Annie gestured the audience to silence, and the music stopped. “Dear friends, brothers and sisters, I welcome you to Mabon feast.” There was a cheer. “I trust you have feasted and made merry on the cider and brew. Perhaps some are merrier than others?” There was another cheer. “Tonight is one of abundance, celebration and ritual, ending with the Mabon ritual at dawn. I anticipate a memorable finale.” She paused theatrically then continued, “I am pleased to be back in England. As you may be aware, I have been searching Europe for a very precious book that belonged to the witch-father himself, our dear Granville who has chosen not to attend the feast tonight due to ill health. I know our love will find its way to his heart.” Annie’s sickly sweet smile dazzled.
“The book contains the magical workings of the Cone of Power, the ritual that saved our beautiful country time and time again. The book is also the key to releasing my darling sister, a woman who endured so much, whose power is unparalleled. The legendary Violet Gray.”
I inhaled sharply. Violet was right. I prayed Tom had found that book.
“The girl was captured and incarcerated by Erubus in 1940 for her betrayal of the organisation that has protected us and remained loyal to our coven for many years. Like the few original members of our coven, she too is immortal. Two years ago, a select group of the most senior witches from the coven were granted permission to open her prison dimension. Before we could claim her and her power so she could join us in recreating the Cone of Power ritual, she escaped. We believed we witnessed her death when she jumped through a wall of flames. The portal to the prison was destroyed during a devastating fire and became inaccessible to the Erubus key holders.” Annie paused, apparently basking in the silence. Her audience was captivated.
Annie’s eyes flashed, and a triumphant smile claimed her alabaster skin. “As you are aware, we have eyes and ears everywhere. Rumour has it, the red-headed girl who escaped us survived.”
The audience gasped. They were apparently familiar with the story, and all believed her to be dead.
“Furthering our investigations, we discovered that the girl might not have been our Violet at all, but in fact, a doppelganger, a carbon copy of Violet made by Violet herself to distract us as bait.”
More gasps accompanied the revelation. Many in the audience stared at me, calculating the connection between the legend and the sorrowful-looking girl tethered to a chair in front of them.
“Calm yourselves. I have good news. I tracked the creature with a locating spell and, using my magic, lured her to Hunter’s Moon. Rest assured, we will not tolerate an unnatural creation that upsets the delicate balance of nature. The act shows absolute disrespect of the gods and is punishable by death of the doppelganger monster according to our law.”
I cried out, horrified, and wriggled in a desperate bid to break free.
“Now, this leaves us with a problem. If the girl you see before you proves to be a doppelganger, her original is still alive and trapped in prison. I believe I have found a way to release Violet, combining magic recorded in Granville’s book of shadows and the blood of the doppelganger, but the ritual must be carried out at dawn when the goddess grants freedom to prisoners. If we are successful, Violet’s magic becomes available to us so we may once again raise the Cone of Power and make history.”
The crowd cheered.
“Quiet, please. I cannot risk destroying the girl you see before us, if there is the slightest chance she is Violet. My dear friend Joab is convinced the girl is not a doppelganger and is Violet suffering from amnesia.” Annie laughed. “I have witnessed the girl commanding power reminiscent of the magic possessed by the original. However, I am not persuaded. So, my dear friends, I implore you to help me make the correct decision. The question we must all consider, is this girl Violet, or is she the doppelganger?”
The music kicked in with a circus quiz show jingle, and Annie continued. “Tonight is a party, not a courtroom, so I thought we would play a little game. Ladies and gentleman, our host for this evening’s game of witch or doppelganger is Mr Joab Mason.”
Joab was hastily scanning a card he removed from a gold envelope Annie had given him. He glanced at me then accusingly at Annie. Annie urged him to continue with an assertive stare. Joab looked at the card again and shook his head slowly before throwing it down and storming off the stage towards me.
Anna nodded to the strict-looking bouncers who were monitoring the door. They intercepted him, and despite Joab’s struggle and attempt at punching the robust man in the gut, he was dragged off.
