A Witch's Calling, page 11
part #4 of Anais Blue Series
‘Why?’
‘They’re predicting a big earthquake. Didn’t you feel the tremors?’
Anaïs cleared her throat. She glanced around the room furtively. ‘Oh, that was what that was.’ She directed her attention to her caretaker. ‘Nan?’
‘Yes Anaïs?’
‘I think I am the problem.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The shades know I’m a witch. Not always, but they usually do.’ Anaïs rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘The penny just dropped. When I get close to the dead, they wake. On Sicily it happened. And now here as well.’
‘Is that what happened back at the church?’
‘Yes,’ said Anaïs grimly. ‘The only thing I don’t get is why the buried, who have presumably finished their business, are suddenly turning into shades. Well perhaps they’re not turning into shades. Who knows? At any rate the dead are waking up.’
‘I don’t have an answer for you. I’m just happy I’m not one of the dead.’
‘Me too. Well, technically you are. But—’ Frustrated, she waved her hands next to her head, slapped them on her face and rubbed it vigorously. ‘Oh! This is so confusing.’
‘Anaïs, just try to calm down. You’ll work it out. What do you want to do about them?’
The little witch took a deep breath and exhaled loudly through her nostrils. ‘If I’m the cause, then I have to get away. Go somewhere where there are no dead whatsoever. Somewhere I can’t affect them.’
‘That might be difficult. They’re everywhere.’
‘A desert island, perhaps. I once toyed with the idea back at the port in Naples.’ Anaïs glanced up at the caretaker’s face sheepishly. ‘I have to come clean, Nan. When we were there I nearly ran away.’ She drew her thumb and index finger together, indicating a small gap. ‘I came this close to leaving you in the lurch.’
‘When?’
‘When he had you trapped on the ship with the dogs. It all got a bit much for me.’
The shade’s eye’s softened. ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to run, Anaïs. If it was the other way around I would have wanted to do the same thing.’
‘But I didn’t. I was confused—didn’t know what to do. I could never leave you, Nan.’
‘I know.’ Nan laid an icy arm on the witch’s shoulders. Anaïs fought the urge to shiver. ‘And thank you for coming back.’
‘Problem is,’ said Anaïs, ‘I’m in the same quandary now. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Do what you always do.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Consult your handbook.’
Anaïs stepped out from under the caretaker’s arm. She massaged warmth back into her shoulders and grinned. ‘You always know best.’
‘No, not always, but it seems pretty obvious to me.’
Anaïs dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Things always appear a lot more obvious when you’re not sitting smack-bang in the middle of them.’
‘Can’t argue with that.’
‘Were we arguing?’
‘Ahem … no,’ said Nan, puzzled.
Anaïs nudged the shade. ‘Just joking.’
Nan flashed her eyes. ‘Sometimes I can’t fathom you.’
‘Sorry, guess I have a weird sense of humour.’
‘To be honest that’s not the only thing weird about you.’ Nan chuckled. ‘Ha! There, I did it too.’
‘Anaïs?’
The little witch turned to face the Apothecary. ‘Sorry, Ella, I forgot you were there.’
The Apothecary shuffled her feet nervously. ‘I don’t think we have a lot of time. We need to hurry. If what they said about an earthquake is true, we should get out of here.’ She glanced up at the ancient wooden beams supporting the ceiling. ‘I’m pretty sure this place is not earthquake-proof.’
‘I got that. But the question is: where?’ She paused to clear her head. ‘Hold on. Give me a moment, will you.’ Anaïs retrieved her promptuary. She opened the handbook. Staring blankly at the pages, she scratched her forehead. ‘I have no idea what to ask.’
‘You said you wanted to get away from shades,’ said Nan. ‘Start with that.’
Anaïs raised her eyebrows in delight. ‘Good idea!’
‘What? What’s a good idea?’ questioned the Apothecary in confusion.
‘Oh. Um … this. This is a good idea.’ Anaïs indicated her handbook. ‘The promptuary will tell us.’ She focussed on the book. Can you even tell me this? Sending out her thoughts, she commanded it to show her the whereabouts and concentration of the immediate shade population.
