Storm Witch

by Alys West

  Zoe flipped up the hood of her cagoule, got out of the car and offered a hand to help Grace. As Grace zipped up her coat, Zoe held her stick. Behind the spellworker’s head, her gaze met Finn’s. He nodded and she knew he’d be waiting here for her to come back.

  “Ready?” Grace asked.

  Zoe nodded and, matching her pace to Grace’s, they slowly walked over the car park and crossed the road. Zoe helped her up the outside stairs to Jenna’s flat. At the top of the flight, Grace took a moment to steady her breathing.

  Jenna’s front door was indeed white uPVC. She reached up to press the bell but Grace stayed her hand. “You’d better not be Zoe for this visit. I know Jenna’s not met you but we don’t want to make her anymore suspicious. It’s going to seem odd enough me turning up without any notice. What’s your middle name?”

  “I don’t have one. My parents had enough problems agreeing on one name, never mind two.” Zoe’s grip tightened on the strap of the empty rucksack. “But my surname is Rose. Will that do?”

  “Perfect. Rose it is. I don’t like lying to her but needs must when the devil drives. You can ring the bell now. ”

  The bell sounded and there was an awkward pause as they waited. Then the glass panel was filled with a distorted image of a person and Zoe tensed.

  The door swung open and the woman she’d drawn stood there. Jenna wore jeans and an Edinburgh University hoodie. She was without makeup, her dark hair held back from her face by a spotted scarf. Then Zoe saw her eyes. The irises were almost completely black. A shiver ran up Zoe’s spine. This was the woman who’d reached out to her again and again over the past two days, who somewhere inside was trying to find a way past the spell and Zoe couldn’t let any of that show in the way she reacted to her now.

  “Grace! What on earth are you doing here?” Her voice had a soft lilt, a mere hint of her Orkney upbringing.

  “I’ve come to see you, of course. Aren’t you going to invite me in? This is Rose. She’s helping me out as travelling is such a struggle these days.”

  “Right. Yes. It’s just I.…” Confusion was obvious on Jenna’s face then politeness asserted itself. “Of course, come in.”

  Grace took Zoe’s arm, slowing her walking to a snail’s pace as if every step caused her pain.

  “I’m afraid the place is a bit of a mess,” Jenna said as they stepped into the living area. “I’m packing as I’m moving back to Edinburgh next weekend.”

  “Really? You’re going back? Now that is good news!” Grace sounded both delighted and surprised. As Zoe glanced around the room, she mentally awarded her full marks for acting.

  “Yes, Uncle Andrew made it happen. I couldn’t be more grateful to him.” The way she said his name seemed a little mechanical but it was the only outward sign, apart from the unearthly eyes. “Do you want tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee please. You always make excellent coffee. Even better than Graeme’s, if you don’t mind me saying. How is he?”

  Leaning heavily on her stick, Grace moved into the kitchen area and kept up a stream of enquiries about Jenna’s dad, the tearooms, Jenna’s job and her new flat. The smell of ground coffee percolated through the flat. Zoe stepped past two large cardboard boxes into the sitting area. Her gaze went instantly to the armchair. There wasn’t a pile of books next to it.

  Crap! Jenna must have moved them. Hastily, she scanned the room. There were books on the coffee table, piled on the windowsill and on shelves next to the door. The grimoires could be in any of those places or Jenna could have hidden them away for safekeeping.

  Zoe unzipped her coat and took it off. She was going to need time. And she needed to figure out a way to convey that to Grace.

  Jenna brought a tray over with three mugs and a plate of fancy-looking chocolate biscuits. Zoe, under the guise of being helpful, shifted a few of the books on the coffee table to make space. As far as she could tell, none of them were grimoires.

  Grace settled herself in the armchair, talking about her nephew, Luke and how settled he was now he’d moved to Northumberland and started his own joinery business. Zoe couldn’t tell if Jenna was interested or not. She nodded absently from time to time but didn’t ask any questions. The conversation became more general as they drank their coffee. Jenna talked easily about the new flat and her excitement at returning to Edinburgh. There was an awkward moment when Grace said, “What does Graeme say about you going back?” and Jenna broke off, fiddled with the handle of her mug and said, “I haven’t told him yet. Uncle Andrew said he’d do that.”

