Waywood

by Sarah Goodwin

  “Bless you,” Ilex takes the bottle and unscrews the top, downing the contents with a small shudder. His body loses its pained hunch and he sits up a little more, opening his eyes to the light with a sigh.

  Cray rolls his eyes.

  “Who wants to go to the library today?” Nara asks, “they’ve got some new books on ancient ritual magic for the religious studies courses.”

  “Nerd,” Ilex says, “but fine, I could use a few hours in the warm with a good book.”

  “A dirty book – we all know they’ve got an erotica section for the creative writers,” Chronicle says.

  Ilex sticks out his tongue.

  “Yeah, alright,” Campion says, and Chronicle nods her agreement.

  “Might as well, Stone?” Cray asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Lunch at the union?” Campion asks, there are happy agreements all round.

  Campion packs up her stove and we all climb out of the front window into the chilly morning air. I change my dressing gown into a coat and add a fluffy black hat for good measure. It seems that glamours aren’t as effective as actual clothes at keeping out the cold. No matter how thick and fluffy I make my jumpers and coats, there’s never really anything to them.

  Christmas is everywhere on campus, even more than on my last visit. There are paper chains in all the fogged up windows of the student housing blocks, fake snow and paper snowflakes like at primary school. I raise my eyebrows at it all; they’re supposed to be eighteen, not eight, after all. Lots of people are wearing stupid Christmas jumpers from Primark and there’s a huge Christmas tree outside the library doors, decked in lights.

  “Christmas is close then,” I say to Cray as we go into the warm building, dodging students in their pyjamas and heading for the rows of well-lit books.

  “It’s in two weeks.”

  I falter and his hand slips into mine. “I know it’s hard, not being with them.”

  “Yeah...but, I’ll be OK,” I say, not really feeling it.

  “Look at them,” Ilex mutters, nodding towards the sleepy students dressed in half clothes and half pyjamas, “they’ve all just rolled out of beds that haven’t been made since September.”

  I realise that he’s trying to make me feel better, that all of them know how much I’ve been missing Mum and Dad. Ilex might be a dick, but he’s actually trying not to be.

  “I don’t think any of them are wearing proper clothes,” I say, “that one’s just got a onesie under a jumper.”

  “Tsh, animals,” Ilex sneers, winking at me before heading into the maze of shelves.

  “What are we looking for today then,” Cray says, “they’ve got magazines, novels, books on magic, internet access-”

  “Dark corners where no one ever goes?”

  Cray’s eyes widen. “Oh, there’s a few of those.”

  He tugs me in the direction of a set of fire doors and into a corridor with a sign on the wall saying ‘Newspaper Archives’. In the dusty room at the end of the corridor there are piles of newspapers on the shelves and a sofa shoved right into the corner under a ledge with a dying spider plant on it.

  Cray sinks down on the sofa and pulls me with him. I feel lightheaded, happy. It’s warm and comfortable and Cray and I are alone in a quiet corner. Hidden. I lean forwards and kiss him.

  “Cray?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Teach me to astral project.”

  His eyebrows shoot up, lashing fluttering as he blinks. “What?”

  “We can kiss later, right now I want to learn how to astral project.”

  He grumbles, pouting. “Witch.”

  “Speak for yourself. I’m not there yet.”

  He sighs and kisses my nose before sitting back on the sofa. “OK, fine. Meany.”

  I sit up straight and fold my legs until I’m scrunched up against the opposite arm.

  “The crash course in astral projection,” Cray begins, “that’s leaving your body and wandering around on this plane. On any other plane it’s coupled with path working, but that’s something we might never get to.”

  “Alright.”

  “Astral projection is simple in the idea, but not so much in the doing. What you need to do is strongly visualise where you are, control your breathing, and then step out of your body.”

  “Just...step out? That’s it?”

  “Like I said. It’s hard, and I’m not very good at it. None of us are really. I mean, I can get out and walk around the room but anything beyond that requires a lot of focus and energy. Sophia’s the only one who can do it well.”

  “Why doesn’t Sophia teach it then, if she’s so good?”

