An Errant Witch Page 16

  ‘The cause of freedom, Dara,’ he replied softly. ‘Remember the poor lost souls in Alt, back in the New World?’

  He meant, of course, my home in Newfoundland. Yes, I remembered the humans, the Normals who were stuck in the endless time loop of Alt behind the veil the Kin had brought down to keep the supernaturals out of the Normal world.

  ‘All over the world, much the same situation exists,’ he continued. ‘Whether behind the Veil or within the human world. The Kin do nothing to alleviate matters.’

  He stared off into the distance for a moment, as if in contemplation, then shook himself.

  ‘And Number Four, of course, let us not forget the last precious outcome which will happen after you run to tell the Kin and show this photo,’ he said. All altruism had left his face now, leaving only his mighty sneer and his staccato Dutch accent hammering out each word. ‘Dara will never find her Mummy, not with Willem locked away or worse. For ever will the poor woman stay in the freezing wastes of the Ice King’s land, until the moment her sad heart cannot take the absolute hopelessness of it anymore, and it will flutter, like a wounded bird, flutter until it gives up the ghost. And her body will be tossed away, unloved, unmourned... because her daughter chose to ease her conscience rather than save her...’

  ‘Damn you, Willem!’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Damn you,’ I repeated, with less anger and conviction now and the tears threatening to fall. I sat heavily on the nearest boulder, hugging myself to keep his words away and hating the sorcerer even more than I’d ever done before, but he’d heard the acquiescence in my voice.

  I had so many questions still that only he could answer.

  ‘Later, later,’ he said briskly. ‘It will all become clear. When you win the Competition, fair and square.’

  I LEFT him shortly after that, clutching the glowing medallion in my hand, thinking hard and furiously as I hurried back to the castle. I had so many questions still, yet I needed time to process the answers I’d been given.

  What scared me was the ease with which Willem did everything; following me to the magically fortressed island, slipping beneath the regard of the very strong witches here, remaining out of sight of everyone except me, and the way he assumed I would go along with his plans.

  And even scarier was how easy it was to slip in alongside him, to trust him, and let him do the thinking. His words made perfect sense on the surface, but there was unease in the very pit of my belly. I really needed to discuss this whole thing out loud, to hear myself talk, bounce it off someone else.

  Willem said my mother’s situation was the work of the Kin, which brought it back to Cate, and possibly Johanna and... my father. Mom couldn’t even know that, for she had told me to contact Dad.

  The bloody Kin with their entitled ways. Their arrogance. Rotten to the core, all of them. If I could pay them back for all the suffering they’d caused me over my lifetime, I would, so help me...

  I slowed my pace as I reached the castle grounds. But I could. It was as simple as joining Willem, lending him my assistance with whatever it was he needed. Then he would help me free my mother, of that I had no doubt.

  For as he said, there was honor amongst thieves.

  Up in our shared room, I threw myself on the bed, too many thoughts in my head.

  But... what did Willem mean about me winning the Competition? I allowed myself a few minutes of a dream where I waltzed in and snatched victory from under their stuck-up noses, the despised half-blood beating them all out. Wouldn’t that shut them all up pretty quickly?

  And he had said without help from him, so Pauline couldn’t say I was cheating. I had no idea what he meant, but a little bit of vengeance would feel good right now. Against the Kin.

  My phone interrupted my revengeful thoughts. Hugh.

  My finger hovered over the answer button, then flicked it to the left, rejecting the call. I had no desire to speak with any of them, yes, even him.

  RASMUSSEN’S EYES glinted behind his rimless spectacles as he stopped me before I could take my seat in his class.

  ‘How has the wand been working for you?’ he asked in a low voice.

  I took a breath to answer, then just shook my head. ‘Not really,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Hmm. I’ve been thinking about this; I don’t understand why you’re having such difficulties, a witch with your power. There must be something we can use, some other material that would work for you. Do you not feel an affinity for anything – rock, fabric, metal?’

  This puzzle was bothering him a lot, I could tell by the way his shaggy eyebrows were drawn together.

