All Hallows' Magic

by T J Green

  “Plenty more,” he answered. “And things are starting to look really weird at Old Haven.”

  “They are?” she asked, alarmed. The others all turned at her tone. “How weird?”

  “There’s some sort of design burnt into the ground. Do you want to see?”

  She groaned. “Couldn’t you have called in the daytime?”

  “I’ve only just found it! Trust me. You’ll want to see this.”

  “You skulk about at night? In the freezing cold?”

  “It’s the job! Get your ass over here.”

  He rang off and she looked up at the others. “I had meant to tell you all over dinner, but guess what? Dinner will have to wait. We’re heading to Old Haven Church.”

  ***

  Old Haven was dark. Very dark. There were no street lights, and no lights along the paths that snaked around the graves. The air was crisp, a low ground mist had started to rise, and an owl hooted in the distance.

  “This had better be good,” Reuben complained. “I’m freezing my ass off and I’m not in the mood for spirit banishing. If this is Caspian’s doing, I’ll fry him.”

  Avery had told them about the witch-signs on the way over, and they had speculated about who could be putting them there.

  “This is not Caspian,” Avery said firmly. “He’s far more direct. And I think he’s too busy to be sticking up witch-signs at Old Haven. ”

  “I agree,” Alex said, striding quickly along the path, his torch illuminating the way ahead. “He’d be more sophisticated than this.”

  It wasn’t long before they heard voices and saw lights ahead of them, illuminating the trees’ bare branches. The ghost-hunters. They stood huddled together, and turned when they heard the others approach.

  “Hey, guys,” Dylan greeted them. He was wearing a large puffer jacket that swelled his slim frame. “Glad you could make it.”

  “I had nothing better to do than drink beer and eat,” Reuben said sarcastically.

  Dylan grinned. “You’ll be glad you came!”

  “Will I? I’m not sure about that. So what are we all so excited about?”

  “Follow me!”

  Dylan led them into the clearing in the centre of the grove and pointed his torch at the ground.

  A rune was scorched into the earth.

  “What the hell is that?” El exclaimed, dropping to a crouch and reaching out tentatively to touch the scorch marks.

  “Well, it’s why you’re here,” Ben said, testily. “We’ve never seen anything like it before. And there are more of these.” He pointed to the yew tree. From its branches hung dozens of witch-signs—twigs of all shapes and sizes, making strange runic shapes.

  Avery shivered. The glow from the torch lit the witch-marks up and cast strange shadows on the trees. Coupled with the very large rune burnt into the ground, it was undeniably weird. “Why did you come here at this hour?”

  “We came to check the cameras and do some readings with the gear, and I thought I’d check the yew while we were here.”

  “I can feel the hum of magic here, can you?” she asked the other witches.

  “It’s faint, but yes, I feel it,” Briar said, pointing her torch up into the twisted tree branches.

  El lifted her fingers from where she’d touched the scorched mark and sniffed. “Nothing but earth and witch fire. I don’t recognise the sign, either.” She stood and played her torch over the ground.

  “You looking for more marks?” Alex asked.

  El nodded. “I can’t help but think this is incomplete.”

  “I agree,” he said. “I think this is the start of something bigger. If we compare it to the portal openings, it would have to have more symbols to be effective.”

  Avery looked across at Alex, startled. She’d been examining the witch-twigs, trying to make out some of the shapes and symbols. “You think it’s a portal door?”

  “I think it will be, once it’s complete.”

  “Here,” El shouted from the edge of the undergrowth. “There’s another mark scorched into the ground.” She pulled out her phone and started to snap photos as the others joined her.

  “What is it?” Briar asked, frowning.

  “Looks like a runic letter.”

  “Could this be the start of a portal to summon demons again?” Reuben asked, alarmed. The last person who’d summoned demons had been Alicia, Gil’s widow, who was now also dead, killed by one of her own demons in Reuben’s house.

  Alex shrugged. He was their own expert in banishing demons, and knew the most about portal signs. “These portals come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, so maybe?” He looked at them apologetically. “Sorry. It’s hard to know at this stage.”

