Witch Dust

by Marilyn Messik

  We’d never have found her in a million years on our own, but Rostropovich led us unerringly to where she lay, a small unmoving bundle of material in the darkness of a clearing. Face down in the snow, all we could see was her red knitted poncho, topped by what at first glance, in the dancing light of the two torches, looked like a black fur hood. But it wasn’t a black fur hood. It was Ink. A stiffly dead, Ink.

  Roland gently lifted the cat’s rigid body, seemingly so much less plump now.

  “Did he do that?” I asked, looking at the huge animal who had settled back on his haunches. Roland shook his head briefly as he laid the small corpse gently to one side on the snow.

  “Shouldn’t think so, there’s not a mark on her.” He turned swiftly to help Bella move Mimi carefully over on to her back. Bella had already stripped off her thick glove and was feeling for a pulse, eyes closed in concentration. None of us said anything, comment seemed pointless. The front of the red garment was completely snow encrusted and there was no movement of her chest and no discernible colour in her face, other than the black gash of the bird-inflicted wound. It seemed an inevitability that Bella would shake her head as she slowly did, then she paused,

  “Wait, I’m not sure, Sandra, quick you feel.” She’d reached up behind her, dragging me forward and I dropped to my knees next to her. I didn’t have gloves, so my hands were numb, apart from which I hadn’t had a lot of experience of checking for life, so had no idea what I was feeling for.

  “There,” Bella was pressing my two fingers firmly into Mimi’s neck. “Can you feel…?” She said. I shut my eyes as she had, and thought there was a fractional, butterfly fluttering beneath my fingers. Bella’s anxious breath was on my cheek, her fear and uncertainty mirroring mine.

  “Think so… very faint. Honestly, not sure.” I whispered. I don’t know why, it seemed important not to disturb the silence. Roland moved rapidly then, pulling open his thick jacket, bending and scooping her thin frame up in his arms, so she was pressed against the warmth of his body, while Bella wordlessly pulled the jacket closed as best she could, shielding Mimi from the still-falling, spitefully slanting snow.

  “Come on, quickly.” He said, already moving off, following our footsteps back out of the thicket. Rostropovich stayed as close as possible to him, at the same time, careful not to impede him in any way. I hesitated and Roland threw over his shoulder,

  “Leave the cat, we’ll come back for it tomorrow.” But I couldn’t do that. Ink and I were never that close and God knows, I’m the least sentimental person on this earth, but I couldn’t just abandon her, lonely and frozen. I bent and picked her up, death-diminished in my arms, and set off after the other two, hurrying to catch them up because without the uncertain light of their torches, the blackness was complete. We were all breathing heavily by the time we broke out of the trees back onto the drive and once we weren’t battling branches, we were able to put on some cautious speed.

  We’d almost reached the base of the stone steps, when the music started blaring. Shockingly loud, totally incongruous, it hit us physically, reverberating through our chests as it assaulted our ears. It was Bing Crosby, and to our astonishment, he was dreaming of a White Christmas, which was really a bit previous, being as it was only November.

  “For pity’s sake who’s put that on?” I shouted at Bella, as wincing from the noise-blast and gripping each other’s arm for balance, we staggered up the steps after Roland. “I didn’t even know we had a PA system.” I said.

  “We don’t.” She said grimly.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  As we made it through the front doors, the music was head-splittingly invasive from all around us, with Bing begging for sleigh bells in the snow. The three of us stopped short for a few seconds, dazzled by warmth, light and noise before Roland moved towards the living room door which was standing open.

  “Someone find where that’s coming from and shut it off.” He yelled, as Alfred and Elizabeth burst through from the kitchen corridor. Devorah was running down the stairs towards us and above, on the landing stood Etty with Ophelia slightly behind her.

  “Mimi?” Etty asked.

  “We think she might be OK.” Bella looked at me for confirmation, but I couldn’t help thinking of the uncertainty of that flutter under my fingers, would it still be there after our desperate dash through the cold? Unconsciously I shook my head slightly and Devorah gasped. I turned to her quickly.