  ‘Maybe I’m just not meant to have a medium?’ I ventured, but he immediately shook his head to negate the suggestion.

  ‘Nein! Everyone, every witch worth their salt must be able to use physical magic. I will think more on this matter.’

  He took his place at his lab bench, leaving me free to slip in beside Sandy.

  While we waited for Rasmussen to begin, I used a hair elastic to tie my hair in a ponytail. It was always best to be prepared for Physical Magic, and a loose hair into the mix could throw a whole spell off. I left it hanging over my shoulder, absently toying with it and twirling it through my fingers.

  ‘Where were you?’ He kept his voice to a whisper. He seemed fascinated by the ends of my ponytail.

  ‘Just out for a walk,’ I told him. No way I was going to share the news about Willem. No frigging way.

  ‘You were at the broch,’ he hissed, and pointed to my hair. ‘You’ve got... Wipe it off, quick, before anyone notices.’

  I looked down at my hair, and sure enough, little bits of blue energy were fizzing away. Damn! My hair must have brushed against the stone. I quickly stroked the magic out of my hair and surreptitiously shook it off my hands under the table top.

  ‘I told you not to go out there,’ he scolded me, still speaking so he wouldn’t be overheard. Fergie had noticed something going on, and sent a questioning glance our way.

  ‘Shh,’ I hushed him, and opened my eyes at him to take the hint to shut up. ‘Later. We’ll talk about it later.’

  Rasmussen set us to work on yet another grade-school level spell, using our mediums, of course.

  ‘I think today...’ he said as he rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked out over the class. ‘I think today we will work on the Peaceful Bubble spells.’

  His words were met by the usual chorus of groans from the Kin, and they even had the nerve to complain to him directly.

  ‘What is this, kindergarten?’ Timothy muttered.

  ‘There’s no way on the flat earth that this is necessary for the Competitions,’ Oliver challenged the professor. ‘This is not useful to us at all.’

  ‘I have better things to do with my time.’ Win looked around for support. The atmosphere was growing rebellious.

  ‘Hush now,’ Rasmussen directed. ‘I want to see perfect form. You first Oliver, since you’re complaining the loudest.’

  Oliver stood up and with his deluxe wand drew a circle around his head while he chanted the words.

  ‘Hoc est bulla,’ he intoned in a bored manner, and something like a huge soap bubble formed out of nothing to encompass his whole body.

  It really was quite beautiful, all iridescent in the sunlight streaming through the mullioned windows of the round tower room, throwing off rainbows of colors and sparkles into the air all around him. I could see why they’d teach this to young children, it was just the sort of thing to capture a child’s imagination.

  ‘Hmm, very good,’ the professor murmured. ‘Now Timothy, you may try to burst his bubble.’

  He raised his voice so that Oliver could hear through the buffered glimmer. ‘Pay attention now Oliver, you are going to be attacked.’

  Now this was more like it. The two quickly got into the game of duelling with their magic and their mediums; Timothy held the crystal ball up, directing the sunlight from the nearest
window through it and angling the whole so that it shone directly on the iridescence.

  Oliver countered the rays with barely perceptible movements of his wand, warding off the beams so they refracted through the bubble and back into Timothy’s eyes. The pair feinted and fell back as if in a dance; they were enjoying this active game of war, like little boys in the playground.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Rasmussen was laughing. ‘You’ve shown us what you can do. Now, I want everyone to create your own bubble.’

  Damn. I reluctantly took the ash wand in hand, carefully avoiding the splintery bits. Fergie mock grimaced at me, then shrugged. What were the words?

  ‘Hoc est bulla,’ I said with no expectation, and I wasn’t disappointed.

  Sandy shook his head. ‘You have to at least try.’

  I huffed and placed the dead wood on the bench top with a finality, then hunched myself down, my hands in my hoodie pocket.

  ‘I’m sick of trying,’ I said. I couldn’t bring myself to hold that wand in my hand one more time. I fiddled with the medallion in my pocket as I watched the others in their practice.

