by Alys West
“Yes, with surprisingly little argument.” Finn pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. “Couldn’t get Grace to go with her though. She says we’ll need her.”
Winston rubbed a finger along the side of his nose. “We might but that doesn’t mean I feel right about her staying.”
“Me neither but what could I do?” Finn shrugged. “Jenna’s with her if that helps.”
“Not really.” He’d meant it when he’d asked if she wanted to leave with Hal. Not that he wanted her anywhere near Hal but he’d rather have her safe with the Viking than facing whatever freak weather the storm witch threw at them next. “What’s in the tin?”
“Broom. Or rather ash of broom.” Finn prised the lid off the tin a fraction to allow him to peer inside.
“Your secret weapon?” It didn’t look much, just piles of flaky grey ash with occasional charred twigs and prickly leaves. “How much did you have to burn to get this?”
“Only about half of the broom in the whole of Donegal.” There was a lift in Finn’s voice, a hint of laughter and Winston found himself grinning back.
“You do realise we’re risking our lives to save the house of a man we don’t like, who put my girlfriend—”
“At least you’re admitting she’s your girlfriend now.”
Ignoring the interruption, Winston hefted his staff from hand to hand. “Under a spell, threatened her with homelessness less than an hour ago and would probably like nothing more than to see you and I dead.”
“And?” Finn lifted an eyebrow. “At least he doesn’t want to drink your blood to achieve eternal youth.”
“Since when did you make jokes about Maeve?” Winston folded his arms and glared at his friend. “We’ve all been tiptoeing around you for weeks, not mentioning her name and now you’re joking about it?”
Finn turned to look out of the window. “Do you want to stop this storm witch or not?”
Winston knew a full stop when he heard one. “I’m ready if you are.”
“About time you got wet too.” Finn pushed open the patio door. “Form a light ball round the ash and then use awen to toss it as high as you can into the storm clouds.”
“That works?” As Winston stepped outside, the wind immediately tugged at his clothes and whipped his hair around his face. Hail pelted against his skull, bounced off his jacket.
“I didn’t have a storm like this to try it on but, yeah, it worked in Donegal,” Finn shouted.
It took both of them to get the door closed. Leaning into the wind, they forced their bodies forward to make it down the garden. Spray was arcing up where the waves crashed against the shore, tumbling in freezing parabolas over the wall at the bottom of the garden.
They stopped halfway down. Finn opened the tin a mere inch and offered it to Winston. The ash was slippery and crumbly in his hands. Finn cupped the ash on one palm. Turning from the wind he sheltered it with his body and then with a quick tap of his staff a glowing light formed around it. It spun above Finn’s hand with a dark centre in the luminous sphere.
Mimicking Finn’s actions, Winston tried to form his own. He opened his hand too soon and the ash blew away. Finn laughed which didn’t help. It was hard to believe it was only a couple of months since Winston had been teaching him to fight in a wood outside Glastonbury. The second attempt went better although the ash wasn’t exactly in the centre and the light ball spun elliptically. Deciding he’d get better with practice, Winston drew awen into him and directed it towards his right arm. As heat built up in the muscles, he turned to Finn. “Now what?”
“Now we throw it. Ready?” Finn ran up the slope his hand swinging like he was bowling a cricket ball. At the top of the arc, he let the light ball go and it flew high, disappearing into the cloud above.
“Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
“School. Cricket was obligatory.”
“Not at my school.” Winston made the ball spin faster and faster above his hand and then he bent his knees and pushed it upwards with everything he’d got. It rocketed skywards and he leaned back to see its trajectory. A few metres shy of the mass of cumulonimbus it started to descend.
“England, one. Scotland, nil.” Finn had already got another light ball ready to go.
“You’re half bloody Scottish.” Winston levered the lid off the tin and grabbed another handful of ash. “Why are you playing for the English?”
“Because it winds you up.” Finn repeated his spin bowling and again the light ball hit the clouds. “Do I need another reason?”
Pulling all of the awen he could hold, Winston directed it into his legs and arms and then, with the kind of cry his ancestors must have emitted on bloody battlefields, sent the light ball skyward. This time it hit.
“Back of the net!”
***
Jenna stepped over the debris on the kitchen floor. Everything which had been on the workbenches was smashed. Shattered glass, crockery and electrical appliances covered the grey tiles. The wind had eased a little inside for the moment but its power hadn’t lessened outside. The gale whistled around the outside of the house as thunder crashed overhead and hail pounded against the windows.
It was hard to see through the glass as water slid down it in a viscous film but there were two figures half way down the garden. As she watched, Finn turned and ran a few paces up the garden swinging his arm like a cricketer. Something light and bright flew from his hand and disappeared skywards. A few moments later, Winston bent his knees and propelled a ball of light upwards. Jenna frowned. How were light balls going to help? The storm didn’t need any more energy. Then she shook her head. She had to trust they knew what they were doing. Druid magic worked differently and it wasn’t like spellwork had much to offer in stopping a storm.
