Witchcraft Page 7

  “Just the barn. An old hay barn. I had the strangest feeling we’d been there before but I don’t know when.”

  “Was it in the village? Was it one of the farms out by the railway track?”

  “No!” Fox shook her head, “I don’t think so. I don’t know; I can’t be certain.”

  Swan called to them up the stairs to let them know tea was ready. Wren untangled Fox from her arms and walked towards the door. “Put your dressing gown on, you’re shivering.”

  Fox, like an obedient child, did as she was told and followed her mother down the stairs to await the full interrogation of her sisters. Bunny was sure to be merciless, she’d want to know every little detail. Fox wished she knew more. Swan poured tea from the pot and Wren grabbed the biscuit tin from the cupboard. Flipping the lid, it spun on the table making an uncomfortable racket. She put her hand out to still it.

  “You said ‘they’ – ‘they’ve killed her.’”

  “Who did you mean?” Swan asked.

  Fox thought about it. She didn’t know exactly but there was part of her brain that felt sure it did; but it was out of reach, in the same way sometimes the word is on the tip of your tongue but even a gun at your head won’t set it free. It was like snatching at ghosts.

  She shook her head. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know. I don’t even know if it was a ‘they.’ All I heard was the screaming.”

  Fox’s hand trembled and she grabbed it with the other in order to steady it. She hated to show such weakness in front of her sisters. She’d always prided herself on being strong, unshakeable.

  “So what do we do now?” Bunny asked. “Should we go to the police?”

  Swan and Wren exchanged looks and sighed. “No, sweetie,” Wren said. “They wouldn’t welcome our… interference. And to be honest, we don’t have anything anyway – just a few vague impressions, which could just as easily have been a nightmare as a vision.”

  “That’s right,” Swan said, squeezing Fox’s hand. “I’d only just told you about the dress before you fell asleep. It was probably your mind playing tricks on you.”

  Fox returned a tight smile in recognition of Swan’s attempt to make her feel better. “I hope so, because if her screams were real then…”

  “Try not to think of it, darling,” Wren said, standing and walking over to the sink with the empty teacups. A gesture intended to clearly draw a line under the night’s discussion.

  Fox stood and drew the belt of her dressing gown tightly. She had no desire to sleep. She knew the screams were waiting for her and there was no doubt in her mind they had been real.

  *

  Fox mistakenly thought that if she could fight against sleep, she could fight against the visions, but they weren’t discriminating; they were just as happy to attack her in her waking state as when she was sleeping. As Fox lay on her bed looking out of the window and up at the star-sprinkled sky, her body began to move as if walking. When she looked down, it was to find her feet back on that same dirt track by the barn. This time, there was no screaming, just the sound of a group of voices chanting in unison. They were not words Fox recognised; they belonged to some other ancient language. A dark energy buzzed all around her and she knew if she were to be discovered, her soul would be in mortal danger. She crept forward, stilling her breath as best she could. Something in the distance alerted the dog and all at once, it erupted into a mass of ferocious barking.

  “It’s just a rabbit,” said one of the voices from within the barn. It was female and strangely melodic, suggesting the owner was young and pretty.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Ssh, will you two focus.

  “Sorry, it’s just…”

  “Just. Be. Quiet!”

  Silence fell between them. Fox counted three of them, either that or the rest were very silent, but she didn’t think so. A slithering feeling worked its way through her belly. One of the voices sounded familiar – too familiar.

  The chanting began again. Fox bent forward and brought her eye to a gap in the wood paneling. No sooner had it focused on the scene in front of her than she threw herself backwards and clasped her hand over her mouth. She fought the overwhelming desire to be sick. It didn’t matter how fast she tried to unsee the scene before her, it was branded onto the lens of her eyes. Fox began to run.

  What have they done to her eyes? the internal asked.

  When Fox shook the ghastly thought away, the internal screamed in her head, What the hell have they done with Martha’s eyes?

  Safely at the boundary of the woods, Fox stopped and leant against a tree, gasping for cool air, hoping it would calm the polluted bile rising in her throat.

