A Witch Alone (The Winter Witch Trilogy #3) (14 page)

‘I’m OK,’ he said, though his voice didn’t sound it. ‘But your grandmother asked me to call – she wanted you to know that she hadn’t forgotten her promise, but she couldn’t get away. She sends her love, she’s sorry she can’t talk to you at the moment but she’s very – they’re all very busy. Trying to sort things out.’

‘What – what
happened
?’

There was a pause, as if Marcus was weighing up what he could say, and then he sighed. ‘You may as well know the worst. There’s no sense in hiding it now. The Neckinger has broken free.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, I keep forgetting – you wouldn’t know.’ He drew another deep breath and I could feel his intense fatigue, even at a distance of a hundred or more miles. ‘The Ealdwitan headquarters draws its power from the lost underground rivers – did you know that?’

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see me, but he continued, ‘The rivers each have a spirit – a demon we call them when they’re chained. They’re very old spirits, older than witches or men, and very powerful. It’s part of the role of the Chairs; they each control a demon, keep it bound, keep its power and will tied to the foundations of the headquarters. My father’s death gave the Neckinger the chance to get free.’

‘And?’

‘It was always a black river – one of the hardest to chain. Now it’s free, there have been collapses all throughout south London. The tap water is running red, like the Thames, and it tastes of blood. Water’s spraying up through the foundations of buildings, cracking the street tarmac. Underground warehouses and car parks have been flooded—’

I closed my eyes, imagining the blood-soaked streets.

‘The remaining Chairs are trying to contain it. It’s our fault after all – a thousand years of servitude builds a powerful resentment.’

‘But what will happen? Can it be recaptured?’

‘In theory – yes. But with so few Chairs … That’s why your grandmother couldn’t take time to call.’

‘And you –’ I hardly dared ask, but I needed to know ‘– will you become Chair now, Marcus, in your father’s place?’

‘I don’t know.’ I heard a rasping sound at the other end and guessed that he was wearily rubbing his unshaven face. ‘It depends on my father’s will – and we haven’t found it. Everything is in limbo until then.’

‘Marcus, you sound dead on your feet.’

‘I’m …’ he stopped. I felt his despair as if he were standing next to me. ‘I’m very tired. I’m very, very tired. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Go to bed,’ I said.

I wanted to say, ‘It’ll all be better in the morning,’ but that wasn’t true. Nothing would be better. His father would still be dead. We would still be under attack from a strange, faceless enemy.

‘Go to bed,’ I repeated, hopelessly. There was silence on the other end of the line and then I heard his breath shudder.

‘Goodnight, Anna.’

‘Goodnight, Marcus.’

The phone clicked.

M
aya’s kitchen was a warm fug of hot tea, hot cake, and hot beeswax. She was standing at the kitchen stove, dipping candle-wicks into a vat of melted beeswax. Abe was sitting at one end of the table, frowning over Emmaline’s laptop. Emmaline, Simon and I were at the other end, looking at the bloodied fragment of paper I’d taken from Caradoc’s dead hand.

I hadn’t wanted to bring the poem round to Maya’s – even such a small scrap seemed tainted by the deaths it had caused. But, as Emmaline had pointed out, there was safety in numbers. As long as only one or two people had read it, they were vulnerable to the same fate as Caradoc. But whoever was behind this couldn’t very well pick off the entire Peller family, plus in-laws. According to Em, anyway. I hoped she was right.

We sat in silence, staring at the lines of writing, and listening to the drip, drip of wax falling back into the pot and Maya’s slow, purposeful movements as she dipped the wicks, patiently building up layer after layer.

‘I can see why it gave Anna’s mother the shivers,’ Simon said at last.

‘Child of the rook, I got that,’ I said bleakly. ‘It’s me, right? Rokewood comes from Rook.’

‘I’d say so. And were you born on the Feast of Kings?’

‘I’ve no idea. Is that a festival?’

‘Yes, also known as the Epiphany. Hence the title given to the original document, I presume. It’s celebrated on the sixth of January by western churches.’

Something cold trickled up and down my neck. So that was why my mother had changed my date of birth. Not just to hide my identity, but to obscure the link with the riddle.

‘Yes,’ I said in a low voice. ‘Yes, I was.’

Simon turned away from me to look again at the scan on Emmaline’s laptop. Abe had spent an hour on Photoshop, sharpening up the image and increasing the contrast in an attempt to get the writing to show through, but nothing had worked.

