Then I think it’s a good idea. I can see it working well.” Jenna blinked twice, hoping to every deity in the Pagan pantheon that she’d not committed herself to masses of extra work. If she had, it was Winston’s fault for wheedling his way into her thoughts when she was supposed to be working.
Another question kept Jenna’s mind from wandering and, despite the lyrics to Farewell to Stromness playing on a loop at the back of her brain, she managed to stay focused until the meeting broke up forty minutes later. After a quiet word with a colleague to find out what she’d inadvertently agreed to, she swore as she realised she’d got a week to put together a detailed proposal about opportunities for increasing visitor spend at Maeshowe.
Heading out into the car park, she tugged her fleece tighter against the squally rain coming in off the Bay of Skaill. Pulling her mobile from her bag, her eyebrows rose. She’d four missed calls from Winston and he’d left a voicemail. What on earth could be that urgent? The message gave no clue as he simply said, “Jenna, it’s important. Ring me when you get this.”
Who did he think she was? She wasn’t one of his usual women who ran whenever he crooked his little finge
r. She’d ring him when she’d got time. Which wasn’t now. She’d got exactly twenty minutes to get back to Maeshowe to take the twelve o’clock tour.
After reversing the car out of the parking space, she headed rather too fast down the road back to Tormiston Mill.
***
The discovery of an incised stone in structure eight sent a thrill of excitement through the diggers in that trench despite the dreich day and kept Winston busy until the early afternoon. When he lifted it, he could see the deep grooves on the stone which had been created by the Neolithic inhabitants of Orkney. He’d need to study them properly but his best guess, from the location of the stone, was that it was from the earlier period of the site around 3000 BC.
Having safely deposited it in the finds hut, he wandered over to the boundary of the site, pulled out his mobile and called Jenna again. Watching the wind ruffle the surface of the Loch of Harray, his hand tightened around his mobile as the call went unanswered again. Where the bloody hell was she? The phone was ringing so she wasn’t in one of the areas of Orkney where there was no signal. Did this silence mean he was already too late? Had the spell been cast while they slept last night? His fingers tightened around his mobile. Grabbing his leather jacket from the site office, he signed himself out.
It was only a precaution. Zoe’s dreams might be unpredictable but they’d always shown the future before it happened not as it occurred. It’d take less than five minutes to ride down to Tormiston Mill. If she was there he could stop worrying and get some work done. He slid his helmet on and eased the bike out of the field and onto the road.
***
“Dr Grant is here to see you,” Paul said quietly. He’d only opened the door a crack as if he was scared of her reaction. Was she that difficult to work with at the moment?
“What? Now?” Jenna mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich.
“He said it’s important.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” That same word again. It must be something to do with Rachel. Only that would bring him here during work hours. “Alright, send him up.” As Paul scurried away, she swept crumbs from her desk and stuffed her half eaten packed lunch into a drawer.
Hearing footsteps coming along the corridor, she pulled her keyboard towards her. The door swung open and Winston strode in, helmet in one hand, leather jacket zipped tight over his chest. His damp hair was pushed away from his face, highlighting his cheekbones and the beautiful tawny tone of his skin but he was scowling as if she’d done something to really piss him off. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
“I’ve been in a meeting with my line manager at Skara Brae.” Forcing her gaze away from his face, Jenna tried to keep her voice steady.
“And you couldn’t ring or text when you left?”
“I was running late. I do have a job, you know.”
“As do I. But you need to see this.” Taking his mobile from the inside pocket of his jacket, he pressed the screen and then slapped it on the desk in front of her.
“What…?” It was a drawing of her. In bed. She looked terrible. Hair all over the place, body contorted as if she was having a fit, pyjamas barely decent.
Colour flared in her cheeks. Her gaze rose to meet Winston’s. “What the hell is this? Where did you get it?” But when she saw the concern in his eyes, embarrassment fizzled out replaced by something more unsettling. Was he really that worried? About her?
“Zoe drew it.”
“When?”
“Last night. That’s why I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”
She slumped back in her chair. “What does it mean?”
Stepping around the corner of the desk, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Look at the eyes.”
She slid her fingers across the screen. Her face grew bigger until the eyes filled the screen. The pupils were enormous as if she were on drugs or...
“No!” Her hand rose to cover her mouth. Winston’s grip tightened on her shoulder. “Who’d do that?”
“No idea.” His fingers closed around his staff on the leather thong at his throat. “I’ve got Zoe trying to remember everything she can about the dream but she struggles to recall anything she’s not drawn.”
As she pushed her chair round to face him, her knees bumped into his legs. The solidity of them felt good, helped quell the rising panic.
