‘Stop right there!’ Crystal shrieked. Huge sobs broke from her body and Matt tensed.
‘The darkness has won,’ Crystal wailed, her eyes pouring with tears. Her hands suddenly flew to her throat and a choking scream echoed from her lips, as though she was suffering some kind of a constriction around her windpipe. Her eyes flickered for several seconds and then she fell unconscious to the floor, her arms lying limp by her side, her breathing a faint whisper.
Matt was petrified. Dropping by her side, he shook her fiercely, calling her name and trying to wake her. At first there was no reaction and niggles of acute apprehension pricked sharply at his brain until he admitted to himself that he didn’t know what to do to help her. Finally he received encouragement when a moan touched her lips. So soft was the sound that escaped that he thought for a moment he had merely imagined it. She groaned again, louder this time, and relief enabled his blood to flow freely once more.
‘Go and get help!’ he shouted to Alfie, rubbing her frozen hands with his. ‘Go and get someone quick.’
A woman’s voice broke his train of thought.
‘What’s going on here?’ she demanded and before he could answer, the stranger was by his side and a firm hand gripped his arm, trying to pull him out of the way.
‘Is she hurt?’ the woman asked, sounding genuinely concerned. ‘Come on, please move out of the way and let me get a better look.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Matt, feeling somehow responsible for Crystal’s welfare.
The stranger eyed him critically.
‘I’m her mother,’ she said, tight-lipped. ‘Now, let me get a closer look.’
Dropping to her knees, Beatrice stooped over Crystal’s shivering body. Concern was knitted deep upon her brow.
‘Who has done this to her?’ she gasped, throwing Matt an accusing stare. ‘Are you the cause of this?’ she demanded, her eyes flashing angrily.
‘We didn’t do anything,’ Matt said, in his defence. ‘She just started saying loads of strange stuff and acting really weird.’
Beatrice turned her attention back to her daughter, brushing her hand over Crystal’s cool skin.
‘You need to understand that my daughter is very special. By that remark, I don’t mean she has any physical or mental disabilities. What I mean is she is different, she can sense things.’
She turned her attention towards Matt.
‘Tell me, what did she actually say to you?’ Matt shrugged his shoulders.
‘I’m not sure to be honest, none of it made any sense.’
‘What about you?’ she asked Alfie, raising a quizzical eyebrow, her expression already doubtful. ‘Can you shed any light as to what has happened to my daughter?’ Alfie shook his head and then knelt at Crystal’s side. His hands were shaking and he twisted a bit of his shirt between his fingers in an attempt to give himself courage.
‘She was mumbling something about the darkness winning,’ he told her, stroking Crystal’s clothes as if she were a puppy. He fixed his gaze upon Beatrice, his huge eyes pleading for a look of reassurance.
Crystal murmured something unintelligible and then began to stir, causing Beatrice to shift her daughter’s head onto her knees so that she could use her lap as a pillow.
‘She’s waking up,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with relief. ‘You can go now if you wish.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Matt, looking reluctant.
‘Yes, of course,’ Beatrice insisted. ‘There’s nothing more you can do for her.’ She caught the pained look in his eyes, realising he only meant to be helpful.
‘She’s going to feel pretty embarrassed once she comes round,’ she explained, heaving a sigh. ‘Please, don’t make it any harder for her than it already is.’
Matt nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, hesitating, ‘if that’s what you think is best.’
Beatrice nodded. ‘It is, my dear,’ she replied, allowing her lips to turn into a tight smile. ‘Everything’s going to be just fine.’ The boys said their goodbyes, but both were unwilling to leave. Dragging their heels, they made their way out of the building and onto the main street.
‘What on earth was all that about?’ mumbled Alfie, once he felt they were well out of earshot, his eyes still fearful. Matt didn’t answer; he had noticed his hands were shaking and he shoved them into his pockets in an attempt to make them stop.
‘Beats me,’ he said, turning to view the library in a new light, ‘but I was really scared for her back there.’
