Evil Rising

by Tabitha Scott

  “No, they will not,” I confirm. He knows. He knows what I am, but he be letting me go anyway. “Am I welcome back here again?” I ask uneasily. “I wish to learn.”

  “Anyone who wishes to learn is welcome here. One person who is here to learn, is worth all the rest who are not, and there are many here who are not, but it would be good if there were not outbreaks of disease that close down the school.”

  “I be sure that will not happen again.” I am thinking, broken toes, and other forms of torture.

  He nods to me, and our agreement be made. There are other things I can do to protect myself here.

  Chapter 3: Changes Again

  As I leave the school, I notice that Mr. MacNeeb be right, there are students who have been sent home who are loitering in the grounds, I feel that they are not exactly sympathetic to me. A few yards from the front steps, I turn back to the school, and I can see the principal be watching from a window near the doorway – curiosity has gotten the best of him.

  From somewhere near the top of the steps a stone be pelted at me, but I knew it would come and it be already repelled to the thrower with twice-like force. It hits him in his head, I am looking at the principal, but I should address this student. I walk back and stand over him as he lies on the ground, his head be bleeding.

  “Sticks and stones will break your bones; but I will never mend them.” I hope my sneer be enough for witnesses to see, for there are other loiterers close about. I dismiss the witless dolt, leaving him to his own stupidity. He will have to face the school nurse and will need stitches. I care not what lies he will lamely claim, others have seen, and I will have no more trouble at this school.

  I turn and nod to the principal. I will keep my pact with him, as I wish to learn, and I have kept my promise to Pulania, I have not killed. None-the-less, as I head to the magikal path, I cannot help thinking that, though short, it has been my first good day at school. Any others who might have thrown stones, wisely, are not.

  ***

  The magikal path be short from Pershing High. A few turns through the forest and I have my home in sight, but I also have something else in sight, and that be: the blood trail that leads to an open front door.

  I pause in approach and bring out the obsidian dagger that I keep in a pocket amongst the folds of my skirt. I am no lady who relies on a lover to protect her. I steal forward at the ready now. If there be a threat, I am determined to deal with it, fourteen years of age, or no.

  As I make my way to the front porch, I cannot see any movement. I peer inside, and the blood trail ends at a broken sofa that I rescued from a garbage heap and sometimes use for reclining. Pulania be there and she be hurt, but I do not rush to her side. I cautiously step inside and spread my senses throughout the house to make sure no one else be there. A dark witch lives longer by being careful – Pulania has taught me this.

  Sensing that I am near, though her eyes be closed, Pulania beckons to me. I can see that her arm be roughly bandaged, and there be burn marks on her clothing. Now, I rush to her side. I know that she would not beckon if there were danger nearby.

  “What has happened?” I ask her.

  “I tried to meet with the Pennsylvania coven, but it did not go well.”

  “You are bleeding.”

  “Chan eil,” which be Scottish Gaelic for ‘no’. “I have bound the wounds, the bleeding has almost stopped, but you must stitch them, for I cannot do so myself.”

  I am not a squeamish sort, I do as Pulania directs, then I fetch her water and steep teas that will give her strength. When I have stitched and cleaned her, I provide her the teas, and I wrap her in blankets. She sleeps for a while thereafter, but I stay by her side, continuing my reading of Wuthering Heights. When she wakes again, some hours later, I ask her what has transpired.

  “It did not go well. I relied on the covenant to approach them, but had not realised that they were not descended of signatories. They are Dutch and German descended, a Celtic born witch was anathema to them.”

  “They tried to kill you?”

  “Yes, but three of theirs will never rise again,” she sighs. “I be sorry Amura, the Americas are not for us. We must approach a Celtic coven, or another coven that be signatory to the covenant, elsewise it will go as badly as this. The covenant will provide us some protection with our own, but I have made a mistake in thinking the new world would be open to us. I was too different from the coven I approached. To them, I be just an outside threat.”

  “You found me and took me in when I was lost Pulania, you have always looked after me, sleep now, it be my turn to look after you.”

