by R. M. Walker
The bathroom was as poky as hers, with the usual items: toothpaste, toothbrush, a comb, several disposable razors, and an electric one. There was a towel hanging over the rail and another over the bath edge. She stepped forwards and opened the bathroom cabinet. It was empty except for a bottle of aftershave.
She felt cheated. There was nothing here that was even remotely out of the ordinary, and it made her snort loudly in derision. What was she expecting? A broomstick? A familiar, slinking around ready to attack her? A cauldron boiling away merrily?
She left the bathroom, remembering to close the door behind her. She crossed to the bigger bedroom and opened the door. The tidiness of the cottage stopped at the door. His bed was unmade. Clothes lay in a pile on the rattan chair that stood in the corner. The wardrobe door stood ajar, his clothes hanging on the rails. One curtain was open, the other still pulled closed. Upside down iron horseshoes were propped on the windowsill.
She looked down before she stepped into the room. A chalk ring was marked on the parts of the floor she could see. He was trying to keep something out as well.
Candles littered every surface, and they were all used, judging by the wax that had melted and solidified down the sides and over the surfaces. The mirror was covered with a black cloth, and it made her frown. He obviously didn’t mind his own appearance as the mirror in the bathroom wasn’t covered. She debated stepping over the chalk ring and realised she had no choice. He would have broken the protection spell when he stepped out of the room anyway. She went in and gasped as the room shimmered before her eyes. It rippled and swayed, and she staggered as the floor beneath her feet undulated. Her head spun, and she blinked, trying to clear her vision, to stop the sensation of swaying. She shook her head, took another breath, and everything settled. Had she broken the protection spell on the room? Would he know she’d been there? She didn’t care. If he did find out and question her, she’d tell him the truth. She was looking for answers, nothing more. He owed her that much at least.
She opened the wardrobe door wider and riffled through his clothes, but there was nothing there of interest. She tried the dressing table drawers and again it was just clothes. She got down on her knees and looked under his bed, dragging out the suitcases he had stored there. They were empty and a little dusty. She sneezed as she shoved them back. She went back out of the room and crossed to the second bedroom. The door was closed, and she checked the threshold as she opened it, but there was no chalk on the floor of this room. She stepped inside and caught her breath. If she was looking for evidence of witchcraft, she need look no further. And it was exactly how she imagined it.
A small cast-iron cauldron sat on the dresser, plants filled the windowsill and several of the shelves of a bookcase. The cupboard door was open and the shelves were stacked with books, crystals, glass vials, stones, and papers. He’d put a sheet of hardboard over the bed, and it was covered with books, loose sheets of paper, drawings, and strange images. She stepped forwards and started to sift through the papers. Some of it was written in Latin and some in Old English. She put them back and crossed to the cauldron. It was empty, and there was no sign of what he’d been doing last. Several pieces of chalk, dried herbs, feathers, and what looked like a rabbit’s foot lay next to it. She turned to look at the crystals and stones: jasper, onyx, tiger’s eye, and amethyst, along with a few she had no name for. Lying amongst the crystals was a small, sharp looking dagger, with a gem encrusted, ornate handle engraved with Celtic knotwork. She imagined it would be worth a fair amount of money, but she didn’t touch it.
Most of the books stacked were the ones he’d lent her. There was another pile on the bottom shelf, she sat down and drew them out to look through them. She checked her watch. She was fine for a while, so she picked one up. There was no name on the leather cover, and the only inscription on the inside was handwritten: Secret names of plants.
She turned the parchment type paper, and the handwriting continued. The first page had the title: Bloody Finger. She looked down and saw its common name as foxglove, then it gave a detailed description of its uses. It was a similar book to the one he’d lent to her, but there were no potions or spells. She was fascinated by the contents, and when she turned the last page, she was sad to put it back.
She carried on looking through the books, but they were mainly on the history of witchcraft. At the bottom was the book that he had tried to give to her. She took it out and ran her fingers over the cover; it was a beautiful book, and she put it back reluctantly.
She was no closer to the answers she was looking for. She leant back on her hands, wondering what she’d expected to find. She snorted at her own naivety; it wasn’t like she was going to find a letter that would explain it all. Or a diary that belonged to her mother that would hold all the secrets she wanted to know. There had been nothing here about her mother at all. There was nothing about this council either; she hadn’t come across the symbol in any of the papers or the books. She leant her head back and sighed heavily, her eyes closed. She was no nearer the truth. All that remained was to speak to him in person.
She opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. There was something wrong with it. The beams were black, but what should have been white plaster was a smooth, shiny black, and it was moving, seething like a boiling mass. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing, and then it processed. She screamed and stumbled to the door. A low buzzing noise started, and the ceiling started to descend. Except it wasn’t the ceiling. It was flies, hundreds and hundreds of flies. And they were coming for her.
The angry buzzing of a thousand wings was deafening as she raced through the door and slammed it shut behind her. She heard them connecting with the door, and she turned, half afraid to see them coming through after her.
“They won’t hurt you.”
She squeaked and whirled around. Drew was coming up the steps, a small smile on his face.
