by Sally Green
“But I was a prisoner of Soul.” Or at least I think I was.
“It doesn’t matter who took you there or why. The Council guards failed to guard you and the magic protecting the building failed to retain you. The building, the guards, the magic are all the responsibility of the Council Leader. Gloria took the blame and Soul made sure she took it all.”
“I always wondered if my escape was made easy. It certainly wasn’t made difficult.”
“My sources say that Soul allowed your escape. Though it did not go entirely as he planned. You were supposed to have had your finger chopped off and made into a witch’s bottle before that happened. They were going to force you to kill your father and then murder you. But I see you still have all your fingers.” She waves her cigarette at my hand. “Nonetheless, your escape has still worked to Soul’s advantage. He brought down Gloria and took control of the Council himself.”
“So now there’s a man in charge of the Council and another leading the Hunters? That must be a first. I can’t see it going down well with White Witches.”
“Well, no. Most females, of course, have stronger Gifts than men. You and Gabriel are unusual in that regard.” Nesbitt coughs to bring attention to himself but Van ignores him. “Anyway, men actually don’t hold both those two key positions. Clay also fared badly due to your actions. Many White Witches have died protecting the Fairborn, and yet it was stolen on Clay’s watch without him even getting a bruise. There was a call for him to go too . . . and he went.”
“So who’s in charge of the Hunters now?” But somehow I have a feeling I already know.
“There was one person who did get rather more than a bruise the night you stole the Fairborn. She’s a little young and somewhat inexperienced but intelligent and highly gifted. And also horribly disfigured, so they say. Your half-sister Jessica.”
I remember the Fairborn in my hand, its power and its desire to cut, and how it sliced down her face. I say, “She was Clay’s lover. I guess that relationship is over now since it’s served its purpose. She’ll be loving the job more than she loved Clay.”
“Jessica is loyal to Soul and is already extending the Hunters’ range across Europe. Soul is bringing the White Witch Councils of Europe under his influence. He’s winning them round to his point of view. He wants them all to report to him and for them to drive out the Black Witches from here as they have been from Britain.” Van shakes her head. “I’m a Black Witch and have no love for Whites but in Europe we have a long tradition of live and let live. They stick to their traditional areas and we stick to ours. There’s a harmony.”
Van pulls her slim silver case out of her jacket and takes another cigarette, saying, “Soul has no interest in harmony. All he wants is more and more power.” She lights the cigarette, inhales deeply, and blows the plume of green smoke high above us. “He plans on killing all Black Witches in Europe. And he will kill anyone, Black or White, who stands in his way. He is no true witch.”
“And your quest is to stop him?”
“Yes. To restore harmony and balance we have to prevent Soul from taking over all the Councils of Europe and we have to stop the Hunters who work for him.”
“Who’s we?”
“An alliance of all witches.”
“All witches? You mean Whites as well as Blacks?”
“Yes, all witches who want to retain the traditional values.”
“Traditional values of hating each other?”
“Traditional values of mutual distance, respect, and tolerance. We all respect the individual, whether White or Black. And we’re looking for new recruits.”
“Me? I’m neither Black nor White.”
“You’re both.” She looks over at Nesbitt. “Half Bloods have joined too.”
“So, let me get this right: you’re banding together with a bunch of White Witches to battle the Hunters who are expanding into Europe. And you want me to join and fight alongside White Witches?”
“Yes.”
“Ha! You talk about balance? Well, I hate White Witches and they hate me. That’s the sort of balance I’m used to.”
“You don’t hate all White Witches. Your half-brother Arran and half-sister Deborah—”
“Are they joining?”
“I believe so.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that but I imagine it’s true. They would both believe in the cause.
I say, “I can’t see either of them being much use in a fight.”
“An army isn’t just made up of soldiers.” Van drags on her cigarette. “We all bring different attributes to the cause. Yours is undoubtedly your ability to fight. Others, like Arran, can heal the wounded. Others, like Deborah, provide information.”
I study her. “How many recruits are there?”
“A few. Some White Witches have fled England already. Those that find Soul too extreme and have said so. They’ve lost everything and want to fight back. Some Black Witches have also joined: those who see the future will be bleak if they do nothing. The numbers are small but growing.”
“You don’t need me then.”
“Few of our recruits can fight.”
“Ah.”
“And you, Nathan, need us. Even if you are able to wake Annalise and escape from Mercury, do you really think your troubles will be over? They’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth. And, while you may be able to run, your precious Annalise will, I’m afraid, not last two minutes.”
“We’ll hide.”
“They’ll hunt.”
And I know she’s right, of course. There’ll be no end to it.
I look at Gabriel. He says, “I’ll go with you, whatever you choose to do.”
I shake my head. “It’s not my fight.”
Van smiles. “It’s your fight more than anyone else’s.”
I get up and walk round the table. I really don’t like this. I’ve no desire to fight against Hunters or risk my life for some cause. And I certainly can’t see myself fighting alongside even one White Witch. All I want to do is find Annalise and go and live a quiet life by a river, undisturbed, forever.
