They were inside the woman’s sitting room, which was spartanly decorated. It was lusciously warm from a log fire banked up in the wide stone hearth. A cracked and aged dresser stood against one wall and a similarly ancient dining table against the other, on which were arrayed a collection of corked pot containers; the contents of a few-seeds and dried herbs-were scattered around. Other herbs hung in bunches from the rafters creating a heady, perfumed atmosphere. A rush mat lay on the flags near the fire, but the only other item of furniture was a heavy wooden armchair with a floral cushion right next to the hearth. A sandy cat was curled up next to it.
“We could barricade ourselves upstairs. Try to keep them out till dawn-” Ruth began.
“They won’t even know we’re here if we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” The woman watched Ruth suspiciously, her eyes still glittering in the light of the fire. “What are you doing around these parts at this time? It’s no longer safe to travel by night-nor even by day, really.”
“I didn’t have any choice,” Ruth replied. The full force of what had happened hit her and she rested against the back of the armchair, placing one hand over her eyes to try to clear the image of the Baobhan Sith attacking Church, Shavi and Veitch. When she’d blinked away the tears a moment later, she brought her hand down and noticed the woman was staring at it intently.
She suddenly lurched forward and grabbed Ruth’s wrist, turning her arm over so the palm was uppermost. The mark Cernunnos had scorched into her flesh was revealed in the firelight.
“Goddess!” The suspicion drained from the woman’s face and was replaced by awe. When she looked up into Ruth’s face, her features were now open and smiling. “These are very strange times. Sit! I’ll brew up a pot.”
“There’s no time!” Ruth protested.
“There’s always time. I’ve cast a spell of protection on this place. It’s invisible to any of those hideous things crawling around out there these days. But we can’t go out until the ones after you have gone or they’ll have us in a moment. Times when you can relax are few-grab hold of them!”
Ruth reluctantly allowed herself to be pressed into the armchair, but her thoughts were in chaos and she felt a desperate urge to run away, even though there was nowhere she could go. The heat from the fire was comforting after the attack, but still she felt like crying after the strain of it all; everything seemed to be going wrong; Tom betraying them was one blow too much.
“It’s all a bloody awful mess!” she said, her voice breaking. “No. I’ve got to help them!” She jumped up and ran to the window. Outside, the Baobhan Sith roamed, their wild eyes ranging over the vicinity. Ruth knew she wouldn’t get five yards from the door. Dejectedly, she trudged back to the fireside.
“Cheer up, lovie. It’s always darkest.” The woman hung a blackened kettle over the fire, then placed two mugs, a strainer, a tin of tea leaves and some milk and sugar on a tray with the pot. “I’m Nina, by the way.”
“Ruth.” She rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes. “What’s all this about a spell of protection?” she added wearily. “It seems like everybody can do something they shouldn’t these days.”
Nina laughed. “You’re right there. I spent ten years studying the Craft, working on spells and rituals. Sometimes they worked, or seemed to work, in a halfhearted way, but very rarely. It always seemed more like wishful thinking on my part. And then just after Christmas it was like I’d had an electric charge! I could do things I never dreamed of? It was …”-she laughed again-“… magic!”
“Everything’s changed,” Ruth said morosely.
“Oh, indeed. At first I thought it was just me, like after all this time I’d suddenly chanced on the knack. But then I saw what was happening all around and I knew it wasn’t me at all. It was the world.” She noticed the gloom in Ruth’s face. “It’s not all bad-just different. The magic is back. How it probably was centuries ago. That’s a cause for celebration.”
“You really can do stuff?”
“Not great, world-changing things. Just the skills we were always reputed to have. Controlling the weather, communing with the birds and animals, making potions that work. It’s the link, you see. With nature. It’s solid now.” She pointed at Ruth’s hand. “But you should know. You’re one of us. Greater than me, certainly. That’s the mark of the Horned Hunter, consort of the Mother Goddess.”
