A Witch Alone

by James Nicol

  The mayor continued. ‘In light of all that’s been going on, we thought it prudent not to be completely witch-less.’

  ‘She’s not been too bad,’ Salle whispered, squeezing Arianwyn’s hand. ‘I mean, she’s still Gimma – but at least not weird like in Kingsport!’

  Arianwyn wasn’t sure what was worse: that she’d been so speedily replaced by Gimma, or that Salle didn’t seem to mind. ‘Has this been reported to the C.W.A., do you know?’ Miss Newam asked, her voice curt and businesslike as usual.

  The mayor shook his head. ‘I am afraid I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I’ll deal with that, shall I?’ Miss Newam scowled at Arianwyn.

  ‘Oh, won’t you use my telephone here?’ Mayor Belcher asked and pulled his seat out for Miss Newam.

  ‘Oh! Thank you, Josiah – I mean, Mayor Belcher!’

  Was she blushing?

  Salle gave Arianwyn a wide-eyed look, stifling a giggle at Miss Newam and the mayor’s odd behaviour. ‘I’d best get back. I’ll see you later, Wyn. You can fill me in on all the gory details!’ she called as she hurried out of the mayor’s parlour.

  ‘I should speak to the High Elder as well,’ Arianwyn said quietly to Colin, not meeting his eyes.

  He nodded. ‘You’ll tell her about the stagget?’ His voice was flat.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll explain what happened—’

  But Colin didn’t wait to hear any more. He pushed a small card into Arianwyn’s hand. ‘It’s the High Elder’s private office number,’ he said quietly, and walked out of the mayor’s parlour.

  Arianwyn watched him go, suddenly afraid she might cry.

  ‘Mayor Belcher, may I use the telephone in Miss Prynce’s office?’ she asked.

  But he was too distracted to answer, arranging a notepad and pencils on the desk for Miss Newam.

  Despite the fact that Miss Prynce never seemed to do much work, Arianwyn was amazed at how untidy her desk was. The telephone was buried under a small landslide of papers. She lifted the ebony phone receiver and carefully dialled the number on the card Colin had handed to her. The phone seemed to ring for ever, and Arianwyn fiddled with some pens on the desk and was just about to hang up when the phone was answered.

  ‘Yes?’ It was the High Elder’s voice.

  ‘Oh, hello. It’s Arianwyn . . . Arianwyn Gribble.’

  ‘Miss Gribble. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you quite so soon.’ The High Elder sounded a little confused, as though she had just woken up or was in the middle of some all-consuming task.

  ‘Um, it’s about the book—’

  ‘You have it?’ Her voice was suddenly louder, clearer, sharper.

  Arianwyn paused. ‘Well, no. There’s been a complication.’ She twisted the telephone cord around her fingers.

  ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘We encountered a band of feylings in the wood.’ She took a deep shuddering breath, overcome with nerves. ‘They confirmed large-scale outbreaks of hex throughout the Great Wood. Erraldur, the feyling city, is lost – attacked by night ghasts or something worse and ravaged by hex.’ She felt breathless. ‘We can’t even be sure if the Book of Quiet Glyphs is there any more, or even intact.’

  Silence.

  ‘High Elder?’

  ‘Yes. I’m still here.’

  ‘The hex blocked our way further into the wood. We had to turn back. But . . . we rescued another feyling, who indicated that Estar is coming to Lull to find me.’

  ‘With the book?’ The High Elder’s voice was rushed, agitated.

  ‘That’s what the feyling said.’

  ‘Then we wait, Miss Gribble. See if you can learn anything more from this new feyling acquaintance in the meantime.’

  Arianwyn decided now wasn’t the time to mention that Tas had already gone. ‘Yes, of course, High Elder. There is something else . . .’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘There was a stagget in the Great Wood. It was infected with hex and I’ – her throat tightened – ‘I used a stunning spell on it. The feyling and Miss Newam and Colin were all in danger. We were all in danger quite possibly. So I stunned it and then I opened a rift and banished it.’

  She felt both relief and horror at having told the High Elder.

  ‘I see . . . you are well aware that using a stunning or banishing spell on a spirit creature is illegal, Miss Gribble?’

  ‘Yes, High Elder.’

