grabbing Sali-Connie’s left wrist, slapped her hard across the face bringing tears to her eyes. “Ginny Brand, Quincy Oates and Val Tomson, who shouldn’t be here at her age. But we’re desperate now, you should know that. Pull yourself together or you’ll end up like your mum. Dead.” As soon as she said it, she was sorry, and threw her arms round the confused girl, pulling her close. “Come on Connie, we’ve got to do it. She runs rings round the grown ups somehow and there’s only us youngsters able to get near her.”
As they went slowly Northward, away from the fence, someone in Homestead started beating the great wooden drum on the chapel roof and the shouting got suddenly louder.
Quincy glanced briefly over her shoulder. “Flaming idiots,” she whispered. “No telling what the old witch’ll get ’em doing next.”
Sali didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. It felt like her head was pounding in rhythm with the dull thuds from the giant drum behind them. Suddenly it was as if she was looking at the world through a crooked mirror. She fell to her knees and clasped her hands to her ears.
“Fight it Connie, keep her out,” hissed Quincy and dragged her to her feet. Sali was dumb and could only watch where Connie’s eyes were directed.
“Bitch!” Connie spat out the word. “She’s in my head, Quincy. But she’ll not get the better of me.”
“Atta girl, keep going,” Quincy replied. “Remember your ma.”
Connie’s eyes briefly took on a puzzled look. “Ma Nesbitt,” she whispered.
“Ma Nesbitt,” echoed Sali, inside her mind.
They continued along the path in the feeble light of the rising moon, until they were stopped by Val, who reached out and grabbed Quincy’s arm.
“Gods girl,” she gasped. “I nearly messed myself.”
“Shhhh!” hissed Val. “They’re just ahead, by the river.
“Them?” Queried Connie. “Who’s them?”
“Old Pru’s got her sister Marta and little Wandra. No telling what she’s up to though.”
Sali was crying silently inside Connie’s mind. “Mum,” she sobbed. “Oh mum.”
Connie shook her head before rubbing hard at her eyes. “Save the baby,” she said slowly and quietly.
It was Quincy’s turn to frown. “Better they all die,” she snarled. “Get rid of all the Vordens. Now.”
“No!” Connie was definite in her reply. “Baby dies. We all die. I can see it.”
Her two companions stood and gaped. Was little Constance Nesbitt turning guru already? There was no time for comment as they were joined by eleven more young Homestead girls. At Quincy’s command, they spread out left and right, and after counting to fifty, Val Tomson started screaming for all she was worth.
On hearing the hastily arranged signal, the other thirteen started running forward, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and determination, each of them clutching clubs, knives and stones in nervous fingers and screaming like banshees.
“HA!!!” Prudence’s exclamation echoed across the water and silence returned again. “You’ve done well girls, but throwing stones will do you no good.” She turned slowly on the spot, her left arm extended and pointing to each of the girls in turn.
“I know you all, I know your names. Fourteen virgins trying to behave like grown ups.”
Try as she might, Connie couldn’t move and Sali looked on in horror as her grandmother stepped into the river, cradling her baby in her arms. “Do something,” she said, and Connie heard her voice as a distant echo, but was helpless.
Prudence laughed at the sight of the helpless girls. “Come for a fight have you? Then fight!” She wiggled her fingers at the six girls on Connie’s right, Quincy, Jane, Amelia, Samantha, Brenda and Louisa. They turned towards each other, and slowly but surely, closed together then started to flail and kick out. Their slow motion fight was almost silent and nearly comical, but was every bit as vicious as if they were willing opponents.
“I know your names and I know your games, and I hold you in the palm of my hand.” She turned to her sister, “Deeper bitch. Drown the brat, then nothing can stop me.”
Sali screamed and forced her way through Connie’s mental defences. “NO!!”
The surprised caster spun round, eyes wide open with the shock of the girls defiance.
“Constance Amelia Nesbitt, I know your name. BE SILENT, or I’ll make you suffer.”
“Try and make me, hag,” retorted Sali angrily, growing in confidence.
Prudence ignored the scuffling girls on the dark river bank, and raised both hands towards Sali, chanting softly as she did so. The darkness grew deeper around her as she drew on some awful power, and finally she spoke plainly. “Constance Nesbitt slowly die. Let your blood congeal, let your fingers and toes fall away. Let the flesh drop from your bones and let the worms eat away your insides. May you rot away all alone and unloved.”
Sali felt the curse wash over her, but it wasn’t aimed at her, but at the absent Connie, so she was unaffected by it and the darkness was gone. She folded her arms and stared right back into the casters widening eyes. “Tut tut, Prudence,” she admonished her great aunt. “Is that the best you can do?”
“AAAAH!!” screamed Prudence. “Not possible. Why aren’t you dying?”
Sali laughed at her. “Fourteen virgins you know by name? I think not. We are fifteen and you don’t know me, but I know you and it’s my turn now.”
Prudence turned quickly and waved at the other girls. “Take her, kill her,” she yelled, and some of them moved reluctantly in Sali’s direction.
Sali shook her head slowly. “Bad Prudence, naughty Prudence. Time to end it.” It was her turn to wave at the confused girls and they turned towards the caster.
“Can’t hurt me girl, whoever you are. That’s not my given name.” She giggled shrilly. “No name, no game,” and her insane laughter rang round the dark woods.
It was Sali’s turn to be worried. ‘Name, name, what’s her name,’ she thought, but try as she might she couldn’t remember her mad relation ever being mentioned.
In the river’s centre, Marta stood holding her baby Wandra, Sali’s future mother, and the emotional turmoil was plain upon her face. At last, she forced the one word past her unfeeling lips. “Prunella,” she whispered, then louder, “Prunella, PRUNELLA.”
Sali shouted in triumph. “Prunella Vorden, I know you now, but I’m not of your world and you know me not.” Sali growled out the last few words and her murderous relation screamed in frustration and fury. “NO!!” she cried, “it’s mine, all mine. Only I have the power. I am a god.”
“Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, you must die for Homestead’s good. Prunella Vorden, YOU HAVE NO POWER.” She took a deep breath. “Ladies,” she said with grim determination, “do your duty.”
It wasn’t quick, and it certainly wasn’t easy. Prudence was bigger and stronger than most of the girls, and fought viciously. She was fighting for her life. Quincy and the other five were still out of it, devastated
by the things they had done at the casters command. Jane was dead, strangled by Louisa who lay sobbing on the grass by her friend’s body. Sali stood on the river bank, in Connie’s body, arms stretched out, eyes half closed in concentration, holding a blanket of confusion over the caster so that she couldn’t use the power. The other seven girls managed to overcome her and eventually it was finished, but only six of them waded out of the river. Prudence and Jackie Snowdrop’s lifeless bodies bumped gently together against the rocks.
Ginny Brand put her cold wet hands on Sali/Connie’s shoulders. “It’s over,” she said, peering anxiously into Connie’s staring eyes. There was no response. She called louder, “Connie, she’s gone.” The roaring in Sali’s ears grew louder and she finally fainted. Connie’s screams rent the air and all the creatures of the dark wood screamed with her.
Sali woke to the sound of water bubbling over the rocks and birds singing in the trees again. She opened her eyes to see the afternoon sunshine. She was laid with her head in Ma Nesbitt’s lap. Connie was stroking her hair, and there were tears in her eyes.
“Oh Sali love. Didn’t mean that to happen, only meant to show you,” she said sorrowfully. “All these
The Youngest Guru Page 2