  A knock came at the door, Rasmussen excused himself to answer it, where he spoke for a moment. Then with the strict injunction that he didn’t want to see any blood on his return, he left the room.

  In his absence, the others were no longer having fun with it, the classroom had become a literal battle ground with each of them trying to outdo the other in flash and sparkle with the added hope of wounding another. Win had created a lovely silky looking bubble around herself, while Pauline was attempting to prod her way into it with a steady stream of iron sparks. The look on her face could have cut diamonds.

  Timothy was now ensconced in his bubble, his crystal ball safe in its special purse hanging off his belt as he evaded the thrusts and parries of Oliver’s wand. I could see the sweat beading on him through his shimmer.

  Even Fergie and Sandy had joined into the spirit of the thing, Sandy in his rough bubble which looked more like the sea outside the castle, droplets of water spraying each time Fergie sent shocks of power by means of her silk which she flicked around like a wet towel.

  What was I doing here? I had no place amongst these wielders of magic, Kin all of them; yes, even my friends. I didn’t belong. I was a failure.

  Screw this. I was leaving to find my own peaceful bubble elsewhere.

  ‘Hoc est bulla my ass,’ I said, flicking the coin in my pocket.

  And it happened. Suddenly my world was full of color, as if I was plunged into the center of a stained glass window, the brilliant deep reds and blues and purples and greens filling my eyes. As if through a haze I could see the action in the room slowing as I was noticed. Timothy watched me with his jaw to the floor, not even noticing as Oliver sliced through his bubble. Sandy and Fergie immediately stopped their games, Sandy’s bubble disappearing in a spray of salty mist.

  Pauline turned and stared, outraged, then lifted her iron wand and aimed it at me. I could see the iron sparks like bullets heading toward me, and could only watch as they shattered my new bubble, glass shards flying off in an explosion of sharp splinters, a rainbow of destruction.

  Chapter 15

  THE CLASS WAS DEATHLY SILENT, save for the sound of the last tinkles of broken glass falling all around. I coughed, the movement loosening fine shards from my face and from my hair.

  ‘You did it,’ Fergie observed breathlessly. Her eyes shone in joy for my accomplishment. ‘You’ve finally mastered the medium of the wand.’

  Everyone in the room looked at the ash wand which still lay on the bench top where I’d tossed it in despair.

  ‘No she didn’t,’ Win said quickly. ‘She used Mind.’

  ‘She had to have,’ Oliver agreed, flicking his long blond locks out of his face. ‘’That is so cheating!’

  They were advancing towards me, all of them, except Sandy and Fergie who looked on in dismay.

  ‘If she cheats at a minor thing like this, there’s no telling what she’ll do for the Competition.’ This came from Timothy, his eyes narrowed.

  ‘I knew she would cheat! I told you I heard her talking with someone,’ Pauline said, her voice rising. ‘Someone who wasn’t there. She’s got outside help!’

  ‘That’s the only way a half-blood like her could do this.’

  ‘Let’s bring her to Johanna.’ Pauline was almost on me, menacing over me where I sat. ‘And show her the error of her decision.’

  I pushed her away and fled the room. A cowardly action, perhaps, but I felt I had no choice, for yes, the Kin were half right, I hadn’t used the ash wand. But I hadn’t been cheating; I had found my medium. It was the coin, the one tainted with magic gone wrong. My flight was that of one whose world had just turned upside down, and I needed space to wrap my head around what this meant for me and my future as a witch.

  JOHANNA AND Rasmussen didn’t send for me, so I could only assume the others didn’t tell her about my perceived cheating. That didn’t make me feel any better, for I suspected that Pauline, Win, Oliver and Timothy might be planning to take matters into their own hands. I didn’t go down for supper, not that I was afraid to show my face, but I just didn’t want to give them the opportunity to do wreak their revenge or play their tricks on me. My half-sister Sasha and her friends had taught me well growing up; besides, I had no appetite.

  After giving them all a couple of hours to calm down, I ventured out and came upon Sandy in the Common Room. He appeared to be idling away the hours after supper, leafing through a magazine about the British Royal Family of all things.