A cloud of glistening dust particles rose from the promptuary’s open pages. They whirled in a circular motion. The particles joined together. Solidifying into a sphere they produced a holographic image. It displayed Venice and its surrounding lagoon. A small island near the city was covered beneath a large red dot. It appeared to throb.
‘Wow!’ exclaimed Anaïs. ‘It’s busy there. What is that?’
‘Busy?’ said Ella. ‘I doubt it’s busy. That’s Venice’s cemetery. San Michele.’
Anaïs frowned. ‘What is it with all these places named after that guy?’
‘Sorry? What guy?’
‘Oh, never mind. Probably not important. I just seem to keep hitting spots with his name all over the place.’
‘You’ve been to that cemetery before?’
’No, but I’ve been to other islands with that name—England, France, and now here. Strange. Who is this Saint Michael anyway?’
Ella thought for a moment. ‘From memory I think he was the leader of the armies of good against evil.’
Anaïs snorted and grinned. ‘Then I could use his help right now.’ She directed her attention to the promptuary. ‘Zoom out,’ she said. The handbook displayed the surrounding Mediterranean. ‘Man! They’re everywhere!’
‘Who? What?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Ella. Help me look.’ She stared at the image. ‘Can you see something without a red dot?’
The Apothecary studied the map. She walked around it and then raised her forefinger and pointed at an island far south and to the east of Venice. ‘There.’
‘Where is that?’
Ella twisted her lips. ‘Somewhere in Greece, I think.’
‘Then, Ella, it looks like we are going to Greece.’
The Apothecary brightened. ‘Great! I can work on my tan.’
Anaïs frowned. ‘It’s the middle of winter.’
‘No matter.’ Ella glanced out the window at the icy rain. ‘There has to be more sun there than here.’
‘You have a point. Let’s get going then,’ said Anaïs. ‘Oh … but wait. How?’
‘I have a solution,’ said Ella.
‘Every time you say that you make my day.’ Anaïs grinned. ‘You don’t know how glad I am to have met you, Ella. You always have a solution.’
Ella winked at the witch. ‘One day I might not have one. But today is your lucky day. You won’t believe what I’ve found.’
THE WORLD SHIFTS
At first its origins were small. Initially, signs began in Western Europe.
Most naturals noticed it as minor earth tremors. They sensed the occasional rumbling of the ground beneath their feet. In the bigger cities many assumed it was the passing of an underground railway, or a nearby tram or another heavy vehicle. There is so much noise in a city with construction and whatnot that the odd extra sound of thumping could easily be explained. By many city dwellers it went unnoticed, falling on ears deaf to small noises through years of conditioning.
In the silence of the countryside it was a different matter. Why would there be a strange knocking sound coming from the graveyard perched on the hill? Most cast it off as the echo of farm machinery carried on the wind. The more inquisitive went to investigate, but the source of the sounds could not be determined. They were too intermittent to pinpoint.
Yet those in the natural world who did hear it sensed something was afoot. A change had occurred.
Others started seeing things they could not explain. Those with younger and more open minds saw it first. A group of secondary school students visiting Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris had quite a shock. Hanging around in the crowd surrounding his own grave, the deceased singer of the rock group The Doors—Jim Morrison—dropped his camouflage for an instant. He exposed his true self beneath the mask of an Eastern European bag lady.
In another part of the same cemetery, those with more literary knowledge—a group of university arts students—got a glimpse into the eyes of Oscar Wilde. From all accounts the looks of surprise were reciprocated.
These revelations were only momentary, but enough to send chills up the students’ spines. Some teachers, not having seen the stripped down shades, were dubious about their claims. Other more open-minded teachers, however, reading the reactions as genuine, encouraged their students to make contact. The shades were as non-responsive as shades normally were. This left doubts in the young minds, but the damage was not permanent.