“I... I...” She started to back away from him, but the noise of the flies made her realise she was cut off. “I shouldn’t be here,” she stammered.
“I gave you permission to come into my home. Besides, you’re my daughter—you have every right to be here.” He stopped at the top of the stairs and pushed his hands into his pockets. “You disturbed them because I didn’t let them know you were coming.”
“You... you... they...” She swallowed nervously. “They belong to you. They’re yours?”
“No.” He laughed. “They belong to no one but themselves. I merely requested their help, and they gave it. They guard my space. They must have sensed my blood in you because they didn’t attack you straight away, did they? You’ve been in there a while, and they did nothing. You just scared them.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “I scared them?” She snorted. “I don’t think it was them that was scared for their lives.”
“You screamed. Probably when you saw them. You looked up?” he asked, and she nodded. “If you hadn’t looked up and screamed they would have let you leave the room unhurt and unaware of their presence.”
She blew her breath out and shook her head. What the hell was going on? What kind of alternative reality had she fallen into? Was nothing normal anymore?
“You’re overwhelmed,” he said. “Tea is a good leveller. I’ll make us a pot and do my best to answer the million and one questions running around your brain. Deal?”
“What are they?” She looked back at the closed door, no sound of the buzzing now.
“Simuliidae, better known as black flies. Found everywhere in the UK, not just here.”
“Just flies? Not killer flies? Flies sent from the very depths of hell?”
He snorted with laughter. “They’re just flies, Lily. Come with me and let them go back to sleep.” He turned and went down the stairs whistling.
“I can’t believe you’d keep flies in there. That’s disgusting and weird and, well, disgusting.” She followed him downstairs.
“They don’t stay there
,” he said. “They only gather if someone enters the room that’s unexpected. You went into my bedroom, it alerted me and alerted them. I won’t be taking that protection away, but I will let them know to let you go if they sense you and I’m not here. But don’t come in with anyone else unless I’m here.”
He knew she’d been in his bedroom—that she’d been snooping—and he wasn’t angry with her. Or at least if he was, he wasn’t showing it. Surely, he’d be angry if he had something to hide, something he didn’t want her to see.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking down at the marking on the floor, and she clenched her fists at her sides.
“You know what this is, don’t you? I’m not going to question how you know yet because that’s not important. What’s important is letting you know why I did it.” He bent to cover the markings over.
“Why did you do it?” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. She kept forgetting she didn’t know this man at all, there was something about him that lowered her guard, made her feel safe with him. He indicated with his head to the kitchen and walked away. She followed him, stopping in the door to watch him cross to the side.
“So, am I correct in saying that you know what that sigil is?”
“Astral projection. You came into my bedroom when I was sleeping! Why?” she demanded.
“I used this spell only when you were at Matt’s. I’ve never used it on you before then and never when you were in the cottage. It was me leaving that set their alarm off. You were stronger than I expected, and you resisted me. I won’t deny it. I tried to plant the idea that those boys can’t be trusted in your mind.” He put two tea bags into a teapot then picked up the kettle. He was so casual about it all, as if they were discussing the weather, and it agitated her almost as much as what he was saying.
“And the night before? In my room? Scaring me? Did you scare me? Wreck the room?” she demanded.
“Yes, that was me too. I wanted to scare you.” He faced her. “I won’t apologise either. I did what I had to do.”
“Have you been in the cottage too?” She swallowed down the nauseous feeling his words gave her.
“No. I just told you.” He shook his head.
“And you expect me to believe you?” she asked, not hiding her distrust or anger.
“It’s the truth. You’ve been overloaded with lies from someone you should be able to trust. To expect you to believe me would be expecting too much; I realise that. All I can say is that hopefully with time you’ll learn to trust me.” He took the kettle to the sink to fill it up. “I probably wouldn’t have used that spell when you were at the manor either, but it was for several things. One, to see how strong you were. Two, to hopefully get you to mistrust them, and the third, which is entwined with the second, I wanted to make sure that they weren’t talking you into something you didn’t want to do.”
“Something I didn’t...” She faded out frowning at him.
“Sex, Lily. Those boys have one thing on their mind when it comes to you, and it would appear they aren’t worried about how many at a time either. Be careful around them.”
“Sex? No! No, you have it wrong! You are completely wrong! They’ve looked after me while I was here. They’ve never done anything even slightly inappropriate!”
“Apart from try and date you at the same time. Which is not normal behaviour.” He snorted. “Watch that Nate as well. He has all the hallmarks of being a domineering bastard when he’s older. He’s three-quarters of the way there already.”
“And how do you know that I’m not perfectly happy with dating them all at the same time?” She put her hands on her hips.
He paused from filling the kettle, one eyebrow raised in surprise. He carried on filling the kettle. “I’ve watched you grow up. Maybe not as close or as hands on as I wanted, but I’ve made sure to know how you’ve been all this time. You’ve seriously dated one boy, and the closest he got was one kiss. Am I right?”
“What the hell?” She stared at him in horror. “You’ve been stalking me? That is creepy and weird as hell! You have no right! No right to do any of this! No right to come into my room! No right to watch me!”