  Good, sane Sandy. Peculiar in his belief about the Crystal Charm Stone, perhaps, but everyone had quirks if you dug deep enough.

  ‘Hey, how’re you feeling now?’ He seemed glad enough to toss the magazine aside.

  I scratched my head. Tiny shards of glass fell to the sofa.

  ‘That was quite the show,’ he continued. ‘How did you do it? I thought you weren’t having any luck with the wand.’

  ‘It wasn’t the wand,’ I began.

  He was silent for a moment before he spoke. ‘Did you use Mind?’ he asked me point blank.

  I shook my head, still playing with the coin in my pocket. ‘No.’

  I looked up at him. ‘Can I talk with you?’ I asked him. ‘I mean, really talk. I can’t share this with anyone. I need to bounce it off you, to figure out what I need to do.’

  He must have seen how pale my face was, and patted the sofa cushion next to him. ‘Sit. We’re all alone, no one will be able to hear us. Let it out.’

  I let myself slump next to him, then angled myself so that we were facing each other. Where to begin?

  ‘The shepherd,’ I said carefully. ‘How well do you know him?’

  Sandy’s face was blank for a moment. ‘What shepherd?’

  ‘The one we saw the other day, you remember, the one who ran away. The hermit.’

  ‘Ah, of course, the shepherd,’ he said, his face still void of expression. ‘Don’t know him well. Why?’

  ‘You’ve been here, what, a couple of months?’

  He nodded, a single dip of his head.

  ‘So you know him a bit, at least,’ I continued.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, then took a deep breath. ‘Dara, where is this leading?’

  ‘I have reason to think the shepherd may have been harmed.’

  ‘What?!’ His face was incredulous. ‘But he... I mean, I saw him today, and he seemed fine.’

  I shook my head. Willem could have magicked him into thinking he saw the hermit. I didn’t trust anything.

  ‘I think,’ I continued, carefully marshalling my thoughts, wondering how much I could tell him. ‘I think the island has somehow been invaded by an unfriendly sorcerer. And I think it might be my fault.’

  ‘What does it have to do with the shepherd?’ His voice was getting quieter.

  ‘There’s someone on the island, and he’s posing as the
hermit,’ I told him. ‘This is a sorcerer, a failed sorcerer, who has followed me here to the island. I think he’s planning something really diabolical.’

  Sandy drew away from me a fraction of an inch.

  ‘He’s like that,’ I assured him. ‘Pretty evil when it comes to the Kin. He’ll do anything to embarrass them or hurt them if he can.’

  He took a deep breath and rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks.

  ‘No, no,’ he said, shaking his head, and then his hand dropped and he began tracing out a line in the weave of his kilt. He looked up at me again. ‘You say you know this... this person?’

  I nodded glumly.

  He began to shake his head again, but stopped midway, as if settling on a decision. He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke. ‘I find this all a bit fantastic. You know, first you think your mother is locked up in the broch, and now this? Dara, d’ye have some kind of persecution complex? This is no’ really normal behavior.’

  Sandy put his arm around my shoulder. I could feel his breath softly on my cheek as he spoke.

  ‘I spoke with Hamish, the shepherd,’ his voice gentle in my ear. ‘He’s fine, and hasn’t noticed anything amiss with the island. I don’t know who you saw, or think you saw, Dara, but I really do believe things aren’t as you fear.’

  ‘You spoke with him?’ I turned and searched Sandy’s face for the reassurance I needed. ‘You spoke with the shepherd, and everything’s okay with him?’

  Thank God. I wasn’t responsible for someone’s death. That was a relief.

  Sandy got up and took the kettle from the hob, and set about with the ritual of making a pot of tea.

  Cake was waiting on the sideboard next to him, as if everything was normal, as though the fraught tensions and everything that had passed in the classroom had never been. Nobody else was present, though, just me and the wee Scotsman, and after pouring tea he gave us each two large helpings of the frosted lemon loaf.

  ‘If they wanted their fair share, they’d be here to take it,’ he said with a grin. ‘If you don’t want it, I’ll eat yours too.’