  There be only one coven that I know of that will fit the criteria that Pulania has outlined. As she drifts back to sleep, I resolve to approach them while Pulania recovers.

  Chapter 4: The Library

  I know some other witches. There be Hecatines at the National Library of Scotland, Pulania has introduced me to some of them. I have seen a White Solitaire, once, though she kept a wide berth of me. The Dark ones are hidden all over Scotland, but I know they be in the one coven. It be a large one, perhaps some fifty or sixty sisters, all old and ugly. They are feared, but as far as I know, they have always abided by the covenant.

  Since Pulania has been gravely injured and will take some weeks to recover. I seek out Charlotte, the head Hecatine for advice. As a dark witch, the Hecatines probably fear me, but youth be on my side, because I am only fourteen I may not seem nearly as threatening as an aged hag several centuries old. I am not ugly to look at.

  The National Library be only a short walk from Pulania’s. I have a library card, but have not visited there often, and never without Pulania. As I arrive, I just stand awkwardly in the entrance. Though I am small, and young, my darkness be evident to the Hecatines on the front counter. There be a flurry of activity as one of them goes to get Charlotte. I wait at the entrance, never moving, perhaps I be brooding sullenly, that would be it, I be brooding sullenly.

  “Blessed be thy feet, which have brought thee in these ways,” Charlotte greets me.

  “Blessed be thy knees, that shall kneel at the sacred alter.” Our open palms clasp in the traditional greeting.

  “You be welcome, Amura. How can I help you?” Charlotte be always serene and calm when I visit, whereas the other Hecatines tend toward panic. “Have you been enjoying Wuthering Heights?”

  “Yes, thank you, though I think I will try and read something more Scottish next, I need to learn more of the history from our own country.”

  “Well, Sir Walter Scott might be a good next step. He wrote many books centred in different parts of the country, capturing the thoughts and culture of different regions. But you are not here to talk of books, I think?”

  “Pulania be hurt. She be recovering at my place, but I have to find us a coven, we will not be safe until we can join a group of our own.”

  Charlotte considers me a moment. “Dark witches. There have not been new dark witches in Scotland during my life time. The dark coven of Hatchesput be already aware of you, but they are cautious. They are the last survivors of their kind in Scotland. At one time there were many more, there were even other covens. Now, they are all that be left – apart from the two of you, it would seem.”

  I feel uncomfortable at her words.

  “What has changed that the world would bring forth two new dark witches?” Charlotte ponders aloud, but I have no answer for her question, it be rhetorical anyway. “The earth only does what be needed.”

  “The covenant may not protect you if you approach them,” she continues, “but you should invoke it anyway. Let them know that I have sent you, you are less likely to disappear if they realise that someone knows where you are. They at least pay lip service to the covenant, though I believe they would break it if they thought they could get away with it. It will be very dangerous what you propose to do.”

  I nod to her, I already know this. Being broken, perhaps I have forgotten fear, because I do not feel it, even n
ow.

  “Hatchesput will be in one of two places, possibly at Liddesdale, near Hermitage Castle, but most likely at Stonehaven in Aberdeenshire.”

  “How do you know this?” I ask.

  “Ah, you and Pulania are not the only of your kind to darken our doorstep,” she smiles at me, and I smile back at her pun.

  “Go to Stonehaven, that be the best place to start.”

  “But how will I find her there?”

  “You and Pulania have remained very well hidden. Go to Stonehaven, but do not go in stealth, she will find you.”

  A slight shiver runs down my spine. But no, I am not afraid.

  Chapter 5: Stonehaven

  If there be a magikal path that would take me to Stonehaven I do not know it. Perhaps when Pulania be better she might help me navigate to that place. I have, however, found a path to Aberdeen, only some fifteen miles away, a mere day or two by pony cart. I have compulsed a local man to take me to Stonehaven. He be not even aware that I ride on the back of his cart, and has no idea where he travels, or even that he be travelling far from his Aberdeen home. I smile when I think of the befuddlement he will suffer when he finally finds himself lost so far from the roads and byways that would be known to him, for my darkness allows me joy in such things.