  ‘I’ll expect a full report within the next two days, please, and of course this will have to go before the council.’

  ‘I understand,’ Arianwyn replied.

  ‘Very good.’

  And with that the line went dead.

  If Arianwyn had been expecting some sort of reassurance it clearly wasn’t going to come from the High Elder. She slumped into Miss Prynce’s chair and cried quietly into her hands in the darkness under the stairs. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? Was it her fault? Should she have done something differently?

  A sudden movement in the shadows of the hallway caught Arianwyn’s attention. She was about to call out but something made her stop.

  Someone was watching her.

  Someone had heard the telephone call.

  Was it Colin or Miss Newam checking up on her?

  Arianwyn looked out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to turn to give away that she was aware. She busied herself with rearranging some of the papers on the desk and then tying her bootlace, though it was perfectly double-knotted as always.

  Another movement, and then she heard the soft thud of a door closing.

  She scrambled across the hallway, pulling gently and slowly on the doors so they opened just a crack.

  Moving across the town was a lone figure dressed in a dark navy uniform, a wisp of white-blonde hair caught in the breeze.

  Gimma!

  Exactly how much had she heard?

  A chill crawled along Arianwyn’s spine. The book had to remain a secret!

  Chapter 22

  VERY LIGHT DUTIES

  rianwyn jumped awake, the eiderdown tangled around her legs. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was, or what time it was.

  Bright cold light streamed in through the apartment windows. She could hear the familiar sounds from outside on Kettle Lane.

  She was home, in the Spellorium. In Lull.

  Since arriving back home the previous day, she’d spent much of her time sleeping in short bursts. Even now, after a whole night’s sleep in her own bed, she still felt groggy and tired. Whatever strange magic was at work in the wood had certainly got to her.

  She glanced at her alarm clock. It was after ten o’clock. Ten o’clock!

  ‘Snotlings!’

  There was a loud bang which she thought was from outside, but then she heard someone cough, someone downstairs in the Spellorium. Bob leapt off the bed and stood at the top of the stairs, staring down.

  Arianwyn struggled to free herself from the tangled bedding and rushed down the spiral stairs, which wobbled as always. As she took the last twist of the stairs she saw someone leaning over the counter, consulting the Spellorium ledger. She wore a smart blue uniform, and her blonde hair was held in a perfect bun.

  ‘Gimma?’ Arianwyn asked, her voice croaky from sleep.

  The other girl turned and jumped a little. ‘Oh, Arianwyn. I didn’t realize you were here. I thought you must be out. It’s past ten, you know.’ She was wearing those pink suede gloves again, and her hands trembled slightly where they rested on the ledger. ‘Did Uncle explain . . .’ Her voice wobbled.

  ‘That you’ve been covering for me? Yes, he did. Thanks for that, but I’m back now. I’m sure I can pick up whatever needs doing.’ She suddenly didn’t like Gimma being here. It felt like an intrusion.

  Gimma glanced at the floor. ‘Well, you see, I think—’

  Before she could say more, the Spellorium door flew open and Miss Delafield strode in – well, as much as anyone could stride with a walking stick. ‘Thank heavens
you’re back, dear,’ she said to Arianwyn. ‘I was starting to get seriously worried – thought we might have to send a search party.’ Miss Delafield rocked back on her heels and laughed loudly. ‘Gimma been catching you up on everything, I hope?’

  ‘I was just trying to,’ Gimma snapped.

  Miss Delafield rolled her eyes. ‘Well, don’t let me stop you then, dear.’ She pulled off her scarf and driving gauntlets and tossed them on to the counter.

  ‘Well, I do know about the qered already,’ Arianwyn said, frustration ringing in her words.

  Gimma scowled. ‘That wasn’t my fault!’

  ‘Nobody’s saying it is, dear.’ Miss Delafield sighed loudly.

  Gimma’s pale cheeks flushed with a little pink and she fumbled for the ledger. ‘Well – I’ve updated the ledger. Including the entries you hadn’t got round to filling in before you went off.’ She turned the ledger round so that Miss Delafield and Arianwyn could both see it.

  ‘We’ve kept to light duties, very light duties,’ Miss Delafield said in a way Arianwyn was sure was supposed to sound reassuring. It didn’t, though. ‘Just day-to-day things.’

