A Witch in Love (35 page)

‘And the other?’ I whispered. ‘The person they take it from?’

‘Yes. They often die too.’ Em said. She put her head in her hands. ‘They go into shock.’

‘Who … ?’ I stopped. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Emmaline spoke. Her voice was a whisper.

‘Abe.’

‘Abe?’ I swung round in the bath to face her, water slopping over the sides to the floor. ‘
Abe?
Is he OK?’

‘Not really. Not at the moment. Your grandmother reckons he’ll recover.’

‘Oh God, Abe! But why? Why would he risk his life – for me?’

‘Why?’ Emmaline’s voice was weary and she refused to look at me. ‘For God’s sake, Anna, why do you think? Why did you risk your life for Seth? Why does anyone lay down their life?’

She got up, her back still turned, and draped the towel she was holding over a chair.

‘I’ll go now. Let you get out.’

The door clunked shut behind her. And I was left alone and bewildered.

I pulled the plug and watched the cloudy water swirl down the plughole, leaving a silt of filth and grit and blood in the bottom of the bath. Then I turned on the tap and soon not even that remained, not even that evidence of what I’d been through.

I looked down at my arm, at the spreading black bruise on my forearm where Seth had jabbed the needle in to save my life, and suddenly it all made sense – the storm, the sense of flooding power, of possibility. Abe … Abe had given me all that. He’d done more than just offer me his life – he’d offered me his power too.

I found I was crying, tears streaming down my cheeks. For a long time I just stood there in the steamy bathroom, weeping into my towel. Then I heard voices outside the door, and heard Maya’s voice through the wood.

‘Anna? Are you coming? We’ve got supper on the table.’

‘Come out, darling.’ My grandmother’s warm, rich tones. ‘We’re all longing to see you.’

I straightened, scrubbed at my face, unlocked the door, and walked out into their welcoming arms.

I wasn’t surprised to find that neither Seth nor Abe were there. The house had that indefinable sense of release when a place is inhabited solely by women. What was surprising was Maya and my grandmother’s new-found camaraderie. They sat and chatted like old friends over the kitchen table as I stuffed my face with stew and dumplings, clucked together over my injuries, and colluded in persuading me to larger and larger helpings of apple pie for pudding.

At last I laid down my spoon and said, ‘I want to see Abe.’

They exchanged a look, all three of them, and then Maya nodded.

‘OK. He’s at our place. Sienna’s over there with him. Well … you may as well know. She’s nursing him. He’s not very well.’

‘Because of the transfusion,’ I said; a statement, not a question, but Maya nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘But he will recover.’ My grandmother put her hand over mine. ‘He’s not in shock, which is the real danger. He’s just very weak. He gave more than was perhaps advisable. We rely on the donor to tell us when to stop, when they begin to feel weak, and he … well, he carried on perhaps a little too long.’

‘Oh, Abe.’ I put my head in my hands and Maya stroked my shoulder.

‘Darling, we’re not saying this to make you feel bad. It was his choice. But I just didn’t want you to go in there unprepared.’

‘And Seth?’ I asked. ‘Where’s Seth?’

Maya shook her head.

‘I don’t know. Maybe Emmaline does.’

But Emmaline didn’t.

‘Christ, witch. You look like shit,’ Abe said in a hoarse voice. ‘What did they do to you?’

I had to laugh, though it came out shakily. It was so exactly what I’d been thinking about him.

‘I was about to say the same thing to you.’

He shrugged.

‘Yeah, well. I’m just malingering.’ He coughed and then nodded at the open laptop propped on a footstool beside his makeshift bed. ‘It’s really just an elaborate excuse to work from home. I’ll be up and about tomorrow.’

I looked at him sceptically, not so sure. He was lying on the sofa, completely limp, and there were dark bruises under his eyes and shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. His normally olive skin was clay-coloured and even his snapping dark eyes were dull and lustreless.