  “Can’t you just get rid of the symbol?” Cassie asked.

  “I’ll try,” Briar volunteered. She crouched, and Avery felt her magic rise as she touched the earth. Briar was the most skilled at Earth magic, and it looked as if she was trying to erase the sign by using the earth to swallow it. However, after a few moments of intense concentration, during which the grass surrounding it started to grow, nothing happened to the scorched ground. She shook her head. “No. The earth resists it. Alex, do you want to try?”

  He nodded. “Sure.” He stood silently for a few moments, and then started to recite a spell, directing his energy to the mark on the floor. Nothing happened, and he sighed. “Damn it.”

  However, his magic triggered something else. The witch-signs in the trees above their heads started to vibrate, and the magic they felt emanating from them started to grow, pulsing in the air around the group. And then there was a flash of bright white light and a shock wave of magic rolled out, catching all of them unaware. It lifted them off the ground and threw them back several feet. Avery crashed into a tree trunk and crumpled in a heap, where she lay dazed for a few seconds.

  Aware they could be attacked again, she struggled to sit up and blinked, trying to clear her vision. She instantly summoned air, meaning to send a whirlwind into the branches above when she hear Alex shout, “No! No one do anything.”

  She heard the groans of the others around her, and as the flash cleared from her vision, she saw the dark outlines of the others around her, sprawled on the ground, or lying awkwardly against trees. The sizzle of scorched earth filled the air, and she watched the signs on the ground glow with a fiery light before it faded to embers. Otherwise, the feel of magic was diminishing.

  “Bollocks!” Reuben exclaimed. “I’ve hit my bloody head.”

  “I think I broke my camera,” Dylan groaned.

  “But is everyone okay?” Alex asked. From the sound of his voice, he was a few feet to Avery’s left. Every single light had gone out, shorted by the magic.

  There was a grumble of responses, but everyone seemed generally unharmed.

  Ben swore. “What the hell was that?”

  “Trigger protection response,” Alex said. “This is more sophisticated magic than I thought.”

  Avery sent a couple of witch lights up, hoping that wouldn’t trigger anything else. Thankfully it didn’t, showing only her friends struggling to rise to their feet.

  “Why didn’t my magic trigger it?” Briar asked. She stood, brushing leaves and dirt off her skirt and boots.

  “I presume my spell was a more direct assault than your Earth magic,” Alex guessed. “Sorry guys.”

  “Not your fault,” El said. “We sort of asked you to.”

  Once they were all standing, and a few more witch lights had been sent up, they inspected the witch-signs and the sigils on the ground. The sigils still glowed from where they had been burnt into the earth again, but the witch-twigs hung from the trees, as seemingly harmless as they had been when they arrived, although a faint glow marked where they had been attached to the branches.

  “I don’t think we could cut them free even if we wanted to,” El noted thoughtfully. “I might be able to fashion a suitable spell into one of my silver daggers that would enable us to sever the magic attac
hing them to the tree. When we’re ready.”

  Alex nodded. “Sounds good. But we do nothing until we know more about what we’re dealing with here.”

  “What do you think’s going on?” Cassie asked, slightly shaken.

  “Well, Samhain is coming,” Reuben said, “when the veils between worlds are at their thinnest. I think someone is trying to capitalise on that by creating a breach.”

  “When you say worlds, which ones are you talking about?” Dylan asked, perplexed.

  Reuben’s grin was devilish in the dim light. “All worlds—spirits, demons, other realities, and who knows what else. This is an old church with an old cemetery, quiet and secluded, and lots of power is manifesting here. It’s going to be a fun Halloween, guys!”

  5

  The next morning, Happenstance Books glowed with golden light in the weak autumnal sunshine, enhanced by the enormous amount of fairy lights and fake candles glittering in corners and lighting up carved pumpkins.

  “Excellent job, Sally!” Stan the Councillor and town Druid said, as he looked around the shop with delight. “I can always trust you to get on board with the town’s celebrations.”