  Arianwyn peered closer to the ledger. The most recent page was filled entirely with Gimma’s slanted elegant handwriting. Something about it made her feel strange. As though Gimma had been wearing her clothes or sitting in her favourite chair.

  ‘That’s wrong.’ Arianwyn pointed at the ledger. ‘Mr Bloom lives at number eleven, Fold Terrace, not number ten.’ She regretted it as soon as she said it – she could hear how picky she sounded and she didn’t like herself for it one little bit.

  Gimma folded her arms across her chest and sniffed. ‘I’m not going to work with her if she’s going to be like this.’

  They glared at each other.

  Miss Delafield sighed heavily. ‘Well, girls, you are simply going to have to find some way to get along – there’s far too much work for one witch here at the moment. Now, I don’t really care how you go about it but find a way to work with each other, or at least tolerate each other for now. Pass notes if you can’t speak to each other. I really don’t care.’

  There was a long moment of silence.

  ‘Well, some of us have work to be getting on with, you know.’ Gimma sniffed. ‘Can’t stand around all day in our nightdresses.’ She smiled a satisfied smile and her eyes flicked up and down Arianwyn quickly.

  Arianwyn felt her cheeks warm as she caught sight of her reflection in the glass doors of a nearby cabinet: a rumpled nightie and her hair an explosion of curls. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she mumbled, hurrying for the stairs.

  She was just on the first step when she felt a hand close around her wrist. It was Miss Delafield. ‘I am sorry, dear,’ she whispered quickly. ‘I’ve been put in such a precarious position. The High Elder insisted we utilize Gimma for now. She’s not actually been entirely useless.’

  ‘I can hear you!’ Gimma called from the counter.

  Miss Delafield turned and called brightly, ‘Just updating Arianwyn on one or two things, dear, that’s all.’ But she fired Arianwyn a look that said, Be on your guard.

  As though Arianwyn needed telling twice!

  Arianwyn washed and dressed quickly, slipping the feyling stone charm under her jumper – she felt she might need all the luck she could lay her hands on today. When she came back down, the Spellorium was quiet and Miss Delafield sat in the small chair beside the pot-bellied stove, sipping her famous blue drink from a slender cocktail glass. Arianwyn could smell it from where she stood.

  ‘Has Gimma gone?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I sent her off to do some work across town, give you a bit of peace and quiet until you’re all back to normal, dear. No need to take on too much today.’

  ‘I’m fine, Miss Delafield.’

  ‘But I heard about the strange time difference; that’s bound to have some impact—’

  ‘I’m fine, really,’ Arianwyn said firmly.

  Miss Delafield pursed her lips, brow furrowed. ‘So, I had a message come through from the High Elder’s office, something about a stagget?’

  The look Miss Delafield gave her said she knew everything already – or at least a version of it. Arianwyn felt her face warm with shame and she did her best to quickly explain.

  ‘I see, dear,’ Miss Delafield said when Arianwyn had finished her story.

  ‘I am so sorry, Miss Delafield. I didn’t see what else I could do.’ Arianwyn looked quickly away.

  ‘It is a terrible shame, dear, frightful. But I honestly don’t see that you had any other choice. I’ll write to the council and tell them as much, so don’t you fret!’

  Arianwyn smiled. It was as if a heavy weight had lifted from her chest. ‘I wish Colin understood . . .’

  Miss Delafield patted her on the shoulder and smiled. ‘I’m sure he’ll come around in time. Sometimes we witches have to make hard choices and others might not always understand at first. But he will, I’m sure. You acted with compassion, as you always do.’

  But at the back of Arianwyn’s mind, a worry still wormed away: what if she’d acted in haste? What if she could have done something else? Something better?

  Chapter 23

  THE PANGORBAK

  rianwyn stared up at the cocoon fixed just below the top of the town wall. It nestled into the corner next to the tower of the East Gate. She had the spirit lantern by her feet and a pair of binoculars she had borrowed from Uncle Mat slung around her neck. She flicked through the spirit creature glossary in the back of A Witch Alone, but so far none of the entries had mentioned this type of cocoon. She’d been watching the walls all afternoon, hoping to identify the creature responsible for it, but if something was inside, it wasn’t ready to emerge yet. She’d even flown up twice to try and get a better look, her broom wobbling and bumping against the walls of Lull.

