She motioned towards me, and my breath shortened. I stumbled into the stairs and clambered back up them.
Violet’s head cocked at a slight angle. Her ghostly face and jagged movements were terrifying. Her mouth moved quickly. She uttered a magical summons. “I revoke the magic I once bestowed.”
Tom and Joab watched, white with shock.
“Violet, she is real. She is flesh and blood. Cat is your sister, your family,” Tom begged.
I reached the top step; she was close behind me.
“Tsst,” she hissed dismissively. “I have been trapped in that godawful place too bloody long. I am not willing to share my place in the real world or live like an ordinary mortal with my spare.” She repeated the spell.
I couldn’t believe it. Everything I had done, everything I had become, and Violet just planned to destroy me once she was free. I looked at Joab and Tom, pleading them with my eyes, and then stared icily at my creator. I looked once more at the knife; if I could distract her, I could grab it. Violet caught my line of vision and swiped the knife from the table. I whispered my words to summon the goddess, and with it my power. The air swirled around us.
Violet’s eyebrows rose and she pursed her lips. “It seems I created my very own out of control monster, just like Frankenstein. Good work, Cat, keep going. That way I can absorb my power back quicker. I promise a quick end afterwards, and you won’t feel a thing, sweet pea, then everything will be back to normal. I am after all so grateful for everything you have done.”
I backed away, up the remaining steps. She advanced. I backed through the kitchen door and raced through the library and back to the glass room. I saw the crack in the window had expanded. Violet repeated the words. I looked for a way out. I glimpsed the copse of trees at the back of the house that sheltered my car. If I could make it there, I could get away, perhaps back to Dinah’s and work out what to do. The ancient witch edged closer to me. Her words were weakening me.
Joab pleaded, “Violet don’t do this. You don’t have to. Start afresh up north maybe, France even. You don’t need your power. I can go with you or Tom if you prefer.”
“Go back into hiding after all those years of prison stuck in a house, with no one to talk to? I can’t, Joab. Besides, I need my power for revenge. Those shadows, those dark lords, that damn organisation of Erubus think they are untouchable. They left me alone. On my own with silence, so much silence, the sound of my breath began to drive me crazy. Nobody, nothing, emptiness. Just this bloody house. Then all my dark deeds replayed again and again and again.”
Violet had a nervous tick in her eye that spread to her neck. Her eyes wouldn’t focus. They drifted back into memory and left the present. She began banging her head with the heel of her hand. She had been driven mad in her isolation. I wondered if I could talk her round, but she seemed too far gone to rationalise. Her words intensified as she pushed harder to pull the power from me.
Joab looked afraid; Tom was reaching to soothe her. I edged further away from Violet, scanning for escape opportunities. Suddenly Joab grabbed a heavy dining chair and hurled it at the crack in the window. It shattered into billions of tiny crystals. Juniper grabbed my hand. “Jump!” she yelled.
We jumped through without hesitation. I grimaced with pain as shards of glass ripped my skin.
I looked back to see Tom pulling the sobbing wreck of Violet to the floor in a comforting but restraining embrace. I got to my car. It was locked of course. The keys were hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Puffing, Juniper and Joab appeared and threw the keys at me, and we jumped in. The engine sputtered and died. I tried again. Nothing. “Come on!” I shouted desperately. I tried again. It spluttered and whined as I repeatedly turned the key, then it rumbled into life. I reversed out, squealing as I turned. I backed full pelt into the oak tree , and the engine crunched then silenced.
“Stop,” Joab said calmly. “That Violet in there is not the girl I knew.”
“She is a bloody nut job. From your description I thought she was some kind of goddess,” Juniper exclaimed.
“She scared the hell out of me, but she has crumpled into a sobbing mess, and she is powerless. The spell she was reciting will not work without her power and the support of the goddess. Give her time; I expect Tom will talk her round. He is going to get her out of here, for now, take her away. The best thing we can do is get back to the party and keep Annie there as long as possible while Tom sorts out the mess.”