  “Oh? You’re happy to leave it to him?” Grace reached for a biscuit.

  “Yes, he’s promised to tell him today. It’ll be fine. Dad told me a while ago that I should get my life back on track.”

  Grace bit into her biscuit and then said, “Are you still playing your fiddle? I’ve told Rose how good you are.”

  Jenna blushed, disclaimed but told them about the gigs she’d got lined up with Hal. Zoe listened intently as Jenna spoke about him to see if there was a hint of anything stronger than friendship but Jenna’s tone remained curiously flat, simply recounting facts. It was impossible to believe the woman Winston had fallen for was always this passionless. From what he’d told her, she was capable of yelling at him with the best of them. Had the spell completely locked down her emotions?

  Then Grace said, “Will you show me round? I know you’re leaving but I’d like to see where you’ve been living?”

  “There’s not much to see,” Jenna said. “Other than this, there’s only the bathroom and my bedroom.”

  Grace levered herself out of the sofa with some difficulty. “I’d still like to see it.” Zoe went to help her, taking her arm as she wobbled to standing but Grace said, “You stay here, Rose dear. Jenna will help me.”

  Zoe handed Grace’s stick to Jenna and returned to the sofa. She took her mobile out and stared at it as if she’d got nothing else to do while she waited.

  Leaning heavily on Jenna’s arm, Grace crossed the room and moved into the hall. As she half turned to close the door, she nodded. Zoe waited until she heard them move further down the hall, counted another five seconds and then crossed the room to the windowsill.

  She shuffled through the pile of books. Not there. She moved to the shelves by the door. These were in neat rows, spines straight but there was nothing but novels and some serious-looking tomes on medieval history. Zoe looked round. Where else could it be? Had Jenna packed them already? Two steps took her to the nearest box. It was half full of books, files and CDs. She rifled through the contents, taking books out to check they weren’t the grimoires. The other box was empty.

  She moved back to the coffee table, checked again the books that had been piled on it. Cookery books, a glossy hardback of Fair Isle knitting patterns and a book of Scottish folk songs. Damn it! Where were they? The dresser? She scanned the shelves and then bent down, opened the doors and peered inside. Crockery and wool. Bags and bags of wool in muted greens, greys and blues. No books.

  Their voices sounded closer. She moved back to the sofa, picked her phone up and then they stopped. Grace was buying her more time. Should she check again? In case she’d missed it the first time. She returned to the box. Picking up the books more slowly this time, looking at every cover, checking every spine.

  The door rattled and slid open a few inches. Her breath hitched as she looked up, hands frozen. How the hell was she going to explain this?

  A black and white cat wriggled through the gap and stood staring at her. Zoe exhaled slowly. Winston could have mentioned Jenna had a cat! For a second, she had an insane desire to giggle. What was it with her and cats? First Persia walking in on her when she shouldn’t have been in Maeve’s office and now Jenna’s.

  It rubbed against a canvas shopping bag near the door, the bag’s rough edge catching a spot under its neck. Zoe darted across to the bag and snatched it up. The cat gave an irritated meow but inside were two old books. She’d been worried she wouldn’t recognise
them but she just knew these were the grimoires. She didn’t have time to figure out which one she wanted. Folding the bag around the books, she returned to the sofa and stuffed the whole bundle into her rucksack. She heard a laugh from the hall before the voice moved closer again. The books jammed halfway in. Giving the rucksack an irritated shake, Zoe got books and bag inside, zipped it closed and dropped it on the floor. Sinking into the sofa, she pulled her phone out and tried to look normal.

  The door swung open. Jenna said, “I’m going to have to find a new home for Mansie. I’m not allowed pets in the new flat.”

  “You’re sure you can’t talk Andrew round on that? I’d have thought for you he might be willing to make an exception.”

  “Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s no go.”

