My eyes started to close before I’d read more than a page of Wicked Enchantments.
In my dreams, I saw Martin Davies. Smiling at me in that languorous way I had seen tonight, his eyes stripping me to my very soul. Except it wasn’t my soul at all. I had become someone else. When he put his arms around me and kissed me, her lips and her body reacted. I lay naked in his arms and it felt odd because, as I looked down at my body, it had changed somehow. My skin—no longer fair—had become olive-toned. I couldn’t see my face or hair, but I knew if I could, I would be in for a shock.
Martin carried me to the bed and lay on top of me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and I wanted him. Not one word passed between us. He stroked my arm and…
I woke up. Moonlight streaked through a gap in the curtains. I must have thrashed around a lot because the duvet lay in a heap on the floor. From outside in the hall, I heard a door open and close. Another guest must be turning in for the night. Unless the ghost in number 3 had returned from a walk.
I lay back on my pillow, my heart beating fast, blinking in the dark and wondering why the dream troubled me so much.
Martin Davies was an exceptionally good-looking man. No wonder he had a reputation with the local women. If he turned those eyes of his on them, he would be hard to resist. Only natural that, having spent the best part of half an hour in his company, I should find him attractive enough for my brain to want to entertain me while I slept.
But, since Rich died, I couldn’t remember any dream even remotely resembling that. I had lost all desire for sex, as if that particular part of my life had ended, buried with him.
Another door opened and closed. I glanced over at the clock. Three o’clock. A bit late for so much activity. Maybe they’d been into Nelson or somewhere, to a club or a party.
I sighed and turned over, facing the window. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud, but it wouldn’t be long before dawn. The curtains fluttered in the light breeze. As I drifted back off to sleep, I briefly wondered why.
Because the windows were shut.
Chapter Eight
“Oh, James!” Alizon ran to him and he swept her up in his arms, closing his eyes to inhale her sweet lavender scent. Then he set her back on her feet.
The warm aroma of pottage filled the air. But not the simple grain stew many of their neighbors would have to manage with. Theirs would be flavorsome, with meat juices and vegetables. James knew they must make the most of it. From now on, he would have to poach for their meat, to supplement what Alizon could make through begging, and his mother and grandmother could trade with their neighbors in return for their spells and potions.
James sat at the table. “Where’s Mother and the children?”
“They are all at Grandmother’s house. She has taken to her bed with a chill.”
“Jennet is with them?” Why had they included her? They didn’t usually.
Alizon nodded. “She said she wanted to go.”
James frowned. She never wanted to go with them anywhere. No matter. He had more urgent matters on his mind.
Alizon gasped, horrified. “James, your wrists!”
He let her peel back his dirty, bloodstained sleeves and saw her frown at the sight that met her eyes. He watched as she gently bathed away the dirt and blood with a clean rag and a bowl of cold spring water. It soothed him. Then she patted his hands and arms dry with a soft piece of linen before applying ointment she had made herself from herbs she’d collected from the fields and hedges. Her grandmother had taught her well, and Alizon learned fast and willingly. Not like Jennet, who seemed not to care.
“What troubles you, James?” Alizon had caught the involuntary scowl that had creased his face at the thought of the strangeling.
“Nothing now, my sweet. Now I am home. With you.”
With the house empty for once, the opportunity could not be missed. He needed her so badly. James stood and clasped her to him. Within minutes, she lay naked, in his bed and in his arms. She knelt astride him and he looked up at her, noting her belly. Surely a little fuller, rounder than when he had last seen it. How could he have missed this? It had been no more than a week since he last bedded her. But then their coupling had been furtive. Under the sheets so their mother would not be disturbed. His gaze traveled upward. Her breasts too seemed a little fuller. The candlelight perhaps?
She caught him looking at her and scrambled off the bed. Tears filled her eyes.
“I am with child,” she said, her voice a whisper, as if to speak it out loud would emphasize the sheer horror of it. “I will have our baby. Yours and mine, James. But it’s not natural for a brother and sister to conceive together.”
James blinked. All desire waned and he covered himself with the rough blanket.
“But you were using the preparations Grandmother gave you. How can this be?”
Alizon nodded. “Every day I took the rue potion and rubbed the herbs on my privy parts. Grandmother says—”
James shot out of bed. “You told her?”
Alizon burst into tears. “Yes. What else could I do? She is the only one who can help us.”
Anger filled James and the demon spirit stirred within him again. No, it is not her fault.
He breathed deeply and a calming wave settled his mind. He stood, stretching out his arms to her, and she came to him, leaning her beautiful head against his chest.
“Does Mother know?”
“No,” Alizon said, “and Grandmother will not tell her, although before long she will guess.”
“How long?”
“I have missed three courses, but Grandmother says she feels the baby is further along than three months. She says more like four, or even five.”
“Will she give you anything to take it away?”
“She refuses.”
James thrust her away from him. “What? Why?”