Ruth shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been into all this.”
There was an unmistakably dismissive note in Ruth’s voice, but Nina wasn’t offended. “Your brain may not know, but it’s there inside you. Or you wouldn’t have received the mark. You’re a wisewoman, no mistake. You just need to learn and apply yourself.”
“With all due respect, I can’t see myself doing, you know, whatever it is you do. I’m a lawyer.”
Nina laughed. “What, you think only embittered old crones like me get to learn the Craft?”
“I didn’t mean-“
Nina silenced her with a goodnatured wave of her hand. “The only qualification is being a woman. And probably having a natural aptitude for the necessary skills. Take me-I wasn’t always how you see me. I just happened to like the traditional lifestyle.” She motioned around the room. “I used to be in medical supplies. Worked all the hours given to build up the business. Then my Ralph was taken suddenly. Brain tumour. He didn’t suffer long.” She fell silent for a moment, the weight of memories adding age to her face. “After that, work didn’t seem important. There wasn’t much of my life that did.” She smiled sadly. “It’s terrible, isn’t it, that it takes a tragedy to point out that all the things we trick ourselves into relying on in our lives have no substance? We have to have something to believe in-it’s the way we’re made. But once work and the family disappear, you start to wonder what there really is to have faith in. I fell into the old religion. At first it just made me feel good. Then it started to feel right. Now I can’t imagine being without it.”
Ruth watched her as she used a teacloth to lift the hissing kettle from the fire. She warmed the pot, then put in the tea leaves, adding a pinch of spice from a dish on the side. “My own special recipe,” she said conspiratorially. “Gives it a little kick. It’s how they drink it in the Middle East.”
“What’s it like to be able to make things happen?” Ruth asked as she took her mug. “It’s the kind of thing you always dream about as a child.”
“Well, it’s not like any of that fairybook stuff,” Nina replied a little brusquely. “You can’t just wish and make things happen. It’s all about controlling energy-the invisible energy of the world. I always saw it as a science that the physicists haven’t got round to explaining yet.” She smiled at the curiosity in Ruth’s face.
As the fire blazed and as they sipped their spiced tea, Nina explained about the Craft while Ruth attempted to batten down her anxiety and desperation; she wanted to be doing something, not listening to old stories. When Nina mentioned the triple deity of mother, maiden, crone, though, Ruth’s heart quickened as she connected with her visions of the mysterious girl.
She related her experience to Nina who smiled and said, “See. You were called long before you realised. And probably a long time before that.”
“There was an owl-“
Nina nodded towards the cat on the hearth. “We all have our friends.”
Ruth stared into her tea, trying to divine her feelings about what she was hearing. The stubborn streak of scepticism her father had instilled in her as a girl was still there, but her instinct was beginning to shout louder.
“Look, this is all too much to get my head round right now. I can’t stay here talking. There’s got to be something-“
She made to rise, but Nina stopped her with a hand on her thigh. “I might be able to help you.”
“How?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “We can fly up, see what has happened to your friends, get the lie of the land. Then, once y
ou have the knowledge, you’ll be able to decide on your course of action.”
“Fly?” Ruth said incredulously. “What? On broomsticks?”
“No, no!” Nina said sharply. “Stop falling for the old propaganda, please! I’m showing you how it really is.” She paused, and added with a smile, “But actually yes, on broomsticks, only not the way you think!”
Ruth sat back down. She covered her eyes for a moment, suddenly aware she might break down in tears if she allowed herself to think about her situation too closely. “So you’re probably the only person in the area who can help me and I ended up here by chance. I don’t like coincidences.”
“There are no coincidences. Once you understand there’s an invisible world, you can see that.” Nina took her hand and pulled her to her feet again. “If you really want this, you will have to do exactly what I say.”
“I’ll do anything to save my friends.”
Nina nodded understandingly. “Come, then. Take off your clothes.”