Later, beneath the same city, tourists walking the dark subterranean corridors of the catacombs were presented with the unsettling sight of thousands of human bones reconfiguring themselves. Unlike what Anaïs had seen, the bodies did not completely reassemble themselves. In the ossuary, the rows of stacked bones and skulls found new and inventive ways to depict shapes other than the usual patterns of crosses.
As visitors were only permitted to travel single file, and the lighting was dim, many questioned what they had seen. Were they merely tricks of the eyes? Nevertheless, they made a swift exit. The place was eerie enough without sensing something not altogether natural moving around in the darkness.
Not all visitors were so fortunate.
One woman required resuscitation after passing out. Alone at the time, her shrill screams, which were swiftly cut off, alerted the ossuary’s caretakers to her predicament. For them it was all in a day’s work. They paid little attention to the claims of what she had seen—that the skulls had formed themselves into a giant face and then blinked at her. In their experience, even under normal circumstances, the most strong-willed came out of the morbid corridors white-faced.
The World Witch Organisation received wind of these occurrences. Although they did not see them first-hand, it was much cause for concern. Still fighting to control the eruption at Mount Etna, Caput Mortuum assigned Sojourner Pink to the task of convening the Organisation.
Once assembled, a short time later, the discussions among the Organisation’s members were heated. Particularly as to why the shades were now appearing at the place of their burial. This was unusual behaviour. Shades were not only disguised, but almost always transported to another far-flung part of the globe. Usually a great distance from the site of their demise.
Unfortunately, no one knew how this means of shade control had originally been put in place. Almost seven hundred years had passed since its inception in the aftermath of the Black Death. The oldest of the current witches were far younger.
Coupled with the fact that no contemporary witches had first-hand knowledge of the shade control, and that it had not been passed down—possibly to prevent anyone meddling with the magic incorporated—the Organisation was at a loss concerning what to do with the situation. None had the skills to counter the current effects of shade revelation.
Although not an ideal ploy, it was decided that a strategy of watch and wait was all they could do. The witches dispersed and set about distributing themselves over the surface of the planet.
The observation, and the wait, began.
CATAMARINE
The room they stepped into had the dimensions and rounded shape of the hold of an enormous upturned ship. Massive arched oak beams traversed the room like ribs. They supported sizeable steel plates which were bolted one over another. They completely covered the walls and ceiling. The floor was no floor all, but a large pond surrounded on all sides by wooden decking. Floating in the centre of the pond, the smooth hull of a most extraordinary vessel glistened in the floodlights.
Anaïs was awestruck. ‘That looks more like a rocket than a boat.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ella. ‘It puts the speedboat on Sicily to shame, doesn’t it?’
‘It certainly does. I dare not ask if it works.’
Ella flashed her eyes. Sarcastically, she feigned insult. ‘When has anything not worked, Anaïs?’
The little witch cracked a smile. ‘In that case, I’m afraid to ask if you know how to drive it.’
‘Anaïs, I’m a certified petrol-head.’ Ella set her fists on her hips. ‘I can, and will, drive anything that goes like a bat out of hell.’
‘I always found that a strange expression.’
Ella frowned. ‘What?’
‘Bat out of hell,’ replied Anaïs. ‘Even if there is a hell, why would a bat in its right mind be there? With all that fire it must be bright. Bats like the dark. And it would be fried to a crisp in an instant.’
‘Point taken. Can’t disagree with that logic,’ said Ella with a grin. She ran her eyes over the vessel’s sleek lines. ‘Anyway, I’m sure this goes a lot faster than a bat.’
Anaïs joined her in assessing the ship. ‘How did you find it?’
‘Let’s just say I’m extremely inquisitive and love a challenge. I went exploring and found this door.’ She flicked her thumb at the entrance behind them.
The circular door which served as the entrance was about a metre thick. More than anything, it resembled the particularly large door of a bank vault.
‘The fact it was locked made me even more curious,’ said Ella.
Anaïs scrutinised the door. Ringing its circumference and set into the door’s edge were a series of sizeable metal bolts. ‘Even to my untrained eye that’s one serious-looking locking mechanism.’