Now everyone had left, the silence in the house was eerie. She opened cupboards until she found mugs, her movements sounding absurdly loud. Grace had asked for a glass of water and Jenna was thirsty too but, with the amount of glass already smashed on the floor, she was going to take something sturdier that might survive the next blast. She selected two large mugs and filled them from the tap. She gulped half of hers down and then refilled it. Her arm ached like hell. She was going to have to find her bag and take more painkillers.
A sound came from the utility room. After putting the mugs on the island unit, she crossed the room and put her ear next to the door. Was Rachel crying? It sounded like it but she couldn’t be sure.
Gently she tapped on the door. “Rachel, it’s Jenna. Nina’s daughter. Are you alright?”
She waited but no reply came. She tried again, repeating the words but adding, “I want to help.” Again there was no reply.
Picking up the mugs, she headed for the hall door. As she reached the door, a stocky man with a bald head came through it. She halted abruptly to avoid banging into him.
“Miss Henderson?” He spoke with a pronounced Glaswegian accent.
“Yes. Who wants to know?” She sounded frosty, even to her own ears, but something about this man made her nervous.
“I work for Mr and Mrs Stewart. I need you to come with me.”
Jenna stepped to the right to go round him. “I don’t think so. I’ve already spoken to my uncle and he’s made it very clear what the consequences will be if I don’t support his plans for Nethertown.”
“He was sugar-coating it. You’re his niece. He’s fond of you.” The man’s hand landed on her arm. She tried to shake it off and water spilt from the mugs, splattering across her shoes. “But Mrs S will tell you how it really is.”
“He threatened to make me homeless.” She tried to wrench her arm away. His grip tightened to a painful band. The pain on her other arm flared. She cried out. A mug fell, hitting his foot but he didn’t look down. She felt something pressing against her lower back. Even through her clothes she could tell that it was sharp, that only a little more pressure would pierce wool and cotton and reach her skin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She opened her mouth to scream. Dropping her phone, he twisted her arm behind her as the knife sliced through her clothes and pierced her skin. “If you want to go through the rest of your life with only the one kidney then go ahead and scream. If not, then you’ll move and not make a sound. We’re going straight across the hall and out of the front door.”
The pain in her shoulder was unbearable, worse even than the pain in her wounded arm. She gulped in ragged breaths. She had to stay calm. She was in Andrew and Felicity’s house. This couldn’t be happening. Except her heart was pounding like a hammer and her legs would barely hold her.
The man untwisted her arm but didn’t let go of it. The knife still pressed against her skin. At least she knew where her kidneys were now. She bit back the laughter that threatened.
“Walk and not a word to anyone.” He hooked open the door with his foot and pushed her forward. There was no one in the hall. Behind the door to the left, Grace was waiting for her to bring a glass of water. She tried to glance over her shoulder, looking for someone who’d help, hoping she could signal that things were wrong. Very, very wrong. But there was no one around.
He let go of her arm to open the front door and then pushed her out. Hail pounded against her skin, soaking her already wet clothes. The wind slammed into her and she staggered. The man’s grip tightened as he steadied her. A flash of lightning illuminated the driveway. The bay trees, which had stood on either side of the door, lay on the gravel, soil tumbling from their pots. Panels from the garden fence littered the drive. All of the cars were gone except Andrew’s and hers.
The lights flashed on the Range Rover as the man propelled her towards it. He opened the door and the wind wrenched it from his hand. It swung wildly on its hinges and he dodged backwards before it hit him. The pressure of the knife eased. Jenna wrenched her arm free, biting down the flare of pain. She ran. Not towards the house. He’d catch her before she got the door open and she’d be marooned again in the empty hall. She sprinted right, heading towards the gap in the fence. Winston was in the garden. She leapt onto a fallen fence panel, took two steps. Then her ankle twisted and she was falling. Her hands shot out but they weren’t enough. She hit the wet wood, crying out as the impact slammed through her.
She tried to lever herself up but her ankle wouldn’t take her weight. Then he was beside her. Her grabbed both arms and yanked her upright. She screamed again as his hand pressed on the wound on her right arm.
“You’re a brave lassie, I’ll give you that.” He gave her a little shake as he got her to her feet. “Just like your mum.”
Her breath was tied in knots by the agony in ankle and arm but she forced out the words. “How do you know my mum?”
“Na, I should nae have said that.” The knife was higher this time, against her ribs. “Now, unless you want me to press this a wee bit harder which will take it straight into your lung, you’ll come quietly and get in the car.”
Tears slid down her face. She scrubbed them away with the sleeve of Zoe’s cardigan before she nodded. He’d won. He’d got a knife and he was bigger and stronger and willing to hurt her.
A stabbing pain shot up her leg when she put weight on her ankle. He half supported her, half dragged her back to the car, pushed her into the back seat. She fell face down against the leather seats. The man yanked her hands behind her, wound something round them and pulled tight. It was thin and hard. She moved her hands a tiny bit and it sliced into the tender skin at her wrists making her wince.
The engine started. The car moved backwards in a wide arc. Gravel scrunched beneath its wheels. Then the vehicle accelerated forwards. Jenna closed her eyes and tried to will the pain away.