  Avery carefully said nothing, except smiled and raised an ironic eyebrow. She too was amazed by the amount of stuff Sally had managed to pack into the shop. She’d thought it had looked full the other day, but that was nothing compared to how it looked now.

  “Thanks, Stan,” Sally said, grinning. “I love this time of year, and I love Halloween! We’re starting our storytelling evening at the beginning of Halloween week.” She pointed to the printed posters that were placed around the shop and in the window.

  “Fantastic!” Stan nodded happily as he strolled around the shop, Sally at his side, with Avery trailing after them. “I might be able to bring my grandchildren one night.”

  He wasn’t dressed at all like a Druid today. His long cloak that he’d worn on the beach at Lughnasadh had gone, and instead he was in a regular dark grey suit and white shirt, his one concession to Halloween, an artful skeleton on his tie.

  He continued, “I think Halloween is everyone’s favourite celebration. Most shops are looking fantastic. And of course, the plans for the bonfire at the White Haven Castle are well underway.”

  “Will you be officiating again, Stan?” Avery asked.

  He turned to her and grinned. “Of course! I wouldn’t miss it. Let’s hope rain doesn’t ruin everything again. What a dreadful storm last time!” His face fell. “Such a shame, and the evening weather prediction had been so good…”

  A rush of guilt swept over Avery again. “Oh well, you know what the weather forecasts are like. They’re never accurate. I’m sure this time it will be fine.”

  “And you’ll come?” he asked. “It’s a week from Saturday, so obviously not Halloween proper, but close enough. We’ll combine it with Guy Fawkes too, of course.”

  The town celebrations for the pagan and Christian festivals always fell on the closest Saturday, and of course five days after Halloween it was Guy Fawkes night, so the celebrations were on the Saturday in between.

  Avery grinned. “Of course. I love a good bonfire and firework display. And, of course, your libations to the Gods.”

  Stan laughed. “Well, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you, with all your books on the occult here.”

  For one horrible second, Avery had wondered if he was about to say something else, but she recovered swiftly. “Of course. I’m fascinated by it.”

  “We all are! It’s the lifeblood of White Haven. The place is steeped in it. My niece is staying with me at the moment, and she loves all of this stuff! Doesn’t live here, you understand,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially. “Just visiting while her mother goes through a nasty divorce. I must tell her to come and visit here. She’d love it.”

  “Of course,” Sally said, smiling. “It would be lovely to meet her.”

  “Yes, I’ll mention it to her. Anyway,” he said abruptly, “I must get on. I have more shops to visit. Keep up the good work, and I’ll see you both soon!” And with that, he swept from the shop with a regal wave, and Avery let out a huge sigh. “Bloody Hell, I wondered what he was going to say then.”

  “You worry too much,” Sally said, straightening a display. “So you’re going to the bonfire?”

  “Yeah, it won’t clash with anything we’re doing, and it’s always fun. Well, hopefully more fun than last time.”

  “I take it you’ll be doing your own celebrations?”

  “We have the honour of sharing our celebrations as part of the thirteen covens of Cornwall—on the actual night of Samhain, of course!”

  Sally widened her eyes with surprise. “Wow! So you’re going? I thought the initial thrill of being part of the Council had worn off?”

  Avery groaned. “It has, sort of. But seeing as Genevieve asked again, and I told her to stick it last time, I thought I should show some good will.” She shrugged. “Besides, the others should meet the other covens, and it will be good to see Nate, Eve, Oswald, and Ulysses again.” She referred to the other witches who lived in Mevagissey and St Ives, and who had helped them defeat the Mermaids.

  “Have you told them about your problem up at Old Haven?”

  Avery had told Sally about the witch-signs and sigils earlier that day. “No, not yet. Hopefully it’s something we won’t need help with.” She headed to the back room, leaving Sally to return to the counter. “I’m going to make some coffee, do you want one?”

  “Yes, please. And bring biscuits!”

