Ellie sat in the bed, watching the play of light dance across the ceiling. It wasn't over she knew, remembering with a jolt of fear the sight of the Reverend Matthew Hopkins as he commanded the weather spirits to bend to his will. What had happened?
She shook her head, parts of that night felt fuzzy, reduced to sensations, colours, sounds; it was like trying to remember a dream in the clear light of day. There were whole patches she could barely recall.
Pulling on her normal everyday clothes - jeans, t-shirt and comfortable running shoes, Ellie took a last look around the little pink room. The red raincoat still hung, neat and tidy, over the back of the bedroom chair where Miss Dorothy had left it. Smiling, Ellie turned and walked away; it never suited her anyway.
The old lady was in her living room, writing at her scroll top desk. It was covered with discarded papers, and the fountain pen scratching sharply was the only sound in the quiet. Queenie lay sprawled over on a cushion at Dorothy’s feet, sleeping in a pool of sunshine.
‘Listen to this,’ Miss Dorothy looked up. ‘I have a poem in honour of you, my dear.’ She coughed. ‘It’s new,’ she added a little sheepishly, ‘so it might not have the polish of the best of my work, but I wanted to give you a flavour before you went.’ Squinting at the paper in her hand, Miss Dorothy placed her glasses on her nose and proceeded to read.
‘O’er the sea, o’er the sea, she began softly
I saw her free
The heart of spirits flying
The friend of spirits sighing
‘O-er the sea, o’er the sea.
Miss Dorothy grimaced, she stopped. ‘That’s not quite right, is it? The friend of spirits sighing…
She looked thoughtfully down at the word.
‘Well,’ Ellie began, not sure what she should say ‘I really like the start.’
‘It's the last line’, Miss Dorothy huffed. ‘I never can get the last line right, straight off, can I Queenie? Everything else flows.’
The sleeping cat didn't deign to answer, but his long tail swished in the warm summer air.
‘Oh,’ cried Miss Dorothy, dropping her glasses. ‘I almost forgot. I have something for you have to take. How silly of me.’ The old lady’s head vanished as she bent down to the bottom drawer of her writing bureau. It was deep, and Ellie heard a few muttered curses before Miss Dorothy heaved a heavy object onto the wooden surface of the writing desk. About the size and shape of a child’s head, it was hidden from view by a dark green covering.
Without warning, the old lady pulled the cloth free. Ellie gasped, a soundless bottomless vibration resonated through the room. It tugged at her mind, demanding her attention, seeking her name, compelling her to look in closer, with a decisive, sharp insistence.
Turning quickly, she searched for someplace to rest her gaze, anywhere except its deep, impenetrable structure.
‘I don't like it,’ Ellie whispered. ‘I really don't like it.’
‘Yes,’ Miss Dorothy nodded. ‘Strange, I feel like that too when I’m around it, but,’ she placed the green cloth back over its surface. ‘I don't believe it is dangerous as such. Just make sure you keep the scarf on. It’s perfectly safe when it is covered. It must be silk mind you, natural silk keeps the energy vibration silenced.’
‘But why are you giving it to me?’ Ellie was appalled.
‘Do not panic, child. It is obvious you have the strength to resist whatever power may be locked inside, and besides, feel it, the vibrations have ceased.’
She was right. As Miss Dorothy tied the scarf securely around the crystal, the room felt clearer, gone was the suffocating sense of pitiless, implacable will. Ellie felt almost euphoric, she’d just overreacted, us usual. She shook her head, stupid….
‘It has been in my family for hundreds of years.’
Ellie snapped her gaze up, wondering for a split moment if Miss Dorothy had been talking for a long while.
‘My father never spoke of it, nor his mother, nor has it been mentioned in any of the family grimoires. It is not for me, for that I am certain. My family have merely been the custodians. However,’ she continued briskly, ‘I dreamt of it clearly this morning, for the first time since I was a child. The quartz made it clear it wishes to move on, and wishes to travel with you, my dear.’
Ellie’s eyes widened.
‘Keep it covered, and well hidden. Keep it away from prying eyes. This crystal is not for you, so it keep it safe until the time comes to past it on.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘Are you all right, my dear?’