  ‘Any luck?’ a bright voice called from the gate.

  It was Salle. Arianwyn waved as Salle hurried across the grass carrying a small basket in one hand, a rug folded over her arm. ‘Aunt Grace thought you might be hungry!’ Salle smiled.

  ‘I’m starving!’ Arianwyn agreed. ‘I’ve not had any lunch yet. I’ve been busy all day.’

  ‘Lunch?’ Salle laughed. ‘It’ll be dark soon, it’s nearly dinner time.’

  Arianwyn glanced around in surprise. She’d been so focused on the cocoon she hadn’t noticed the sun lowering in the sky, the shadows growing longer. The qered had moved across the meadow, searching out the last of the day’s light, their huge scaly heads moving from side to side, surveying the meadow.

  ‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they?’ Salle said as she laid the rug out.

  ‘They are, but they really should be in the wood. I’m not sure it’s safe for them out in the open,’ Arianwyn said. She turned to look at the cocoon again.

  ‘So still no ideas, then?’ Salle asked. She lifted a thermos from the basket and something wrapped in a red and white chequered napkin. She handed these to Arianwyn. ‘Give me the binoculars and I’ll keep a lookout,’ she offered.

  Arianwyn handed the binoculars over and sat down. She unwrapped the napkin – inside was one of Aunt Grace’s delicious pasties, the warm, buttery smell filling her nose. She bit down into it and sat in blissful silence for a few moments as she ate. Salle poured them both some tea from the thermos and carried on watching the nest. ‘How is Gimma getting on?’ Salle asked.

  ‘Thankfully we’re keeping pretty much out of each other’s way most of the time,’ Arianwyn said, sipping the sweet tea. She’d been back in Lull for nearly a week following the failed expedition into the Great Wood, and both she and Gimma had been busy with the work in the ledger. Their conversations were businesslike – generally they left informative notes for each other tucked into the ledger.

  ‘I heard she seems to be getting on better with her spells but she’s still just as much of a pain,’ Salle said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know . . .’ Arianwyn said, just not in the mood to have a
long conversation about Gimma at that moment. She quickly changed the subject. ‘So how’ve you been?’ she asked. ‘Did you go for that audition in Flaxsham?’

  Salle played with a small piece of pasty, looking out across the meadow at the qered as the younglings raced and galloped. ‘It’s next Friday, but I don’t think I can make it now. I have another appointment. A sort of interview . . .’

  ‘What for?’ Arianwyn asked, her mouth half-full of delicious warm pastry and buttery herby vegetables.

  Salle’s face went red. ‘I was going to volunteer . . . to help Dr Cadbury until he can find a new replacement.’ She looked across at Arianwyn uncertainly.

  ‘Oh, Salle. That’s very good of you.’

  ‘Well, I think I could do more to help. But I’m a bit nervous about the interview, so do you think you could come with me and wait whilst I see him?’ She bit her lip.

  ‘Of course I will. I wouldn’t—’

  But before they could say more, a small commotion broke out by the East Gate and Constable Perkins appeared, followed by several agitated townspeople. He was red-faced as he rushed across to where Salle and Arianwyn were sitting. ‘Miss Gribble, you’re to come at once,’ he puffed.

  ‘Whatever is it?’ Arianwyn asked, jumping to her feet and brushing the pasty crumbs off her skirt.

  ‘Miss Alverston was called to the Guthries’. Mr Guthrie said he’d been bitten by something over at Caulls Farm this morning. Seems things have taken a turn for the worse and Miss Alverston sent for you.’ The constable put his hand on his knees then and took several deep breaths.

  Arianwyn looked at Salle.

  Salle smiled. ‘I’ll pack this all away and take it back. You go.’

  Arianwyn grabbed her broom. ‘Come on, we’ll get there faster on this,’ she said to the constable.

  He clambered on the broom behind her and seconds later they were flying across the meadow towards the gate.

  Arianwyn charged through the door, Constable Perkins close behind her. The Guthries’ kitchen was small, but seemed even smaller now, so packed with people. She heard someone call, ‘It’s Miss Gribble, let her through.’