‘What do you think she was trying to tell us?’ asked Alfie, concentrating on picking his nose and wiping it on the front of his shirt.
Matt pulled a face. ‘Do you have to be so disgusting?’ he hissed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. A nervous twitch formed above his right eye when a droning noise filled his ear. He tilted his head and watched a honeybee buzz close to his ear; it was big, black and golden. He moved out of its way, allowing it to pass, watching the small, plump insect race along with the wind, busy, alone, yet with such purpose to its life. His thoughts returned to Crystal, wondering what he had just witnessed.
‘I just think Crystal’s lost her marbles,’ Alfie said, frowning; ‘what other explanation could there be?’
Matt shook his head in dismay.
‘I don’t know what to make of it, but one thing’s definite; I ain’t ever going back inside that library again.’ He made his way across the road and headed for a side street, his face tightening when he mounted the pavement. ‘In future, I think we’ll just stick with the Internet.’
Alfie laughed, slapping Matt playfully on his shoulder, the incident already becoming a distant memory.
‘Come on, mate, cheer up. I’ve just remembered the footy’s on tonight and we’re having fish and chips for tea. I’m sure there’ll be enough left over to put a smile on your face; what do you say?’
‘Now that’s food for thought,’ said Matt, suddenly producing one of his famous grins. ‘Hah,’ Alfie chuckled. ‘First one home gets to eat the scraps!’
‘You’re so gross,’ shouted Matt, breaking into a run. His strong legs took huge, wide strides, allowing him to take the lead almost immediately.
‘Get back here!’ Alfie shouted, stumbling. ‘It’s not fair, you have an advantage with those beanpoles for legs.’ He stopped for a moment to catch his breath.
‘Come on, loser,’ cajoled Matt, slowing down when he realised his friend was miles behind.
Conceited swine, thought Alfie, who was anything but amused. Why did Matt always have to make everything so bloody competitive? He started to run again, his determination getting the better of him. One day, he thought to himself, I will show Matt what I’m really capable of.
*
Crystal opened her eyes and winced. Her head hurt beyond belief and she raised her hand to feel the back of her swollen skull. Her fingers probed for the source of the pain; a large egg-shaped bump was making its way to the surface. Although coherent, her head throbbed from the impact of hitting the hard stone floor, making her feel rather woozy. As her eyes came back into focus, she realised her mother was bent over her, holding her in a protective embrace. She groaned, turning her head away in embarrassment.
‘Come on, love,’ her mum urged, ‘let’s get you onto this chair; it’s a bit more comfortable than the floor.’
Gritting her teeth, Crystal used all her strength and tried to stand, grasping her mother’s arm for support. With some reluctance she allowed Beatrice to help her get into a sitting position, before managing to pull herself up off her knees and onto the chair.
‘What happened to you?’ Beatrice asked, with a flash of anxiety reaching her eyes. Crystal lowered her lashes as though to hide from her and turned her face away.
‘Don’t you want to talk about it?’ her mother pressed.
Crystal lifted her head and met her mother’s gaze. She noticed the worry lines etched deeply in her skin and felt a twinge of guilt. Her mother didn’t deserve to have this weight of trouble put
upon her, yet Crystal had no one else to turn to. She took a deep, steadying breath.
‘I saw one of those boys die,’ she said, fighting a sickening knot that invaded her gut. She brought her fingers to her mouth and started chewing her nails. It was clear her nerves were bordering on collapse.
‘I tried to tell them what I’d seen,’ she blurted, looking deep into her mother’s troubled eyes. ‘I tried to warn them, but the dark side jumbled up the scenes in my head, trying to stop me from telling.’ Tears of frustration filled her blue eyes as she begged for her mother to understand.
‘I scared them away,’ she said, sounding miserable, ‘and all I have to go on are their first names.’ Her words faltered and the tears that had been brimming so close to the surface now ran unchecked down her face.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Beatrice in bewilderment. ‘You’re getting yourself all worked up over something you can’t control,’ she added, busying herself with her daughter’s crumpled clothes and ruffled hair.