  It be an exceptionally dull day for travel, which be most to my liking. I have left Pulania to her own ministrations: I have left her clean water, some bread with butter and cheese, some freshly baked scones with jams, and some apples. I may be away for three or more days, but, with some effort, she has enough mobility to look after herself. I had waited for over a week before leaving, to be sure that a fever would not take place, as infection can be deadly. We had used iodine on her wounds though, and she seemed to be recovering without issue.

  As we come into Stonehaven, at the end of a full day’s journey, I slip off the edge of the cart along what looks like the High street of the town. As soon as I leave, the middle aged man driving the cart calls his aged horse to a halt. I watch for a moment taking satisfaction from his disarray. I had chosen him because he had been cruel to the horse that carried us. Now, with his bewilderment, he pulls out a rod to strike the horse for leading him astray. That will not happen, instead the man mysteriously falls dead between the cart and the horse rig, because I cannot abide a bully – and this be not school, so I am not bound by my agreement with Pulania.

  A small crowd of less than a dozen people soon gather. I stand there near their periphery, holding the satchel bag with the change of clothes I had brought for my travels.

  “He just fell from the cart. Is he dead?”

  Someone checks his breathing. “He is dead.”

  “Will someone call for the coroner? Or the police? Does anyone know this man?”

  Oooh, I am compelled to step forward. “He be an Aberdeen man who kindly lent me a ride here on his pony cart.”

  “Do you know him?” an older woman asks of me, and the crowd awaits my answer.

  “No, but he has a wife in Aberdeen. He mentioned so.” At least the cart and horse will be returned to his widow, the good people of this town will ensure that happens. It be appropriate, I know he had beaten his wife as badly as he had his horse. She would do better without him, but would need the horse and cart.

  “And why are you here in Stonehaven?” The old woman asks, as the crowd’s attention reverts to the body.

  “I am here to try and find my grandmother,” I lie. “My mother has recently passed, and I am told that my grandmother be here in the town.” I am a young and vulnerable girl, my lie will be believable.

  “Oh, you poor thing. Do you know where your grandmother lives? Do you have a place to stay the night?”

  “No. I must find my grandmother, or a place to stay before darkness sets.”

  “What is your grandmother’s name?” the woman asks me.

  “Hatchesput,” I answer.

  “Oh, I do not know anyone by that name here, dear. Is it foreign? It is not German, is it? My Ned has gone to war to fight the Germans.”

  “Oh, no, it just be a very old family name.” But the woman moves away from me as though I be a leper. Obviously, she does not know the name Hatchesput, but in thinking about it, it does sound quite European. Sigh, I will probably have this same problem throughout the town. I had just hoped to ask about and find Hatchesput that way, but I can see that will not be an option now.

  Thankfully, it be the summer months, so there will be sun until quite late in the evening, I have time to find a place to stay for the night.

  I walk along the High street for a ways, toward the harbour, there I find a number of pubs and guest houses, any of which will do for a few nights lodging, though really, a young girl alone should be careful that the place she stays in be not ‘inappropriate’. Hmm, on the other hand, I am here to be noticed, so there be that to consider. Of course, the very fact that I am unaccompanied be possibly enough cause for scandal. The locals will be wondering whether I end up as a prostitute. Thinking of prostitutes, I wonder where they be? Perhaps I should stay where they ply their craft? That would be sure to draw attention.

  “A farthing for a wretched soul?” an old beggar woman asks me. She be in the periphery of my vision, and before I turn toward her, I see an aura of blackness. You can often catch a glimpse of magiks from the corner of your eye.

  “Are you Hatchesput, then?” I ask her, but apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Clothed in unwashed rags, hunched over with arthritis and suffering scoliosis, the woman spits and turns away as though insulted by my question. Far more quickly than those aged bones should be able to, she hobbles away from me, down a dingy alleyway off from the harbour. Foolishly, I follow after her. Ahead of me I can hear her mumbling.