He slammed the kettle onto the counter and turned. “I have every right! You are my daughter, my blood! I haven’t been stalking you! I’ve been watching you all these years because you’re my daughter! Because the closest I could get to you was the other side of the street. Because I needed to know that you were all right, that you were safe. I should have been there when that kid took you to the dance. It should have been me telling him to bring you home untouched, or risk his face being rearranged. You are my daughter, and it was supposed to be me! Me! Not her! You are mine, and she stole you from me. But that never meant that I stopped loving you! That it didn’t break my heart every time I had to watch her picking you up from school after you’d had a ‘seizure’.” He made air quotes around the word. “I knew she was lying to you through her teeth, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I know about all your appointments, all the scans, all the doctors, all the tablets, all the crap she put you through because she was too fucked up and twisted to tell you that you have a gift!” He snarled, and turned away from her, his fists curled on the countertop. “So no, I don’t apologise for making sure it wasn’t some orgy they’d tricked you into, or worse, rape. And yes, I did want to scare you away from them. To scare the hell out of you so that you wouldn’t stay there another night. But instead of running from them, you ran to them.” He drew in a deep breath. His shoulders relaxed, and his hands uncurled.
She stared at him as she processed the anger and hurt behind his words.
“So, no, I’m not sorry I cast that spell. I won’t apologise for wanting to keep you safe.” He sighed heavily. “Sit down, Lily. Tell me what she’s told you about Sarah and me.”
She heard the defeat creep into his voice as she crossed and sat in her usual spot.
He straightened and switched the kettle on, swearing when it didn’t work. “I broke the kettle. Damn it all to hell!”
He poured the water into the teapot anyway and put the lid on. He brought it over to the table and set it down before turning back for the mugs. She looked at the teapot and saw steam coming from the spout; the water was no longer cold. She reached out and touched the side, bringing her finger back quickly when the pottery burnt her.
“It’s magic, Lily. Basic magic. I wanted the water hot, so I heated it.” He set the mugs and milk down and went back for the biscuit barrel. “And if she hadn’t blinded you, you’d be doing things like this in your sleep.”
“I can’t do that,” she denied.
“No, of course you can’t, because you’ve never been taught,” he replied, and lifting the lid, he gave the pot a stir. “So, speaking of her, what did she tell you? I don’t think for one minute you came over here to me before going to her.”
He sat back, arms crossed, and she watched opened-mouth as the teapot lifted by itself and filled both mugs. Milk was added to her mug. And he didn’t lift a finger to do any of it. He didn’t even appear to know it was happening. She’d seen the boys do similar things, and it never failed to amaze her.
“Close your mouth. You’re catching flies.”
She snapped her mouth closed and brought her fingers to her temple, an ache brewing behind her eyes.
He sighed and stopped the spoon that was stirring his mug on its own. “Sorry, it’s too overwhelming again, isn’t it? None of this should even make you blink and that hurts almost as much as the fact that you don’t trust me. What did she tell you?”
Lily met his eyes then looked back down at her mug. She picked it up for something to concentrate on, something tangible to anchor herself to. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Ah, smart, Lily. So smart.” He smiled at her, and it was filled with warmth and a spark of pride. “Listen to both sides and compare them. Okay, that’s fair. More than fair. I’
ll tell you what happened, but there’s one thing I want you to try to remember. I was young and a little stupid. No, very stupid. Don’t judge me too harshly. Time has punished me enough.” He opened the biscuit tin and took out two biscuits before pushing it across to her. “We seem to find ourselves drinking tea and eating biscuits quite a lot, don’t we?” His question was hypothetical as he dunked the biscuit then bit into it. He swallowed before speaking.
“I met your mother when I was eighteen. She was like a golden ray of light in a very, very dark place. I fell instantly in lust, subject to my hormones, just like every other eighteen-year-old boy to walk this planet.” He dunked his biscuit again and grumbled when a bit fell off and sank to the bottom. He shrugged and finished the bit he still held. Lily watched him quietly, sipping on her own tea. He was playing for time, and she was aware of it, she just wasn’t sure why yet. But she waited him out.
“She had a bad home life. Her parents, your grandparents, wouldn’t accept her for what she was. She was unhappy there, but she never let it get her down. She was remarkable, able to see the good in things even if they were covered in three feet of mud. She blew me away, and lust turned into love very quickly. I didn’t know what she was as first, and she didn’t know I was a witch. It’s not something you advertise to the rank and file of humanity. There are places you can go, set up by our folk just for our folk, but unless you know someone who knows someone, you never find out about them. Word of warning now, Lily: never tell anyone what you are. It’s too dangerous.”
“Why?”
“For the reasons I told you the other day. Just because we aren’t hanged or burnt anymore doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be persecuted some other way, or used outright. Witches haven’t gone away and neither have witch-hunters.”
“What?” She blinked at him in surprise. “Witch-hunters?”
“It’s an old order, but can we put that to one side for a moment?” He cupped his mug with both hands and leant forward. “If I start on that, we’ll go on a tangent and you won’t have anything to compare to Lynda’s side of things.”