by Ayse Hafiza
They had made him a cup of tea, gave him tissues and tried to comfort him, but nothing could console the man.
18
Guidance
Every time he looked at the mirror, he remembered the crystal blue of her eyes bulging, brilliant red capillaries looked at odds with them. Frank felt nothing but shame as he remembered his hands around her neck. The thought that he was capable of hurting her mocked him.
How easily the Witch of the Oban managed to manipulate him.
Frank was scared, and it wasn’t an emotion that he could talk about. He shared nothing about the night of the seance. He didn’t want to hurt Sophie by speaking about his ex, and how he had seen her in the mirror and tried to rescue her. Sophie was still going to be the mother of his child. After the event of the seance, there wasn’t much conversation, the women seemed to whisper together, but none of them spoke to him. Inside his own home Frank felt like an outcast. The ghosts who had appeared in the room were nowhere to be seen, and if he had opened a vortex to another dimension, he sure hoped they’d all gone there.
Frank wasn’t going to justify himself, he was a man of many weaknesses and the witch in the mirror knew it. Why should he pretend that he was anything else? It had told him he was weak. He wanted to put it in one of the outbuildings, but he couldn’t risk any of the Islanders taking it from him. Mrs. Boswell had seen him cry, which was something Frank hadn’t thought himself capable of. How could he do that in front of her? He had been a man that was hardened to life, he lived on the streets and a squat. If news that the Master of Coven was weak became common knowledge, he didn’t know what the consequences would be, but he knew they wouldn’t be good for him. As long as he had the mirror, then he was still the leader. Maybe this was what his mom had meant when she said that he would learn to love it. Because the mirror knew his secrets and it could expose him, was that what she meant?
Finding a large jute cloth sack, he hung it over the cursed thing, keeping it inside his bedroom. He wasn’t ready to let it go nor was he willing to let the status of coven master be taken from him. Whether warranted or not imposter syndrome gnawed inside him. What was the point of being Master of the Coven if he wasn’t strong enough to protect them, or even save the one he loved? Frank stood in his room and looked at his stuff. All the things the Islanders had donated or the others had found in the outhouses. It was all just stuff. Stuff that he didn’t need. He could have easily walked out of the door and left the stone house, deposited himself on the ferry and walked out of everyone's life. He was so ready to do it.
One morning he walked down to the jetty, willing himself to put one foot in front of the other and walk away. Stephen, the fisherman, saw him and smiled. Frank knew he was running on autopilot when he smiled back. There was no true emotion driving it.
No, he didn’t take that step instead he watched the seagulls fly over the Irish sea. The gray of the water, and their wings as they soared in the gray sky. All of it was the same. He wanted to run, he regretted not doing it before. He made the wrong decision by staying, there was no doubt in his mind. But it taught him that if he left the mirror would follow if he ran he would lose Sophie and the chance of being someone other than a willing sperm donor to the baby. Besides if he ran away he would leave Sophie defenseless against the Priestess of the Oban who would try to claim the child. That was unconscionable.
He watched a mother hedgehog protect its offspring in the hedge closest to the jetty. Thinking about the witch’s words he knew she was right that he had always underestimated women, and he knew that included Sophie. She would never leave that house, not while Heaven was there. If he walked away now, just got on the ferry and left, he would be walking away from the new baby and Jane. He really wanted to take a step forward, but he couldn’t. He might have underestimated the women in his life, he might have thought he was more powerful than he really was, but he needed to make a decision. To leave the island or stay.
Mrs. Boswell’s red car came to a halt and Frank turned to look at it, the same red car that had been part of the convoy to greet him and his friends that very first day. Somehow it made him feel that he had come full circle, that a new chapter was about to open.
Audrey stepped out, her belly protruding. He took a step back when he saw her, he was responsible for her condition.
“Hi Frank, I didn’t know you had come to see me off,” said Audrey with a singsong tone to her voice.
He smiled and walked forward, he reminded himself that she said she was traveling to Germany to find out more about the Oban clan, but he hadn’t known she was leaving today.
She represented his best hope.
“Don’t forget Mr. Creedy needs to know anything you discover.”
“Don’t worry I will let him know what I learn. I will of course let Ma know when the baby is born, so she can fill you in on the details.”
He nodded. Why Frank didn’t feel as much of a connection with the child Audrey carried he didn’t know. The one with Sophie felt different.
“I am with you Master of the Coven,” she said in his ear. Her swollen breast rubbed against his chest, and Frank felt the familiar urge that had landed her with the baby in her stomach. He nodded and moved away, he let Mrs. Boswell and her daughter have their emotional farewell.
When she returned to the car she was sad to see Audrey off. Frank took the keys and offered to drive her home. On the journey back, Mrs. Boswell soaked tissue after tissue as she spoke about her daughter.
“Should I have gone with her?” she asked him as he parked the car in her driveway.
“No, I need you here,” said Frank.