  “Scary creature, black but not. Something other.”

  “Please, I wish to talk to you,” I call, but the old woman pulls up her skirts and carries forward at a much faster rate. I have to run to keep up. “Please, wait.”

  And then she does, she turns, and there be an almost manic grin on her face. “Followed me too far, deary. There be no one that will help you now.” Indeed we are in an alley of stone walls, no one is nearby.

  With that, the old woman, streams toward me almost faster than a human eye can catch. A flurry of crone teeth, eyes, and rags blur forward, but I be ready for this. Of all the witches, only dark witches can meld time during an attack, which be one of the reasons that I know I am one. As fast as she comes at me, a steely knife in her hand, I am able to dodge to the side and around her.

  When she realises I am not where she thought I was she whirls around, and her knife be not hidden now, but either be mine. From my skirts I have pulled out my obsidian dagger, it be ancient, as black as death, and I am brandishing it ready for use. The manic face of the hag be surprised, perhaps that I had dodged her so easily, perhaps that there be such glee in my own face. This can only be fun.

  “Have you killed before, girly?” she asks as we circle one and other, a swirl of black magiks around the two of us.

  “Within the hour.”

  “Ah, the Aberdeen man. I thought I felt the taint of dark wiles on my grounds.”

  “I am not here to take your grounds, old woman. You know what I want.”

  “Ha, straight to the point, I like that.” The old woman eases back, and her spine straightens fully, the impression of arthritis and crookedness disappear giving her an extra foot in height, the knife goes down to her side, but be not put away. “You wish to join the coven, then?”

  “We do. Pulania and I, we are both dark.”

  “Ha, you and other pretty? Two peas in a pod. There have been no new dark witches in Scotland for well over a hundred years. Why now? Why two?”

  I have no answer, and I have not lowered my knife. The old woman has a lot of weight on me, and she be fast, I have to be wary here or I could end up dead.

  “I have no answer for that. But I have this: blessed be thy feet, which have brought thee in these wa
ys.”

  “Blessed be thy knees, that shall kneel at the sacred alter.”

  Through convention, we should raise our hands, open palmed, to indicate no ill intent, but neither of us are doing that here. “I invoke the covenant between us.”

  “Between us? Between the covens, if you be not part of a coven you have no protection from me.”

  “I have my knife as protection from you,” I reply.

  “And a very pretty blade it be too. Here, give it here so that I may look at it.” She holds her hand out, but does she really expect me to give it to her?

  “Not likely.”

  “Well, that be good, little Pretty. If you had been foolish enough to give me your blade you would be dead at my feet right now. Do you carry a second weapon?”

  I do not answer, but something in my demeanor – a blink of my eyes, perhaps – gives the truth away. “This be your first lesson then. Always carry a backup weapon.” Faster than I can see, she spirits a second blade to her other hand, but then almost as fast as it appears, it be gone again.

  “I will think on your proposal, Pretty. You be not what I expect in a dark witch, but our numbers have been sadly depleted with time. You certainly have an aura of blackness about you. If your sister be the same, then perhaps we shall see. How did you know how to find me?”

  “Charlotte, of the National Library thought you might be at Stonehaven.”

  “Ah yes, the Hecatine.”

  “I will wait in the town for your decision,” I tell Hatchesput.

  “Do not, I will contact you.”

  “But…” but the old woman be gone, time slipped away, “…you do not know how to contact me.”

  Chapter 6: Telling Pulania

  I return to Aberdeen the next day. However, I did spend part of the night, roaming the waterfront, hiding from sailors and other folk while creating all manner of minor mischief. After all, I am only fourteen, and it be not often that I get to go to somewhere as depraved as the Stonehaven waterfront. It had drunken people wandering everywhere until the wee hours, with music and spontaneous revelry that spilt out from several of the pubs, but there was also debauchery, gambling and thieving. I can see why a dark witch would want to live there.