  “I’ll take him,” Zoe said, clicking her fingers at Mansie who was staring at her with deep suspicion. “My boyfriend and I have been wanting a pet.” Actually, Finn wanted a dog but this wasn’t the time to worry about that. She couldn’t allow Jenna to give up anything else. How was she going to feel when she came out of the spell and discovered she’d got no job, no flat and no cat?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I love cats.” Zoe stopped clicking as Mansie hadn’t moved an inch and glanced at Jenna. “He’s called Mansie? That’s an unusual name.”

  “Not in Orkney. It’s short for Magnus. After St Magnus.” Jenna smiled at her for the first time but it couldn’t touch the dark, empty eyes. “But it’s lovely of you to offer, Rose. I’m sorry, I’ve not asked. Do you live in Northumberland too?”

  Zoe returned her focus to Mansie as she tried to think of a suitable answer. She and Grace really hadn’t got their cover story straight. “Newcastle,” she lied. “But we’ll give him a good home, I promise.” With luck, they’d break the spell tonight and she’d never have to make good on this offer or explain to Finn why she’d adopted a cat that didn’t even like her.

  Behind Jenna’s shoulder, Grace sent her a swift glance. Zoe swung the rucksack onto her shoulder and said, “If you want to see the open day at the Ness of Brodgar dig we’d better get going.” She glanced at Jenna as she spoke to see if there was any reaction, any flicker of interest which she could report back to Winston.

  “It’s a fascinating dig, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Although—” Jenna glanced out of the window “—it’s not a great day for it.”

  “I’m not worried about a drop of rain,” Grace said as she struggled to zip up her coat while holding onto her stick. “As you can see I came prepared for Orkney weather.”

  “How long are you staying?” Jenna asked as she escorted them into the hall. “I don’t think you said.”

  “Oh, didn’t I?” Grace blinked blandly at her. “Only for a few days. Can I pop round to see you again before I leave?”

  “Yes, of course. Give me a ring before you come. I wouldn’t want you to have a wasted journey.”

  Grace leaned in to give her a hug. “Take care of yourself. There’s lots going on for you at the moment. Remember, I’m always here for you.”

  “I’m fine.” Jenna pulled back, glanced away. “Only there’s a lot to do before I leave.”

  “And we’ll get out of your hair and let you get back to it.” Grace opened the door and stepped carefully out.

  The door closed and in silence they descended the stairs. At the bottom, Grace turned to look at Zoe. “You got them?”

  “Both of them. I didn’t know which one we wanted so I brought both.”

  “Good. Now—” Grace flipped her hood up as they stepped outside “—I don’t know about you but what I really need is a cup of tea.”

  ***

  He was half way through his talk in trench Z when his phone buzzed. The temptation to break off and check it was intense but with forty or so people staring at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence he kept going. If it were bad news, he’d find out soon enough.

  At the end of his talk, he asked if there were any questions. Three gloved hands went up. The first two were easily enough answered. ‘Ritual use’ was archaeological jargon for ‘we haven’t a clue’. He usually tried to avoid it but today he couldn’t be bothered with the complex answer so he rolled it out, saw the person asking the question nod as if they were satisfied. The third question was about butterfly stones from someone who clearly knew their stuff. The lad was nineteen or twenty, gangly, glasses. Undergrad probably. Winston suggested he stay at the end of the talk so he could explain in more detail.

  As the rest of the group wandered off to join Sandie, in her yellow and black crocheted hat, over by structure eight, Winston pulled his mobile from his coat pocket. The message was from Finn. “Got both grimoires. Ring me when you can.”

  He’d been convinced they wouldn’t get them, that Jenna wouldn’t let them in or if she did, she’d not leave Zoe alone long enough to look for the books.

  Someone coughed. He looked up. The gangly lad with the glasses. Winston frowned at him. “What was it you wanted to know?”

  The lad repeated his question, stumbling slightly over the words. Winston slid his mobile back into his pocket and turned to point at the trench.

  ***

  The waitress put the tray down on the table and Zoe removed the heavy earthenware teapot and matching cups and saucers. She didn’t really feel in need of tea, having swallowed half a cup of Jenna’s excellent coffee, but she went through the motions and poured cups for each of them. The waitress returned with three toasted teacakes which she slapped in the centre of the table.

