by Matt Ralphs
‘So how do you know about it?’
Hecate gave a secretive smile.
‘You knew the Queen?’ Hazel asked in disbelief.
‘Indeed I did. But listen, I’ll tell you all about it when we’re safe,’ Hecate said. ‘For now, can you get Tom out of his cage?’
‘No! Leave him in there,’ Bramley squeaked.
‘I think so,’ Hazel said, kneeling by the bed and pressing her finger and thumb around the lock. Tom backed away, hissing as it glowed red under her touch.
‘Careful, don’t burn yourself,’ she said to the cat as the lock melted into a puddle of liquid metal.
The door swung open and Tom leaped out, rubbed himself against Hazel, and then jumped into Hecate’s arms, purring contentedly.
‘Good boy, Tom, good boy,’ Hecate murmured.
A wave of dizziness overcame Hazel as she stood up and she grabbed the bedspread to steady herself.
‘You’ve overdone it,’ Hecate said, helping her towards the door. ‘You need to be careful not to use your magic up all at once.’
‘But it will come back?’
‘Yes. And it will come back stronger. Your ability to cast magic is like a muscle – as you exercise it, it will get stronger. You’re going to be a very powerful Wielder, my girl.’
‘You sound sad.’
‘I am. You’ll always be in danger now.’
‘Great,’ Bramley muttered dolefully from behind Hazel’s ear.
‘Are you ready to show me your way out?’ Hazel asked.
Hecate put Tom down and pulled on a hooded cloak. ‘Yes, it’s this way.’ She took Hazel’s hand and led her across the rooftop and into one of the other towers. Tom bounded ahead, his magnificent orange tail standing straight up in the air.
‘I can’t believe you followed me here,’ Hecate said. ‘And on your own, too.’
‘I wasn’t alone,’ Hazel said. ‘I’m here with Bramley.’
Hecate paused at the top of the stairs. ‘Hazel,’ she beamed. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you have your own familiar? That’s wonderful! Can I meet him?’
‘He’s a bit shy . . .’ said Hazel, as Bramley scrabbled forward and peered out of her mass of red curls. ‘Ma, this is Bramley.’
Bramley squeaked and gave a little bow.
Hecate bent down to look at him. ‘Why, we’ve met before. Hello again, Master Mouse. How’s the paw?’
Bramley held it up and waved.
‘Good, good,’ Hecate said. ‘So, you’ve been looking after my Hazel, have you?’
He gave a shy nod.
‘I think you’ll find I’ve been looking after him,’ Hazel said.
Bramley cast Hazel an indignant glare, before darting back into her hair as Tom miaowed hungrily.
‘No, you may not eat this mouse,’ Hecate snapped at him. ‘I don’t care,’ she carried on over a chorus of increasingly disgruntled miaows. ‘He’s Hazel’s familiar. Yes, you will do as I say!’
‘That horrible cat,’ Bramley quivered. ‘I’ll take Rawhead any day.’
They descended the stairs, deeper into the dark, until they reached the ground floor and an arched stone corridor dripping with moisture.
‘Nearly there,’ Hecate said, lifting up her cloak and hopping daintily over the puddles.
‘Is there another drawbridge then?’ Hazel asked, splashing after her.
‘No.’
‘Then how are we going to cross the moat?’ Hazel asked.
‘We’re going to swim.’
‘Ah, now I know where you get your sense of humour from, Hazel,’ Bramley said.
Hecate sighed. ‘I remember this place when it was the King’s stronghold, full of courtiers, soldiers, and witches with their familiars.’
Hazel stopped mid-puddle, knowing this was not the time for awkward questions, but unable to stop herself. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about all this? About Murrell, and you fighting in the Witch War, and running away with me?’
Hecate glanced at her, her face unreadable in the gloom. ‘I wanted to protect you. I’m your mother – that’s my job.’
‘You should have told me the truth about your past.’
Hecate folded her arms. ‘The past doesn’t concern you. What happened in that dreadful time is between me and . . .’
‘ . . . Murrell,’ Hazel finished. A question that had previously never occurred to her rose to the surface of her mind, making her cold and sick to her stomach. She looked at her mother’s dark outline and asked, ‘Is Murrell my father?’
