'So we are both lost.'
'Yes,' said Anaïs.
'No matter, at least we are together. Like I was saying, I was standing there on the street. Except I wasn't myself anymore. Something was missing.'
'Life?'
'Well, yes, life. But somehow I still feel alive. Numb, but alive.'
'Shall I tell you what really happened?' asked Anaïs.
'I'm not sure I want to know. I worked out the obvious. I know I died.'
Anaïs heard Nan take a deep breath. It was the strangest thing and something she could not adjust to—the sound of a dead person breathing in her head.
'Somehow that doesn't seem to bother me. Death is clearly not the end. I'm here now, right?'
Anaïs nodded. She wasn't sure if she should feel sad or happy that Nan was still around. She felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing and could not bring herself to look at the shade. She looked down at the wet grass at her feet and concentrated on the voice in her head.
'Although, I'm sure I look different. You know, with the camouflage and all that.'
'Yes, you do look different. Maybe we can find you a mirror so you can look at the real you. That worked before.'
Reluctantly, Anaïs turned to face her caretaker. It took her breath away. Nan looked exactly as she had on that last fateful day in Amsterdam. It was astounding. The shade she had come face to face with, back on the street in Lizard, had looked very different. It only had Nan's voice. She now saw the real Nan, her Nan—the living, breathing Nan. Not the crushed, lifeless corpse in the ruins of their apartment building, but the woman she had last seen standing in the doorway of the dining room in Amsterdam. Before the strange woman had swept her into her arms. Before the building had collapsed into a pile of rubble.
Anaïs played the scene back through her mind. She wondered where she was now. The woman who was still a mystery. The one who had caused all of this. Was she watching them? Was she following them? And, not only that, what of the man and his dog? What had happened to them? Were they all gone forever? Were there others out there searching for her? She sensed she wasn't safe. If it was possible for Nan to find her, the chances were, anyone could.
The caretaker snapped her out of her thoughts. 'Well, do I look different?'
'What?' Anaïs stopped staring into space and looked at Nan again. 'Sorry, what did you say?'
'Do I look different?'
Anaïs shook her head. 'No. It's amazing. You don't look any different to how you did before. I don't get it.' Anaïs scratched the back of her head and adjusted her sunglasses.
'And without them?'
'Without what?'
The nanny pointed at Anaïs’s face. 'What do I look like without the sunglasses?'
Anaïs took off the glasses. Everything lost its soft, purple hue. The nanny changed. Her camouflage materialised. Anaïs assessed the shade. 'Wow! It is the glasses!'
'So, how do I look without them?'
'You look like an older, fatter you,' said Anaïs.
'Great! All that work to keep my figure in shape and then death hands me obesity.'
'Nan! No, it's not that bad. I think you look pretty good for your age.'
'Anaïs, don't feed me crap. You know I can see through you.'
'But—'
'No buts! If I could see more than just the tips of my shoes, I might believe you.' Anaïs shuffled her own feet nervously. 'Tell me the truth! Now!'
Anaïs stepped away from Nan. She spoke so softly she could barely be heard. 'You look like your mother.'
'Oh god, no! No way! That's too much! Anyone but her!' She stamped her foot so hard Anaïs felt the ground tremble. 'That's it. I don't want to be dead anymore!'
'If there was anything I could do about it, I would,' said Anaïs sheepishly. 'I feel guilty enough about the whole thing as it is.'
'Good,' snapped Nan. 'I hope you’re suffering.'
Anaïs glowed red, avoided Nan's glaring eyes, and began fiddling with the buttons on her jacket. 'I am.'
'How do you know what my mother looks like anyway?'
'You showed me a picture once.'
'Oh, did I? I thought I destroyed them all.'
'You did. I saw the last one before you threw it on the fire.'
'Oh.'
Anaïs bit her lower lip. 'I met your mother when you were gone.'
'Really?'
'Yes, she was quite upset.'
'Surprising. I can't imagine that. I thought she had a heart of stone.'