“She says this baby must be born. She saw it in a vision. Tibb appeared as a brown dog and whispered to her. She says that if we prevent it, we will incur the wrath of Lucifer himself. He will send demons to destroy us.”
James sat heavily on the bed, shaking his head. “I must talk to Grandmother. She must think again on this. The child will be unnatural.”
Alizon fastened her bodice and stepped into her woolen skirt. “But James, we practice the old ways. We commune with demons and the spirit world. To many, we are not natural.”
James looked up at her. “What could be more natural than communing with the spirits of the earth and the underworld?”
“Perhaps I should never have slept with you.” More tears formed at the corners of her eyes. He found this almost more unnerving than her news. Alizon never cried.
James clasped her trembling hands in his. “Don’t ever say that. Never. You are my soul and my life. We are one, my love. Nothing, not even death, shall ever separate us.”
“But this child…” She wrenched her hands from his and clutched her stomach. “I feel it move already. I feel its evil coursing through me. I’m scared. I am fearful of what will happen if I have this baby. It has already quickened inside me and I have powerful dreams at night. Dreams of the devil’s imps flying through the night. And they’re not flying to fight my enemies. They’re coming to take me, by force. I feel this baby is of us but not made by us. As if somehow fashioned by the devil himself.” She covered her mouth with her hands, the shock of finally voicing her fears too much for her.
James stared at her, horrified. If she spoke the truth, what was she nurturing in her belly? He imagined the naked flesh through the brown wool. By’r Lady, he could swear he had seen her flesh ripple, as if something beneath it yearned for release. He shook his head and looked away.
“We will see Grandmother together,” he said. “Together we must persuade her that this baby must not be born.”
Alizon gave a cry and lurched fo
rward. James caught her as she fell. He laid her gently on the bed. She curled into a fetal position, her arms clutching her stomach.
He gazed down at her pain-wracked face.
“Maybe nature is dealing with this for us,” he said.
She stopped writhing. Her arms dropped away. “No, but don’t you see? It can hear us. It understands every word and it wants to be born. I don’t think I will carry this baby for the full term. This is the devil’s spawn, and it will out before then.”
“It grows quickly?”
“Too quickly for a human infant.”
In the distance a door banged. James heard the familiar voices of his mother and William.
“They have returned. Are you able to stand yet?”
Alizon nodded and James took her hands, helping her to her feet.
She drew herself up to her full height and gave him a weak smile. “So, we will go tomorrow to Grandmother.”
“Yes, my love. Tomorrow.”
Elizabeth Device frowned as she saw James with his arm around Alizon. He steered her to a chair by the fire and she sank down.
William sat quietly, gazing into the flames. Jennet, as usual, sat in a corner of the room, on the floor with her knees drawn up under her chin, her eyes missing nothing. James shuddered as a cold shadow passed through his soul.
“Jennet! William! Get to bed.”
What had upset his mother? James waited to be enlightened. It didn’t take long.
As soon as the door closed, Elizabeth laid into them. “Your unnatural relationship is spawning a brat then?”
James and Alizon stared at her. Had Grandmother betrayed them?
“Oh, you need not look like that. Your grandmother didn’t have to tell me what I already guessed.” She pointed at Alizon. “I know you have missed your courses, and I also know that there has been no one else frequenting your bed but your brother. You two think you are so clever, don’t you? You think I can’t hear the huffing and the puffing? The moans of a sow in heat and a rutting boar? The walls in this house are so thin I could hear a flea mating!”
Silence. Then James spoke. “We will talk to Grandmother tomorrow. See what can be done to get rid of it.”
Another cry wrenched itself from Alizon as she clutched her belly.
Their mother rounded on them. “Can’t you see it’s too late? It won’t let you get rid of it. It is cursed. An evil thing. And it will be born. None of us is strong enough to prevent it. It hears, it understands and it is growing all the time. Every muscle, sinew and fiber of its being is multiplying faster than any child could. By your unnatural acts, you have condemned us all.”
“Surely not, Mother.” Mindful of what had happened to Alizon when he had suggested getting rid of it, James would be careful what he said and placate the thing in her womb. Let it think no harm would befall it. “Think of the power it will have. Created from us. Pure blood of our blood.”
His mother slapped his face. Hard. It sharpened his instinct to slap her back, but he stayed his hand.
“Go on if you will,” she said. “Hit me, for I care not. Is it not enough that I have spawned one unnatural child and now I am to be presented with a demon for a grandchild?”
James knew who she meant by her “unnatural child”. Jennet. Born six months after their father, John Device, had died. Killed, they believed, by the witch Anne Whittle, known to all as Old Chattox, their sworn enemy. Jennet had been a breech birth, almost killing her mother in the process. Had that been deliberate? Did the girl possess such power even as an unborn infant? She must know no-one loved her.
Not that she made any effort to ingratiate herself. Alizon had tried when the girl was a baby, but the infant would spit at her, kicking viciously with surprising strength, and once she had teeth, her sharp little incisors would bite into the flesh of anyone who came near her. She would only allow herself to be fed, washed and changed. She repelled any other advance, until Alizon gave up and, like everyone else, ignored the girl’s existence as much as possible.