The man with the bowler hat hastily scooped up the card. He smoothed his black hair down and did a dramatic spin. He was relishing his role as a compere. One of his eyes was artistically made up with eyeliner. He wore a tight-fitting suit with a high collar and a silk scarf; he could have stepped out of a dark, twisted and gothic Oscar Wilde tale if it wasn’t for the skinny jeans and black Converse boots.
“Welcome to witch or doppelganger, the game to learn the truth. Has the girl got power or no power? Will she win the amazing prize of induction back into the oldest coven of witches in England and play a crucial role in the most exciting ritual of modern times, or will she be sacrificed, bled and her heart ripped from her chest and used as a key to release the real Violet Gray. You decide!”
There was an almighty cheer. I felt like I was going to be sick.
“First we need our panel. Volunteers please.”
An array of hands waved, urging the game show host to pick them. A girl with a purple pixie haircut, wearing a tutu, striped tights and Doc Martin boots was first up, followed by a boy wearing all black with a long leather coat, Goth boots, white contact lenses and long greasy black hair tied in a plait. I could just about make out Juniper and the rest of the guys from the house whispering frantically and then Nate, Juniper and Harriet pushed their way to the front. I felt stupid to think they might be my friends. I struggled with my wrists to free them, but I knew any escape attempt would be futile.
“Ladies and gentlemen, witches and warlocks, I pray for silence as we begin. Panel, you shall be our jury, and our high priestess shall be the judge. First question…”
I managed to free my hands before the light shone on me.
“Tell us about yourself, my lovely?”
The simple question carried so much weight. I searched my memory of the visions and Joe’s journal then emptied my head and concentrated. I listened for Violet in my head, and thankfully she began her story. I repeated her tale word for word. I looked up, my eyes burning with contempt for Annie, who watched me with an amused expression. I stood tall and looked squarely at the jury.
“My name is Violet Gray. I was born on June 21, 1922 in a village near Pendle in Lancashire. My father sent me to the house of Mr Crawley who lived at Half Moon Street, London, when I was thirteen to learn about the dark arts.”
I continued the story, ensuring my voice rang with the distinct clarity and confidence of Violet.
“I was trapped in the prison dimension beyond the walls of Hunter’s Moon, which was the headquarters of the New Forest Coven after the Lammas Cone of Power ritual in 1940, by the board of directors for Erubus.” I paused, waiting for a reaction or some recognition of the name. None came.
“I spent seventy-eight years trapped in a world that reflects this but with not one single soul. Eventually, after listening to countless conversations through the mirrors and reading many books and practising spell after spell, I was able to split my astrological self in two and create a doppelganger.”
A muttering sound rippled through the audience.
I continued. “During the summer solstice, two years ago, the coven opened the portal, and the doppelganger escaped. I remained hidden, and she was chased through the woods by the coven of witches. They chanted a hex to prevent her escape and surrounded her with witch fire, which claimed her life.” I was aware I was telling a blatant lie about her escape. I prayed it was not readable on my transparent face.
�
�Joab returned to Hunter’s Moon thinking he witnessed my death, and his anger ignited a terrible fire and destroyed the house where I was hiding. It collapsed on me, and whether it was magic or concussion, I lost my memory until yesterday.”
There was chatter amongst the audience and a polite clap from Annie.
Oh god, let them believe the lie, I thought.
Annie turned to the audience. “Now the time has come to make a crucial decision.” She turned and walked towards the panel. Her hand rested on the padded shoulder of the Goth whose white face coloured. “Witches, please make your decision. Is this girl one of us or is she a doppelganger?”
I watched the panel discuss and scribble their conclusions on a small wipe board in front of them. The Goth with the white eyes was first. “Witch,” he said, without looking at the audience.
The purple haired pixie was next. She playfully wrote on her board in bubble writing and surrounded it with hearts the condemning word doppelganger.
Violet hissed inside my head. I watched the calculating expressions of my so-called friends.