'I got that impression myself. Now you say it, I'm not sure if it was grief or anger.'
'Probably the latter. I can't believe she really misses me.' There was a sharp edge to her voice. 'Can we change the subject? The less I hear about her the better.'
The little witch nodded and stared glumly at the ground between the caretaker's feet. Nan simmered in silence.
Anaïs started to blubber. 'I wish I could change all this. I wish … I want you back, Nan. I want the real you. I-I'm so sorry.' Her lips trembled and then she lost it. Tears streamed down her face.
Nan expanded her chest and took a moment to compose herself. She moved towards the little witch and slid an arm around her shoulders. She pulled Anaïs's head to her breast. The sudden chill caused Anaïs to shiver involuntarily.
The caretaker spoke softly, almost in a whisper. 'I know you are, Anaïs. I forgive you. None of us could have known what would happen. The last thing I want is for you to have to carry around feelings of guilt about it. What's done is done. The main thing is I am still here, no matter what form that is. Together, we will work this out.'
Anaïs sniffed, ran her arm under her nose and wiped a line of snot along her sleeve. She looked for somewhere to wipe the sleeve. Finding nothing she rubbed it down the front of her jacket.
Nan released her grip and stepped back. She pulled a face at Anaïs. 'I see we still have a lot of work to do on your manners. And that's something which could take eons.'
Anaïs smiled and chuckled through her tears. She snorted more snot down her front. She used the other sleeve to clean her face.
Nan shook her head in dismay. 'I have a sneaking suspicion that's why I'm still around. Clearly, the powers that be won't allow me to leave until you've learnt the meaning of the word etiquette.'
Anaïs grinned at her. 'I hope you’re up to the job.'
Nan looked sternly at her. 'It'll be tough, but I'm no quitter, Anaïs.'
The little witch nodded. 'I know, although I'm not sure if hanging around me is a curse or a blessing.'
Nan smiled. 'Believe me, it's a curse. But I was never one to take the easy route.'
'That makes two of us.'
The nanny raised her hand. 'Partners in chaos?'
Anaïs slapped it. 'Partners in chaos!'
Nan straightened. 'Enough of this soppy crap. Let's go do something constructive.'
Anaïs beamed her broadest smile and nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes, let's!'
Marazion
The Morris Minor careened around a blind corner, the trees and hedgerows disappeared and all of a sudden everything opened up before them. They drove along the crest of a hill. Down below them the road snaked its way along the face of the hill and entered a small fishing village. It terminated at a port. Out in the sheltered bay was an island. It was dominated by an impressive fortress. The structure was perched on the pinnacle of the only hill on the island. Tiers of high stone parapets encircled a central tower block. There was very little land visible on the island save for the odd small patch of grass. The stony outcrops of the fortress seemed to sprout out of the earth and it appeared as if the entire structure had risen out of the sea.
The Morris Minor swung around a tight curve and plunged down the hillside. Within moments they entered the narrow streets of the village, obscuring Anaïs's view of the bay. The road tapered into a single lane. The solid stone houses flanking it were uncomfortably close as they flashed by. The car mounted the footpath to avoid a parked vehicle. It di
d not reduce its speed. Its engine maintained a constant whine but was barely audible, drowned out by the radio which had resumed blasting out the Queen song in constant repetition.
As they passed precariously close to yet another parked car, Anaïs gritted her teeth and shot a look across to the librarian. Sitting next to her, Immaculate Phlox seemed unperturbed and actually appeared to be enjoying the ride. She sat deep in her seat with her arms folded across her chest, the only movement her eyes flitting over the houses as they shot by. Anaïs sensed she knew more than she was giving out. The breakneck speed of the ride and loud noise gave her no opportunity to ask questions.
She closed her eyes, her heart beating fast. Nan's soothing voice rang in her head. 'It's ok, Anaïs, the car will keep us safe.'
Anaïs thought Nan was reassuring herself as much as she was trying to calm her. Nevertheless, the caretaker's voice gave her some comfort.
