The Return of the Witch

by Paula Brackston

  Erasmus glanced at Nipper and then moved a little farther away from the bed. He gestured at me to join him by the window and when he spoke again he kept his voice low. “You are talking about devil worship, Elizabeth. Satanism.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then my next question has to be, do you think that is where he found his rescuer?”

  I tried to process the importance of what he was saying. “You think he made a pact with the devil?”

  “Who else is there with the power to free him?”

  “Oh, Goddess, you could be right. And if you are, there will be a payment due. Most likely a soul. But Gideon wouldn’t trade the Summerlands for hell. Satanist or not, he wouldn’t submit to that.”

  “So what would he offer instead?” Erasmus paused then went on, “What, or who?”

  I felt my blood chill in my veins and my heart miss a beat. “Tegan. He plans to give her to settle the debt! Oh, Erasmus…!” My hands flew to my face.

  “Now, don’t let’s lose our heads. The situation has not changed, we are simply in possession of more of the facts.”

  “He means to sacrifice Tegan to the devil! You cannot expect me to remain calm!”

  “You must!” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Knowledge is the greatest power we have, Elizabeth. We know what he wants now. We have always said that was the key to defeating him, yes?”

  I nodded feebly, my mind teeming with terrible thoughts and images.

  “We know why he wants her, and we know where he is keeping her.”

  “But we might already be too late. While we stand here and talk about it he could be engaged in a ritual and cutting out her heart this very minute!”

  “I don’t think so. I think he is waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “You will recall that Gideon has made all his moves up to this point during times when the strength of the sun has been lessened?”

  “The winter solstice, the wettest summer, yes.”

  “Well, I should imagine anyone who relied upon the sun for their magic would find that power considerably compromised during an eclipse, wouldn’t you?”

  “But if he just needs Tegan to be weakened so that he can kill her…”

  “It’s more complex than that. If it were simply a matter of overpowering her, why didn’t he kill her when he had her in the house in Batchcombe? She was under such a heavy spell, it would have been a simple matter for Gideon and the twins to overpower and dispatch her. I suspect he will have a particular date and time in mind, something significant for his dark lord, something auspicious, where perhaps darkness—a rare manner of night, if you like—claims the earth even during waking hours.”

  “Something like an eclipse,” I said slowly, like a dim-witted schoolgirl finally clawing her way to a point. “Yes, that would make sense. And then he would not have to be underground. In fact, he wouldn’t want to. Oh, how can I have been so stupid?”

  “It has taken us both time to work this out…”

  “I mean, about the sacrifice. I should have known. Of course very few witches make sacrifices nowadays, and certainly not human ones, but there is a simple rule of thumb—the sacrificial creature, whatever it is, must be in excellent condition. Not sickening, not drugged…”

  “Not bewitched?”

  “Exactly. Which is why he needs her underground. In Batchcombe he could keep her ensorcelled because he wasn’t planning to sacrifice her there. Now, he must be moving closer to the appointed hour so he has to rid her of any spell. By keeping her underground he not only makes it difficult for her to call me, he also robs her of her new and dangerous magic from the followers of the Sacred Sun. If he wants to send her to his master with all her power intact she will have to be awake, clearheaded, aware of what is happening, and, ideally, with her magical abilities uncompromised.”

  “That is good news.”

  “It is?”

  “Of course, for it means he will have to bring her up into daylight. Poor Tegan has languished out of reach of the sun for days. If what you say is correct, he will have to at least bring her back beneath the sun’s rays for the moment of her sacrifice.”

  “Then it has to be the eclipse he is waiting for. She will be weakened while he takes her to his chosen spot, but will regain her powers as the sun emerges. The timing will be crucial. Too soon and she will not be the witch he has promised in payment; too late and she could quite possibly overpower him and break free. Have you checked your charts? Is there an eclipse predicted?”

  “There is. A total eclipse of the sun, visible in the northern part of Europe, when it is calculated that the sun will be entirely obscured for more than four minutes. Although, of course, there will be a partial darkness for longer on either side of the critical moment, but if we are talking about a complete…”

  “When?” I could not help interrupting him, though I both wanted and feared the answer. “When is it going to happen?”

  He held my gaze, knowing the impact his words would have upon me.

  “On the nineteenth day of June. Tomorrow.”

  25

  Thinking about my time in the desert and turning my mind to what it meant to be a follower of the Sacred Sun, I understood why Gideon had chosen to shut me away in a dungeon. It wasn’t that he just wanted to be sure I couldn’t find a way out; he needed to starve me of sunlight. He must have known all about my time with Taklit. Known about what I had learned there, what had happened to me. How long had he been tracking my movements? I remembered Elizabeth explaining to me how magic activity was easy for him to pick up. That was what had stopped her using her own magic for so many years, the fear of him finding her. Well, there was some pretty strong stuff happening in the Deserts of the Dead. Must have set bells ringing for Gideon, wherever he was. If only I had had more time to master the magic Taklit had led me to. I had only just returned from the desert when Elizabeth turned up at Willow Cottage. It was all so new to me, and more than a bit terrifying. Taklit had warned me about going too fast, using my unfamiliar magic too soon … I wanted to work with it, I’d started to, but I hadn’t got very far. Was that why Gideon had come for me when he did? So that he could take me before I reached my full potential with the magic of the Sacred Sun? Before I grew too powerful for him to control? So the underground cell made sense, up to a point. He hadn’t bothered with that in Batchcombe, though. Why didn’t he bind me with a spell like he had done there? It was as if he wanted me with all my faculties working. But, why?

