by T J Green
Avery’s heart pounded in her chest, and she expected to hear a shout at any moment. Sweat was beading on her brow and she welcomed the cool night air. She hadn’t even realised how hot she was feeling.
With a soft chirp, Alex switched off his car alarm and they jumped in. They didn’t stop to congratulate themselves until they were on the outskirts of town, both of them glancing over their shoulders nervously.
Avery slumped back in her seat as they hit the A390 and sped up. “That was close.”
“But successful. You coming back to mine?”
Avery felt her breath catch, and she looked at him, wide-eyed.
“Surely you want to check the grimoires under witch light?” he said with a grin.
She laughed. “Yes, I do! But I’ll need a very strong coffee. Or alcohol. Or maybe both.”
4
The witch light floated over the two grimoires, revealing silvery shapes magically marked onto the old paper of the spell books.
“Runes and writing,” Alex murmured, gently turning the pages of his own book, as Avery looked through Briar’s.
“There are marks on some pages, but not all,” Avery noted.
Briar’s book was as old as the others, and it contained a mixture of spells, observations on moon cycles, and experiments with herbs and gems. However, the witches who had owned this grimoire had a greater tradition of commenting on the success of the spells, or suggestions for improvements, so that it read as much as a diary as a spell book. The witch light revealed additional notes, some written in English, while some pages were marked with either a single rune or a series of runes.
Avery peered across at Alex’s book. “It looks similar to this one in the way the runes are used.”
Alex nodded. “There are some marking protection, others denoting months, or what I think are times to best use a particular spell. They seem to provide a hidden level of enhancement for the spells, which is weird. Why would they add a hidden message to an already very private book?”
“Added protection from prying eyes?”
Avery flicked to the unused pages in the back, the grimoire hidden before they could ever be used. Several were indeed blank, but right at the very end the witch light revealed another spell. “Look at this, Alex. This spell has been hidden completely!” She stared at the page, puzzled. “This says: Part Three, The Grounding. Where are the other parts?”
Alex quickly turned to the back pages of his own and swore. “I have Part Five, The Summoning.”
They looked at each other as realisation dawned.
“One spell spread across all five grimoires?” Avery wondered, looking back at Briar’s book. “I don’t know what it’s for. Can you tell from yours?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s a just a very long spell—no ingredients. It relates to the spirit, like most of the spells in my book, but I don’t understand the specifics—yet.”
“There are a few ingredients in this one, and then a long chant. It’s quite repetitive.” Avery’s thoughts raced, as she ran through the various possibilities. The spells in Briar’s book were themed with the earth element, but not exclusively. “One big spell broken into five parts, each focusing on one of the elements, hidden in the back of each grimoire. The other grimoires must contain the other parts.”
“One big spell,” Alex repeated. “I have a bad feeling about this. There are a few reasons to split a spell.”
“To make all five witches participate?”
“Yes. And to ensure everyone agreed. Or because it was too powerful for one individual alone.”
“What type of spell would you want agreement on? A binding spell, or a spell to release something powerful?”
Alex sighed and looked at his watch. “I’m shattered, I can’t think straight. It’s nearly four in the morning.
“Is it? Wow, no wonder I’m so tired. I think adrenalin is the only thing keeping me going.” Avery ran her hands through her hair, trying to release the clips that held it in a loose bun. She looked up to find Alex watching her, his eyes following her hands and her hair, and then her lips.
“Here, let me.” Alex said, stepping closer and reaching for her hair clips. He tipped her head so that it rested on his chest, his hands warm on hers as he found the clips and untangled them. He put his hands in her hair, shaking it free, and it tumbled down her back. “You have the most gorgeous hair,” he murmured.
Alex’s warm, musky scent enveloped Avery, and she inhaled deeply, her hands resting on his chest as she pressed against him. His hands moved from her hair to caress her back, her shoulders, and then her neck, and they were so warm and strong that a sigh escaped her. He bent his head, and she felt his lips upon her neck. A shiver ran through her. This was heaven. His lips moved around her neck, kissing her gently, and then rose slowly to her cheek. As if spellbound, Avery tipped her head back and his lips blazed a trail to hers. She sank into his kiss effortlessly, like slipping into water.
Desire uncoiled within her, a slow stirring in her belly that spread deliciously around her body, her brain incapable of making a rational decision. She wrapped her arms around him, snaking under his t-shirt as he pulled her closer. His hands slid up and down her arms, leaving her tingling and breathless, and then moved to her waist. He lifted her up onto the table and she wrapped her legs around him while their kiss deepened. As her emotions ran wild, a wind once again rose around them, tugging at their hair and caressing her skin, and Alex responded, the candles around them flaring into life. Avery couldn’t explain why, but the intensity of their kiss was wilder than before as an urgent lust rose between them. Alex pulled back for a second, his lips grazing hers, his eyes dark with desire as he stared at her. For a moment, it seemed as if time stopped as they both hesitated, and then he picked her up and carried her through to his bedroom.
***
Avery awoke once again tangled in Alex’s sheets, his body sprawled next to her. She could get used to this, she thought, as she turned over onto her back, trying not to disturb him.