  “Tuck in.” Grace’s Northumberland accent was suddenly stronger. “We don’t know when there’ll next be time to eat.”

  “How was she?” Finn said, taking a slice of teacake.

  “As you’d expect, I suppose. Distant, single-minded, humourless.” Grace gestured with her teacup. “That’s not like Jenna at all. She’s always able to laugh.”

  “Do you think she suspected why you were there?” Finn said.

  “She must have thought it was odd but she’s far too polite to say so. I didn’t push it with her, didn’t try to talk about Nina or anything that might upset her.”

  “Until we left,” Zoe added.

  “Yes, I made a mistake there.” Grace blinked rapidly. “It was hard walking out and leaving her knowing what I did but I shouldn’t have said anything. She simply can’t hear it at the moment.”

  “It doesn’t mean it was wrong to try,” Zoe said. Maybe she was a little bit hungry after all. Clandestine activity must speed up her metabolism or something because the teacake was starting to look pretty good.

  “Is it alright if we get the books out here?” Finn glanced around the café as he spoke. They were sat on wooden seats with a strong resemblance to pews next to the steamed-up window. Through it was a blurred view of the harbour. The café was called ‘The Haven’ and had a distinct Viking feel with elaborate carvings on the pew ends and black and white designs on the walls.

  “It’ll be fine,” Grace said. “It never ceases to amaze me how disinterested most folk are in other people’s lives.”

  Zoe unzipped the rucksack and carefully took the grimoires out. She handed the smaller, older one to Grace and rested the other one on the table in front of her. Whatever Grace said, it felt odd opening grimoires here. There should be more ritual, more ceremony involved in reading a spell book.

  The book fell open naturally and she picked up a red leather bookmark with Stirling Castle on it. The page marked a chapter on psychic protection. Zoe turned the page and found a flyer for a march against a development at Nethertown. This was what Winston had told her to look for. She turned it over and read the words written on the back. “Needs power of new moon. Fennel on its own isn’t strong enough. Tried Bay and Elder as well with more positive results.”

  “I think this is it.” Zoe swivelled the book around so Grace could see it and handed her the flyer.

  “I’ve got all of these with me except elder.” Grace po
inted at the list of ingredients for the spell. “But it’s the new moon that’s going to be the problem. That’s…”

  “Eight days away, I think.” Finn took his mobile from his pocket. “I’ll check.”

  “We can’t wait that long,” Grace said. “The grimoire says the ritual can be performed at moon rise. We’ll have to do that and hope for the best. If it doesn’t work we’ll have no choice but to wait and do it again at new moon.”

  “But by then Jenna will have gone to Edinburgh.” Zoe took a slice of teacake. “It’s so unfair. She’d already decided she didn’t want to take the flat and now she’s been forced into it.”

  “It was kind of you to say you’d take Mansie,” Grace said.

  “Well, I couldn’t let her give her cat away as well as everything else.”

  “What’s this?” Finn looked up from his phone. “Next new moon’s on the 4th of August.”

  “You did say you wanted a pet.” Zoe met his gaze as she bit into the teacake.

  “I said I wanted a dog.”

  “But if we break the spell tonight, we won’t have to adopt Mansie.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Then it’s not only the cat we’ll have to worry about,” Grace said quietly. “Coercion spells get harder to lift the longer they’re in place. If we don’t break it tonight and we have to wait for the new moon then it’s going to be a darned sight harder to get Jenna back.”

  For a long moment, they sat in silence. Zoe put the slice of teacake on her saucer. Her appetite had evaporated again.

  “Moon rise is 21:14 tonight,” Finn said.

  “Alright, before then we need to find some elder and somewhere to do the ritual. I work better outside.”

  “Where do you work at home?” Finn asked.

  “Often on the beach. It’s surprisingly empty in the evening. Even at this time of the year.”

  “Then we’ll find you a beach.” Finn reached for more teacake. Anxiety never seemed to affect his ability to eat.