‘Abe,’ I twisted my fingers, ‘Abe how can I ever … I mean, I owe you—’

‘Anna, leave it.’ He cut me off uncomfortably. ‘Don’t make this into a big deal.’

‘But it
is
a big deal. You saved my life – you and Seth.’

I knew straight away the coupling of their names was a mistake. His face twisted in disgust and he looked away, out of the window.

‘Yeah, well,’ he said distantly, ‘I’ll leave the white charger and the shining armour to him, thanks. Look, it worked; you’re alive; I’m pleased. I’ll be good as new in a few weeks; there’s nothing to owe. Can we leave it at that and forget it?’

‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘Sure. Consider it forgotten.’

But of course that wasn’t true. Even after Abe’s strength and magic came back, it would always be there – this huge thing between us. Abe was part of me now – I’d felt his magic pulse through my body. There was no going back from that.

He softened and pulled me down beside him on the sofa, tracing his fingers over the half-healed welts on my wrists and then tilting my chin gently to angle my face to the light. I heard his breath catch in his throat as the sunshine lit the cuts and sores, illuminating them to full effect. Then he swore very quietly and looked away.

‘Anna, what did they … what … ?’ He broke off.

‘A bridle,’ I said shortly. ‘A witch’s bridle. And manacles on my hands. Don’t worry, they didn’t torture me or anything.’

Well, not unless you counted drugging, electrocution and imprisonment as torture. But I guessed the kind of thing Abe was thinking of. At least I could be thankful I’d escaped that.

‘No?’ He tilted my face to his again and looked at me. ‘Are you sure? You wouldn’t – you know – be
brave
about this?’ Hide things, I suppose he meant. Try to protect people from the truth of what had gone on.

‘I’m sure,’ I said. I met his eyes and he must have seen that I meant it, for he let go and nodded. I managed a laugh. ‘They barely spoke to me, in fact – I think they were so terrified I’d turn them into toads. So no, no torture or interrogation. Just lots of drugs and not a lot of food.’

‘You’ve lost weight,’ he said, sounding like a pernickety great-aunt. ‘It doesn’t suit you. You’re too thin. I can see your hip bones, for goodness’ sake.’

‘So are you,’ I retorted, hitching up my jeans crossly to cover the offending bones. ‘Your cheeks are hollow. You look cadaverous.’

‘Nonsense, I look distinguished. It’s my Kafka look.’

‘Kafka? That’s your style icon?’ I snorted. ‘I think you can do better.’

He laughed and then hit me gently on the arm, and I pursed my lips and pretended to sulk.

‘So, be honest, was it cool?’ he asked slyly.

‘Was what cool?’

‘Having my magic instead of yours. I hope you made the most of it. I’m curious – was it different?’

‘It kind of was,’ I said slowly, trying to think back. ‘It was the weirdest thing, because you know what I did to get us out of there?’

‘No, tell me.’

‘A wind. A whirlwind.’

Abe nodded slowly, and then shrugged.

‘Well, I’ve always been good with the weather.’

‘And so was I – just for a bit. It was kind of amazing actually. I felt … strong. Practised. I just
knew
the storm would obey me. It’s never been like that before.’

‘Anna.’ Abe’s hand gripped my arm. ‘You could have that, you know. You just need to trust yourself. Look at what you’ve done – there’re plenty of witches who’d give their right arm for your power. You don’t need mine or anyone else’s. You just need to let it out.’

‘I know.’ I looked down at my hands. ‘I know. I let myself in for this and dragged you down with me. It was my fault. If I’d taken your advice, yours and Em’s, and practised – learnt how to defend myself—’

‘That’s not what I’m saying; I’m not blaming you.’ He heaved himself painfully up on one elbow. ‘I’m just saying …’

He stopped. His face was grey and tired and for a minute I thought he was going to faint.

‘Yes?’ I asked.

‘I’m just saying,’ he said wearily, ‘you don’t have to choose. Between love and magic. You could have both.’ He looked me in the eyes and my heart skipped a beat. ‘There are people who could give you both.’