Who are they trying to keep out? mused the witch. She swept the thought aside. ‘How did you get in, Ella?’
The Apothecary reached into her coat. She pulled out a set of skeleton keys and jangled them in front of the witch’s nose. ‘Apothecary magic. There’s not a door I’ve found which cannot be opened.’ She cocked her head at the entrance. ‘Although, this one was a pretty hard nut to crack.’
Anaïs nodded at the boat. ‘So, what is it?’
Ella walked along the decking to the boat’s stern. Anaïs followed. Rounding the rear of the vessel she was surprised to see it had twin hulls.
‘I think it’s some sort of cross between a submarine and a catamaran,’ said Ella, indicating the hulls. ‘We are several metres below sea level, so I can only assume we have to travel underwater to get out of here. I thought we could call it “The Catamarine”.’ Ella tilted her head to the ceiling. She eyed the steel sheeting. Dirty brown traces of rust surrounded the joints between the sheets. The Apothecary scratched her chin. ‘Unless the ceiling opens and it flies, of course, which I suppose is also a distinct possibility. I’ve kind of come to expect the unexpected.’
‘I doubt it would fly.’ Anaïs rubbed her chin. ‘Something like this screaming across the sky would definitely draw attention to itself. Not to mention screaming across water. You might be right with the submarine idea. Keeping a low profile is the first rule of witchdom.’
‘Does that include volcanic eruptions?’
Anaïs paled. ‘Um … yes, I suppose so.’
‘Sorry.’ Ella placed a comforting hand on Anaïs’s shoulder. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Anaïs reservedly. ‘Even though it’s terrible what happened, from the point of view of the rest of the world I expect the eruption would be seen as a natural disaster.’
Ella nodded in agreement.
‘But that thing’—Anaïs waved her hand at the Catamarine—‘is far from natural.’
She walked along the decking towards the prow, admiring its streamlined form. About five metres wide and ten metres long, it resembled twin rockets. The rounded sterns tapered into sharp points at the bow. Connecting the hulls and protruding atop the bow was what appeared to be a cabin, presumably the wheelhouse. The entire vessel was covered in gleaming aluminium sheeting which emphasised its rocket-like appearance.
Anaïs took a deep breath and expelled it loudly. ‘Okay!’
‘Okay?’
‘Okay, let’s go. We have a destination.’ Anaïs flipped her thumb at the vessel. ‘And now transportation.’
‘That we do!’ exclaimed a delighted Ella. Her voice rang loudly around the cavernous space, bouncing off the steel walls. She cupped her mouth with a hand. Dropping it, she said, ‘Sorry, it’s kind of exciting.’
Anaïs grinned. ‘Yes, it is. Thank goodness for your enthusiasm, Ella. I don’t know how I would get by without it.’ She paused. ‘Only, how do we get on board?’
Ella pointed above them at a gangplank secured to the wall. A ladder ran up the wall to give access to it. ‘My guess is you swing that thing out and climb on it?’
Anaïs grinned. ‘The solutions never stop with you, do they?’
Ella laughed. ‘Nope.’
A tremor sent vibrations through the boards beneath their feet and a ripple across the pond.
‘We better hurry,’ said Ella, watching the ripples causing small waves to lap against the hull of the Catamarine. ‘You get the others and I’ll check this thing out.’
‘Right you are,’ said Anaïs as she made her way to the door. ‘Don’t leave without me.’
‘Ha!’ Ella smirked. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Anaïs.’
SUBMERGED
Nonplussed, Anaïs stared at the collection of instruments set into the console before her. She glanced at Ella. ‘You were saying something about a petrol-head being able to drive this?’
Ella shrugged. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine once I find the accelerator pedal.’
‘I think you will need to know more than that to get this thing going.’
Ella smiled. ‘I’m well aware of that. It was a joke. Boats don’t have accelerator pedals anyway. There must be some way to start it though.’ She frowned, studying the console. ‘Let’s try this.’ She twirled her finger in the air and jammed it down on a large green button in the centre of the console.