Chapter 51
The hail turned to steady rain as Zoe drove up the lane that connected to the main road. She pulled the car onto the grass verge next to a stone wall and looked back. Despite the fierce winds that pummelled the house, the storm clouds hovered over the Stewarts’ as if they’d been tethered there. Even with her limited grasp of meteorology she knew that was wrong. What were the locals, like Debbie, saying as they drove home? What explanation had they come up with for a wind that blew inside as well as outside the house?
Zoe opened the glove box and rummaged around until she found Finn’s binoculars. He’d told her to go back to the B&B but she hadn’t said she would. She just hadn’t said she wouldn’t either. Leaving him was one thing. Driving away and not knowing what was going on was something completely different. It had been hellish watching him battle Maeve at the Nine Maidens but it’d have been far worse to have seen nothing but known he was fighting for his life.
Stretching around the driver’s seat she reached for her waterproof. Finding the backseat empty, she remembered she’d left it in Jenna’s car. Finn kept a spare in the boot, a blue Berghaus that had seen much better days. She opened the door and slid to the ground. The wind instantly battered her and she held onto the side of the car as she moved around it. The jacket was neatly tucked next to the warning triangle, spade and other kit Finn kept in case of emergency. She shook it out and put it on. It smelled of wood smoke. She stuck her hands deep into the pockets and, despite it coming almost down to her knees, wrapped it more tightly round her.
Leaning against the boot of the car, she looked around. The lane ended at the Stewarts’ with only one other house halfway down it. It looked like a farm with barns and agricultural machinery parked in the yard. The fields surrounding the Stewarts’, including the one she’d parked next to, held cattle. A couple of black cows were eyeing her over the wall, their white mouths in constant motion.
Zoe focused the binoculars on the house. The fence had collapsed since she left. Bits of it were covering the drive but that was the only real change. With nothing to do but watch the anxiety flooded back. What would she do if Finn got badly hurt? How would she get him home? Or if the worst happened?
But she couldn’t think about that. He’d fought Maeve and survived. He could handle a storm witch. He’d got Winston with him this time. For all their constant bickering, they were a good team.
The front door opened and Felicity stepped out with her two sons. As Zoe watched, they got in a red car and drove down the drive. Zoe moved around the side of Finn’s car and crouched down in the shadow of the wall. The red vehicle accelerated towards her and she waited until it pulled onto the main road before standing again.
Andrew hadn’t left with them. At least he knew enough about magic not to get in Finn and Winston’s way. Raising the binoculars again, she scanned the shore. The waves were huge now, racing across the water. She could see the hail coming down in sheets from the heavy storm clouds. And yet over the mountains of Hoy, the clouds were fluffy and white.
Taking her mobile from her back pocket, she opened the weather app. Sunny intervals with a temperature of 15 degrees. She shivered. They’d got that wrong. She was soaked through, her jeans getting wetter as rain dripped from the waterproof and soaked into them. Should she get back in the car and put the heater on? It wasn’t like she could see a lot from here. Yet it felt wrong to sit warm and relatively cosy in Finn’s car as he fought the storm. Raising the binoculars, she focused on the house again.
Her arms began to ache and she adjusted her grip, shook out one arm and then the other. The front door opened and Jenna came out followed by a bald-headed man. They walked towards a Range Rover in a bloody awful shade of gold and she lost them for a moment as the vehicle blocked her view. Then Jenna bolted around the side of the car and swerved across the drive. The man came after her and even from this distance it was clear he was chasing her. What the hell?
As Zoe reached for her mobile, the binoculars dipped. When she refocused them, the man had Jenna by the arms
and seemed to be dragging her. Zoe winced. Jenna had been really brave about her wounded arm but that’d got to hurt. They disappeared around the side of the Range Rover. Zoe pulled up Finn’s number and pressed the green button on the screen. As she listened to it ringing she sent a silent prayer for him to pick up but it clicked through to voicemail. Damnit! She left a quick and slightly garbled message.
The Range Rover was coming up the drive. She ran around the car and climbed in. Watching the gold car in the rear-view mirror, her mind raced through her options. She could drive back to the Stewarts’ and tell Finn and Winston what she’d seen. She’d have to turn the car round and then find them in the palatial house and by the time she’d done that the Range Rover would be long gone. Or she could follow the gold car, find out where it went and phone Finn again when she knew more.
As the vehicle passed, she tried to peer inside but the windows were tinted. Her hand rose to the inside of her right elbow as memories flooded back. The nightmare walk across Dartmoor, the confrontation at the Nine Maidens, Maeve taking her blood to create a force field to trap her.
She had to hold it together. Jenna needed her. At the top of the lane the Range Rover turned right. Zoe started the engine and put the car into gear. A small silver car passed on the main road before she reached the junction. She pulled out behind it. The Range Rover was about two hundred yards ahead. The rain eased. The sea was on her left with the grey houses of Stromness across the bay. On her right stretched farm land dotted with houses.
She lost sight of the Range Rover for a few seconds as the road bent. Coming up to a T- junction, the silver car waited to turn. There were buildings on the right which obstructed the view. She scanned left, couldn’t see the Range Rover. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as vehicles passed on the main road. The silver car turned right. Zoe followed, hoping for the best. Up ahead, with three cars between them, was the Range Rover.