The little car slewed around a long, sweeping curve and then snapped suddenly in the opposite direction. Its wheels screeched in earnest on the cobblestones as it dove down a side street. Anaïs tightened her grip on the edge of her seat as she was thrown sideways. She heard the metallic clang of the car's rear fender, clipping the corner of the house bordering the intersection. An even smaller street confronted them. Mercifully it was quite short. The car threaded through a gateway at the end of the street and out into an empty parking lot. They flew across the open space and headed straight towards an impenetrable-looking stone wall. The Morris Minor engaged its handbrake. The back end of the vehicle swung out, sending them into a clockwise spin of almost 270 degrees. The car ground momentarily to a halt.
Before them lay a boat ramp leading down to a wide stretch of beach.
The little car gunned its engine, launched itself forward, pinning everyone to their seats, and roared down the ramp and out onto the beach. The Morris Minor lurched over the irregular sandy undulations, throwing its passengers around in their seats. It flew over a particularly large mound of sand, lifting them off their seats as it had done earlier, and jolting them back down. This time it took the wind out of Anaïs. A small, flat-topped ferry stood at the water's edge. The car cut its engine and silenced the radio. It locked its brakes as it neared the waterline. It slid the last few metres across hard, wet sand and mounted a ramp protruding from the ferry. It ended its journey, gliding to a smooth halt and making the softest of contacts with the guardrail at the bow of the boat. It rolled backwards. The handbrake between the front seats popped up and the car stopped.
The occupants of the vehicle released their breath in unison. Anaïs even heard the sound of Nan's exhale whistle past the inside of her ears. Across the calm waters of the bay, and only a short distance away, the vista of the island fortress loomed before them.
St Michael’s Mount
'Shall we do that again?' enquired the librarian with a sarcastic grin.
'I'd rather not,' said Anaïs, looking warily at the Morris Minor. 'I prefer to know where I'm going.'
The two women had got out of the car and stood in front of it at the bow of the ferry. The boat pootled quietly across the bay, its motor barely audible. The only sound was of water sloshing against the hull. The sea was dead calm, the morning sun reflecting off its glassy surface. There was a refreshing bite to the cold air. Anaïs pulled the collar of her jacket snug around her neck and watched the town of Marazion shrink behind them. She turned her attention to their destination.
The island fortress of St Michael's Mount was silent and ominous. A small group of seagulls circled around its turrets. Apart from the birds the island appeared lifeless. Anaïs looked around the ferry. There was neither a boathouse nor a pilot. She could feel the vibrations of a motor beneath her feet. They were being guided by an invisible navigator but physical forces certainly powered the flat-topped boat.
The ferry glided across the water and entered a small fortified harbour. It was ringed by a high stone wall which rose out of the ocean. A few small fishing boats were moored to the wall. Otherwise the whole place was deserted. The ferry cut across the middle of the harbour and aimed directly for a boat shed. The doors of the shed opened and the ferry entered. As the shed's doors closed behind them they were plunged into darkness.
There was a whine as somewhere at the rear of the shed antiquated machinery cranked into action. This was followed by the throb of a pump and the sound of water being sucked into a tube. Anaïs felt the floor beneath her feet shudder. The ferry was no longer floating but seemed to have settled onto something solid. There was a final gurgle of water and the sound of suction ceased. This was followed by the whir of flywheels spinning up and the sound of enormous cogs squeaking and grinding. A ratchet clanked. She heard loud ticking as its pawls ran over its teeth. It found purchase and engaged its gearing. Everything creaked and groaned.
The ferry lurched violently forward and Anaïs was thrown onto the bonnet of the Morris Minor behind her. She ran her hand over the curve of the body and searched in the dark for something to secure herself with. Finding the warm grill of the car nestled at the base of her spine, she turned and slid her fingers between the slits. She grabbed hold of it with both hands. Only then did she cry out.
'Immi?'
'I'm here.' The librarian's wavering voice sounded in the dark a few metres away.
'Good—I think.' Anaïs peered into the darkness but could see absolutely nothing. 'Nan? What's going on?'