It was the truth, Mrs. Boswell had standing in the island community, she would be able to get the rest of the Islanders to help in the fight. She was also Nevaeh’s teacher and a great help for himself and Sophie. He knew it was selfish to say it, but he wasn’t ready to let the older woman leave. In his mind, he told himself that he would let her go when the Oban witch was defeated because then it would be safe for them all.
“Anything you say, Master of the Coven,” said Mrs. Boswell, trying to dry her eyes while nodding at him.
His heart melted a little and he hugged her. Mrs. Boswell was a helpful woman he couldn’t let her go just like that. As he watched her soak yet another tissue, he thought about what it meant to be a parent. Mrs. Boswell was going to miss Audrey. Part of him started to understand that the bond between a parent and child was sacred, a connection of the heart that distance couldn’t sever.
As he walked the rest of the way home from her house he wondered if he would feel like that about his and Sophie’s child, and how his and Audrey’s child could not incite that same emotion. Before the child was even born he wasn’t even sure when he would see it. Maybe when the child was a year old or even longer, who knew when Audrey would return? He promised himself that once they were safe from the Oban witch he would send word to Audrey to return with their child.
Frank sat in his bedroom alone each night and surveyed the collection of books he had been studying. They had given up some of their secrets, but he had felt the majesty of her power, it was enough to make his heart stop and he knew that being better prepared would help him avoid disaster.
The Priestess and Frank needed to meet again. He needed to take her down, his entire future depended on it, and that of his unborn children. All his life he wondered how he would end the curse and save Jane. Now he knew that if he defeated the Witch of the Oban only then could he dare to dream of a future. Only then would he finally be free. When that reality hit him, it bolstered in him a determination that he had never had access to before.
His eyes flicked open the following morning and he sprung out of bed. He felt rejuvenated, he needed to figure out how to defeat a powerful witch and that meant he had a lot of research to do. He wasn’t going to be her victim, not again. The title of Master of the Coven meant nothing if he allowed the witch to dominate his entire life, and that of generations before him. None of th
e other ‘Masters’ had learned about their heritage and made it back to the family home. There was something special about him, something that gave him power. There was a reason he was in this cottage preparing for this fight. Frank was going to find his metal, or he was going to die trying.
After breakfast he opened his spell books, it didn’t take long for his eyes to tire, what wasn’t he seeing? Going to the fig tree at the back of the garden, he sat on roots that protruded from the ground. Just like his ancestors, they too should have been in the ground, but instead they were affecting the lives of the living. So far having their power meant nothing, he had fallen into her trap and kept falling deeper and deeper. Glancing back at the house, Frank knew he needed help.
The seated lotus position was uncomfortable, how quickly he had forgotten to be at ease while sitting on the ground, but he forced himself into it, closing his eyes. Soon, the swinging maid caught his attention, and the repugnant smell of burning flesh tickled his nostrils. He had spirited into the past.
We are your ancestors, we grant you our powers,
You have the ability to affect everything that flowers,
You can call the dead
You can call the bewitched
You cannot be constrained
You will have no fame.
He listened to the familiar whispers. Their words didn’t concern him, but he waited until they finished.
“As Master of the Coven. With the power of the ancestors, tell me of the magic mirror and the Priestess of the Oban,” he commanded.
‘She is a curse,’ replied the whisper on the winds.
'She was once a blessing that our coven gave a pledge to,” said Frank, testing the information he had been told. “She asks for my child.”
‘She will not leave you alone until you give her your firstborn.’
“What is her purpose?” he asked.
‘To rid the world of witchcraft.’
“Why when she was made of it?”
‘To be the only witch left and to dominate all power.’
“But all the power of every coven! How will she get it? It can and will never be hers”.
‘Not until she has your child.’
“She does this all for my child?” Frank asked again.
‘And you. . .’
“How can I overcome her?”
‘She is a paradox, as long as she lives she can never rid the world of witchcraft, and as she lives in the mirror so she no longer ages,’ said the whisper.
“How can I overcome her?”
‘You must kill her.’
“How?” he asked, feeling the panic rise in his chest.
‘She can be subdued by seeing the harmony between the clans, it will send her to sleep.’
“There is no war between the Hamiltons and Obans.”
‘Tell her you revoke the curse and she is no longer needed, pull her from the mirror and disperse her energy into the winds.’
He imagined doing just that.
Hadn’t he tried to pull Jane out of the mirror once? It hadn’t worked, but what if he pulled the witch out and it worked? Maybe he would be able to summon her, maybe it was time to try.
Frank’s eyes snapped open.
19
Spells
To take the witch out of the mirror would entail a fight. He knew she never left it, she had her spies in the house because she told him that he intruded. But to pull her out would be a stroke of genius. So, Frank set about learning how it would be possible and what he would need to accomplish it. He had always focused on Jane as his soulmate, and she had hung her in front of him as bait, but if he was able to remove the witch then surely he would be prioritizing his unborn children, Sophie and saving all the Islanders, and all the magical worlds whose future hung in the balance.