  As Avery made coffee, she pondered the witch-signs they had found at Old Haven. Someone was clearly trying to manifest something, but what? She and Alex had talked late into the night, trying to figure out what the sigil was. It looked nothing like the ones they had seen for demon summoning, but then again, it may not be complete yet. Reuben had talked about other worlds, but she presumed he was just spit-balling as usual. But he was right in one sense. Samhain was known for the fact that the veils between worlds became thin and beings could pass between them, especially the world of the dead, when spirits walked abroad. She had a horrible feeling Helena, her ghostly relative, would be more active during Samhain. But old tales also talked about Faeries—the worlds of the Other—when the Fey and other strange beings could cross into their world, or of course the other way around.

  There were lots of tales about mythical creatures and Cornwall had many of their own. Cornish Piskies, or Pixies as they were called elsewhere, were small sprites who were mischievous, but mostly harmless, and known to lead travellers astray. There were also Spriggans, little creatures their local beach was named after, who were supposed to be spiteful and vengeful to those who had wronged them. They left Changelings—Faery children—in place of mortal ones. And Cornwall was well known for its tin mines. The remnants of many were strewn across the land and believed to be inhabited by Knockers, who had large heads and wizened faces and who knocked on the walls of a mine just before a cave collapse. Those tales, like those of Mermaids and giants, were children’s stories, but Mermaids had proved to be only too real, and Piskies and Spriggans were supposed to be present in the real world, lurking where they couldn’t be seen. Faeries, creatures of the Other—they lived somewhere else.

  Of course, there were the tales of magic about King Arthur and Tintagel Castle on the North Coast of Cornwall. Morgan Le Fay was allegedly King Arthur’s half-sister, depending on which stories you read, and she was half-Fey, as her name suggested. She was a witch who moved between the worlds of the Fey and mortals. According to tales from all over Britain and Europe, the Other also contained dragons, dryads, nymphs, and other mythical creatures. It was a place where time passed differently. A day in the Other, could be hundreds of years on Earth. Avery shivered. There were many tales about travellers who had crossed to the Other and returned years later, only to find their loved ones dead. She wasn’t sure which was the more unnerving—demons or Faeries with their clever wiles and manipulati
ons.

  And of course there was the yew tree. She still needed to read up on that.

  Just as she’d poured coffee and made up her mind to distract herself in the shop, someone knocked at the door and pushed it slowly open. James the vicar peered around the edge. He smiled tentatively. “May I come in and talk?”

  A sinking feeling flooded through Avery. He’s going to ask about Old Haven.

  She pasted a smile on her face. “Of course. I haven’t seen you for while. How are you?”

  He threaded through the boxes, looking around curiously as he always did. “I’ve been better.” He looked her straight in the eye. “You know why I’m here, of course.”

  “I presume you have questions about Old Haven Church.”

  He nodded. “Why is my church being targeted again, Avery?”

  “I didn’t know Old Haven was your church.”

  “Old Haven belongs to the Church of England. It’s part of my area, especially because it’s used only occasionally. It doesn’t need a full-time vicar.”

  Avery frowned, recalling Gil’s funeral. “My friend died in the summer and was buried there, in the Jackson’s mausoleum. You weren’t there then.”

  “I had some leave. Someone stood in for me. You haven’t answered my question,” he said softly.

  “I honestly don’t know why Old Haven is being targeted.” He looked so anxious she knew she couldn’t brush him off. “Take a seat. I’ll take Sally her drink, and then we’ll chat.”

  She rushed out the door, plonked Sally’s drink and a pack of biscuits in front of her, and said, “Give me fifteen minutes. If I’m not out, come and get me.”

  Sally smirked and nodded, and Avery took a deep breath and headed to the back room.

  James was idly flicking through a book on local history, but he put it down as soon as she walked in.

  “Do you want a coffee?” she asked, remembering her manners.

  “Just a biscuit will do.”

  She pushed a pack of chocolate digestives over and watched as he took a bite of one. “I’m not sure what’s happening at Old Haven, but it’s definitely different from what happened at All Souls.”