She asked the question more in hope than expectation. “Does she have any idea when?”
“Like I told you, there’s no pattern. Sometimes they come the day before, sometimes its months.”
“So I get the warning but nothing else?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Shit!”
For a moment, both of them were silent. Winston moved to perch on the edge of her desk. As the physical contact between them broke, she wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Are you alright?”
“Not exactly.” She swallowed. “Didn’t see this coming.”
“Nor me.”
Her gaze rose to his. “It’s not Rachel, is it?”
“Not unless she’s a hell of a lot better at spellwork than we thought.”
“Then who?”
“I don’t know. That’s the honest truth, Jenna. If I knew, I’d tell you. And then I’d chop their legs off.”
She laughed weakly. “I’m not sure violence is going to help.”
“It’d make me feel better.” There was a thread in the words that said more than she could deal with at this moment.
“If you’re going to chop anything off make sure it’s their hands. Really hard to do spellwork without hands.”
“I’ll remember that.” He slid his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the silver hipflask. “Would a dram help?”
“God, yes!” The metal was warm from where it’d been pressed against his body. “Although don’t let anyone see. I could lose my job for drinking at work.”
He crossed to the door and put his shoulder against it. “I think these are extenuating circumstances.”
“Which I can’t tell anyone about.” She tipped the flask and drank. The liquid seared the back of her throat. “Magic’s a bitch sometimes.”
“Too right.” He walked back to her. As she offered the flask, his hand closed around hers and pushed it towards her. “Keep it. You might need it.”
“I’ve got to be able to drive home.”
“What time do you finish work?” He released her hand and leant on the desk, looking down at her.
“Five thirty.” She slid the flask into the top drawer of her desk. She wouldn’t have any more but it was reassuring to know it was there.
“Ring me if you’ve drunk too much to drive.”
“I’m hardly—”
He cut her protest off. “Otherwise I’ll see you back at yours at six. Then we’ll tackle this.”
“How?” The word came out weaker than she’d intended. She coughed and tried again. “What the hell are we going to do? I’ve got barely any magic and awen’s not any use against this.”
“We’ve got three grimoires. There’s got to be something that’ll help. If not, we’ll ring Grace.”
Jenna closed her eyes for a second. She should have rung Grace to thank her for sending the letters and to make the long-postponed apology. Only it’d felt like the least urgent thing, the one she could keep on putting off for another day. Except now they desperately needed her help. “Alright.”
“Got any supplies?”
It took a second to realise what he meant. “I’ve got my wand. I nearly threw it out after Mum died but I couldn’t in the end. I’ve a few crystals. Not much else.”
“Then we’ll have to hope that’s enough.”
“Mum never believed in using a lot of fancy kit. She always said it’s the intention that matters in a spell not what you do it with.”
He smiled slowly. “That sounds like Nina.”
“She always did want to get me back into spellwork but I don’t think
she meant like this.” Laughter, too high and too forced, burst from her. She slapped her hand over her mouth but it didn’t help.
Her chair swung and then Winston was crouched in front of her, his hands on the chair arms. “We’re going to face this together.” His voice deepened as his gaze held hers. “And I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe.”
There was such promise in his eyes and in his words. She looked at him for a long moment and then she nodded. She couldn’t fight it any longer. Whatever was there she’d take, whether it was friendship or sex or something deeper, she’d take it. Because there’d been far too many times when she’d craved exactly this kind of support and reassurance and there’d been no one to give it. It was time to stop worrying about the consequences and take what he was offering. She’d deal with the fall-out, whatever it turned out to be, when this was over.
Her hand stretched out and brushed his. He turned it, laced his fingers through hers.
“You’d better hope there’s some really easy spells in Mum’s grimoires because I’m far more rubbish than you think.”
“I seriously doubt that.” As he smiled, his gaze held hers, drawing her closer.
“Don’t. I mean it.” She looked down at their interlaced hands, her skin starkly white against his. “I’m really bad.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
Chapter 34
“Aye, I’ve got that. Thanks, Grace. That’s a big help.” Winston finished the call and pushed the grimoire across the table to Jenna. “Grace says you’ll be alright with this one. It’s fairly straightforward and needs hardly any equipment.”
“Right.” Jenna took the book and read the instructions for the spell. The frown which had been present since he’d shown her Zoe’s drawing, carved deeper lines on her face. “Grace has a lot more faith in me than I have. But if she thinks this’ll work then I’ll give it a try.”
“She’s going to do a spell for your protection as well.”
“That’s good of her. Did she say anything else?”