  I got off the bed and forced myself to stride up and down the small room. I could not afford to let either my mind or my body become sluggish. Gideon was planning something. I knew him well enough to be certain that everything he did was for a reason. And what was good for Gideon was generally bad for everyone else. I had to have my wits about me. It was hard to tell what time of day it was, as I had dozed while I revisited my time with Taklit. The lamp gave a better light than candles would have, but did not give me any clue as to how much time had passed. I missed Aloysius’s furry little presence. Would I ever see him again? I was crazy to think he could find his way to Elizabeth. Underground places always had rats. And where there were rats there were sure to be cats.

  I didn’t get any longer to dwell on this horrible possibility because at that moment I heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened.

  “Good evening, Tegan.” Gideon’s voice was all honey. From the way he behaved you’d never guess he was my jailer.

  “If you say so. Without a window or a clock, well, you know…”

  He stepped into the room and locked the door behind him. “I apologize for the conditions that … circumstances have compelled me to inflict upon you. May I sit?” he asked, indicating the chair.

  “Help yourself.”

  He did, folding his long legs and removing the top hat that suited him rather too well. He was a man who could put on the fashions of any era and look as if they were designed just for him. How many women, over the centuries,
had fallen for such easy good looks and charm? I wondered.

  “I wanted to speak with you before the time comes for us to leave.”

  “Leave? Where are we going?”

  He didn’t answer my question. “It is important for me that you understand, Tegan, that you have, and will always have, my respect. When I met you, you were just a girl, lost, uncertain of who you were or what you could be. Certainly you had no knowledge of your own potential. Even then, I knew, I could see something rare in you. However, I never dreamed you would travel so far! What you have achieved, what you have become—even given your good fortune in having Elizabeth as a mentor—in truth, it is little short of miraculous. You have my deepest admiration.”

  “You’re mistaking me for someone who cares what you think.”

  “Ah. You have never forgiven me for making you fall in love with me, have you? If it makes you feel any better, I did enjoy our brief liaison. But you really should let it go. There are more important things in life than a broken heart.”

  “How would you know? Do you even have a heart?”

  “I think you know very well that I loved deeply. Once.”

  “You really expect me to believe that your obsession with Elizabeth, the reason you hounded her for hundreds of years, was because you loved her? No. It was always all about you, and what you could get out of it. You wanted her because of what she could bring to your magic. And you wanted her because of your pride, because you felt you were owed her. She was nothing more than a final payment for the help you gave her poor, desperate mother.”

  He stood up, then, wearing a smile with all the warmth of a new ice age. “How interesting,” he said as he walked toward the door, “that you should choose to use the term ‘payment.’ Of course, you cannot know of the curious parallel in your stories. Yours and Bess’s. But, all will become clear. Very soon.”

  I watched him leave. I knew I should be afraid of whatever it was he was planning to do, but right then all I could think of was that I would be getting out of that damp, dark cell. And once I was out he couldn’t keep me from the sun forever.

  * * *

  The darkness of the evening in the London streets was as nothing when compared to the Stygian gloom of the tunnels that ran beneath them. Erasmus and I had left Nipper only after assuring him we would seek out Stardust. The child had worked and lived with the pony for over a year, and it was likely he regarded the animal as family. I knew he would not rest or recover fully while he fretted about his friend and, in any case, asking after the well-being of the pony gave us an excuse for visiting the tunnels. On our way I had charged the first child I recognized to find Robin for me, so that by the time we reached the opening nearest the cheerfully named Dead Dog Basin, word had traveled ahead of us. Robin tipped his cap at us.

  “How does Nipper fare?” he wanted to know.

  “Out of danger,” I replied, “but anxious to hear news of the pony he looked after.”

  “That’ll be Stardust. He’s all right, missus. Bit bruised, but nothing a good feed and a night’s rest won’t fix.”

  “I have some carrots for him.” I held up the bag, feeling a little foolish. There were children here whose need for the things was probably greater. “I promised Nipper I would give them to the pony, so I could tell him I’d seen him.”

  Robin glanced around. “Well, we’d ’ave to be quick. If Mister Antrobus sees us there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “There’s sixpence in it for you,” Erasmus suggested. I knew he meant well, but he had judged the boy wrong. Robin frowned at him.

  “I’ll take you,” he said, “but I don’t want your money. Missus ’ere fixed us all up, right as rain,” he pointed out, raising his broken fingers, which were still bandaged in the strip of my scarf. “Come on, then.” He turned and we followed him through the low arch of the entrance.