I walk out of the dining room, wander into the lounge, and sit on the sofa, looking out over the lake to the mountains beyond.
Nightsmoke
It seems that I’m not going to be left alone even here. I’ve been sitting on my own in the lounge for only a minute before Van follows me into the room, Gabriel comes to sit on a chair near me, and Nesbitt stands leaning against the door frame.
Van says, “Soul is a danger to us all. The Alliance’s cause is—”
I interrupt her. “I’m not interested in causes. I just want to get Annalise back.”
“And how do you plan to do that? Mercury is formidable; her Gift is exceptional.” Van paces the floor in front of me. “Let me guess. Annalise is in a death-sleep from which only Mercury can wake her. You hope that if Gabriel uses his Gift to transform into Mercury he can break the spell.”
I have to admit, but only to myself, that that is my plan and it does sound a bit lame.
“There’s more than one problem with your plan.”
“I didn’t say that was my plan.”
“You have a better one?”
If I did I wouldn’t tell her that either.
Van continues talking and pacing. “First problem: Gabriel is still unable to access his Gift. Second problem: you don’t know where Annalise is. Third problem: even if you find Annalise, and Gabriel can transform himself into Mercury, you still have to work out how to undo the spell. Fourth problem: even if you find a solution to problems one through three, Mercury will try to kill you if she finds out what you’re up to—and I think she’ll have a good chance of succeeding.”
“I admit there are a few hurdles.”
“Indeed.” Van sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. “Th
ough I might be willing to help you over those hurdles.”
“If I join the Alliance?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“How can I help you? Well, let’s start with your first problem: Gabriel.” She smiles at him. “No offense, darling.”
He shrugs.
Van continues. “I can help Gabriel recover his Gift.”
“There are others who can help me do that,” says Gabriel.
“Well, there’s Mercury, of course, and a few others, but each one will demand much in return.”
Gabriel says, “And aren’t you doing that?”
Van smiles. “I think you’ll find I’m a lot easier to deal with than most. And I’m here and I can help straightaway. I understand you aren’t in any rush to rescue Annalise, Gabriel, but you’ve been a fain now for many months. You’ve been unable to access your Gift almost as long as you were able to use it. You need to get back to your true self soon.”
He looks at me. “It’s not the end of the world, not having a Gift. There are worse things.”
“I will help Gabriel recover his Gift so he’ll be able to transform into Mercury, but even then he may not be able to wake Annalise. It all depends on Mercury’s spell. However, I have another option if that fails.”
“Which is?”
“I’ll make Mercury do it.”
“Ha! How?”
“It’s no harder than getting her to eat her own tongue. There are potions that will allow it. I can make her want to wake Annalise.”
“And you’ll just get her to drink your potion, will you? ‘Here, Mercury, do have a sip of this.’”
“Not all potions need to be drunk.”
I wonder if that means she’ll use her smoke or something like that. But, whatever she does, I have to admit it sounds like she has more chance than I do of getting Mercury to wake Annalise.
“And a potion will help Gabriel find his Gift?”
“Yes.” Van looks at me, leans back, and says, “And I can help you too, Nathan, if you wish. Controlling a Gift is always hard. The more powerful the Gift, the harder it is to control.”
“I’m learning.”
“Good. You’ll need to have full control of it to fight with the Alliance and take on the Hunters.”
“I still haven’t agreed to join.”
“But you will because my help is the only way you’ll be able to rescue Annalise. And even together it won’t be easy. We won’t be able to waltz in there and waltz out again. It will take planning and care—but it is possible.”
“If I do join I want the Fairborn back.”
“Agreed.”
I expected her to complain about that, and now there’s nothing more for me to argue about without going round in circles. It’s getting dark and I really want to be outside. I stand, saying, “I’ll sleep on it.”
“Yes, it’s getting dark. Unpleasant in here at dusk. But I have a simple remedy. Nesbitt,” she calls, “bring the nightsmoke.”
Nesbitt goes to the far end of the room and fetches a bowl of milky liquid. He strikes a match above the surface of the potion and a green smoky flame slides across the creamy surface of the liquid, moving as if it was alive.
“If you inhale the fumes you’ll be able to stay indoors. It clears your head wonderfully.”
She leans over and breathes deeply.
I approach the flame. It smells of milk, grass, and forest. My headache is already receding. But I say, “I prefer sleeping outside.”
“I’m sure. I’m a Black Witch too, Nathan. Don’t forget that. I suffer as you do indoors at night, and Nesbitt does also, to a lesser degree. But we’ve learned to use the nightsmoke and I suggest you do too.”
* * *
Gabriel and I follow Nesbitt to the bedroom. I open the window and sit by it but Nesbitt says, “No cheating, mate, it’s for your own personal development.” He sets the bowl of nightsmoke down on the windowsill and closes the window. “Just breathe this as you would fresh air.”
After he leaves I sniff cautiously at the green smoke.