‘It’s definitely the same piece, isn’t it?’ Simon asked Abe.

Abe nodded. ‘Yes, the first few lines are showing through – you can see the word “Kings” quite clearly and something about fowl on the next line. But further down the page it’s still too faint to see.’

‘Anna, can I forward this to myself at work?’ Simon asked. ‘I’d like to show it to a couple of people at the university. It’s possible they could get more out of it than we can.’

‘Sure,’ I said, at the same time as Abe said, ‘D’you have to?’

‘What’s the problem?’ Simon asked, looking from me to Abe and then back again.

‘Well, I’d say it’s fairly obvious,’ Abe said impatiently. ‘Anna’s mother went to great lengths to keep this hidden. She may have had a reason for that. Don’t you think?’

‘I think it’s gone beyond that, Abe,’ Maya said. ‘
Someone
clearly knows about this – they’ve already made the connection to Anna, so the damage is done. Now the secrecy isn’t protecting Anna any more, it’s a danger to her. And to us, if it comes to that.’

‘I agree,’ I said. ‘And it’s my email, so I think I get the final say.’

‘I know what you’re doing.’ Abe turned to me angrily. ‘You think you’re protecting the rest of us at a cost to yourself. If we keep it a secret then we’re in more danger from whoever is picking people off. If we tell lots of people then
you
may be in more danger, but we’re safer. Well I’m sorry, but I’m not going to save my own skin at a cost to yours.’

‘Who’s to say my mother was right, Abe? Maybe she had it wrong altogether. Maybe she had her own agenda!’

‘Like what!’ Abe’s face was frankly disbelieving.

‘She ran away. Don’t you think that’s kind of worrying? What if—’

‘She did it to protect you!’ Abe cried. ‘Can’t you see that?’

‘We don’t know that. We don’t know anything for sure. No.’ I was suddenly coldly, flatly certain that this was right. ‘I’m fed up with secrecy and hiding. It’d be better to know. Anything would be better than this – this looking over my shoulder all the time.’ I leaned across the table, clicked forward on the email, and typed in Simon’s university address. Then I pressed send.

Simon stood up and picked up his coat.

‘Thanks, Anna. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Your mother clearly wanted to protect you while you were too young to fight, but I think her plan B was always to arm you to defend yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, her protections only extended so far, didn’t they? She must have known you’d move out of Notting Hill eventually. And she deliberately limited the curb on your dad’s tongue to let him give you his side of events when you turned eighteen. I think she saw this coming, or saw that it was a possibility at least. She was never trying to keep this under wraps for ever – she knew she couldn’t. All she was trying to do was give you enough time to grow into your powers. Enough time to fight back.’

He shrugged himself into his coat and added, ‘I’m sorry I have to run off. But I’m supposed to be at the hospital with Sienna in half an hour.’

‘Hospital?’ I said in surprise. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Wrong? No. Quite the reverse.’ Simon’s face was suddenly pink above his black beard, a rosy blush tingeing his cheeks. ‘We’re – well, she is – having a baby.’

‘Oh, Simon!’ I felt my mouth spread into a huge, wide, involuntary beam. ‘I’m so pleased!’

Impetuously, I flung my arms around him and he laughed and squeezed me back.

‘Thank you. We’re pleased too. Obviously. Anyway I must run or I’ll be late for the scan. Do you want a lift? It’s not too far out of my way.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Abe said abruptly. ‘I’ll drop her.’

‘No, don’t be silly, it’s nearer my route than yours.’

‘I said, I’ll drop her. Sienna will perform a blunt-spoon vasectomy if you’re late for the scan, and I’m assuming you want more kids, so leave Anna with me.’

‘Fine!’ Simon threw up his hands. ‘Good Lord, far be it from me to try to do anyone a good turn around here. Goodbye all.’ He kissed around the group and then left, and Abe picked up his keys.

‘Coming?’

‘D’you know what?’ Em said. ‘I’m going to
walk
Anna. Since she is
my
friend and all. Bye, Abe.’

And she seized my arm and pulled me out of the flat and down the stairs.

Out in the street, the air was blustery, the wind riffling our hair and plucking at our clothes. Emmaline set a brisk pace that had me struggling to keep up. As we turned the corner down to the harbour she gave me a look, not quite hostile, but something close to it.

‘What?’ I asked. Then, as the silence stretched out, ‘
What?
’

Emmaline only shook her head and we continued in silence down past the quay. But then, as we began the climb up the coast road, she suddenly burst out, ‘What’s going on with you and Abe?’