  “Call an ambulance.”

  “They’ll never be able to get here.” She protested, we were all yelling, to be heard over the music.

  “I’m sure they will, we have to try anyway.” I said, nodding towards the phone. “Do it.” And then to Etty,

  “Come on, quickly, there may be something you can do and where’s that bloody music coming from, can’t we stop it?” She made her way down, pausing halfway to close her eyes. For a moment, she was still and then, mercifully the noise was wiped out, leaving a vacuum into which the silence fell. She tutted, perhaps to herself. “Childish.” She said disdainfully, as she hurried past me.

  “Serenissima?” Ophelia had moved too, to halfway down the stairs. She was looking at what I carried in my arms.

  “Ma. I’m so sorry.” I said. She nodded once, pressing her lips together tightly, before turning and moving slowly up again and back along the corridor. I watched her go. I had no idea how to cope with that. Hysteria, tears, shrieks, wailing, beatings of breast were all on the cards and could be handled. I wasn’t sure what to do with genuine grief.

  “Here,” said Alfred, stepping forward, “Let me.” For one stupid instant, I felt protective towards what I cradled, then I held out my arms and he took her from me.

  “Don’t know what happened.” I said. “Maybe…” I trailed off, I didn’t really know what I was going to say, and going through my mind was the sheer implausibility of sedentary Ink voluntarily going for a snow stroll with Mimi and meeting a frozen end.

  “I’ll take care of her.” He said gently, “Don’t you worry yourself.” As he turned away, it occurred to me that it had been easier to think about Ink than about Mimi, perhaps misplaced priorities.

  I knew I should go and see how Mimi was or indeed wasn’t, although I hadn’t heard any overt sounds of distress from in there, so maybe the worst hadn’t happened. But still jacket-clad, I sat for a moment on one of the green leather chairs. The chairs had clearly been designed by someone to whom comfort was not a prime consideration; hard and slippery in a bottom-repelling way, they had straight up and down backs that actively discouraged any form of leaning. I knew a review of the chairs was simply a way to avoid thinking about everything else, because right now I didn’t, to use one of Murray’s favourite phrases, know which way was up and couldn’t have told my arse from my elbow. But if for a brief while, thinking about the shortcomings of a pair of chairs took my attention, that was no bad thing. I shut my eyes briefly. Maybe anybody passing would just ignore me. No such luck. I was forced to re-open them by a hard rap on the parquet floor. It was the bird-headed cane.

  “A word, if you don’t mind.” Said Etty.

  “I’d really rather not.”

  “I’d really rather not, too.” She said. “But there you are, we can’t always have what we want can we?”

  “Mimi? Is she OK?”

  “She will be.”

  “We have to thank Rostropovich,” I said. “He saved her life, we’d never ever have found her in time. What about the ambulance?”

  “There’s a wait of over two hours, unless it’s a life or death emergency. There are apparently road traffic accidents all over the place, so we cancelled the call.”

  “This isn’t an emergency?”

  “Not the sort they can deal with.” Said Etty grimly. “She just needs to get warmed up, Elizabeth’s seeing to her. She’s tougher than she looks.”

 
; “Who, Elizabeth?”

  “Don’t be stupid; Mimi.”

  “Right, of course. Sorry, feeling a bit…” I swayed suddenly on the chair and Etty moved forward, although what she could do to help me if I slipped off, I had no idea, I’d knock her right over. I giggled weakly at the thought of Etty and I going down like a pair of skittles.

  “We need to get her upstairs.” I blinked up at her, not sure whether she was talking to or about me, but with the familiar scent of whisky and antiseptic, I realised Murray had turned up. So pleased to see him. I put out my hand, but couldn’t seem to focus properly.

  “Murray.” I said. And then because I really couldn’t think of anything else to say, tried it again “Murray?”