“Nathan,” Gabriel says, “you haven’t spoken to me about your Gift.”
I inhale a little more smoke. I know Gabriel’s probably the only person apart from my father who has any chance of understanding but I don’t want to think about it now. I’ve got enough on my mind.
“I take it from that gushing response that you don’t want to talk about it?”
I lie on my stomach on the bed with my head near the bowl and nod at it, saying, “Did you ever use this stuff?”
“No. When I had a Black Witch body I preferred to sleep outside or nap inside during the day and stay out at night.” He comes over and sniffs the vapor deeply. “It doesn’t do anything for me in this body. I can hardly smell anything.”
“What do you think about what Van said? Will this Alliance really work? Could they ever take on the Council and the Hunters?”
“I’m not sure. There are some Black Witches with incredible powers but working together isn’t their strong point. In fact working together is almost impossible. Van is unusually tolerant, so she might be able to work with Whites, but I’m not sure others will.”
I pass my hand through the green smoke and waft it up to my face. It’s a clean smell. In fact, it’s more than a smell: it’s a clean feeling in my nose and throat and head. It’s the feeling of being outside in a meadow. I’m not sure about the smoke, though—it’s a potion after all, a drug.
I open the window and sit on the ledge.
“I’ll sleep outside.”
Gabriel puts a towel over the basin. The flame goes out with a faint sigh. He says, “At the moment I’m not sure we need to worry about joining the Alliance. Mercury is more dangerous. She’s no fool, Nathan. She’s lethal.”
“If we plan carefully we have a chance. If it’s too risky we don’t do it.”
“However much you plan it can still go wrong. Read any history book.”
“You know I can’t read.”
There’s nothing more to say so I climb out of the window and walk toward the lake. I need to swim, to see if I can get in touch with my Gift and maybe sleep a little. I don’t need to think about Van’s proposal much. I know there’s no other option really. This is my only chance to help Gabriel recover his Gift and to save Annalise. I have to make it work.
Rain
It’s later that night. I’m swimming. Everything around me seems gray. It’s overcast and muggy. The moon is totally hidden. The far mountains are a dark outline against the dark sky. The lake water looks black. Inky.
I float on my back, looking at the sky. I think it must rain soon. The wind seems to be picking up a little and at that moment several things happen. I hit a patch of colder water, a crow calls one sharp cry, and a wave slaps the side of my face and the water goes in my eyes and up my nose. I close my eyes. Instead of seeing blackness, I see the forest above the cave and I know Kieran is with me. I can’t see him—he’s invisible—but I can smell him, feel him, and I can taste his blood. My leg is on fire, a knife stuck in it. I rip my jaws at Kieran and he appears, and my eyes are filled with black inky liquid; the blood from his throat is up my nostrils. Kieran makes one last cry, like the cry of a crow, and then he’s still. The vision lasts a few seconds but it’s clear to me. It’s not a dream: it’s a memory.
* * *
Later I’m sitting by a fire I’ve made near the lakeshore, still not properly warm. It starts to rain but I stay there, trying to remember more about being an animal. I see through the animal’s eyes, feel his pain, smell and taste the blood, hear Kieran’s scream . . . it’s like I’m experiencing the animal’s body, feeling what he does, but I’m not inside his mind. I’m not making decisions. I’m a passenger.
The light shower turns to a downpour and I’m soaked and shivering. The
fire is out and I head toward the house to shelter under the eaves. I’m nearly there when I see a figure dart out of the house and onto the patio. He places five large, wide bowls on the table, then runs back round the side of the house and inside, out of the rain. I’m not sure what Nesbitt is up to but I follow him and look in the bowls as I pass. They’re just empty bowls, though they’re all unusual: they’re made out of stone and have thick, uneven sides.
Round the side of the house I see Nesbitt has gone into the kitchen. A green glow is coming from nightsmoke he has lit by the window. I quietly open the back door and step inside the small cloakroom. There’s another door that opens onto the kitchen. It’s not quite shut but Nesbitt won’t know I’m here if I’m still. Then I hear voices and realize that Van is there too.
“I’ve put the bowls out.”
“Good. We should have enough from tonight. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Nesbitt says.
“Oh dear, must you?”
“About the kid.”
“Hmmm?”
“I think you should tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“Who you’re working with—”
“Who we’re working with,” Van corrects.
“He’ll find out eventually and . . . well, I don’t think he’ll like it.”
“He doesn’t have to like it. I don’t expect him to like it. I don’t care if he likes it. The point is he will do it. He’ll join because he doesn’t have any other option. So there really is no point in muddying the waters.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“But what?” Van sounds impatient now. “You really are getting more and more like an old woman, Nesbitt.”
“He’s a Half Code. And . . . you don’t know what it’s like, Van, but I do. Or at least I know what it’s like being a Half Blood. He doesn’t know where he belongs and at the moment he doesn’t belong anywhere, not with the White Witches and not with the Blacks. He could belong with the Alliance, but to belong to them he’ll have to trust them—trust you—and, well, that’s going to be a problem.”