Ellie felt woozy and she didn't answer straight away. It didn't really matter, she told herself. If she took the thing, she could keep it safe and hidden somewhere far away and never ever look at it. Ba Set, Ellie brightened. Of course. The strange smoky quartz was so powerful it probably wanted to get to Ba Set.
Ellie sighed in relief and looked up at Miss Dorothy. ‘I’ll be fine.’
The old lady beamed. ‘Of course you will, and next time you come back, stay for longer.’ She held out her hand, ‘I’ll miss you, you know.’
Taking it, Ellie enveloped the older lady in an impulsive hug. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’
Ellie reached down. ‘Look after your person,’ she whispered, patting Queenie’s thick white fur. The cat purred, his large orange eyes watching her every move.
Ellie lay down on the sofa, the cloth covered quartz touching her feet and her hag stone held tight in her hand. Ellie yawned. The sun glinted in through the open window like a shaft of radiance. Colours danced, split and banded in the light. Time to go home, Ellie thought.
‘Promise you’ll come back and see me sometime,’ called the old lady.
‘Okay, as long you make more of that amazing apple teacake.’
‘I’ll teach you to make it yourself.’ She retorted primly. ‘No student of mine would be given something without learning how it was accomplished.’
Ellie laughed and closed her eyes.
‘Oh, my dear, one more thing.’ Miss Dorothy continued, but her voice was already sounding softer. ‘Tell me, what was the name of the minister, you know your minister in the storm?’
Ellie felt her weight settling down onto the sofa. ‘Reverend Matthew,’ she mumbled, not really paying much attention.
‘Matthew - and his surname, my dear? Asked Miss Dorothy.
‘Um, Hopkins,’ she mumbled, ‘the Reverend Matthew Hopkins.’
‘What?’ exclaimed the old lady, and her chair crashed loudly to the floor. ‘The Witch Finder General? It can’t be!’
But Ellie was no longer paying attention. She gave the time ring a single twist and a moment later she was gone.
THIRTY- SEVEN
Blue Mountains, Australia, present day
The sound was strange, like a sibilant, streaming hiss, though it wasn't quite in the room… Ellie blinked her eyes then closed them tight; she didn't feel ready to wake. And besides, the sound wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't quite a steady hiss, it had gaps and depths and was more like a constant, crinkly whispering that dropped and splattered. Crinkled splattering … what a crazy idea. Ellie laughed and opened her eyes.
There was an expanse of grey light and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus. She was lying on a narrow red sofa, pushed up against a clear expanse of streaking, glittering light. Plunging, plummeting off the roof, it ran in rushing rivulets down the long transparent pane. Suddenly awake, Ellie pressed her forehead against the glass of the picture window, eyes wide with wonder, trying to take in the full magnitude of what was before her.
Rain.
Magical, shining rain sweeping down from the sky as far as the eye could see. Dropping heavily on leaves, it bounced and poured in a vast torrent over the forest below.
Ellie watched for a long moment. ‘It worked Ba Set,’ she whispered, ‘it really actually worked.’
Turning, squinting a little to give her eyes time to adjust to the change of brightness, Ellie peered into the living room behind her. ‘Ba Set?’ she called
softly, imagining the old woman sitting somewhere half hidden in the quiet. ‘Where are you?’ Ellie stood up and her foot landed on a hard brittle shape. It collapsed at once with a sharp snap. Cursing herself for being so clumsy, Ellie reached down and picked up a slender, porcelain limb; an arm of one the dancing statues that Ba Set displayed with such care. It had snapped in two.
But that wasn’t all. The rug was covered in debris. Ba Set’s treasures lay scattered - multi-coloured rocks, coiled twigs, feathers - all the magic the old woman had collected from the forest lay strewn across the room. In the corners beneath the shelves, were the heaped remains of Ba Set’s statues - the dancers, the laughing deities, all of them smashed and broken.
Rising to her feet, Ellie stood and listened for a long moment, scarcely breathing. Outside the rain rushed in noisy streams, but inside not a thing moved. No teacher, no sense of faery, nothing. The cottage felt as abandoned as a grave.