  The tunnel was wide enough to allow broad wagons to pass along it, and this breadth gave the impression that the ceiling was pressing down upon us as we traveled deeper down its slope. The air quickly became stale and dusty, and soon we had to rely on the oil lamps placed at irregular intervals along the way, as we were beyond the reach of both streetlights and any natural light had it been daytime. As we descended, all sounds became curiously distorted. It was not so much that they were muffled, more that they were compressed, so that everything sounded close-up. A wagon trundling some distance ahead of it sounded as though we were walking beside it as its wheels creaked and groaned beneath the weight of its load. Shouts and whistles made me start, as I had the impression they had been uttered up close to my own ears.

  Robin led us along a rising ramp that spiraled downward again before opening into a long row of stalls. It was quite incredible to find here, so far under the city pavements and cobbles, stables housing dozens of ponies and horses. The larger animals had stalls to themselves and were snatching mouthfuls of hay from overstuffed mangers. The smaller ones stood three or four to a space, resting wearily, content to share their rations of fodder. Despite the subterranean setting and the scant air from vents, which presumably led up to street level, there was a cozy, homely feel to the stables. The smell of hay and horse was not unpleasant, and there was something comforting about the sound of all those animals munching their feed, at rest, peaceful.

  Robin gently slapped a skinny white pony on the rump. “This is Stardust. Nipper an’ him’s best friends. Never see one without the other, you don’t. Or least, you didn’t.”

  I moved carefully between the ponies and offered Stardust a carrot. He sniffed the unfamiliar vegetable for a moment, then decided it was good to try and took the whole thing into his mouth, chomping happily.

  Behind me, Erasmus laughed. “He appears well enough,” he said. I passed him the bag and we shared out the rest of the carrots.

  “Is this where Nipper comes every day?” I asked Robin.

  “Comes? Nipper doesn’t go anywhere, so ’e can’t come, can ’e? Nipper lives ’ere, missus. With the ponies.” He nodded toward a pile of sacking and hay in the corner of the space. A nest for a small boy.

  Erasmus asked, “Has he no family at all?”

  Robin shrugged. “None I’ve ever heard about. None ’cept Stardust,” he said, rubbing the pony’s ears.

  I could feel Aloysius wriggling in my pocket. “Robin, I wonder if you could show us where the accident happened.”

  “You want to see where the wagon tipped over?”

  “If we can.”

  “Won’t do you no good. Nothing there now.”

  “No, but, well…” I hesitated. How safe was it to talk of a girl held prisoner? I trusted Robin, but he might tell the wrong person about our search, and if word got back to Gideon that we were close he might move Tegan before we could find her. And I could put Robin in danger. I decided not to draw him into the situation any further than was absolutely necessary. “Nipper thinks he dropped something there. A pocketknife.”

  “He never mentioned he had one of those.”

  “It was very precious to him, he told me. I expect that’s why he kept it a secret.”

  With a sigh, Robin took one of the oil lamps from its stand on the wall and marched ahead again. “This way, then, only if we sees Mr. Antrobus, we’ll ’ave to leg it.”

  We left the warmth of the stables and followed a tunnel which led around Dead Dog Basin, joining the canal to the network of underground passes, some of which would ultimately lead to the railway station at King’s Cross. There was a chilling dampness about these passageways, and their proximity to water seemed to increase the number of rats we saw scurrying this way and that as we passed.

  “This is the spot.” Robin held up the lamp so we could see more of the area. Erasmus was better at playing out our pretense and began searching for the nonexistent pocketknife. There were still small piles of spilled coal which had not been cleared up, and a stomach churning gouge in the brickwork where part of the heavy cart had dug into it as it fell. If Nipper had been a few i
nches farther back he would have been crushed.

  I peered into the darkness down which the tunnel disappeared. “Does this lead only to the canal unloading point?” I asked.

  “Oh, no, missus. There’s forks and junctions all along.”

  “And where do the other tunnels go?”

  He shrugged. “Some to storage spaces, one goes to the marmalade factory—you can smell that one! Back there is where they keeps the ice.”

  “The ice?”

  “Comes in all the way from Norway on a big ship. It’s stored deep so it don’t melt. Some of it goes to the posh houses, but most is for the ice-cream factory. Hard stuff to offload, missus, I don’t mind telling you.”

  Erasmus whispered to me he thought it was an unlikely place to keep a prisoner for fear of them freezing to death.

  Robin pointed. “There’s another tunnel leads back up top. Couple more, I don’t know where they go.”

  Erasmus ran his hand down the rough brickwork of the wall. “It is a veritable maze. A person might easily become lost in such a place.”

  “Some do,” Robin agreed. “You learn quick down ’ere—stick to the ways you know. Canal to railway station and back. Up to the stables at the end of the day. And then up top, for those who ’as somewhere to go.”

  I exchanged worried glances with Erasmus. How were we to find Tegan with so little time? We could waste the whole night wandering fruitlessly in the grimy labyrinth. I took Aloysius from my pocket. “Tell me, Robin, have you ever seen this mouse before?”

  He peered at it, amused that I should be carrying such a thing, but clearly puzzled by its presence. “That’s a rare ’un. Mostly big brown rats down ’ere. Nah, I ain’t seen ’im before.”