Crystal shook her head in dismay. It was obvious her mother just wasn’t grasping the seriousness of the situation. Her soft, calming tone was soothing to her daughter, yet her lack of understanding irritated her immensely. Crystal rose to her feet, setting her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her eyes shone with those yet to be shed.
‘You know I have a special gift,’ she snapped, searching her mother’s face for some sign of comprehension. She reached out and squeezed her mother’s shoulder.
‘Tell me you know I’m different.’
It was Beatrice’s chance to turn away, but Crystal’s grasp was far too strong and their eyes held one another.
‘I do understand only too well my darling, probably more than you realise, but this is not the time or place to discuss it. Let’s just get you out of here and back home where you belong.’
Crystal let her go.
‘You know I have to try and help them,’ she said, whilst the evening sun crept through the windows, casting a wonderful golden light above her head and causing her to look like a fiery angel.
Her mother gave her head a solemn shake. ‘Look, just be very careful what you do,’ she warned, holding onto her hand. ‘This is all new ground for you and you don’t know the penalty for dabbling in these dark arts.’
‘You know I’m not dabbling and they aren’t dark arts,’ Crystal snapped with rising frustration. ‘I can’t just sit back and do nothing when I know someone is in danger. I feel a real sense of power deep inside me, one which I don’t quite know how to use yet, but in time, I’m sure I will. All I do know is that one of those boys is in serious peril and I’m going to do my very best to save him.’
‘Sometimes I think you have come from another place,’ Beatrice said, feeling a stab of cold apprehension.
‘I think that’s exactly it,’ said Crystal, making light of what her mother said. ‘I think I came from somewhere like the planet Krypton.’ Beatrice managed a weak smile.
‘I’m serious,’ she chided. ‘You know, when you were born I used to have the oddest of dreams, nightmares really, and I would wake up believing someone wanted to take you away from me, that you weren’t actually my daughter.’
A soft smile lingered on Crystal’s mouth. She had heard this story many times in the past and had never taken it seriously.
‘You should be so lucky,’ she chuckled. ‘No one’s going to take me away, Mum, not ever; that’s all they were, just horrible dreams.’ Her expression softened and the atmosphere around them turned lighter. ‘I’m all the family you need,’ Crystal added, flashing her brilliant blue eyes and enabling her mouth to lift at the corners just a little. She took a step forward and slipped her arm around her mum’s full waist, giving it a tight squeeze.
‘Nobody will ever change who we are,’ Crystal whispered, when her mother returned her warm embrace. ‘It’s just you and me, like it’s always been and that’s how it’s going to stay for the foreseeable future.’
Chapter 2
Only a single day had passed since the drama in the library, but to Crystal it felt like a lifetime. She sat huddled over the breakfast bar in her warm kitchen and scanned the local newspaper for any clues or stories that could inadvertently help her save a life. She probed each column of print, in search of crucial information involving water, but everywhere she looked she found nothing that could help.
Beatrice entered the kitchen from a side entrance leading from the dining room and headed for the sink. Placing a used cup and saucer in the washing-up bowl, she eyed her daughter, aware of how much she had matured over the last couple of months. She stared at her delicate features and thought, not for the first time, how she didn’t resemble anyone in her immediate family.
She had been such a good baby. Once settled into a routine, she had rarely cried and grew into a gentle and caring child. Her placid nature and quick wit showed at an early age, but she had to admit that the nagging doubt of her being some kind of an impostor was still there, eating away at her, bit by bit, day by day.
She remembered how she’d slept fitfully that first night of Crystal’s birth, worrying the child was not truly hers after the harrowing dream she’d suffered as soon as she’d drifted off to sleep. Since that night, part of her always believed that the real mother would one day make her way to her tiny cottage and steal her beautiful baby back. Logic told her she was being completely ludicrous; what substantial evidence had she ever found to support the wild accusation that roamed uncontrollably in her head? Yet she knew, deep down in her soul, that the child she held dear was not her own. The dreams had been too real and too regular, and the reality of day had been unable to chase away the dark shadows that had so readily grasped hold of her subconscious mind; it was like an itch that could not be scratched. But she loved Crystal with all her heart and no one would ever take this child from her without a fight.