Daylight filtered through the wooden blinds, casting a pale, barred light across the room. Rain was falling heavily outside. She could hear it pounding on the roof, and it cocooned the flat, drowning out all other noise. Alex felt warm, his arm heavy, and she gently traced the dark shapes of the tattoo that ran across his shoulders and down his arms.
Part of her was annoyed that once again she’d failed to show any willpower at all, but the other half didn’t care. She wasn’t sure if this was leading anywhere, but it felt good while it lasted. Avery had never felt like this about anyone. It was partly because they were both witches. He knew her, but they also had a connection, a spark that she couldn’t explain. No doubt he’d break her heart, but she was resigned to it. As long as she was expecting it, maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad when the inevitable happened. She inwardly rolled her eyes. She was such a fool. And then she remembered what he’d said last night about Faversham. I would kill him he if touched you. She probably shouldn’t read too much into that.
Alex stirred and mumbled into her shoulder. “It feels late.”
“It is late. It’s after twelve.”
“Thank the gods I’m not working.” He opened his eyes, squinting at her. “I need coffee.”
She smiled. “I can get it.”
“No, let me. My machine’s temperamental. Want one?”
She felt cheeky. “Yes, please. Do I get brunch, too?”
He grinned at her. “Sure. But only if you stick around all day.”
She twisted to look at him. “Why do I have to stick around?”
“Well, a—why wouldn’t you want to? And b—we have work to do. All that stuff we found last night.” He nuzzled her neck again. “I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”
She thought she might just stop breathing. “You don’t have to bribe me with sex.”
“It’s not bribery. It’s a pleasure. Isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes questioning as he held her gaze.
“Y
ou know it is,” Avery said, almost whispering it.
“Good,” he agreed softly, before kissing her again. And then he slid out of bed and walked naked across the room and out to the kitchen. She couldn’t help but watch him, admiring his long muscled limbs, his flat stomach, and his toned abs. He was so hot. She flopped back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. I’m screwed, she thought, literally and figuratively.
Alex cooked an amazing brunch of hash browns, eggs, and bacon, and she gazed at him with new appreciation. He moved competently around the kitchen, and grinned when he saw her watching.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said.
“Must you always underestimate me?” he chided. But she could tell he was pleased.
As soon as they’d eaten, they spread all of the papers they found in the archive on the sofa, the table, and the floor. Avery called Briar with the good news about her grimoire, and the others had agreed to come over later that afternoon.
“I wish I’d thought to bring the picture of Helena’s hanging and the ledger,” Avery said, making herself comfortable on the sofa. She curled up in the corner, the book containing the trial transcripts and the extra papers about Helena’s trial next to her.
“What we find here may make it easier to understand the map, anyway,” Alex reasoned. He sat on the rug, the other papers next to him, and the grimoires on the table.
For a while, they worked quietly together. The book containing the trial notes was difficult to read, the language awkward, and the writing faded in places. The first trials were of some old women who had been accused of turning milk sour by a local farmer, as well as ruining crops. Another had been accused of causing a stillbirth. Avery sighed. This was common during the witch trials, and both men and women were the accusers. It was impossible to say now, but more than likely these poor women had had nothing to do with what they were accused of. From the small amount of information available, these women were old widows, living on little money, and struggling to get by.
Initially, the numbers accused were low, and then a fury seemed to ignite the town, and more women’s names appeared, along with a few men. Avery’s blood chilled. It must have been terrifying. The trials all resulted in a test of witchcraft by drowning. Those who survived were hanged, but most drowned anyway. At this stage there was no mention of burning witches at the stake.
There were a few witness statements at the beginning, defending some of the poor accused, but as time went on, these grew less and less, as those who tried to defend them soon found themselves on the list of accused. And then Helena’s name appeared and Avery hesitated for a second, almost scared to read further.
She must have sighed, because Alex called over, “You okay?”
She looked up at him. He had a witch light hovering above his shoulder, illuminating his grimoire and Briar’s next to it. “I’ve just come across Helena’s name. This is so horrible. I don’t want to read it, but I have to.”
“Do you want me to?”
“No. It’s fine. I’m being stupid. But I can’t help but imagine what if that happened now. What if someone saw a demon, and we were accused in some way?”
“No one would believe it. They’d be locked up in the nearest psychiatric ward. Besides, we could get around that with a spell.”
“Could we? Helena couldn’t.”
“You don’t know what happened yet,” he reminded her.
“You’re right,” she said. “I need to focus.”
Avery went back to the transcript and had her first shock. Helena was accused as Helena Marchmont, widow of Edward Marchmont, and mother of Ava, aged eight, and Louisa, aged five. Helena was a widow. This left her vulnerable. Edward had been a merchant, but Helena had no occupation, and that would fit. She wouldn’t need to work as the wife of a merchant. They had money and status—if he’d left her some, which was likely. It was odd, but the address listed was different from the one she had from Anne. Maybe this was a later address. The cottage she’d found on the edge of the town wouldn’t have befitted a merchant. Maybe this was Helena’s family’s home. With any luck, Avery would be able to find the house she shared with her husband. She sighed again and kept reading.