CHAPTER 23
I was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Everything hurt. I almost forgot that half of my hair was burnt off.
“How can I go to a party now?” I sobbed. Joab opened my car door and scooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the back of the car. “Juniper, thank you for everything. I will explain. I promise. Get back to the party. We’ll be there soon. Tell them I had too much to drink and you broke up a fight between Tom and I. Tell them I am cooling off and I will be there soon.”
Juniper looked at us warily and bit her lip. “This is going to end badly, Joab, whatever you are playing at. I have got your back for now.”
Joab staggered down the winding garden and out of a swirling iron gate. He carried me through a path until we got to the old church I explored a lifetime ago when I first came to the village.
He gently placed me down on the bench and tried the heavy church door. It creaked open. Joab emerged a few minutes later with a bottle of water, a brush, a first aid box and some dodgy looking red wine.
“We have a very efficient, well-prepared lady vicar in the village. She is away this week, and I am sure she won’t mind or even notice if we borrow a few things.” Joab dabbed my face with a cool damp cloth, which he gave me to hold over my injury before he worked gently on my legs wiping off the blood with a sterile wipe which stung like hell. He checked for any glass which miraculously managed to avoid embedding itself in me. “Drink this.” Joab thrust the wine into my hand.
“Is that holy wine?”
Joab grinned and shrugged. “Yes, but it should still do the job. Drink it.”
He put wadding on the cuts and wrapped them expertly with bandages. He moved to my hair and gently pulled the brush through it. There was enough left to pull back into a ponytail. As he smoothed the last few stray hairs from my face, his eyes met mine. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles and looked at me earnestly. “Cat, you were something else tonight. You were amazing. You are amazing. Let us start from scratch, cards on the table, no lies, no deceit. I know you came from Violet, but you are a completely new person. I will do my best to let my past stay in the past. Please let us start again.”
“I have no fight left for now, Joab. You are safe. I need a friend. That is it. Clean slates. Agreed.”
“Do you think you can walk? We need to get down to the party and prevent Annie from heading up to the house for a while.”
I winced and carefully placed a foot on the floor. “I am so glad I wore boots not those ridiculous shoes you expected me to wear!”
I leaned on Joab as we set off towards the barn. I could see figures sitting around the bonfire in the courtyard behind the barn. Some couples were dozing, others kissing. Small groups were smoking weed. Someone was playing the guitar softly. Annie got up.
“I am glad to see you two are friends after what we put you through. I am sorry it was horrible, but you have to understand, there is so much at stake if we got you wrong. Violet, please forgive me. The whole theatre bit was necessary to entertain the crowd.” Annie opened her arms to me like an aunt or long lost sister.
I looked at her. “Annie, I can’t forgive you. You were going to kill me.”
“I would never have killed you. What do you take me for? It was all show. I knew right away you were Violet. I promised a show, so that’s what they got. I chose Joab to fight you because I knew he wouldn’t kill you.”
I knew I had to befriend Annie if I was to be accepted and trusted fully. I didn’t know if the threats Violet spoke of were real. Was it her insa
nity imagining all sorts of irrational stories? I needed to learn Annie and Violet’s secrets, and if I had to stop them from carrying out their plans to save lives, then that is what I was going to do.
I allowed the woman, who was threatening to cut out my heart earlier, to hug me. “You have a huge amount of grovelling before I can begin considering any form of forgiveness. I don’t suppose you could magic up a drink for me?”
“Of course. Wine? Cider?”
“Something hot. Tea?” I begged.
“I will make you a chai tea. It is perfect for a morning like this. Then we will talk.” Annie disappeared.
“Tom texted me,” Joab whispered. “He has given Violet some herbs to calm her, she has bathed, and he has done his best to sort out the mess. I have to tell Annie about the window. I will think of something. But he will be ready to leave in about an hour, so we need to stall Annie until then.”
Annie appeared with a steaming cup of tea and a chocolate twist pastry.