37
AN UNEXPECTED REUNION
They look like us, but scratch their skin
and you’ll find corruption and rot.
The Loathsome Witches and All Their Vile Ways
by Dr Mitchel Scanlon
Hecate didn’t speak. Instead she lowered her head and began to shake.
‘She’s crying,’ Bramley gasped. ‘Does that mean—’
‘I feel sick,’ Hazel breathed. ‘Not him, please’.
‘Now I come think of it, I can see a resemblance . . .’ Bramley mused.
Hecate’s skin glowed white with magic that smelt like spring blossom; laughter, not tears, rippled from her like sunlight over water. ‘Nicolas?’ she gasped. ‘Your father? Is that what you thought?’
‘You mean he isn’t?’ Hazel said, overwhelmed with relief.
‘Of course not. Why would you think that?’
‘Well, you know each other from way back, and he seemed really upset that you didn’t tell him about me.’
Hecate’s laughter faded along with her magic, plunging them back into darkness. ‘Nicolas and I are friends . . . were friends. But we were never in love. I promise I will tell you everything about my past, the war and your father, if you really want to know . . . but right now we’d better keep going, all right?’
‘All right.’
‘We should be at ground level now,’ Hecate said, taking Hazel’s hand and leading her down a passage. ‘Ah, here we are. I just hope the mechanism is still working . . .’
A battered wooden bookcase stood against the wall. Hecate grabbed a nearby sconce and gave it a pull. Hazel gave a yelp of surprise as there was a clank and the bookcase swung open on rusty hinges, revealing a low passage behind.
‘Secret door,’ Hecate said with a grin. ‘Follow me.’
They splashed their way down a short, waterlogged passage built into the keep’s outer wall. Reflected light rippled on the ceiling. Ten feet or so ahead Hazel saw the end of the passage and the moon-kissed moat beyond. A miraculously dry Hecate and predictably mud-splattered Hazel made their way towards a dilapidated wooden jetty. Water lapped between the boards wherever Hazel stepped.
‘Here we go,’ Hecate said, climbing aboard an ancient rowboat tethered to a mooring ring. ‘This is how I escaped last time, except then you were swelling my belly to the size of a plum duff.’
The boat rocked as Hazel sat on the bow seat, gripping the gunwales to keep her balance. Tom sat in the middle, eyeing the water suspiciously. Hecate shoved the boat away from the jetty and they drifted out into the open.
Using their hands to paddle, they guided the boat across the moat until it nudged the opposite bank. A street of empty houses skirted the moat. The two witches clambered out and scampered into an alley.
‘We need to lose ourselves in the forest,’ Hazel said. ‘Do you know how to get to the main gate?’
‘I know every street and yard in Rivenpike,’ Hecate replied.
She led Hazel unerringly down alleys, back streets and dank, cobbled yards, muttering street names under her breath with Tom racing at their heels. They jagged left and right, scaling fences and cutting through abandoned houses and workshops.
The route through the ruins seemed random, but Hazel could tell they were heading roughly in one particular direction.
‘Not far now,’ Hecate said, putting on a burst of speed and disappearing around a corner. Hazel followed, cloak flying – and ran into her mo
ther who had stopped dead in the entrance to a seedy courtyard.
‘Why have you—? Oh.’
‘Of all the rotten luck,’ Bramley wailed.
Titus’s wagon stood in the corner. Light glowed from the windows. Hazel put her finger to her lips and both she and Hecate backed towards the alley. ‘Ma, there’s something I need to tell you,’ she whispered. ‘I may have . . .’
Paws padded on stone as Samson skittered into the alleyway, causing Tom to jump on to a window ledge and arch his back. Seeing Hazel, Samson bounded over and jumped up, pinning her against a wall with his front paws.
‘Gerroff!’ she spluttered as the excited dog licked her face. Hecate grabbed his collar and vainly tried to pull him away.
‘You!’ David emerged from behind the wagon with a blunderbuss clutched in his hands. Hazel thought he had a grim look about him, much changed from the cheerful boy she had met in Watley. He raised the gun and fumbled to pull back the hammer mechanism.