The first charge against Helena was listed on the 9th of October 1589, and they went back several years. A man called Timothy Williams had accused her of killing his wife when she lost her child and then died in childbirth. He said she had done it deliberately, as they were rivals in business. Others had defended her, saying she was a respectable woman who helped her community. Avery recognised the Ashworths’ (Briar’s family), the Bonnevilles’, and the Jacksons’ names. They were listed as merchants, too. Again, that made sense, particularly the Jacksons. And then the transcript mentioned another accuser. The Favershams. Thaddeus Faversham stated that his wife had almost died in childbirth, but had survived by the grace of God. Their child, however, had died after being cursed by Helena Marchmont, who had attended the birth. He then went on to list failed shipments that had been run aground because of storms. He accused Helena Marchmont of making those storms. Thaddeus cited evidence that Helena’s mother had been known as wise woman and witch, and that clearly she had inherited her skills. Joseph Marchmont, Helena’s brother-in-law, had defended her, but then it seemed the two girls were threatened. Avery could imagine his fear. Helena stood accused, but he had to protect his nieces.
Then Thaddeus accused the Jacksons, the Bonnevilles, and the Ashworths, too, but none of these seemed to hold weight—at least they weren’t formally charged. Maybe they were just too well known and respected. And then someone called Elijah James accused Helena.
Avery felt a rush of anger. Williams, James, and Faversham must have been working together, and maybe had scared others into accusing Helena of witchcraft, too. She did not and would not believe that Helena would be capable of harming others.
Helena had been found guilty. It was impossible to know the details between these lines of accusations—the transcript was dry and devoid of emotion—but whatever the defendants had said hadn’t worked, and Avery wasn’t sure if they could risk any more for her.
It was interesting that so many of them were merchants in some way or another. Maybe the Favershams had threatened their families, businesses, and livelihoods. One way or another, the accusers had won. A date was set, October 31st, and Helena was burnt at the stake.
And it seemed that Helena was the last name accused, as if her burning had ended the madness. Maybe the town had been appalled at what had happened.
Avery sighed again and looked up to find Alex watching her. “This is horrible.”
“Go on, tell me.”
She related the story, and as she talked, the events made a little more sense, but she still felt there was something unsaid, something significant. Why would a witch threaten another in such a public way, just for business?
Alex tried to reassure her. “Everybody went a bit mad at these witch trials—they whipped people into a frenzy, for a while at least, and then it settled down again. It doesn’t excuse their behaviours, though. They were different times, Avery. But, it’s interesting that the Favershams led the attack. It could be business motivations, or it could be a cover for something to do with magic. What happened to her children?”
“I don’t know. I presume their Uncle Joseph looked after them, or maybe Helena’s mother. There’s no further mention of her here, so maybe she was in hiding, or had died. I’ll have to check my family tree.”
He nodded at the pile of old yellow papers next to her. “What’s in those?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t got to them yet.” She looked around at the darkened room. The rain was now lashing the windows, the wind surging against the building. She could hear the crash of the surf on the beach. She couldn’t see the harbour, but she knew from long experience that the boats would be bobbing furiously, the pavements would be empty, and the pubs would be full. However, it was nice to be curled up on Alex’s sofa, even if her reading
material was grim. She smiled at him. “How are you getting on?”
“Okay. There are commonalities in the rune markings on certain spells, but I’d like to check the other books first. I still don’t know what the spells in the back are about.” He shivered. “It’s getting cold.” He looked at the kindling in the fireplace, and suddenly flames flashed along them and onto the logs laid across them, and then the candles around his flat sparked to life, along with a couple of corner lamps.
Avery groaned. “I am not looking forward to leaving here later. I’m going to get soaked.”
“You can stay here,” he said.
She shook her head, “I can’t. The cats need feeding, and I have work in the morning.”
“I’ll run you back, it won’t take long.”
“Thanks,” she said, already wishing she didn’t have to go, even though she wouldn’t be leaving for hours yet.
She turned back to the other loose papers and with a shock, realised they were letters. They were addressed to the magistrate, and they were from Thaddeus Faversham. An even bigger shock was the name of the magistrate. She cried out and looked up at Alex, momentarily too stunned to speak.
“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in concern.
“I’ve found Newton’s connection. The magistrate—or Justice of the Peace—was named Peter Newton.”
Alex looked stunned. “I presume it would be too big a coincidence not to be related at all to our DI Newton.”
Avery’s mind raced as she filtered through a few possibilities. “He condemned Helena to death, and many others. Newton said, ‘I know my place in the town.’ Is he here to protect us, or condemn us?”
“Or protect the town from us?” Alex reasoned.
Avery felt vulnerable and looked around the room, as if someone would burst in on them and drag them away.
Alex tried to reassure her. “Avery, it’s okay. We’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to us—I promise. And neither will you. You’re too strong.” He nodded at the papers in her lap. “Read the letters, hopefully they’ll fill in the gaps.”