Nate held up his board with the word witch. Then Harriet matched his. I was able to breathe. I was safe with the majority voting witch. Then Juniper held up her board: witch.
“Thank God,” I said, exhaling.
“Ooh, ladies and gentlemen, the majority rule says the girl is a witch, but the game will continue until we have a unanimous outcome,” the host declared. I watched Annie serenely nod with approval. “Round two of your new favourite game show: witch or doppelganger. You are going to enjoy this round, folks, because if the creature proves to be a witch, we could see some fireworks! Our contestant must now demonstrate her magic to pass the test and seal her fate. No, before you ask, we are not talking about a little show of element control. She must win a gladiatorial battle with her opposite element. Ladies and gentlemen, please can I hear some noise for the opponent. He is hot. So hot he is smoking, so ladies control yourselves. I give you the element of fire, our very own Joooooooab Mason.”
The audience erupted in adoration. I watched the bouncers shuffle Joab through the door. He shook them off and composed himself before walking with his back straight and his face set in defiance.
I could barely believe what was happening to me. I was about to fight for my life in gladiatorial combat. Any tiny part of optimism that I might survive this ordeal seemed to sink like a lead weight. Whether I was glamoured or not, I cared about Joab. I did not want to fight him. My breathing became fast and shallow; I was trembling. I was terrified.
The host continued. “Ladies and gentlemen, contestants, the rules are as follows. You shall complete three rounds, each lasting three minutes. The last man standing, or girl for that matter, is declared the winner. Contestants, back to back, please.”
I stood, but my legs immediately gave way. My dry mouth wanted to hurl vomit all over the smug host. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. What I would give to wake up back in my single bed at Dinah’s to discover it was all an awful nightmare.
Joab approached me, and those dark eyes that were once impossible to read welled with emotion. He walked towards me and slowly brushed the hair from my face and pulled it away from my shoulders. His hands brushed my neck to my upper arms. Warmth cascaded through me. He whispered, “Cat, or should I call you Violet? You can do this. Unleash hell on me. I deserve it. It was my fault you were trapped in that prison; I betrayed you. I didn’t want Tom to have you. I was angry. When you returned to the house this summer, I drugged you with a blend of herbs I made and added them to your tea not long after we first met. I wanted to make you love me when you came back, so I could make you mine finally.”
Joab was pleading with me. Was this real? Or was this an attempt to engage me into fighting with him?
“If you don’t survive this, I will have to destroy Dinah and…”
My simmering blood reaching a boiling point. That was why he was so keen to collect my stuff from the house. He needed to know where they lived. He needed to make them trust him, just in case he needed to blackmail me.
“You wouldn’t, would you?”
Then I thought about how his petty jealousy locked a girl in prison for over seventy years. His actions lead to a girl becoming so desperate she chopped off her toe to make me. I stood and pushed the chair away. My face was inches from his. I was burning red and didn’t care. My arms were free by my side. My hands were buzzing with energy, I whispered for the ethereal voice of the goddess. “Goddess, was that you who spoke to me? Please if it was you, I need you.”
I waited. There was nothing and then I heard another voice inside my head. Violet’s.
“Cat, you can do it. Kick that smug bastard’s arse. You have my power.”
I felt the power of a storm rushing around my body. Stray strands of straw, which had loosened from the straw bays, danced away from me. Audience members brushed blowing hair from their faces.
Joab and I stood staring at each other, oblivious to the many eyes on us and the collected held
breath.
“Rooooooooound one,” the host announced.
“Do it. Blast me.” Joab grimaced.
I felt a whirlwind form between my palms, the force becoming uncontainable. I remembered how I had practised with Tom and threw the storm like a cannonball. It met Joab’s chest and sent him flying into the audience. They squealed with bloodthirsty excitement then thrust him back into the pit.
I watched him regain his footing and saw a fireball forming in his hands. It powered towards me. I dodged the full force of it, but the flames licked my arm. I winced with the burning pain.