Working quickly, Ellie gathered up fallen pieces of statues, candles, twigs and stones, and piled them back onto the shelves. She leaned some of the treasures together to make them stand, adjusting them, setting the room to right, trying to ease her own rising sense of disquiet.
At last, the room no longer looked as though it had been hit by a tornado. Ellie turned to leave, then stopped as a taut ripple of warning flickered through her being. Ignoring it, and eager to be outside in the clean, fresh coolness, Ellie took a step forward, but the feeling came again - a hard, tight calling, pulling with increasing urgency.
Ellie sighed and looked out longingly at the clear, wet day outside. She shook her head. Oh no… The crystal, the weird smoky crystal, she’d forgotten all about it. Biting back a curse, Ellie lifted the heavy weight off the floor and carried it through the silent cottage and into the kitchen.
On the side bench, a jar of peanut butter was still standing, open. Ellie stared at it for a long moment, and then, trying not to think about too much, she shoved them both away in the pantry and closed the door tight. The quartz was safe enough, Ellie decided, safe until Ba Set came back and claimed it.
Hurrying back into the living room, Ellie retrieved her hag stone from the sofa and quickly scouted around for the other, but Miss Dorothy’s was nowhere to be found.
Well they say magical objects always come and go, she thought, and then, anxious to be gone, Ellie shoved her own holed stone deep into her pocket and ran out into the fresh, rainy day.
Glorious, at last she could breathe. Water pelted onto her head, hitting her hair, dripping into her eyes. Opening her mouth, Ellie stretched out her arms, tilted her head back, and spun around slowly under the sky as the miraculous, cool liquid splashed down from the sky and onto her face.
Then she turned, and dashed down the cliff steps and on into the forest. Old man tree ferns stood, hunched in a gully, their blackened husks dripping in the pale light. Ellie tilted back her head, so her eyes rested on the remains of their great hairy trunks. ‘Life will return to them,’ Ellie whispered. ‘Life will emerge, soft and green in the spring.’
Beneath them all, the ground ran with water. It spilled across the soil, pouring in rivulets across the forest floor.
Laughing, Ellie spun around and around, faster and faster. ‘I love you,’ she cried to the trees, dripping loudly all around her. ‘I love you!’
We’ve won!
✽✽✽
Something was wrong. Ellie knew it the moment she rounded the final corner and saw her house set back from the road. Rain poured off its wide, wraparound porch, turning the front garden to mud with a torrent of stormwater sweeping off onto the road. But that wasn't it. Ellie slowed to a walk. Ben’s truck was parked in the driveway. Pamphlets covered the front seat. Ellie peered in through the water smearing the glass. She couldn't quite make out the words, but the print was large and black, against a red background.
Warily, she headed towards the front stairs. The rain hammered down onto the tin roof with a loud, rhythmic precision. Inside, every light was off. Ellie swallowed; it all felt wrong, very, very wrong.
A quiver flicked beside her ear and a shape materialised out of the downpour - a silvery being wavered in the pearl-grey light. Agitated, it moved around Ellie, holding its elongated arms out wide, long fingers stretched raking through the air.
‘What is it?’ Ellie whispered.
As if in answer, the being looped away from her towards the house. Be careful. The words were unsaid, but the meaning emanating from the faery was clear. It came closer, its face hovering, before abruptly it vanished. Be careful.
Ellie swallowed and dug her hand into her pocket, gripping the hag stone tightly. She opened the front door. ‘Ben?’ she called, her voice sounding thin and anxious in the darkened hallway. ‘Dad, I’m back.’
She reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing, Ellie snapped it once more, but it clicked uselessly in the silence. Struggling against an instinct urging her to run to safety in the forest, she crept through the hallway and peered around the living room door.
I have the ring, she told herself, trying to calm. I have the ring and the stone, nothing bad can happen. In the dim light, she could see the telephone, lounge chairs, television, and that was all.
Moving slowly, Ellie crept down to the back of the house, wincing at every creak of the floor. The bedroom doors on each side were shut tight. The twin’s bedroom had been empty for a over a week, and Ben’s dark blue door was still plastered with the stickers and photos he’d collected as a teen. She hesitated, her mouth dry with anxiety.