When Ruth hesitated, Nina made hurrying gestures, then turned to the table and went along the rows of jars until she found the one she wanted. Ruth undressed a little unsurely, but Nina just pulled her dress over her head. She was naked beneath it. Her breasts had long lost their firmness and she had shaved off her pubic hair, but she walked around completely unselfconsciously. She opened a cupboard in one corner and pulled out a broom like the one Ruth had seen outside the front door.
As Ruth stepped out of her knickers, she was shocked to see what appeared to be a tiny little man slowly lowering himself upside down from the chimney to peer at her curiously. Ruth pointed and yelled out, “What’s that?” at which point a look of dismay crossed its face and it disappeared from where it had come.
Nina seemed as unconcerned as if it were the cat who had entered. “One of the brownies,” she said distractedly. “They seem to have settled in here. They help me out quite a lot with the cleaning at night.”
While Ruth stared at the chimney unsurely, Nina gently pushed her back into the chair, then sat down before her on the rush mat, the broom and jar beside her.
“As with all these things, you must place your trust in me and always do as I say,” Nina stressed.
Ruth nodded.
Nina opened the jar and dipped in two fingers. When she removed them they were covered in a greenish cream, which she proceeded to smear over the end of the broom handle. “A little hemlock, some monkshood-sacred to Hecate-a little thornapple and a touch of belladonna.” Then she lay back, opened her legs wide and placed the handle against her vagina. “It would be easier if you could help me,” she said, “if you can overcome your embarrassment.”
“I’m not putting that inside me!” Ruth said in horror.
Nina sighed and sat up. “The salve has an antiseptic quality, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not all I’m worried about! It’s disgusting!”
“Let’s not be prudish,” Nina cautioned like a school ma’am. “This is the way it’s been done traditionally. When those who weren’t practising heard about us riding our brooms, they got the wrong end of the stick, as it were. The vaginal walls absorb the active drug much more effectively. I could insert it in your anus if that suits you better,” she added acidly.
“I don’t need a drug trip! I need help!”
“That’s what I’m doing!” Nina said with irritation. “It’s not just a drug trip. The mind and body are separate entities. The drug in the salve enables our brain to free our spirit-selves so we can fly over the countryside, see things, hear things, gain knowledge, then return with it to our bodies. All the shamans and the mag- icmen and women in the old cultures use it.” She laughed dismissively. “The scientists said their experiences were just hallucinations because there was no way they could really happen. I wish I could take a few of them along with me!”
Ruth shook her head, still horrified. I can’t do it, she thought.
Nina seemed to read her mind. “Do you want to save your friends or not?” she snapped.
Ruth stared at the broom handle with distaste for a long moment. Then she asked, “Are you sure this will do any good?”
“A few months back I would have said no. Now … of course!”
Ruth grimaced. “Okay. I suppose. What do I have to do?”
“Hold the handle.” She opened herself up. “Now insert it gently.” Ruth steeled herself, but Nina didn’t seem concerned. She relaxed onto it, then closed her eyes. After a moment she motioned to Ruth to remove it. “Now it’s your turn.”
Nina reapplied the salve to the handle, then positioned herself between Ruth’s legs. Ruth’s muscles were so tense she couldn’t get the stick to penetrate, but whatever powerful drug was on it seemed to begin to affect her from even a cursory application. She gradually relaxed, allowing Nina to insert the handle. At first she felt a not-unpleasant burning sensation, but then it changed, so that she felt like warm syrup was slowly rising up her body from her groin. There was a definite sexual element to it; her clitoris engorged and she had a sudden, nearly overwhelming desire to bring herself to orgasm. But when Nina removed the handle, the edge was taken off her desire and she was able to look up and around. The quality of light in the room had changed; it was more diffuse and golden, as if it were being refracted through crystal. The edges of the furniture sparkled and shimmered and the crackling of the fire shushed and boomed like the sound of the sea.