‘Me and Abe?’ I was startled. ‘Nothing!’

‘Well what happened on that Friday then?’

‘Friday?’ I struggled to cast my mind back. ‘Which Friday?’

‘Couple of weeks ago. He turned up at ours in a weird bloody mood – said you’d broken his nose. And then, when Sienna asked how, he snapped that he was sick of the sound of your name. Then he got disgustingly drunk and Simon had to drive him home.’

‘Oh.’ I remembered our fight in the barn. It seemed like a hundred years ago. Then I thought of the kiss and my cheeks flamed scarlet. ‘Nothing. Nothing happened.’

Em gave me a look.

‘Nothing, really? Is that why you’re impersonating a tomato? Come on, Anna. I’m not ten. Neither is Abe.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I mean, that you can act like he’s the brother you never had and all that bollocks, but he’s not. He’s—’

She broke off.

‘He’s what?’

‘He’s not your brother. He’s … Oh, you know what I’m talking about. Stop acting like a nun. Look, you and he want very different things, and I think you’re being—’

‘What?’ I was angry now, really angry, though I wasn’t sure if I was cross with Em, or with myself. ‘Why is it always the girl’s fault? He knows what I want. I’ve been completely honest with him.’

‘And you know what he wants,’ Em said shortly. ‘So try being honest with yourself.’

‘He’s not …’ I pressed my hands to my eyes. ‘It’s not
like
that. But …’ My cheeks flamed again and I was suddenly unsure how to talk about this – this unbearably, achingly intimate thing Abe had done. ‘Ever since he gave me his magic – you know … It’s been … there’s something. I can’t explain it.’

‘There was something long before that,’ Em said. ‘And if you really
were
being honest with yourself, you’d admit it.’

‘There wasn’t.’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘Not for me anyway. It was always Seth.’

But Seth wasn’t here now. The fish-hook in my heart twisted.

Emmaline didn’t answer. We walked on, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the sound of the keening wind and the sea.

‘C
an I speak to you for a moment, Anna?’

I looked up from shoving books into my bag, startled.

‘Me, Ms Wright?’

‘You are the only Anna in the class, yes,’ Ms Wright said dryly.

Emmaline gave me a slightly alarmed look and I shrugged. Ms Wright perched on the edge of her desk as the class filed out, tapping her heel on the lino. Emmaline was the last to leave, reluctantly trailing out of the door and, as she did so, Ms Wright edged it shut with her elbow and came over to where I sat.

‘Anna, is everything OK?’

‘Have you been talking to Mrs Finch?’

‘Yes, actually. And Mr Henderson. They’re both concerned.’

I didn’t say anything – I couldn’t think what to say. Ms Wright pulled up a chair.

‘Look, I know you’ve had a tough term, what with Seth leaving—’

‘You don’t understand.’ My throat was suddenly tight and sore and it was hard to speak.

‘I know it’s impossible to believe at your age, but I do, I really do. I may be pushing thirty, but I remember my first break up like it was yesterday and how completely agonising it was. I understand what you’re going through – but you
can’t
throw away all your hard work.’

Throw it away? I looked at her, my face stony, and she bit her lip.

‘OK, maybe throwing it away is a bit unfair – but you were set for As across the board a few months ago. Now, if you scrape Cs and Ds it’ll be solely on the marks from your earlier modules. Your last essay was a shambles and in class you look like you’re barely here. You’re going to end up in resits at this rate. Is that what you want – to lose out on university and spend a year packing fish and doing retakes?’

I sat in silence. There was nothing I could say. Nothing she’d believe, anyway. She looked at me, her eyes full of mute exasperation.

‘Is there something wrong at home? Or something else? Whatever it is, please talk to someone. Me if you like – or your dad. Or your GP, maybe. Whatever’s going on, it’s solveable, somehow. I promise it is. You don’t have to deal with it alone.’

I let my fingers close on the edge of the desk, my nails biting into the soft, frayed wood, and tried to tune out her attempt at understanding, her impossible, ignorant kindness. Since Seth left I’d had my magic under control – mainly – but I felt close to losing it now.

‘Anna,’ she said at last, her voice mixing sympathy with exasperation, ‘are you even listening? Do you realize how serious this is – what it means for your grades if you don’t pull things together? I just … I hate to see someone with your promise throwing it all away for the sake of some worthless bloke.’