  “Oh, Mother Goddess!” she cried. “How could you do that to her?”

  She was still alive. She was still moving.

  She was alive when they had taken her eyes!

  And her tongue the internal added out of nowhere.

  Fox had tried to blank it out. One horror was enough, but the internal was persistent. Didn’t you see the dried blood around her mouth? Didn’t you see her empty scream?

  “No! No! NO!” Fox roared into the night.

  “Ssh, my darling. Ssh, my darling.” The sound of Fox’s mother brought her back into the world, which all at once, seemed a lot darker place.

  4

  Five years of daily routine ensured Fox arrived at college and made it to her period one class, History. She sat quietly, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive. She had a habit of being early.

  The teacher, Mr. Saxon (a rather excellent name for a history teacher, Fox had always thought), arrived looking flustered and in rather an eccentric clothes ensemble. With red trousers, a mustard and mulberry striped shirt, and a navy polka-dot tie, the poor man looked like a walking sample swatch. He was unshaven and Fox noticed his wedding ring finger was lacking the essential wedding ring. It was possible he had just taken it off to shower and had forgotten to put it back on, but he didn’t look like he’d brushed his hair, not alone showered.

  As he rummaged around in his bag, retrieving a selection of dog-eared pieces of lined paper, which served as their coursework drafts, Fox felt an overwhelming sense of sadness on his behalf. Momentary flashes of the man’s life flitted before her eyes. Mr. Saxon bouncing his little boy in his arms. Mr. Saxon drinking down a glass of Scotch. Mr. Saxon reaching out a hand to strike his wife and not going through with it – but it was enough. Fox audibly gasped with surprise, eliciting the looks of several of the class who had wandered in. Jeremiah leaned in from behind and whispered into her ear,

  “Is everything okay? Are you having another one of those… moments?”

  “Mornin’!” Carmen’s sing-song greeting saved Fox from having to make a reply, which was just as well, because the reply she wanted to give Jeremiah, involved a certain level of physical violence.

  “Everybody happy?” Carmen asked, flashing a totally oblivious smile as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger.

  Fox swore she saw Carmen wink at Jeremiah, but when she whispered this accusation into Carmen’s ear, she denied it. The smirk on her face said otherwise. Carmen smelt of soap and roses; she’d clearly felt the need to make an effort, and Fox internally groaned at the thought it might be because of flash-boy behind them. Finally, Mr. Saxon managed to get his act together and he cleared his throat to start the class. Goodness knows how he was going to manage a class of thirty-plus boisterous Year Sevens, Fox thought. Any sympathy she might have had had left with the image of his raised hand. It was a shame because he was a clever and interesting man. People were complicated.

  “So today, I am allocating your project partners.” An excited ripple ran around the room. “As you know by now, or should know by now, your coursework project is based on an element of local history. A list of possible titles is on the VLE page, so make sure you check it carefully. There are also some examples of previous projects to give you a feel of what you need to do. If you want my adv
ice, choose a title close to home and not too ambitious. Researching is always a bigger job than you think.”

  Carmen leaned in and whispered excitedly, “I’m going to do about the history of the May Hill Horse Fair.”

  “Cool!” Fox responded quickly, not wanting to miss the project roll-call.

  Carmen, mistaking her lack of engagement for not being interested, harrumphed in her chair and pouted before muttering, “Well, I think it’s interesting!”

  With one ear on Mr. Saxon, who had started to read out the pairings, and the other tuned to Carmen, Fox said, “Don’t get all humpy, it’s fascinating. I’m sure it will be great. You know I love hearing about…”

  Fox caught Saxon saying her name but it was the tail end of the sentence “….will be with Fox.”

  “Damn it!” Fox said, searching around to see if she could work out who she had been paired with and having no luck. “Who did you say?” she called out to Mr. Saxon.

  “Why, the pleasure’s all mine, ma’m!” Jeremiah drawled in his best impression of Rhett Butler.

  Great, Jeremiah, bloody, Chase! the internal grumped.