I found my throat was dry and my heart was beating painfully. I don’t know what I would have said – but at that moment Sienna came in. She looked from me, to Abe’s gaunt, grey face, and shook her head.

‘Anna, you need to go home and rest. You look dreadful. And Abe, you
need
to sleep. No buts!’ she added crossly, as if this was an argument they’d had before. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I’m taking away your laptop and if I get any more gyp I’m going to put powdered Valium in your coffee.’

I shuddered. It was a little too close to the bone for comfort. Abe saw it and put out his hand.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s over. Go on. Go home and rest.’

But I couldn’t go home, not yet. I had to see Seth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I
 found him right where he always was these days. Down at the quay, working on the
Angel
.

He was stripped to the waist and the sight made me shiver, in spite of the thin spring sunshine. I was wearing two layers and still had goosebumps. But Seth was bent over, sanding something furiously so that the dust flew, and as I watched he straightened and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his balled-up T-shirt, and then rubbed his eyes as if he was very tired.

‘Seth,’ I said. He didn’t hear me at first, and then he turned around and something in his face changed.

‘Anna.’

‘Seth, I—’ I moved towards him but he took a step back.

‘Just a sec, I’m all sweaty and covered in varnish and crap. Just let me …’ He picked up a bucket and leant over the side to pour the contents over his head and shoulders, rubbing off the dust and dirt with his T-shirt. It made me feel cold just to watch, but Seth shook himself like a dog and then disappeared inside the boat’s cabin.

Taking a deep breath, I jumped the gap between the boat and the quay and ducked my head to follow him. He was standing in the middle of the small cabin pulling a fresh T-shirt over his head, and my heart thumped painfully at the sight of him struggling to get it on. He looked peculiarly vulnerable and endearing with his face concealed; just his long, lean belly sticking out the bottom of the T-shirt and a shock of dark hair sticking out the neck hole. Then, with a wrench, he dragged it over his head and his face appeared again and he was my Seth. Tired and damp, but my Seth.

‘Seth—’ I started, but he held up a hand.

‘Wait, listen, before we talk about anything else I just wanted to say – it wasn’t Grandad. Who turned you in to the Malleus, I mean. I’m sure of it. I asked him outright and he hadn’t a clue what I was on about. He’s an old bastard but I don’t think he’d lie.’ I opened my mouth to try to speak, but Seth ploughed on. ‘He’d be more likely to boast about it. And in fact he was the one who told me where to find the leaders – and if he had anything to hide there’s no way he would have done that. He’d have wanted me as far as possible from them if he knew what was going on—’

‘Hang on, hang on.’ I’d been trying to interrupt his flow of explanations and finally he stopped. ‘It’s OK. I know it wasn’t Bran.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. It wasn’t him turned me in.’

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized what a mistake I’d made. At the same moment Seth realized too and pounced.

‘So you
know
who it was? Who?’

Oh God. I stared at him for a moment, trying to work out what to do.

‘
Who?
’ He took a step forwards, fists clenched. I knew he’d never hurt me, but his still fury frightened me.

‘WHO?’ he shouted, and I flinched. He banged the counter with one fist. ‘For God’s sake, Anna, I’ve got as much of a right to know as you have. I nearly died there too, you know. Or doesn’t that mean anything?’

‘Of course it means something!’ I cried, stung into retort. ‘How can you say that?’

‘Then who? They were getting revenge on me as much as on you. And if you won’t tell me, presumably it’s someone we know, is that right? Come on – who? Matt? Chris Meeks? Angelica?’ He began reeling off names at random – friends, colleagues from the pub, fishermen down the docks. I shut my eyes as the realization struck home. If I didn’t tell him, he’d always wonder which of his friends had betrayed him.

‘It was Caroline,’ I said at last. For a minute I thought Seth hadn’t heard. Then I realized he was simply too angry to speak, or even respond. For a moment he just stood there and I could see a vein throbbing in his throat.