  “Sophia doesn’t teach new recruits. The basics are common knowledge between all of us. Sophia teaches the mysteries, the higher level stuff.”

  “Which is...?”

  “Only Ilex and Chronicle know that and they can’t talk about it.”

  “They’ve never even mentioned-”

  “No, they physically can’t talk about it. That’s one of the rules – to keep silent. When they were initiated to the higher rank they swore an oath which was bound in ritual. Those green pendants they wear are symbols.”

  So now I know why the word ‘witch’ stuck in my throat when I tried to tell Chloe. I might not be a higher level member of the coven, but I’m clearly still bound, somehow. I feel a wave of goose bumps prickle my skin. So many things about the coven worry me, or did worry me when I first saw them; the house, the names, Sophia and her creepy Goth makeup. I tell myself that this is just another one of those things that seem weird and scary at first, but actually turns out to be almost normal.

  “Ready?” Cray asks.

  “Ready.”

  “OK, eyes closed. Breathe evenly, in through your mouth, out through your nose. Slowly.”

  I breathe in and out. My nose whistles.

  “This is stupid.”

  “Michaela...”

  I open one eye. “Stone.”

  “Concentrate.”

  I breathe and let my body relax. Automatically I reach for the energy in the earth, pulling it up through my chakras as Chronicle told me to so many weeks ago. The feeling is familiar, everything grows distant, my breathing automatic and calm, my palms tingle. The energy flows through my body, into my skin and hair, covering me. I can see the room around me, even with my eyes closed, not as one thing but as a hundred tiny pieces of things – the colour of the walls, the texture of the carpet, the creaking of the door, the smell of dust and books and the heat from the radiators.

  “Step out,” Cray says, from a long way away.

  I stand up, but don’t move. The room is there, whole now, and my body is sitting on the sofa. I feel like whooping because I’ve done it – but I find I have no voice. I take a step, not feeling the floor under me, I stand beside Cray. He’s watching my body, a crease between his eyebrows. There’s a shimmer around him, grey, like fog.

  I reach out and my hand looks just like it usually does, but it passes right through him. It’s like being a ghost. I realise that I’m not breathing, though my body still is, I can sort of feel it, even though my astral mouth and nose aren’t drawing in any air. Still, as I touch his shoulder he turns my way, looking through me.

  “Stone?”

  I grin. This is so cool. The room around me isn’t interesting enough though, and I’m not ready to jump back into my body. The door to the corridor is closed but, well, if I can go through Cray then I can go through a door.

  The corridor is deserted, and I make my way back to the main library. My body is safe with Cray, I know that. Right now I want to find the others and spy on them. Even though I’ve only been in the library twice, today and back when Nara brought me to call my parents, I can see every detail clearly. The shelves are as easy to pass through as the door, and I read titles as I go, titles I’ve never read before. I can’t be imagining it, all those titles and the posters on the walls, the people roaming about. It’s all real.

  I
stumble through Ilex as I leave a wall of books. He has the same grey shimmer as Cray, must be a witch thing. He blinks, turns to look behind him and then in the other direction, up the aisle. I’d laugh at his face if I could make a noise, instead I dodge through the wall behind him and into a room with sofas and desks. Campion and Chronicle are cuddled up in one armchair, flipping through a magazine. Nara is stretched out on the sofa with a thick book on Celtic magic.

  There’s a weird blue shimmer around the doorway to the room, not the same as the grey one that covers my friends. Ignoring the others I take a closer look. Is it magic? It must be, after all there are three witches in the room, plus one astral projecting almost-witch. Weird.

  There are Christmas garlands here too, plus a tree made out of green paper tacked to a board. I wonder if Mum and Dad have taken the tree out of the loft yet. Is it in the corner of the living room beside the TV, shedding green plastic needles, the fairy leaning drunkenly to one side like it always does. This year I won’t watch the EastEnders special with Mum while Dad cooks the dinner. I won’t have a glass of fizz with my turkey, or pull crackers with them. I won’t get to fall asleep to the late film with my head in Mum’s lap.