“Oh, that looks so good,” I said appreciatively, suddenly feeling ravenous.
I took a bite of the pastry and turned to Annie,“You can start by filling me in on everything that has happened since the Lammas ritual in 1940 to this morning.”
“Now?” She looked surprised. “How about we all head home, have some sleep and talk later? I for one am exhausted.”
“Please, Annie, now that I am back, I want to catch up on everything I have missed.” I hoped I was convincing, as all I wanted was sleep.
“OK…where to start?” Annie began telling the story of the night of the ritual and how I was trapped in the prison dimension.
Joab received another text from Tom. They had gone. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Joab turned to Annie. “I am sorry, Annie. I think I should take Violet home. She is exhausted. Look, there’s something I need to tell you. I kind of lost my temper after the fight, then I ran into Tom who wound me up. You know how it is between us. Well, he followed me to the house, and we fought. We did our best to tidy up, but the window in the dining room cracked then I accidentally threw a chair and…”
“Not my beautiful glass wall. You sort it. And pay for it. I will check into a hotel at your expense. Call me when the house is back to normal. Then we will start to move things forward. Christ, Joab, after all these years, I thought you would have learnt to control your temper. Ca…Violet, I think he is right. You are exhausted. Get to bed.” She kissed me on the cheek.
Joab propped me up as we walked up the lane through the early morning mist listening to the bird’s dawn chorus. In the distance, I could hear the cows at the farm at the end of the lane mooing for their breakfast.
We stumbled through the door and up the stairs. Joab pulled back the covers and carefully removed my boots, leaving my socks in place, and tucked me in tenderly. He kissed me on my forehead and went to leave.
“Please, stay with me,” I said, surprising myself.
Joab curled up next to me, enveloping me in his arms. I slept.
CHAPTER 24
August 1, 1940
(Lammas, the night of the ritual)
The night was still and unseasonably cold, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, revealing millions of stars that would be the only witnesses to the magic to come.
Witches of every age filed through the trees to the clearing beside the Rufus Stone, which marks the site of the murder of a king nine hundred years before. The mood was sombre and heavy with fear. There was a sense of finality.
Joe queued with his parents. He nodded to Aunt Emily and Dorothy from Joe’s coven, who clutched their handbags in front of them. Their knuckles were white with anxiety. They passed through to the clearing and collected a bucket of water, some soap and cloth along with a white gown. Joe took a card printed with number three. His mum was two hundred and thirty-five, and his father was two hundred and thirty-six. The numbers indicated positions in the circle. Number one was the high priest; number two the sacrifice; number three, the element of fire; number four, air; number five, earth and number six was water. Families were scattered around yellow gorse bushes and trees, awkwardly and self-consciously washing their bodies with cold water and clean rags. They smeared themselves with ointment if they could afford it or had the skills to make it, as many of the hedgerow witches had, or with lard for those making do.
They were slipping the white gowns over their heads and helping their partners or children to tie them at the back before neatly folding their clothes and placing them next to their belongings. To stay “pure” they were forbidden to eat, let alone drink or smoke anything, which Joe badly wanted to do. There was a small marquee draped with bunting and fairy lights. Banners reading Victory to Witches hung on the canvas walls. The tables were heavy with sandwiches, cakes and early season apples and blackberries. Who knows where Granville and Crawley got everything from? There were also kegs of beer, cider and wine and jugs of homemade lemonade.
The witches spoke in low voices waiting nervously for their instruction. The little man with his tuft of white hair shuffled from the tent in his white gown. Crawley was noticeably absent.
Granville climbed onto a crate, assisted by the unmistakable Violet. Her hair was flowing freely down her back, her skin white and devoid of gloss or rouge. She looked like the same frightened girl in her nightdress Joe had cruelly rejected in his rage only last night. Granville, positioned precariously on his rickety stage, was spotlighted by Tom, who shone a torch on the thin, odd-looking man. It revealed a lot more through the light cotton than most were ready to see at that point of the evening.