The child would never go without. But she would never know—or give—love.
Now James’s thoughts returned to Alizon and the awful prospect that faced him, his mother and his grandmother. He knew any ideas he might have had to be kept from Alizon. If that spawn really could hear and understand any threat being made towards it, then nothing could be said or planned with her in the same room. Maybe they should think again about going together to see Grandmother tomorrow? Maybe, instead, he and his mother should go. Or, better yet, he would go alone.
For now, he must try and calm Elizabeth down.
“I am truly sorry, Mother,” he said, his head bowed.
He heard her sharp intake of breath. He had caught her off guard by apologizing—something he rarely did. Her face showed a mix of incredulity and suspicion, her mouth slightly open and her head on one side. Alizon had stopped crying out. Her pains had subsided, judging by the way her hands lay loosely in her lap.
His mother spoke. “Alizon will go and live with her grandmother, and you, James, will remain here. My mind is made up. Your grandmother needs constant help now. She is not well and her eyes are so dim, she can barely see in front of her.”
James opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Alizon too had started in her chair but sunk back again. No argument could be made. Elizabeth Device had spoken her will and they would have to obey.
“Grandmother, what are we to do? The child hears everything and has knowledge far beyond what is natural.”
The old woman rocked herself back and forth on her chair by the fire.
James and his mother sat, waiting at the table. James stared at the stone flags on the floor.
His grandmother’s voice croaked. “The demon is too strong inside her. If we try to kill it, it will take Alizon back to hell.”
Elizabeth spoke in whispers. “So she must have this child? Carry it to full term?”
“She will not carry it much longer. Can you not see how it has grown? Three courses she has missed, but this spawn will soon be ready for birthing. Once it is out of the womb, we can kill it. By fire. It is the only way.”
James jumped. “Burn it alive?”
“This is not a child as we would have it. This is a demon. An unnatural spawn that came from hell and must go straight back there through fire.”
Elizabeth spoke. “You have visioned this, Mother?”
The old woman nodded. She pointed a crooked forefinger at the ancient mirror on the shelf near the fireplace. “I have scryed it. It is the only way. I will deliver the child myself but you must be my eyes, Elizabeth. James will need to stand nearby, ready to take the child and throw it on the fire. There will be no time to lose. No more than seconds before it draws enough power from the air to ruin us all.”
James tried to moisten his lips with a tongue that had suddenly become dry. His heart pounded in his ears. Throw the child on the fire? What if it looked like a normal human baby? Could he bring himself to do it?
“You are quiet, boy,” the old woman said. “Have you nothing to say? Yours is the most important role. After Alizon’s of course.”
James exchanged glances with his mother. “I am fearful of the part I must play. Killing like this is not our way.”
“Begetting a demon child is not our way either, boy.” His grandmother’s voice had a sharp edge.
“Jennet…” he began and then wished he hadn’t.
His mother leaped to her feet and strode over to him. Once again he felt a sharp, stinging slap across his cheek. Once again he stayed his hand from retaliating.
Elizabeth Device launched into him. “You slept with your sister. Not once but countless times. By your actions, you have caused this evil to dwell among us.”
James touched his smarting cheek. “But Grandmother, you gave her herbs to prevent her conceiving
. Why did they not work?”
“Because they could not prevent the evil you were doing from seeping in. It found a home. It took form there. No herbal concoction that I could fashion would be powerful enough to counter such pure evil. I warned Alizon, but she would not listen. She would have you at any cost.”
James reeled from this. So Alizon had known the risk they were taking and had gone along with it anyway. Why hadn’t she chosen to tell him? Surely they both should have made such a decision? There were other ways of preventing a baby, but, assured of his grandmother’s prowess, and with no caution from Alizon, he had not sought any alternative.
Now he would have to pay the price for it. They all would.
Chapter Nine
I was finishing a breakfast cup of coffee when I first met the other guests: an elderly woman, accompanied by a younger version of herself. Both wore knee-length dresses, sensible hair and shoes, and carried small handbags that looked as empty as the Queen’s. They smiled at me before taking their seats.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning,” the younger one said. “Looks like we’re in for some rain again.”
“Yes. I seem to have picked a bad week.”
The older woman spoke. “I’m afraid if you were chasing good weather, you’ve come to the wrong part of the country. This is typical for Pendle.”
I shrugged. “Ah well, never mind. I’ll put on my waterproof jacket, pull the hood up and carry on regardless.”
“That’s the spirit,” the younger woman said.
“I’m Laura Phillips, by the way. Do you stay here regularly?”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lillian Sayer and this is my daughter, Ella. Yes, we spend a lot of time here. We’ve been coming for quite a while now, haven’t we?”
Her daughter nodded. “Oh yes.”
“Martin and Virginia look after us so well,” Lillian said as Martin came in, a loaded tray in his hands.
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