Witch, page 4
And she pulled Dill too, I heard her gasp as tighter Grey held us, with a shhh and a shush, now, like we were babes in the crib. It was strange. I did not know my aunt good, but she smoothed my hair like Mother used to, till I made her stop, for I felt too old for it, and now this woman who was both family and a stranger did it, and I wanted to cry and be comforted and told it would be all right, but also I wanted to push away her smell, her pulling arms, her voice like old leaves.
‘Come now, my sister’s children.’ Grey felt our faces. ‘Follow me.’
She turned, and walked between the trees, floating slow through the gloom.
I had to talk to the coven, tell them of Mother, of Tall One, his pack. I looked to Dill. I needed them to help me.
‘Evey, I’m not sure—’
‘Dill, are you hungry?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Are you tired?’
That jab again at my belly.
‘And what of poor Spring? Your pup needs food.’
‘But, Evey, I am frightened.’
She pressed her face to Spring, breathing in her whimpers.
Grey stood still as a tree, watching us. And the singing came again, like they sang only to us, two lost witches in the wood.
‘Dill, I promise you, we will rest and then be on our way.’
I swallowed, my mouth was dry with lies.
She stopped her stroking the pup. ‘You do promise, Evey?’
The smell of fire came on the air, bringing more of meat and broth. I ached from hunger, ached to sit, but most I ached to get Dill there.
‘Promise,’ I whispered and reached for her.
And Dill clung gladly to me, as we followed our Aunt Grey, a spirit leading us deeper into the night.
‘Look, Dilly!’
Flames danced among the trees. And as we drew nearer, the voices grew louder.
‘There was a valley,
and in that valley,
was a woman,
of witching way.’
So they sang, so Grey floated on, so those voices led us. Till we made a clearing, where the trees were yellow and red and orange by the light of a great fire.
‘She walked the valley,
that witching valley,
that woman of our way.’
We stepped into that light and felt the warmth upon our faces. Around that lusty flame, a ring of witches sat singing over.
‘She walked that valley,
that witching woman,
as she made
her witching way…’
The singing stopped. The witches looked to us. Dill’s hand gripped tighter to mine. Grey curled her fingers about my shoulder.
‘Eveline of the Birds is come to us.’
Only the fire moved.
‘With her sister, little Dill.’
The witches stared to Dill, who stared back. I knew she counted them. There would be twelve. For Mother did not sit among them. Still were their faces, some old, some young. Long was their hair, some grey and streaked like a charm of magpies. Strangers all, for I could not recall them. I remembered only the fire and them around it, laughing and talking and singing. Like they had been sitting there ever always, waiting for us.
Grey drew us forward. ‘They bring news of my sister,’ and those witches all looked to each other, then back to us.
‘Eveline, make your tell.’
Silence, but for the simmer of pot, and spit of flame. My belly groaned and my bones cried sleep. And in that watching stillness, Dill turned Spring from her shoulder. The pup yawned, blinking her black eye.
‘My…’ I looked to Dill. ‘Our…’
I swallowed the heat and looked straight at those eyes filled with flames.
‘Mother is dead.’
Like water hurled upon their fire, with one mouth they hissed aloud. Some threw their hands to the orange air, some wrung their faces, some sat and stared.
Grey pressed to my shoulder. ‘Finish your tell, Eveline.’
‘Men… Men came that day…’
Tears clawed my throat, as my words came flooding.
‘Witch hunters. Four men. They killed her. I…’
Murmuring and muttering rose, but Grey held her hand for silence.
‘Mother told us once that the witching way is… witch blood spilled must be balanced, and that the coven must be asked. So…’ I swallowed the pain, ‘I have two asks.’
Dill sat, her head down, as she stroked Spring. But I knew she listened true.
‘I have their names.’
And I thought of Mother shouting for us to flee.
‘First, I ask for blood. For my right. To avenge what they did.’
