“Joab!” I shouted up the stairs. “It’s for you.”
Joab appeared in his usual black jeans and T-shirt flashing his easy smile. The girl blushed when she saw him.
“I take it I’m sacked,” I said to Joab.
“Promoted. Now piss off and sort your hair out.” He laughed.
I crunched through the gravel. The crows croaked their usual taunts then erupted from the trees into the blue sky when I started the engine of the car, which roared into life. I called Dinah on my new phone.
“Hi, it’s me. I am going to pop into the shop. I had an accident while cleaning the oven. Nothing to worry about. I’m fine, but my hair isn’t. In fact, I have got a promotion with a company credit card. I thought we could go shopping. I have something to show Steve too. He is going to love it.”
CHAPTER 28
I sat in the scratchy gray chair in the pastoral care room at school. I promised Dinah I would see the term through at school even though it seemed utterly pointless. The door flew open, and the usual stressed-looking teacher came in, flushed with excitement.
“Oh, it is you. Cat, or should I call you Violet?”
“Whatever,” I said, flabbergasted.
“I don’t think we need these little chats anymore after all your future is rather paved in gold now.”
I was surprised by the sweaty and vigorous handshake.
“Well, I wish you luck.” The woman ushered me out the door.
The pastoral care teacher backed away. Paper and Biros tumbled from her overstuffed bag. She apologised and scurried away.
Bewildered I walked into a buzzing wall of glossy-haired girls who cooed a cacophony of “oh my gods,” like a bunch of crazed paparazzi. They snapped me, and I was Instagrammed and Tweeted like a celebrity. I pushed through them to the library and slipped into a seat and fired up a computer.
A mysterious guy I once had a crush on glanced at me and grinned. “Hey, witch girl.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. The boy had not spoken to me in the two years I had been in his tutor group.
“You are everywhere. Didn’t you know? The new face of Witch21. How did you get in at gold level too?”
“What?”
“You are the hottest face of the hottest club in the world right now. Everyone wants to get into the NFC. What you did with the fire and the wind or whatever it was, fucking awesome.”
“How did you know about that?” I asked suspiciously.
“Ever heard of Instagram? YouTube? Twitter? There were a million kids watching that gig where you did all that witchy shit; it is going to get out there. You are famous, babes. Check it
out.”
There was picture after picture of me at the Mabon feast. I watched my entry to the barn in my new dress with my hair blowing in the wind like I was in a cheesy music video. The fight was featured in a montage with music on YouTube. I was even in the national press and the gossip magazines. There were speculation headlines, one read:
“Who is the scorching redhead?”
“Oh my god.” I slumped back in my chair and speed dialled Annie. “Annie! What the f…”
“Oh, babes, you are a star. The party, your fight, your dress, your romance with Joab and your power. It has been the greatest PR we have ever had. You are now ‘the face’ of the modern witchcraft movement, or Witch21 as it is being dubbed. I have lined you up with an agent. You are going on the cover of the glossies, and you will be on TV, everywhere. Oh, you said you could cook, right? We might need you to bash out a cookbook too. Nothing groundbreaking, just food made out of avocado, healthy stuff with a few witchy herbs. Anyway, our numbers are going insane. We have already recruited ten times as many people as we need to perform the most powerful magic the world has seen, and it is all down to you. Violet Gray, welcome to the twenty-first century.”
Click. The silence created a void for the haunting dreams of Operation Cone of Power. The mass funeral pyre crept into my consciousness. I began to shake. This craziness was to recruit enough people to do it again, but bigger. So much death. An entire generation could be wiped out.
I looked at the people around me, fighting the confining cocoons of their adolescence, caught in their bubbles searching for their identities and purpose in the world. Excited kids, brandishing their New Forest Coven membership cards, even some peeling off plasters to reveal their new
tattoos or electronic chips they had injected into their skin.
They knew that to be someone in the school, you had to part of the club that everyone was talking about, or you were an outcast. A wave of gut-wrenching panic at the huge responsibility I faced swept over me. While they planned their futures, they were oblivious that their fate was in my hands.
“What have you done, Cat?” I said to the girl on the screen. I watched myself at the party and replayed it again and again.
I paused the video and glanced around the library and across the room. I looked at the nerds, the musos strumming guitars. The pretty girls did their makeup and Snapchatted, and the sporty ones chucked a rugby ball across the room making the girls squeal. Then I looked at the nasty girls, the ones that laughed at me, mocked me then ignored me and intimidated the rest of school to follow their example. Laura, the alpha of the pack, smiled and waved at me like a best friend. I reverted to my usual pose of hiding behind my hair, awkward with my new cropped hair. I pretended to be engrossed in my work on the computer rather than acknowledge her.
I played my footage again. I watched the power I radiated. I saw the adoration of my audience who were captivated entirely by me. Invisibility was no longer an option.
I was not like them. I was created, a shiny new person with no past to shape me. I was made by magic out of body parts and cast out into the world to die by my maker. I was part of a girl that officially died in 1940. Did I exist at all? Was I human? I was not shackled with the morals, emotions and obligations of a typical teenage girl. In that sense I was free.
But I did have a purpose, a full-blown leaden burden. I was born to be a saviour. First I was meant to save Violet and now this lot, a whole generation’s lives in my hands. That was a hell of a lot of responsibility for a newborn. After all, I wasn’t nurtured or taught how to live.
I replayed my fight on YouTube. I nearly died that day. I fought death, but I won. I knew I would face it again whether by Violet’s hands or Erubus.
I saw myself rise from the flames, a powerful witch. I was intelligent, and now I was connected, accepted. I had a limitless credit card and a massive, adoring army at my bidding.
I have been given a life, and I was going to live it. The future was mine to mould. But how? Would their angelic creation, born to save the world, turn out to be a monster refusing to risk her life for her generation?
Whatever I become, I am going to have a hell of a time finding out.
THANK YOU
All my love and thanks to my family for your, belief and inspiration. Mike for endless support, encouragement, tolerance and an awesome soundtrack. My mum who fueled my ripe imagination and brought me up to believe that if you work hard enough, anything is possible. And of course, for many rereads of my book and corrections of my drafts.
My big sister Samantha, showing that thousands of miles are no hurdle for proofreading and correcting my irritating grammar issues. My gorgeous friend, Jo for inspiring me by showing what you can achieve with determination, passion and imagination. Caroline for challenging me to beat her to 10,000 words. (Don’t want to gloat!) Thank you for encouraging me to continue after reading the first few chapters of my very early, rough first draft, and the several glasses of red wine which helped me muster the courage to reveal my first few pages. Bob for uncovering some exciting family history which influenced the characters of the period section of the story. The stories bequeathed to me by my formidable Grandmothers about their time in the war. Not forgetting my two little witches, the real magic in my life. My beautiful, funny, clever girls Matilda and Nancy. Thank you, ever
yone, in my life past and present who in some way has influenced my story.
Thank you to the many professionals at Reedsy.com who have helped me shape my story into a novel including the fantastic editors Roisin Heycock and Sandra Ogle. Mark Leslie Lefebvre for helping me develop my book into a business. Stu at Stu Rose Photography for beautiful photography, Caitlin for becoming Cat. Jim at Jim Smith design for a stunning cover. The professionals at fiverr,com for formatting, social media expertise and video and website editing Geek_tekneek. The fabulous Instagram community who have followed and supported my journey to publishing my book.
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