  It doesn’t matter how awful it was for Cray when he tried to go home. I need to see them, I want to see my Mum and Dad.

  The room blurs around me and a sharp pain in my arm makes me jump. I open my eyes and see Cray looking at me. Unfolding my legs feels like getting up after a full night’s sleep.

  “Did you pinch me?” I mumble, my mouth dry as sandpaper.

  “You were out for a really long time,” Cray says defensively, “thirty minutes.”

  “Oh,” I wince as I get to my feet and stretch.

  “Where did you go? I felt you come up to me, then you were gone.”

  “You felt me? Cool. I went out into the library and saw Ilex. Everyone else is in a lounge over the other side.”

  “You went out there?” Cray looks at the door as if it’s painted on the wall.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It’s just...I mean, I’m not good at it, I can’t really go further than the room I’m already in.” His cheeks are pink and he ducks his head, not looking at me.

  “Awww.”

  “Oh shut up,” Cray mutters, “Chronicle can just about manage to go around the house, but not outside. She says she kind of gets...blown away.”

  “I didn’t try going outside, but I do feel like hammered shit.”

  “You’re still a bit outside yourself, all that energy still humming; you should eat something to ground yourself.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Sounds good.”

  We find Ilex in the study room with the others. From outside I can’t see the blue shimmer, but as we get near the door I see a student go up to it, frown, and turn away. There’s a sign on it, ‘Closed For Decoration’.

  “There’s a spell on the door,” I say.

  “How can you tell?”

  “It was glowing blue before, when I was being all floaty. That sign’s a glamour.”

  Cray pushes open the door.

  Ilex looks up from his novel, “Love birds. Finished already? How embarrassing.”

  Cray ignores him. “Stone astral projected for the first time.”

  “Well done,” Nara says, smiling. Campion and Chronicle nod along.

  “Did you jump out at me?” Ilex asks.

  “A little bit.”

  Ilex rolls his eyes.

  “I would kill someone for a latte right now,” Campion groans, “let’s go to the union, at least they have music.”

  The walk to the union takes us along the fence of a field full of muddy sheep breathing out clouds of hot breath into the cold air. The sandy path is wet and the yellow sludge of it sticks to my shoes. Unlike the shivering students dragging their bags of books with them, I can glamour mine clean again.

  We’re not invisible; people look at us with drawn together brows. We must look younger than them, or at least, Cray, Nara and I do. No one actually stops us though, so after a while I relax, though I still half expect someone to recognise me. If what Chloe said about me being considered missing is true, there must be pictures in the news or something. But no one does.

  The union is around the corner from the last building on campus, halfway across the rear car park, towards the rugby field. I’d seen it while walking with Cray, but never been in before. Inside it smells like rubber and chips. Through two sets of double doors is a huge room the size of my school’s gym. The walls are a horrible orange and made of concrete blocks, the floor is grey, with glitter, dust and sticky spots on it. The far wall is a bar with a display of bottles behind it. There’s a coffee machine and a door to a busy kitchen where two acne covered students are working hard in the steam.

  Campion leads us over to a booth in the corner with baggy leather on the seats that sighs when we all sit down. I’m between Cray and Ilex, the others are squeezed in opposite. There’s a poster about chlamydia testing on the wall above us and over Nara’s head is a plasma screen with bright green text on it warning that ‘Spiking someone’s drink is illegal’ – no shit.

  “Hmm, what to have, what to have...” Chronicle flips the laminated menu over and frowns at it.

  “You always have the steak pasty,” Campion says.

  “But maybe this time I won’t....even as I’m saying it I know it won’t happen. Pasty and chips please, plus a beer.”

  Campion goes to order, because she’s on the end. Ilex is too but getting him to go and order for all of us seems like a fight not worth starting. We’ve all contributed glamoured stones and buttons to pay with. She comes back with a tray of dripping plastic pint glasses. We drink beer and complain about the music (which I actually like, not having my iPod it’s the first time I’ve heard Jessie J in months) and the lack of heating at the house. Campion’s much needed latte arrives with our food, plates of chips and panini oozing cheese and tomato, plus Chronicle’s pasty.