I closed my eyes to stop from crying. But instead I saw Tall One raise his arm high, like as to hail me. And he let it fall. And his dogs sprang to Mother.
I opened my eyes. My tears had run. I felt numb, as I watched Grey move from my side, to huddle in mutters with her sisters.
Why had I come here? I cared not for their witching way.
But I knew full why. Because of my second ask.
‘We hear you, Eveline of the Birds…’
Grey’s voice came bold across the flames. That name. How I hated that she used it.
‘Your ask is granted. Seek your balance, avenge your mother.’
And then she was hugging me, like she had stepped through the fire itself.
‘Hunt them for me,’ she whispered close to my ear.
The murmuring of those witches grew louder with shouts of anger and sobs and then the clearing was all hubbub, their shadows across the flickering light.
‘My sister was our natural leader…’ Her voice sounded through me, and again I smelled sweet lavender. ‘She was a good woman, who taught kindness and healing, helping others.’
She stepped back, tracing my hair.
‘And she was strong. Like you.’
I could not speak. I nodded.
‘Can you find these men?’
I watched Dill, as she lifted Mother’s stone from her pocket and murmured to it.
‘I can hunt,’ I said.
Grey held to my shoulders. ‘I believe you can, Eveline.’ She motioned. ‘Mabel…’
A young witch, all dusky curls, came and sat with Dill. She looked away.
‘Tally, bring food,’ said Grey to another.
‘Is that your mother’s scrying stone?’ asked Mabel.
She smiled and the fire shone in her round cheeks.
‘I like your pup, little Dill.’
Spring sniffed Mabel’s fingers. Dill shifted the stone away and drew Spring to her chest. A frown grew across her brow like a weed from a wall.
‘She has a way, the little one…’
Mabel laughed, and drew a blanket to my shoulders, as Grey circled the fireside, nodding, gesturing. The coven seemed to bend to her.
‘She is tired only.’ I looked to my sullen sister, as she picked at the ground.
‘Here, young ’uns. Tally made it good and hot.’
Her hands, bent and bony, held a bowl each. Two teeth glinted beneath her hood.
‘It will make your hair curl, like Mabel’s.’ She laughed like a branch cracking.
I grabbed that bowl right quick. It steamed full of food and warmth.
‘I don’t want no curls.’ Dill shook her head.
‘Oh, now…’ Mabel went to stroke her. ‘Such a shame, they would suit you.’
Dill hunched away, only stroking her dog and the stone.
‘Dill, please.’
She buried her head to her knees.
‘I’m sorry for her. Thank you.’
I took Dill’s bowl from Tally’s wrinkled fingers.
‘We drink to our sister, lost to us.’
Grey lifted her own to the flicking, spitting air. And those witches lifted same.
‘Lost to us… Lost to us…’
The coven settled, supping in silence.
All but Dill.
I could feel Grey’s eyes upon us, watching through the fire.
‘Dilly, I know you are hungry,’ I whispered. ‘And did you not swear to be good?’
Dill looked to me, not tired nor churlish, just sad.
‘I’m sorry, Evey.’ She twisted her fingers in Spring’s fur. ‘I miss Mother so and the broth minded me of her.’
‘Then do it for Mother. Please, Dill.’
Slow she took the bowl from me and lifted it to her trembling mouth.
My belly twisted for what was coming. So quick I drowned it, sank into the steam and drank and lapped and gobbled. I felt good as that broth ran warm about my body, sank me to a hot darkness that—
‘What is your second ask, Eveline of the Birds?’
Grey’s voice came across the clearing, through my raised bowl.
She had come to it, and I must face it.
All looked to me, and Grey smiled through the flames, and Dill hummed as she lifted scraps to Spring who bolted them down.
‘Ask it, Eveline,’ said Grey. ‘Do not be afeared. Are we not family?’
I wormed gristle from my teeth. They were no family I knew, yet I needed them. Mother said Grey would protect us. And Grey had brought me to it. So it was time.