She studied Crystal once again, watching as her hair fell over her face whilst she devoured the contents of the weekly tabloid. Her long auburn hair had been allowed to grow out of its girlish bob and it fell down her back like a moving cascade of hot lava. It was so rich in colour and thickness that it was outrageously sinful, the deep russet tones accentuating her eyes, which were a dazzling shade of sapphire blue, protected by a row of long, silky lashes. She was a willowy creature with slender limbs and artistic tendencies. There was not a shadow of a doubt; Crystal would mature into a strikingly beautiful woman.
Beatrice looked down at her own hands and saw only the wrinkled lines of age and felt a pang of despair. She was growing old, there was no denying it, her youth already a distant memory. Her own hair was peppered with grey, yet she made no effort to hide it, her only priority was Crystal. Raising a child on her own on a widow’s army pension was no easy feat and money was always tight, but they somehow managed and Crystal was her one beacon of hope for the future.
Whilst Beatrice continued to think about the years ahead, a more recent incident scrambled to the surface of her thoughts, yet another reminder that life was not quite so ‘normal’ with Crystal around. Only a few days ago, there had been a minor incident when Crystal cut her finger whilst assisting in the kitchen. She was preparing fresh vegetables for dinner when the knife she was using slipped, slicing open the tip of her finger. Blood oozed onto the stainless-steel draining board, creating a dark-red watery pool. Crystal grabbed the nearest thing she could see, a clean tea towel, and wrapped it around the wound to try and stem the flow. Whilst the blood soaked into the cloth, she ran to her mother for help. There’d been a flurry of panic as they raced to the medicine cabinet looking for a clean bandage and some tape. Beatrice removed the cloth to find there was no cut to attend to; the wound had miraculously healed itself. They both stared in disbelief, the blood-soaked towel lying abandoned on the bathroom floor, a startling reminder of what had just occurred.
Back in the kitchen, the radio was playing softly in the background. The music was m
ellow and easy listening and in-between the songs the presenter talked about his impending retirement. Suddenly conscious of watchful eyes upon her, Crystal threw her stare directly at her mother.
‘Penny for them,’ she said, searching her mother’s doleful expression.
‘Not worth halfpence,’ retorted Beatrice, trying to force a smile. A profound sigh escaped Crystal’s lips whilst she crumpled the newspaper into a tight ball.
‘There’s nothing written in here that’s going to help me,’ she said, throwing it into the bin in disgust. ‘But there has to be something somewhere which will give me some kind of clue,’ she said, scowling, ‘but I just can’t find it.’
‘Come on, love, stop tearing yourself apart,’ her mother soothed. ‘You tried to help those boys as best you could, but I don’t think there’s anything else you can do.’
Unconvinced, Crystal resorted to tapping her fingers lightly on the table, humming to a tune she recognised on the radio and then she started mumbling the lyrics to herself.
‘Mmm, I swear I left her by the river, mmm, I left her safe and sound.’
With a cry of inspiration, Crystal leapt out of her seat, startling her mother who took a step back in fright.
‘Of course, the fishing lake, that must be the place!’ Crystal shouted, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. ‘It’s the only deep water I know of; it would make perfect sense.’
‘You’re not going!’ cried Beatrice, becoming fretful. ‘I mean it, absolutely not!’
Crystal flushed. ‘Mum, you know I have to do this.’
Grabbing her coat from the back of the chair, she kissed her mother hard on the cheek as she flew past.
‘Look, you mustn’t worry, I’ll be alright.’
‘No, child, you mustn’t go,’ Beatrice cried, sounding flustered. ‘You don’t know for sure if you will be able to stop anything happening, you might even make matters worse, and you’re just a young girl who has no experience of life or the paranormal.’
Sinners of Magic Page 3