Then there was the odd sensation of her retreating into her body, as if she were looking out at the world from the end of a long tunnel.
“Hold on,” she heard Nina say distantly. “It’s beginning.”
And then she was rushing out of herself, as if she had been fired from a cannon. She rocketed up to the ceiling, where she briefly looked down at her naked body staring with glassy eyes up at her; Nina was slumped next to her, one hand draped across her thigh. And then she felt as if someone had yanked a rope attached to her neck and she was dragged wildly into the fire, which fizzed coldly around her, and then up into the yawning black hole of the chimney.
A second later she burst out into the night sky, swooping and swirling as if she were smoke caught in the wind. It took her a second to get her bearings and then she discovered that, with the right mental effort, she could begin to control her movements. Ruth twisted in practice and caught sight of Nina floating over the thatch waiting for her. She looked beautiful, years younger, with a firm, full body. She smiled and beckoned.
“Where are we going?” Ruth said, but no sound came out of her mouth. Nina seemed to understand nonetheless. She pointed along the valley, away from where the Baobhan Sith had attacked. Ruth looked at her curiously, but she acted as if she wanted to show her something important.
And then she was away, rushing on the night winds. Ruth launched herself behind her, lost in the wild, exciting sensation of flying. She could feel the breeze on her skin, feel her hair flow behind her, but although she was still naked, she didn’t feel the cold. It was a wonderfully exhilarating feeling as she swooped and soared, remembering a score of similar dreams, wishing she could never come down; it was so powerful it almost made her want to cry.
The trees passed beneath her in a black carpet, the sweet scent of the pine floating up to fill her nostrils. With care, she could dive down and skim their gossamer-frail uppermost branches, leaving them waving in her passage. From her vantage point, she could see the landscape in its true form: alive; the sweep and swirl of the hillsides, the subtle gradation of colours in the grasses, the snake-twist of rivers, the mirror-glimmer of lakes, all linked into one awesome organism, each part affecting its neighbour. From there, it all made sense.
A long, low hoot made Ruth look round to see her owl-companion flying in circles nearby. She waved to him, but he continued spiralling on the thermals without any sign that he had any connection with her.
Nina’s mad aerial dash slowed near Loadpot Hill. Ruth could read caution in her body language as she
took advantage of the occasional treetop for cover. Eventually she came to a halt and pointed to something ahead, her face drained of the good nature Ruth had seen before; now she was fearful.
Ruth followed her guide and could instantly see why. Rising up out of the isolated green hillside was something that reminded Ruth of pictures of enormous African termites’ nests. It was the first part of a tower that was still under construction, covering an area the size of ten football pitches. Although it was fundamentally black, she could make out crushed cars and trucks, washing machines, fridges, plastic, girders and broken masonry embedded in its walls as if the makers had plundered the local communities for the material. Above it, the stars were obscured by smoke from a hundred fires burning a dull red, visible through ragged openings all over the tower. And as she watched, Ruth could see movement around the base of the construction, up its walls, on its growing summit; the termites were swarming.
In her uneasy curiosity, Ruth flew a little closer, only to be disturbed by roars, shrieks and insane monkey chattering. She felt as if a terrible power had been turned on her, like a black ray projected from the tower; she suddenly became so cold her entire body shook, and an unbearable sense of despair began to gnaw at the pit of her stomach.
It was numbing, but then she felt Nina frantically tugging at her arm. Her terrified face left no doubt that they had been seen. The fear was infectious, and as Nina pirouetted in the air and sped away faster than Ruth could imagine, she felt instinctively that whatever was being built there would be too terrible to even imagine.
Nina’s panic lessened only once they had put several miles between them and the black tower. They followed the landmarks back to the cottage, and then Nina took the route Ruth had first expected, up the hillside to the road above. As they neared where the van had been parked, they dipped down beneath the treetops and made their way cautiously among the upper branches until they found an eyrie where they could peer down on the stretch of road like two ghostly birds.
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