‘I ask that…’ I must just say it. ‘That the coven look to my sister.’
Dill stopped her humming and turned to me.
‘Look to little Dill?’
‘Yes.’ I swallowed that fat, cold and slimy in my mouth. ‘Alone I must seek the men who killed Mother.’
‘Evey?’ Dill’s eyes were so wide to me. ‘What do you mean?’
Grey rose and moved along the fireside, Mabel and Tally following.
‘Dill, it is too dangerous.’ My belly twisted. But this was best. ‘You know I cannot take you.’
She stood, spilling her bowl for Spring to lap.
‘No, Evey! I do not know! I do not know!’
She pointed at me, jabbing the air with her fist round the stone.
‘I will not stay here! You promised we—’
‘Little Dill.’ Grey was close. ‘You will be safe with us.’
Dill slapped Grey’s hand away.
‘Stop calling me that!’
Dill stepped back, the stone raised, black in the light.
‘Come, we will be sisters all!’ said Mabel.
‘No, we won’t!’
And now she struck away Mabel’s hand.
‘Dilly.’ I moved to her. She was panicked I could see.
‘Ah!’ cried Mabel. ‘How she bites!’
And the coven laughed and Dill glared.
‘Dilly, calm down.’
‘She won’t bite old Tally!’
Darting in, the old witch hooked her bony fingers under Dill’s arms.
‘Dill, please…’
‘Not if she’s tickled!’
‘Leave! Me! Be!’
Dill swung her fist wild, and the stone struck Tally, blood gushing from her cheek.
The old witch cried and fell to her knees. The coven gasped as one.
‘Dill!’
‘I did not mean to do it!’
‘Look what you did!’
Mabel pressed her shawl to Tally’s wound.
‘I forgot the stone was in my hand. I’m sorry, old lady, you surprised—’
‘Give me that!’
I wrenched it from Dill’s grasp.
‘Shame that you bring me and Mother!’
‘Evey, no! Please! You mustn’t!’
‘No, Dill!’ I held the stone from her reach. ‘You are not to have it, you hear?’
‘But, Evey! Mother said it should be only given or found, never taken… Never taken.’ She sobbed to breathe. ‘You don’t… don’t know.’
She jumped to claw my hand, Spring barking over.
‘Oh, I don’t know?’ I pushed her away. ‘I don’t have your gift. Is that it?’
I held the stone high from Dill and her damn dog.
‘No, Evey! No!’
I wanted to laugh as she jumped to reach my hand.
‘You swore to be good!’
And then I saw Mabel and another young witch creep slow behind Dill.
‘The stone is not yours! It was Mother’s and I am the eldest, so…’
‘No, Evey, please, it’s not like that.’
‘Always you have played with it and whispered to it. You think I do not see?’
‘Evey, listen—’
‘You listen for once!’ I grabbed her. ‘You think you’re better than me?’
‘No! No! You’re hurting me!’
Dill shook her head, trembling as the coven watched.
‘Well, I’ve had enough, Dill.’ I pushed her thin shoulder, made her stumble. I had never done that. But she made me so cross. ‘Mother’s gifted favourite can stay here and learn from the witches!’
‘I do not want to, Evey! I want to be—’
‘I don’t care!’ Spit on my lip. ‘You will do as you are told! You swore!’
Dill fell to her knees, begging through her tears. And I swallowed hard. For my spite grew bitter as I watched her.
‘She will soften, Evey.’ Grey was there, pressing a bag to me. ‘For the road.’
‘Hush, little one, we will not hurt you,’ said Mabel, and circled her arms to Dill.
‘No!’ Dill turned about.
‘Calm now, calm…’ said that other witch, her voice and black hair flowing, as an otter slipping through water. ‘What a fuss for one so little.’
‘Go away! Get off me!’
I swallowed harder, to watch Dill struggle against Mabel’s arms and this otter girl, all sharp smile. It felt like I was in another’s body as I weighed the stone in my hand, swung the bag on my shoulder. Like my arms and legs moved without me knowing.