  “I’ve put you with Jeremiah. What with the Meadowsweet family being one of the oldest in the county, I thought it would be good to pair our newest American import with our eldest English rose.”

  “How…?” Fox’s question remained unfinished as Mr. Saxon was clearly on a mission and had already begun to go over the criteria for the project for the fifth or sixth time.

  “So, if you can please move yourselves so that you are sitting with your partners, you can make a start on planning your projects.”

  “Witchcraft!” Carmen whispered low into Fox’s ear.

  “Pardon?”

  “Getting your hands on the handsome American.”

  “Agreed. A total hex!” Fox screwed her nose up and threw her a look, “Hey, isn’t that more your bag?” she said sarcastically.

  Carmen flicked her a V sign before moving it to her eyes and back to Fox again. “I’m watching you, Witch!” she hissed.

  “Get out of here!” Fox said laughing. “Dishy Dave is waiting for you.”

  Carmen smiled. Fox wasn’t being ironic; Dave was quite the hunk, and he had a soft spot for Carmen.

  “Who’s a Witch?” Jeremiah asked, smiling.

  “It’s just a joke we share.”

  He shrugged and flashed another smile. It was clear he was used to this technique working – it just wasn’t going to work on Fox.

  “So, local one from ancient blood, what ideas have you got?” he asked.

  Fox rolled her eyes. And he thinks he’s funny, too – great! the internal moaned.

  Fox flipped through the pages of her exercise book. Being the model student that she was, she had of course already looked up the VLE and jotted down a load of ideas in response to the topic questions. Jeremiah let out a low whistle of appreciation. “I didn’t have you down as that type of girl.”

  Fox bristled. “What type of girl?”

  Jeremiah flashed his sparkly smile again and replied, “You know - the diligent kind!”

  “Look, if we’re going to work together there’s one thing you need to do…”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stop grinning at me. It’s annoying!”

  Jeremiah’s laugh bounced around the room.

  She tapped her pen furiously on the table, a clear indicator he had bothered her. She felt herself blushing and it made her angry.

  “Let’s get on shall we?” she said aggressively. He didn’t seem phased he’d upset her. In fact, it seemed to amuse him.

  He smirked and waved a hand, inviting her to talk him through her diagrammatic notes. She was sure he wasn’t really listening. He had his arms folded up behind his head and his foot over his knee as if he were relaxing against a tree on a sunny spring day. Give him another five minutes and she was sure he’d actually fall asleep.

  “So, I thought we could look at how elephant farming in the Heargton area impacted on agricultural crops and settlement patterns.”

  “Hmm ha!” he agreed, pretending to be engaged. Fox threw her pen down with frustration.

  “You’re clearly not interested in anything I have to say. If all these ideas are so darned boring, then why don’t you come up with one?”

  He looked at her intensely and made out he was thinking by tapping his fingers against his cheek. “How about…” he paused in order to lean forward and adjust his body so he had both elbows on his knees and could look directly at her. “How about… we look at the impact of the Ravenheart Family on the village? Aunt Penelope says they’re quite the powerhouse; keeps encouraging me to try and set up a supper date with one of them. I think she has ambitions of uniting our two houses – just like in the good old days.”

  Fox didn’t respond at first. She knew in some way,she was being played, she just wasn’t sure how. She glanced over her notes, not wanting to return the intensity of his stare. She left a moment before responding,

  “Well, if we’re thinking of doing local influential families, then how about the Chase family. I’ve heard they have quite a chequered and unpleasant history!”

  She waited for his response. He bit down on his bottom lip and Fox watched as a smile grew. He was trying to predict her next move. Annoyingly, he didn’t respond and she was forced to take a lead.

  “I’m not sure we’d like what we unearthed about the Ravenhearts – they’re best left alone.” She looked over her diagram and traced her pen across the page, tapping it when she got to the idea of the burial ground. “Here, I think this is a much safer topic. The burial ground and the early settlement.”

  Jeremiah yawned and patted his mouth in an overly dramatic way. Fox was quickly losing patience with him.