It was such a simple plan, why it had never occurred to him, he didn’t know. But then he remembered that he had always been a coward, not someone who enjoyed confrontation and maybe that was the reason it had never occurred to him.
‘You will never be constrained.’
The words his ancestors had said, if that was the case, then he had a fair chance at a deathmatch with the witch in the mirror.
He had always spoken to her in her environment, this time he needed to pull her out and into his. Using the power of the ancestors he would be able to summon her, and the place that he felt that closest to them was under the fig tree. He would take the mirror outside and he would summon her there. That way he could keep Nevaeh and Sophie inside the house safe and away from any danger.
The semblance of a plan was coming together when he walked into the kitchen, Sophie was reading through the old newspaper, and Nevaeh was playing with Heaven. He paused in the doorway as he watched them, they were a family together in their own right. How had he even thought of them as being weak, Frank shook his head. Even his mother, he had thought she needed protecting from his father. He had always thought that about her, but she hadn’t. These women were always going to be fine.
He made himself a coffee and sat down, he knew they were waiting for him to speak. He had not raised the night of the seance to them or explained what had happened. He knew he couldn’t lie too much. Heaven was there, and as a ghost she knew and could see a lot more than the living. If she told Nevaeh, and Sophie found out that way, he wouldn’t be able to color the story how he wanted.
It was better to confess. So, Frank explained what had happened that night and about how he had been sucked into the world of the witch. He even confided that he thought he was killing her, but she tricked him.
He had to ask one more time, even though he already knew the answer.
“Please come away with me to the mainland?”
“No,” Sophie said, her voice strong and her gaze locked on his not breaking eye contact with him.
She was watching him as if trying to understand him and for the first time he noticed the distance that had grown between them. When had they stopped sleeping together? She looked back down at the newspaper and felt the draft of the icy response. Sophie had never treated him like that, what had changed? He wanted to ask but he knew the girls, the living one and the dead one, were both watching him.
What did it matter, hopefully soon he would have the real woman he loved in his arms? That was what he was planning anyway. So, if Sophie didn’t want him anymore that wasn’t a problem. She was still living in his house, and that meant he would be a father to his child. As long as the witch didn’t get it first. He stood at little but hesitated. He wanted to walk away, leave her and establish the new status quo at the table but he didn’t. He felt that he owed her something, and he knew what it was.
“Soph, I’m not good at relationships, or whatever this is between us. You know that I’m battling something evil, something negative. . .”
Sophie looked up at him. He was on the right track, he needed to speak to her, tell her what was going on his world. “I just need you to give me some time to work stuff out, so that we can be safe?” he asked.
She nodded in response.
He could see she had lots of questions, but she would ask none. He stood to leave, but he had one last thing he needed to share. He sat back down and took her hand in his.
“If anything happens to me, this house is yours. You can stay here and raise our child,” he said quietly.
Sophie gasped, but then quickly composed herself and nodded. If this had been during the warmer days between them, she would have comforted him. But, there was no point pretending that he didn’t own the house or its grounds any longer. They were well past the pretense of Mrs. Boswell being the owner, not when her house was smaller than their home.
“What are you going to do?” she finally asked.
“Be a man and keep us safe,” he answered, he believed it that was exactly what he was going to do. He finally stood up and left them in the kitchen.
Frank retreated to his room, and there he stayed until he found all the things he was looking fo
r. He knew the only person coming to the house would be Mrs. Boswell. She had come to give Nevaeh lessons. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and Frank wondered when she would stop. If crying was something that a parent did endlessly, then Frank would be glad to have a little emotional distance from the baby. Becoming a father filled him with mixed emotions but the image driving him was of the maid nursing his child. He knew that had been a premonition and he needed to make sure it didn’t happen.
Mrs. Boswell was in the house with Sophie and the girls when Frank took his seat under the fig tree. He had outlined a magical pentagram that extended over the roots of the tree and onto bald mud surfaces. He knew there were a million checks that he needed to do.
He thought about a quick walk into town to see if Mr. Creedy had any news, he knew that if Audrey had anything to say Mrs. Boswell would have told him. There were a million things that he could think of doing rather than sit under the tree calling out to the witch. But, none of those things would be anything but procrastination.
He sat down and started to chant. As he felt her presence a chill descended in the air, it gave his face goosebumps and made his teeth chatter. Feeling in the zone, he felt himself sit up straighter.
“Priestess of the Oban, I, Master of the Hamilton Coven, summon you.” He repeated the words as if they were a prayer.
The smell of burning flesh and the heat of the pyres which had burned the Hamilton children alive scorched his flesh. He felt their anguish as if he was in the flames with them. Writhing in pain, he knew the Oban witch was doing this to him on purpose. He had an idea of how this might work, but he couldn’t put it into practice until she was standing with him inside the pentagram.