'I'm here, Anaïs. I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine.'
Anaïs closed her eyes and focussed on the noises. The floor beneath her rocked from side to side and then began moving. They were descending, fast. Her feet didn't leave the floor but she felt a reduction in the effect of gravity. Were they freefalling? Her stomach sank and then adjusted itself. The downward journey continued for several minutes. The dank smell of mould rose under Anaïs's nostrils and the air became considerably cooler. Their descent slowed. There was a rumble and grinding of gears, and then a solid clunk as they came to a halt.
The Morris Minor started its engine, purring into action. Anaïs instinctively withdrew her hands from the grill and spun around. In front of her, a heavy steel door crashed to the floor. It left a ringing in her ears. The librarian yelled out in panic.
She cried out herself. 'Immi? Nan?' There was no response from either of the women.
The Morris Minor inched forward, nudging Anaïs with it. Steadying herself, with her hands behind her on its bonnet, she let the little car push her. With each step she patted her foot gingerly on the floor in front of her and tried to feel for something stable. The car stopped. To her right Anaïs heard the sound of a lock unlatching. A wall slid to one side and bright light flooded in.
Anaïs squinted and blinked several times. Adjusting her eyes to the light, she took in her surroundings. They were in what seemed to be a small garage. The walls and ceiling were constructed entirely of dark timber panelling. The wall to her right was not a wall at all, but an enormous wooden door. Outside, a narrow cobbled pathway ran past the opening. Facing her and a few of metres away, a solid stone wall bordered the other side of the path. Immaculate Phlox stood with her back to the timber wall of the shed in front of Anaïs. Her arms were splayed out at her sides with her palms flat against the woodwork. Her breast heaved.
She noticed Anaïs looking at her. The panic on her face dissolved and she regained her composure. She eyed Anaïs with her usual unamused demeanour. She muttered under her breath, 'Next time, remind me to stay in the car.'
Before Anaïs could respond there were footsteps on the path outside. Both women turned to face the opening. The fingers of a pristine white glove appeared and wrapped themselves around the door frame. They were followed by the pale, round face of a rather jovial looking old man. His cheeks glowed red and an enormous moustache ran under his nose. It covered half his face. His whiskers were skilfully twirled to a point at each end. His skull was decked with an ushanka. Its sheepskin flaps covered his ears and framed his face
.
He flashed them a toothless grin, opened his mouth to speak and then reconsidered. Stepping fully into the doorway he fumbled in the side pocket of his greatcoat. He made a fist and tugged at its contents. With a grunt he pulled out his hand. Opening his palm, he revealed a set of dentures. He shoved them into his mouth, snapped his jaw shut and then clicked his teeth together a few times. He cleared his throat.
'My apologies,' he said. 'I was forgetting me manners.'
He pulled the glove off his right hand and proffered it to Anaïs. 'Welcome, Miss Blue. Let me help you down. We've been expecting you. Did you have a nice trip?'
Preternatural
I'm sorry to interrupt here, but I feel there is something we need to clear up before we go any further. There is something which remains unexplained. Often the unexplained is unexplainable, but I will to do my best to clarify something fundamental to our story. There is some confusion over the lifespan of a witch.
I have mentioned before I don't know everything about witches, that all I can share is the knowledge I have. I realise this is probably not much help and might come across as a lame excuse, but if I share the information perhaps it will give you the impetus to try to work it out for yourself.
Witches are not immortal. This is a given. They are human—mostly. The human body deteriorates. It doesn't last forever. But ageing has changed over the centuries. Or has it? If you consult the Hebrew Bible you will find an entire section documenting someone begetting someone, begetting someone else, and so forth. It goes on and on. I'm not sure I beget it.
I do get the whole family tree thing, just not the immense age of the members of said family. There is one guy, Methuselah, who sticks around for hundreds of years. Was he a witch? Was it normal for people to live for so long? What changed which prevented the human race from being blessed with longevity? Was the food better? Certainly the planet itself was healthier.
The Promptuary Page 3