  “Okay,” she sighed as her pen started tapping the notepad more furiously. “This one?” She stabbed at another point on her diagram, hoping he would pick up on her desire to stab the pen into his eye. She recoiled from the thought as it catapulted her back into the vision she’d had of Martha last night; those big, vacant, bloodied spaces where her eyes should have been.

  “What about your family?” he offered. “There have been Meadowsweets living in Heargton for hundreds of years and I’d really love to get to know more about you.” His eyes flashed and although Fox couldn’t be entirely certain, with her very limited experience, she believed he was flirting with her again.

  “Look,” she said with a voice raised enough to draw attention, “we’re not researching anybody’s family! It’s not… it’s not… appropriate.”

  “Appropriate?”

  “Yes, it’s not polite to go rummaging through your neighbours’ closets – you don’t know what skeletons they’ve got stashed away. Some secrets are best left alone.”

  “Oo, sounds exciting!” He raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together cheekily. Fox noticed he had dimples. He leaned forward and whispered, “I love secrets!”

  Fox snapped the notebook shut. “How about a compromise? Something linked to the Ravenhearts; let’s do the history of The Rookeries.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, indicating he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “The old lunatic asylum in Raven’s Wood.”

  He smiled appreciatively and nodded his head.

  “Yep,” she muttered, “that should suit your whole American Gothic thang!” she said, affecting an American accent whilst eyeing his braces and the small tattoo of a dripping dagger on the inside of his forearm.

  “Awesome!” he mocked.

  Blessedly, the bell rang, indicating the end of the lesson and the end of their torturous conversation.

  Carmen came bounding back to reclaim her things and to make the most of the opportunity to flirt with Jeremiah some more. Fox stuffed her books into her bag as quickly as she could. She’d had it with Mr. Chase for the day. Anger surged at the thought of having to spend necessary study time together. Why don’t you ask Mr. Saxon to swap your partner
s? the internal asked. Fox shook her head in response and let out a heavy sigh. Oh, so you don’t really mind him being your partner then? All that romping around Raven’s Wood together, bound for something to happen! I think you’d quite like that. Evidently, the internal was in an even more annoying mood than Jeremiah.

  “Can you hurry up?” she snapped at Carmen, causing Jeremiah to raise his eyebrows in surprise and for Carmen’s mood to shift from all coy and bubbly to sulky in a flash.

  Fox started to leave, forcing Carmen to issue a hurried goodbye to Jeremiah and chase after her. Fortunately, they had the compulsory Physical Education lesson between History and lunch, and being as Carmen always took the opportunity to go and have a cigarette, it gave them both the space they needed.

  By the time Fox had changed, Swan was already on the netball court, practicing her hoops. She was made to be Goal Shooter, tall and lithe, elegant with an incredible sense of balance. Fox was a defender – slightly shorter, broader and with a tenacious need to stop anybody else winning. It was always most fun when they were placed on opposing sides and Swan and Fox could go at it in the way only sisters can get away with. It always ended up with one of them on the ground and usually blood was spilt. Today, they were on the same side, which considering the mood Fox was in, was probably for the best. Swan, intuitive as ever, picked up on her sister’s sour mood as soon as she saw her.

  “Who’s stolen your bag of sweeties?” Swan asked.

  Fox didn’t want to talk about it. She was worried that if she started moaning, she might not be able to stop. The lack of rest from the visions was making her cranky and every time she let her mind off its reins for more than a second, it went back to the sight of Martha tied to that chair in the barn and the…

  Thalia slinked onto the court, her skirt far shorter than necessary and her t-shirt tighter than it legally ought to be. She was sucking on a lollipop, doing her best impression of Lolita. She’d tied her hair back into a high ponytail and her dazzling white ankle socks highlighted the golden glow of her tanned legs. By instinct, or crazy pheromone stuff, the boys who were doing their practice kick-ups on the other side of the fence, turned one after the other, to take in the sight of her bending down to tighten the laces of her trainers.