  “Come on, quickly now, before those wretched people turn up again with the camera.” Said Etty.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Murray had an arm round my waist and was helping me up from the chair. I chuckled again, swaying as I stood, because I was taller than him and we made an odd couple. I didn’t give much for our chances of getting up the stairs in one piece.

  “She been drinking?” He said accusingly to Etty.

  “Brandy.” I said. “Elizabeth gave it to me. After the double.”

  “Double what?” Said Murray anxiously, as we followed Etty who had already turned to go upstairs.

  “No. Not double what.” I elucidated carefully. My tongue seemed suddenly to have become rather larger in my mouth than it usually was, it certainly didn’t seem to be working in its normal fashion. “It was a double of me. A whatdoyoucallit?” I shut my eyes, the word was on the tip of my tongue, but closing my eyes to try and find it was suddenly making me very dizzy, so I opened them again hastily. “Doppelgänger,” I said triumphantly. “Yup, that’s the chappie, a doppelgänger!” Etty turned. We were now about halfway up the stairs.

  “Ah.” She said. “I see.” I waggled my head at her,

  “Well, jolly glad somebody does.” I said, “Because I’m blowed if I do. Roland,” I added, “Wanted me to tell you, but I… I…” I paused, I really couldn’t think what it was I’d wanted or not wanted to do. I giggled again. It was really all rather funny, one way and another and added to that, was the fact that both legs felt like cooked spaghetti, no use whatsoever for walking on.

  “I told you.” Said Etty to Murray, as we reached the landing and she indicated her room at the end of the corridor. “I said you had to get her out of here.” Murray, panting now but still doggedly hanging on to me as I swayed at his side, managed to swear quietly under what breath he had left.

  “I know you ruddy-well told me, but who knew we were heading into a blizzard? We’re all bleeding stuck here aren’t we, until it clears up a bit. Nothing you nor anyone else can do about it, is there?” Etty opened the door to her room.

  “Better put her on the bed.” She said. “Then you can go.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Murray drew himself up and gave her a look I knew well. He hadn’t had years of dealing with Adam and Ophelia without developing a highly effective stroppiness of his own.

  “Excuse me?” Etty wasn’t used to being gainsaid. “I would like to speak with my Great-Granddaughter, privately.”

  “Well that’s tough isn’t it, because I’m going nowhere, and she may well be your Great-Granddaughter, but she’s been my responsibility a bloody sight longer than she’s been yours.”

  “Awwww.” I muttered. I was swaying between the two of them, like a rag doll who’s a bit short of stuffing and Murray, giving in to my increasingly dead weight, shuffled over to the bed, onto which I collapsed gracelessly while they faced off over me. Etty broke first,

  “Very well.” She said icily. “Have it your own way, but please don’t hold me to blame if you don’t like what you hear.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  “Here, drink this.” Etty was holding a glass to my lips. I turned my head away, I was getting bit sick of people giving me things to drink, after all the brandy hadn’t done me any favours.

  “What is it?” Murray, leaned forward suspiciously from a chair he’d pulled up next to the bed. Etty, perched neatly on the other side, tsked briskly.

  “For goodness sake, it’s a glass of water, what do you think it is, eye of newt and toe of frog?” I squinted up at her, surely not a joke? She frowned and I decided, more like habitual sarcasm. But my throat was dry and raspy, so I reached for the glass. I didn’t feel right but thankfully, a lot less ‘not right’ than earlier. Murray stood up, reached behind me and propped the pillows up behind my back, so I could sit more comfortably.

  “Come on then.” He said to Etty. “Let’s be having it. Whatever you’ve got to say, better out than in. Seems to me there’s a ton of iffy stuff been swept under the carpet up till now and I reckon Sandy’s got a right to know what’s what.” Etty might have been the only person who could sit with ramrod dignity on the side of a bed, and now she turned the green glint gaze first on him dismissively, then on me.

  “When was it?” She said, “When did you see this doppelgänger?” I rubbed my forehead in the hopes that might stimulate sensible thought.