Granville cleared his throat and spoke through a tin megaphone. “Welcome, welcome, dear brothers and sisters. Tonight, we make history. Firstly this is the biggest gathering of witches this country has seen, even bigger than the grand coven gathered by Francis Drake when he defeated the Spanish Armada. This is a monumental moment we can tell our children and grandchildren about in years to come. We stand united below this beautiful blanket of stars; we can seek comfort from the moon goddess as we bathe in her buttery rays on this night of magic. Shortly the dance will begin, and the men will be cleansed at the altar by their woman.” Granville directed his audience to look at the trestle table, which was draped with a black cloth and adorned with the paraphernalia for the ritual. “We shall take our positions on the chalked circles on this sacred site; you will position yourself next to your allocated number then the ritual will commence. I wish you well. May the goddess protect us all.”
Granville stepped cautiously from his platform and embraced Archie. His expression seemed to be one of excitement and delight rather than the dread Joe imagined he would feel before his pending sacrifice.
A gentle breeze fluttered through the trees as if breathing life into the ancient woodland. A single drumbeat resonated through the forest creating a pulse as nature awoke ready to join the fight. An ethereal song of a solitary voice, which could have been that of a wood elf or fairy, seemed to flutter through the green leaves of the beech and oak trees. It rained into the souls gathered below, teasing emotion from the most hardened constitutions.
Joe was surprised to see tears trickling down the rugged vein-splattered cheeks of his mum, an unshakable woman, without an ounce of sentiment. Joe’s pop gently held her in his broad, sun-baked, manual labourer arms. It was a moment of tenderness he had never seen before in the pair, who usually barked orders at each other, rather than talk.
Other voices joined the song. Harmonies urged bodies to move and swirl together like wispy clouds in their billowing gowns. Lanterns and candles glowed on the branches of the trees. The aroma of incense wove through the night. The oaks, beeches and sweet chestnut trees, planted by a long-dead king, merely for hunting deer for pleasure, became an enchanted forest.
Magic simmered from the mystical beings who danced within the circle that had been cast by Granville, acting as high priest. The drumbeat accelerated, and the song grew louder as the bodies spun and twirled. Wome
n undressed their men and bound their hands behind their backs according to the ritual demands. They sank to their knees at the altar and uttered magical words as they were scourged and cleansed with sacred water. When their hands were released, they joined their women to dance naked in the moonlight, unashamed and swathed only in love and the enchantment of ritual.
Joe felt a presence behind his back and felt cold hands lightly touch his body. His gown was lifted above his head and discarded. He knew it was Violet even without her perfumed scent, cleansed for the ritual. She sang the song like a mystical siren and bound his hands, lacing his wrists together with cord. When she pushed Joe to his knees, he could feel her naked body brush his. His heartbeat hastened along with his breath. She uttered these words to the goddess: “Cleanse this man of his impurity.” She lifted Joe to his feet and turned him around. She looked like a marble statue of Venus, but her eyes sparkled with life. She kissed Joe and laced her fingers through his. They joined the dance together.
The whole world disappeared as she lifted his hands above his head and pulled them down around her body. The drumbeat seemed to change to meet his heartbeat. Joe couldn’t help but sway and move with her. The beat grew more urgent, and they became like wild animals, jumping and writhing and circling each other. Her long arms painted elegant shapes which hypnotised him, urging him closer to her. Joe felt the power of the earth under his bare feet enter his body and coil around his legs, like the roots of a tree, claiming him.
The cool air drifted into his lungs and through the pores of his skin, and he became part of the sky and the breeze.
Water from an unexpected shower of rain washed into Joe’s eyes and mouth. He was no longer a mortal human but a part of nature. Fire in the torches and lanterns seemed to erupt, responding to energy from bodies caught up in the hysteria of the dance. Joe could feel fire rising from his core; he was close to the point of elation when Violet led him to his position in the centre of the circle. Their nakedness was forgotten, clothed in the moonlight from the goddess.
The Haunting of Violet Gray Page 20