I whispered a spell to command the wind. Straw bales and benches slammed into a wall of fire creating a flaming bomb. Joab rolled away, and the audience clambered from its path. My power lifted me metres above the ground, and I pointed my hands to him and snuffed out the flames like a child blowing out candles on a birthday cake. The adrenaline coursed through me. I laughed triumphantly.
The bell sounded, breaking my concentration. I dropped to the floor.
“Round one to the girl.”
The audience erupted. They were rooting for Joab who was one of them.
“Rooooound two.”
Annie approached Joab; she spoke to him so only he and I could hear.
“Joab…remember what she did to you. She toyed with you, played with you, wrapped you around her little finger, got you to do her bidding then discarded you like rubbish. She turned you into nothing but a pathetic idiot. Don’t let her win again. Don’t let her make a fool of you again, not in front of this mob.”
Joab stood. Fire simmered. His skin glowed. I rose to meet his attack. I was ready and armed with a tsunami of witch wind. Two fireballs hurtled straight to me. I rolled out of the way, and I extinguished them. More came and then I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet and crack, sending me crashing to the floor. My head thudded against the flagstones, popping open the taut skin on my throbbing cheekbone. Hot blood snaked across my face and dripped onto the floor.
I saw out of the corner of my eye Annie touching the floor commanding the element of earth. Joab’s flames caught my hair, frazzling stray strands. The acrid smell panicked me, but that was just a taster of what Joab’s power could inflict on me. The straw bale behind me ignited, and the mini earthquake knocked the potent Mabon brew to the floor. The spillage immediately ignited. Joab was advancing, the iciness in his eyes contradicting the fire that burned from his body. The bell sounded.
“Round two to Joab Mason.”
A few of the henchmen that had appeared on stage with Annie doused the fires using hose pipes, flooding the dance floor, which was now our combat arena.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our esteemed panel, I would like to offer a few words of advice if I may before you decide your verdict. This girl is showing some magical power, but it is clear to me the girl harnesses her ability as an amateur, and it is entirely possible for a powerful witch to bestow a little of her power
onto her doppelganger. You must remember we are trying to seek the truth. Is the girl Violet, the most powerful witch in England, or is the girl nothing more than Violet’s shadow? We shall see. Jack, over to you.”
The bowler hat man appeared to have a name. “Roooooooound three.”
Thrilled by the excitement, Jack swung his arm in a circle like Elvis Presley at Las Vegas. He jumped onto a table to gain a vantage point. Enraged, I stood erect and blasted him off his perch sending him crashing into the walls. Joab advanced with fire dancing from his widespread arms. Once again we were face-to-face, our bodies shaking with the force of holding each other at bay. The energy collisions elevated us to the rafters above the audience who gasped in delight.
Joab’s brown eyes clouded with bitterness and the painful memories Annie so cruelly evoked.
“Joab, what did I do to you?”
He looked at me with hate. “If you are her, you would know. Violet made me the man I am today, broken and twisted. The life I have lived, the things I have seen, the awful things I have done are all because of her. She made me trust her. I did everything she asked. She teased me into loving her then she cast me aside for Tom like I was nothing.” Tears were forming in his eyes.
“Joab, I regret everything. I am so sorry for the way I treated you. I am so, so sorry for destroying your life. I am different now. I don’t love Tom…please, Joab, don’t let them make us destroy each other when we have just found each other.”
I reached to touch his face. He looked away. I gripped his arm.
“Wake up, Joab. I don’t know the man you say you became, whatever terrible things you did. I remember the boy who made me laugh until my stomach hurt, the adventures we had to together like when we broke into the air shelter. The boy whose eyes shone whenever he dreamed of flying a plane. The crazy dance moves. The heroic boy who saved the lives of those he loved, even if it cost him his dreams. Don’t let the darkness of the past destroy your soul. Tomorrow is a new day. You can be the man you always dreamed you would be.”
The Haunting of Violet Gray Page 16