  “This morning,” I said. “Least I think it was this morning. To be honest I can’t seem to think straight, just so much going on.” She shook her head,

  “It’s not that, you feel the way you do because of what it’s taken out of you. You know what they say about a doppelgänger – when you see yours, you die.” I shook my head,

  “No, actually I didn’t know that.” I said. “Thanks for sharing though, made me feel a whole lot better.” She ignored me and continued.

  “It’s about the energy. To create a perfect double, whoever is doing the creating needs to draw off your energy, your essence. It leaves you depleted, you literally take leave of your senses. If the doppelgänger continues to exist, it continues to draw from you.” She looked at me, “But it didn’t continue to exist, did it? You knew exactly what to do.”

  I reached out again for the glass of water and drained it, deciding that depleted or not, someone had to take charge and even feeling as I did, the person I had most faith in was still me. Whatever she thought she wanted to talk about, I needed answers to questions. There was no doubt things were escalating way too fast, and not in a healthy direction. It would seem that saving the hotel had moved into slightly second place on the list. Our first priority had to be making sure no-one else got hurt or worse. Etty opened her mouth to continue, but I held up a hand.

  “Let me get my thoughts in order.” I said. She raised an eyebrow but I ignored that, she wasn’t the only one who could do bossy. I saw Murray settle back in his chair with a relieved look, he obviously preferred me imperious to insensible.

  “Right,” I said. “Before we can work out how to handle this, we need to know the who, what, where, why and how. So first of all, who’s orchestrating everything that’s been going on?” Etty frowned.

  “I can’t tell you specifically, but they’re doing it because they think I’ve brought you here deliberately.” My turn to frown,

  “But you had absolutely no idea Ophelia and I were going to turn up.” I said.

  “Well of course I didn’t.” She said impatiently, “If I had, don’t you think I’d have stopped you?”

  “What do they want?”

  “They want you gone. Away from the rest of us.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve already told you this, did you not listen? There are those who use what they are to achieve exactly what they want. If you’re hungry for money, influence, power, there’s nothing to stop you using what you have, to get it. Some people have overreaching ambition, yearn for the spotlight, others not so much or not at all. Everyone’s choices are their own.”

  “OK, OK, I get all that and all the stuff about energy, focus, yada, yada, yada. But what I need to know
is what’s real and dangerous to us, and what are just scary Mary smoke and mirrors tactics, and how to tell the difference.” She laughed with no amusement.

  “Who’s to define reality? We can only go by the evidence of our own eyes and ears. We all saw the Malignum, the other day, that was reality, so were the birds. On the other hand, none of us saw what you saw on your car trip – yes Mimi told me about that. That was something successfully messing with your head, but it didn’t make it any less real to you, did it?” I shuddered, the memory was still strong and she was right, anything was as real as I thought it was – and thus dangerous. I realised I’d been tensed, leaning forward as I questioned her and my back was beginning to ache, I sat back against the pillows.

  “I still honestly don’t see what it has to do with me, why I seem to have set the cat amongst the pigeons.” I thought of Ink and regretted that particular turn of phrase.

  “I’ve told you, the balance of power is just that – a balance.” She said impatiently. “But it can easily be tipped one way or another and any change at all to the status quo is a threat to those who want it left as it is.” I snorted crossly,

  “But this is all so stupid. I don’t know anything, don’t want to know anything, in fact want to run as far and as fast from your hokery pokery as I can. How can I possibly be any kind of a threat?” Another thought struck me, “Anyway, if it’s me they’ve got a gripe with, why is it Mimi who seems to be getting the brunt of it?”

  “They see a family chain, with her as the weakest link.” Said Etty. Murray who’d been listening to all this, his face expressionless, leaned forward.

  “Hang on in there a minute. Just want to make sure I’ve got this absolutely straight. Make sure you’re saying what I think you’re saying, get it all out on the table and call a spade a spade. All this, all the rum stuff Ophelia’s pulled off through the years, it’s because you’re what? Witches?” Etty scanned his face.