‘David,’ Hazel called, ‘if you fire that thing they’ll hear. The witch and her spider-demon are not far away.’
The colour leaked from David’s face and he banged on the side of the wagon. ‘Boss. You’d better come out here.’
A window opened and Titus poked his head out. ‘What is it?’ he said through a cloud of pipe smoke.
‘It’s the little witch, Boss. And she’s got someone with her.’
Hecate gasped and took a step towards the wagon. ‘Titus? Is that really you?’
The Witch Finder squinted at her. ‘I must be drunk,’ he muttered. ‘Hecate?’
38
OLD ACQUAINTANCES
Demons must be bound by powerful spells;
if they escape, the consequences can be terrible.
Notes on Witchcraft and Demonology by Dr Neil Fallon
Titus clattered down the wagon steps. ‘Put the gun down, boy.’
‘Thank my lucky stars,’ Hecate said, throwing her arms around him and glowing with pleasure. ‘My old friend Titus White.’
‘You look the same as you did fifteen years ago,’ Titus said.
‘So do you.’ Hecate reached up and pushed the hair away from his face.
‘The old grump’s gone bashful,’ Bramley said. Hazel leaned heavily against a windowsill, too bewildered to respond.
David hovered uncertainly by the wagon, still clutching the blunderbuss. ‘What’s going on, Boss?’
Titus ignored him. ‘So this little pipsqueak is yours, is she?’ he said, looking Hazel up and down. ‘Well, well’ Hecate nodded and took Hazel’s hand.
‘They’re Wielders, both of them,’ David said, edging closer. ‘We’ve got to arrest them, hand them over to the Witch Hunters.’ He grabbed Titus’s arm. ‘Are you even listening to me?’
‘You want to hand a little girl and her mother over to those butchers?’ Titus growled.
‘They’re witches. It’s our duty to take them in.’
At last Hazel found her voice. ‘David – I thought we were friends.’
David glared at her. ‘That was before I found out what you are.’
‘That’s enough.’ Titus grabbed the blunderbuss from him. ‘We’re letting these two go while we nail Murrell.’
‘Is that what you’re doing here?’ Hecate asked. ‘Looking for Nicolas?’
‘He kidnapped you, tried to kill me and my apprentice, and has been summoning demons. Damn right I’m looking for him.’ He turned to Hazel. ‘He’s still here, isn’t he?’
‘In the castle, and he’s on his own – for the moment. Although Lilith, the witch who attacked David, and her spider-demon are in the town somewhere . . .’
Titus grunted. ‘Then we’d better be quick. Tell me everything I need to know.’
As quickly as she could, Hazel told an increasingly astounded Titus about the magic circle, the ceremony, Murrell’s pact with Baal and the woodsman’s transformation into a mindless soldier under Murrell’s command.
‘The rest of the Chosen, as Murrell calls them, are outside the walls rounding up more people to feed to Baal,’ she finished.
Titus appraised Hazel with grudging respect. ‘Well, slop-sprite, you have been busy.’
‘We shouldn’t trust a word she says—’ David blustered.
‘I said, enough,’ Titus said.
‘We should go,’ Hazel said, looking around nervously. ‘I want to get out of here before the rest of them come back.’
‘Yes,’ Titus said. ‘We’ll find you later. Samson has your scent. Now go.’
Hecate squeezed Titus’s hand as she passed. ‘It’s so good to see you again, Titus.’
The old Witch Finder mumbled something in return as Hazel led Hecate up the alley, with Bramley bouncing up and down on her shoulder and Tom scampering at her heels. They peered on to Tower Road and saw the gatehouse not far away.
‘It’s getting light,’ Bramley said. ‘No time to waste.’
‘Ready, Ma?’
‘Ready.’
A scream ripped through the morning silence.
‘That sounded like David,’ Hazel said, her heart hammering.
There was a deafening bang followed by an orange flash lighting up the walls, and then a bestial roar of rage.
‘Titus,’ Hecate cried and she ran back down the alley.
‘Ma!’ Hazel leaped after her and managed to grab the hem of her robe. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I won’t run away leaving them in danger,’ Hecate said. ‘Not this time.’
‘It was their choice to stay,’ Hazel said. ‘They knew what they were up against.’