  We wolf down our hot food. I’d forgotten what proper food was like, as we’ve been living on packet soup and instant noodles for ages, save that one bacon sarnie at the caf´that I hadn’t gotten to finish. Chips, oh God chips! I even end up stealing some of Cray’s, I don’t want to look like a pig but they’re so gorgeous I don’t care.

  “Ugh, I feel like a hippo,” Chronicle groans, patting her stomach.

  “You are a hippo,” Ilex mutters into his beer.

  “Dick.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Kids, don’t fight or we’ll separate you,” Cray says.

  Nara giggles, Chronicle sticks her tongue out.

  “We really need to warm that house up,” Campion sighs, “we have to live there, you know? There has to be a way.”

  “Shame you can’t just glamour it warm,” I say.

  “Yeah, that would be...wait, what?” Campion blinks at me.

  “You know, like how you glamour things not just to look a certain way, but to smell or feel different. It’s a shame we can’t glamour the house to feel warm.”

  “Stone, you are surprisingly smart for a stoner,” Ilex says.

  “Not a stoner anymore,” I say, “but can we do that? Glamour it?”

  “Not the whole house, but maybe one object. We’d have to renew it every seven hours but it’s better than nothing,” Campion says.

  “I’m getting coffee for the road, we used all the gas in the canister,” Chronicle nudges Nara, “move your bum.”

  One the way back to the house Ilex spots something off the path, in the woods. He dodges off into the tress, calling back over his shoulder.

  “I found something, it’s perfect.”

  Following him through the drifts of wet leaves and the stretches of bare, wet mud, we pick our way to where Ilex is standing over a pile of broken bricks and bits of concrete that someone’s just dumped in the woods.

  “Here,” he points at something on the ground. By leaning over the pile of rubble I can see it’s a
white stone statue, a goat-legged man playing panpipes and surrounded by forest animals; a deer, rabbits and some squirrels.

  “That thing’s creepy as fuck,” Cray says, “let’s get it home.”

  “I’m not touching it, it looks disgusting,” Chronicle says, “there could be snails.”

  “I’ll do it.” Cray picks up the statue and tucks it under his arm like a log.

  We carry it home, get it in through the window and stand it in the middle of the living room on a bare bit of floor in the middle of the cushion circle.

  “I’m not really sure how this is going to work,” Nara says.

  “I’ll get my Grimoire,” Ilex says, “I’ve got some symbols in there that we can copy – to draw our power together.”

  He runs upstairs and comes back with a tatty notebook with pages sticking out of it at odd angles. He unties the string keeping it together and opens it, flipping through the pages.

  “Does anyone have a pen?”

  “I’ll get some incense,” Nara says, vanishing into the kitchen. Cray and I gather candles from around the room to make a circle around the cushions.

  Chronicle digs a lipstick out of her pocket and holds it out to Ilex. “I can always nick another one.”

  “You can just glamour yourself,” Ilex reminds her, uncapping the gold tube and twisting up the bloody red stick.

  “I like having them, looking at them, keeping them in a big box in my room...like you with the Gay Times.”

  “That’s supposed to embarrass me?” he asks.

  Chronicle rolls her eyes.

  With the candles lit, and Nara’s incense smouldering in a bowl on the floor, we all sit down around the statue and join hands at some unspoken signal. Ilex has drawn red runes and symbols on the pillar, the candlelight makes the faun look even creepier, like it’s snarling rather than grinning.

  “OK, we’re all going throw the same glamour,” Ilex says, “the statue radiating heat, glowing with it, hot to the touch.”

  “We get it, call the quarters already,” Chronicle snaps.

  Ilex gives her an irritated look, but proceeds to call the elements to start us off, invoking the God and Goddess to finish casting the circle. Together we call up power, raising it in the circle until it feels like it’s closing over my head. I’m drowning in the tingling, fizzy presence of so much energy. As if that’s the sign we’ve been waiting for, that overload, I feel everyone start to push their energy into the statue, I do the same.