‘Ben?’ she called softly. ‘Are you in there?’ Reaching for the handle, Ellie stood on the threshold and peered in. Nothing, and there was no sound save for the ragged quality of her breath.
Her heart thudding, Ellie almost ran to the end of the hallway, her footsteps echoing, not caring now if she was quiet; all she wanted was somewhere safe and familiar. She wanted to be home.
She flung open her door to her bedroom and gasped.
Water flooded her room, pouring in through the wet flapping curtains of her window. Ellie slammed it shut. Who was the idiot who left it open? She closed her eyes. Then with a loud sigh she opened them again, ready to confront the damage wreaked by her own stupidity.
But no storm, wind, or rain was capable of this, Ellie almost gagged. It was as if a maddened looter had ripped through everything she held dear. Her cupboard door had been wrenched off its hinges and her clothes, shoes - all the contents of her life, had been flung callously over the floor. Her books, their spines trampled, lay torn in a sodden heap. Who would do such a thing, and with such vehemence? Heart thudding, Ellie ran out of her room and burst into the kitchen.
‘Ben?’ she called. ‘Dad?’ But it was empty, only the leftover remains of a meal, eaten at the bench, showed that anyone had been there at all.
Where were they? Ellie sagged to the floor. Her heart thudding, maybe it had actually happened ... Ascension.
Wrenching open the back door, Ellie ran out into the rainstorm. The grass was unable to soak up the torrential downpour after years of dry and neglect. A lake had formed in the yard, lapping almost to the fence. Normally the sight would have filled Ellie’s heart with wonder, but now, she spun around, her feet slipping in the mud beneath.
‘Dad! Ben!’ she cried. ‘Where are you?’
There was no warning. A swoop of darkness lunged for her, its fingers grasping for her, its eyes wild and blue.
‘You!’ The cry was like a whipsnap of fury. Hands, slippery with rain and as brittle as bone, yanked her close.
Ellie screamed in terror.
She fought back as desperately as she could, but Matthew’s grip was already around her throat, burning; he was strong. She could feel her Adam’s apple pressing back, crushing her windpipe; her knees buckling as pain, intense like she had never felt before, overwhelmed her senses. It cut sharp and suffocating, trapping air, denying breath, refusing any avenue of escape. Flailing weakly she tried to hit, to pummel, to m
ake him stop.
Help, she pleaded mutely, as weak and as helpless as a trapped bird. Please someone help. Desperately, she struggled as waves of oblivion lapped at the edges of her mind.
‘No!’ A voice cried out and footsteps ran closer.
‘Reverend, there’s no need for this. Stop!’
Released, Ellie fell to the ground. She heaved, writhing in the mud, sucking in as much breath as her lungs could hold. She wanted to vomit, her stomach heaved again and she was only dimly aware of Matthew standing with his arms up, and face shining towards the heavens. Thunder boomed.
Ellie’s father looked over her, his body towering against the sky like some kind of protective shield.
The rain fell like heavy bullets piercing the earth.
‘The Lord heard us!’ Matthew cried, his voice a bright peal of triumph.
‘Bring it on!’ Ben laughed. He was standing alongside Matthew with his arms extended, ignoring the sharp drops pelting onto his upturned face.
Weakly, Ellie turned away from the onslaught. A figure stood watching her from beneath the eaves. The rain streaked, but Ellie could feel the intensity of her gaze. It seemed to burn in the hard-grey light.
Ellie shook her head.
Desperately she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. ‘It can’t be true,’ she whispered.
Golden eyes … here…
Ellie struggled to her knees, her grip slipping on the sodden earth.
Rose flinched, but she didn’t look away, her chin was high, and around her neck, dark against her skin, hung a black stone shaped like a tear. Rose was as beautiful and as proud as always, and yet Ellie could see she was holding herself carefully, in a strange awkward position with her arms angled away from her body. As if she were afraid to move.
No... Ellie breathed. She scrambled to her feet. Seared along the length of her friend’s arms was a line of savage burns. Forked and red, they looked like deep whip marks, or… Ellie gasped. Not whip marks.
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