There was another scream, louder this time.
‘All right,’ Hazel said, staring into her mother’s determined eyes. ‘We’ll help them. But . . . you need to wait here for me.’
‘Hazel, don’t be ridiculous, I’m coming with—’
Hazel pushed Hecate into a doorway. ‘Please, Ma, for me. Just wait here. Keep Tom safe.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Hecate asked, looking at Hazel as if she’d never clearly seen her before.
‘I’m a Fire Witch,’ Hazel replied. ‘So I’m going to start a fire.’
39
FIERY DEATH
After the Witch War, fortune-tellers,
alchemists, astrologers and wise-women all fell
under the suspicious gaze of the Witch Hunters.
England – After the Witch War by Dr Breege Whiten
Hazel sped down the alley, letting her magic flow to the surface. Fire trailed behind her like a cloak; sparks crackled through her hair.
‘Be careful,’ Bramley said, clinging to her ear. ‘Your magic is lethal – I don’t want to be a murderer’s familiar.’
‘Ma was right, we have to help them,’ Hazel said.
‘Just think of the consequences before you act . . .’ Bramley persisted. ‘Because one wrong decision can mean a lifetime of guilt.’
The wagon blocked Hazel’s view of the courtyard, but as she got closer she sensed frantic activity behind it; flitting shadows, a stirring in the air, the scraping of boots on stone. Emboldened by the magic swirling through her, she skirted the wagon and entered the courtyard. What she saw froze her to the spot.
David and Spindle were locked together like dancers performing a ghastly waltz. Gripping Spindle’s front legs, David leaned away from her gnashing fangs until he screamed and slipped on to his back. Spindle bore down on him, gibbering triumphantly.
Titus was sprawled in the gutter like a toppled statue. Lilith, her face framed with an icy mane of hair, straddled his chest with her hands frozen blue around his throat. The smoking blunderbuss lay on the ground, just out of his reach.
In the corner of the yard lay Samson, curled up, unmoving, with two puncture wounds on his neck. Froth bubbled around his mouth. Hazel gave a cry of anguish.
Spindle saw her first. With a hiss, the spider-demon squirted a jet of white silk from its abdomen. Hazel threw her arm up to protect her face and the thread wra
pped like a whip around her wrist, sticking fast to the skin. It pulled tight, nearly jerking Hazel off her feet. Without even thinking, she let out a pulse of burning magic.
Fire bit into the thread, sparking and speeding up its length like a lit fuse towards Spindle. The demon howled and juddered away, but the thread was still attached to its spinnerets. Freed, David crawled towards Samson.
‘Spindle!’ Lilith cried.
Titus bucked, knocking Lilith to the ground. He reached out and curled his fingers around the blunderbuss.
The last few feet of thread were devoured and Spindle was engulfed in a ball of flame, thrashing around the courtyard trailing smoke and jets of steam. Titus cut short Lilith’s howl by smashing the blunderbuss into the side of her head. David crawled under the wagon with Samson in his arms as Spindle skittered headlong into the corner and exploded, showering the yard – and Hazel – with warm slime.
‘Oh, this is disgusting,’ Bramley spluttered. ‘This smell will never come out of my fur.’
Hazel stood, transfixed with horror at what she had done. She wiped her face and tottered over to Titus, who sat in the gutter rubbing his throat.
‘Hello again,’ he growled. ‘Did you forget something?’
‘I thought you might need some help,’ she croaked. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Better than her,’ he said, gesturing to Lilith who lay face down next to him. ‘Help an old man up, would you?’
David emerged from under the wagon, his face blank with shock. Samson dangled limply in his arms.
‘Did Spindle bite him?’ Hazel asked.
‘She crept up on us,’ Titus replied, gently taking the dog from David. ‘We didn’t even notice until it was too late. Where’s your mother?’
‘I’m here.’ Hecate appeared from the alley. ‘Hazel, are you all right?’
‘Can you help my dog?’ Titus said, his voice cracking. ‘He’s been poisoned.’
‘Let me look at him.’ Hecate hurried towards them.
‘Take him into the wagon. We need to get moving,’ Titus said.
‘What about her?’ Hazel said.