‘Come, Eveline, I will show you the way.’
And Grey led me past Dill, writhing and pushing to get free of those girls.
‘I will give it to you! Don’t leave me here! Please, I will give the stone to you!’
And though the hairs on my neck rose at her cry, a laugh grew inside me, and I waved my hand to tease her.
‘But, sister, I have it already.’
I winked to her white face gaping.
‘And you will be safe here. I told you that.’
‘Evey, why are you doing this? I don’t like them! I don’t like her! She stinks… like dead flowers! I don’t like—’
‘Enough, child!’ Grey’s voice cracked across the fireside. ‘You will stay, and you will learn respect, daughter of my sister.’
She towered sudden across the fire, her hair twining with the dancing flames.
‘Evey! Evey!’
‘I will come back, Dill. I will.’
But even as I said those words, did I know if I would?
Grey pulled me on. We passed heads nodding, hands reaching.
‘Mother!’
I swallowed hardest then.
And though I knew I shouldn’t, I felt glad as Dill’s voice grew further away, for it pained me to hear her.
‘Mother!’
Grey’s long fingers were upon my back. And the witches began to sing again, so that Dill’s cries joined their voices.
‘…other!’
She would calm. She would understand in time. I looked to the stone, turning it in the glow from the fire behind us and the shadows of the trees.
‘You were right to take it, Eveline.’
Grey moved to stroke my hand. I felt her breathing next to me. That sweet smell. Like dead flowers, Dill called it.
‘Was I? I do not know. I never listened to Mother. Dill… Dill did.’
‘This stone is not for little girls. It can be a powerful weapon, Evey. Blood magick.’
I looked up to her. Black eyes blacker in the moving dark.
‘A weapon? Mother never said.’
Grey nodded, her shape shifting. ‘When Dill struck Tally, it woke at the taste of her.’
The stone sudden seemed alive in my hand.
‘And now it is hungry, Evey. Give the stone all your anger, and it will make you strong. Feed it the blood of your enemies. Our enemies.’
And her fingers closed mine about the stone as the witches’ song filled the air.
‘Seek your revenge. Hunt them all. For your mother. For me.’
She kissed my cheek.
‘Follow the river west. The road to town lies through the woods. There, you will find your balance, Eveline of the Birds.’
‘I will find them.’
I placed the stone into the bag. Again came that feeling, that I placed a creature to my side. I looked back to the fire where Dill would be crying and struggling to follow.
‘My sister doesn’t understand… but I must do this alone.’
Grey smiled, became like one of those silver birch again.
‘She is only little. Go now.’
And she watched me step through the branches, cold earth beneath my toes. I moved from the last of light into the darkness, the witches’ words growing fainter and fainter.
‘She walked the valley,
that witching valley,
that woman of our way.’
Till I could hear them no more. And Dill’s cries no more.
And I was alone at last.
And free.
It was dawn light when I stopped.
My body ached so. I had not wanted sleep.
The path was sheer with large stones that tumbled away. I remembered them scattering under my feet in the dark. I stood on the rise, an elm stretching its great green arms above me.
A pair of fat pigeons preened and fluttered against the branches. Are you lost, Eveline? Are you? Are you?
I looked to the woods below.
‘I don’t know.’
Flutter, flutter. Can we help? Can we? Can we?
I sat to open the bag from Grey and closer the pigeon sisters cooed, What have you there? Tasty treats?
Apples and nuts, some dry meat, bread, a gourd of water. But I did not want to eat. Dill’s cries for Mother stayed my hunger. I picked at the bread, thinking on my sister’s pale face. I had been so hard towards her last night, that feeling of not being in my body. But it was for her own good. It had to be.
I threw morsels for those begging birds, and they fell to them.
Thank you, oh, thank you, kind sister.
They gobbled and trilled, before they hefted up, and winged across the rocky path to the woods.
