A Witch in Love (28 page)

The ironic thing was, I was pretty sure everyone, Dad included, assumed that we’d done it a long time ago. Most importantly, I
loved
Seth. Loved him utterly and completely.

So why was I holding back? Why did the thought of this next step feel so terrifying, such a leap into the unknown?

I pushed the question down. I wasn’t ready anyway. There was one last thing I needed to sort out before tonight. One last thing I had to do. Only, I couldn’t do it alone.

I’d never been to Abe’s place. I don’t know what I’d expected – a shared lad-pad, maybe, knee-deep in takeaway cartons. Or a squalid bedsit with a fridge used for chilling beer and not much else.

Certainly not the reality. The bus dropped me on the main road, but it still took me nearly twenty minutes more to reach the cabin, tucked away in the depths of the forest, far up a winding track.

When I finally reached his porch I stopped, looking back while I caught my breath. I could see nothing but an unending sea of forest, stretching away and away to the horizon. If there was any civilization out there it was hidden by the rolling waves of trees. As it was, Abe might have been the last man alive.

I was about to knock, when a noise from round the side of the house made me stop. I followed the porch around and there was Abe.

He was digging. As I watched he thrust the fork strongly into the earth and turned over the soil, watching as it trickled through the tines. At the chink of a stone he leant down and picked it up, throwing it far into the forest with a hand that was brown with earth.

‘Abe,’ I said. He straightened, shading his eyes, then brushed his hands on his jeans and climbed the steps.

‘Hi.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Digging over the potato bed.’

‘I didn’t know you liked gardening.’

‘I expect there’s lots you don’t know about me.’ He kicked off his boots and then opened the door with a slightly ironic bow. ‘But I haven’t welcomed you to my humble abode. Please. Make yourself at home.’

‘Thanks …’ I said awkwardly, as I followed Abe into a sparsely furnished, almost Shaker-style room. ‘Thanks for agreeing to help.’

‘I haven’t agreed to help. I told you to come over. I still don’t know what you want my help with.’

While Abe washed his hands, I found myself a seat on a wooden settle and chewed my nail as I tried to think how to phrase it.

‘Coffee?’ Abe asked over his shoulder.

‘Thanks.’

‘Chuck another log in the stove, will you? It’s burning down.’

I’d never operated a wood-burning stove, but while Abe ground coffee beans, and then put a pot on to filter, I managed to work the catch on the door and thrust another log into the glowing heart of the fire. Abe came over just as I finished and he expertly nudged the door shut with the poker and flipped the catch. Then he sat in the rocking chair opposite and fixed me with his steady black gaze.

‘So. Spit it out.’

‘It’s Seth.’

‘Great. Super.’

‘I…I need your help. I need to make him a…a… protection charm.’

I waited, but Abe said nothing and I was forced to continue.

‘I’m going away, tomorrow, for a week. And the Malleus have threatened him. I can’t leave him unprotected, Abe. What if something happens while I’m away? What if they use him to punish me?’

I knew what Emmaline would have said, if I’d gone to her. She’d have laughed, told me I was being silly, that the Malleus had no argument with Seth. But Abe didn’t. And somehow … somehow I’d known that he wouldn’t.

He sat in silence, chewing his nail in an unconscious echo of my own edginess.

‘That’s serious magic,’ he said at last. ‘You want something that’ll work while you’re not there, is that right?’

‘Yes – like a charm, or a talisman.’ I thought of the package under my step and suppressed a shudder. ‘Is that possible? I mean, do you know how?’

‘Yes.’ He bit his nail again, thinking. ‘Yes it’s possible. But it’s indirect magic; it’s much harder, because you’re not there to …’ He paused and I could see he was struggling for an analogy. ‘You’re not there to charge it up – do you see what I mean? You have to get all the power into the object at the outset. For you to cast a protective spell over Seth – that’s one thing. But imbuing an object to do the job in your absence – that’s another. I mean, you need the object, for one thing.’

‘I have one. This.’ I held up a thick silver ring, very plain, like a sawn-off chunk of pipe. It was my Valentine’s present to Seth. Or would be.

‘I see. OK.’

Abe stood and paced to the window, looking out over the rolling, cloud-shadowed green, and then walked back to the coffee-maker. He poured two cups, handed me one, and then walked back to the window. I could feel him pacing out his thoughts, turning it over and over in his mind.

‘It’ll have to be blood magic,’ he said at last.

‘Which means?’

‘What it sounds. It’s not nice, Anna.’

‘I don’t care. I want Seth to be safe. I’ll do whatever it takes.’

‘Christ …’ He looked at me, his face shadowed in the dim winter light. ‘You don’t do anything by halves, do you? You almost kill yourself holding back your powers for the best part of half a year, and now you’re telling me you want to perform advanced magic on a Saturday afternoon – all because of some dumb outwith.’

‘Don’t call him that.’

‘All right, I take that back. He’s not so dumb, though it pisses me off to admit it. But he is an outwith, Anna. And he always will be.’

‘I love him.’ My throat was tight. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’

‘How dare you.’ Abe’s face was suddenly hard, his jaw clenched stiff. ‘You haven’t got a clue what I understand.’

For a minute we both stood, facing each other. I felt if Abe were a dog he would have been snarling.

‘Are you going to help me or not?’

‘Yes.’ His fury subsided as suddenly as it had come and he sank back into the rocker, rubbing his forehead tiredly. ‘Yes, I’ll help you. Douse the fire; this is magic best worked in the dark.’

While I knocked the logs down and drew the damper so that it was just a pile of simmering embers, Abe was collecting a small wooden bowl, a knife, a candle.

He set them on the table, lowered the blinds against the weak, setting sun, and then lit the candle.

As he set the match to the wick, it burnt high and wavering, giving his face a stage magician look, and for a moment I would not have been surprised to see him flourish a silken hat or a red-lined cape. Then it died down to a normal flame and he was regular Abe again – unshaven, with the candlelight glinting from his eyebrow ring, his coal-black eyes.

I watched as he passed the knife three times through the candle flame, each pass turning the bright blade darker with soot.

On the third pass he turned the hilt towards me and gestured towards the bowl.

‘Put the ring in the bowl.’

I did so.

‘Now tell it what it has to do.’

‘It has to protect Seth.’

‘Don’t tell me, tell the ring,’ Abe said impatiently.

I cupped the small bowl in my two hands and spoke, feeling a fool, but wanting this too much to care.

‘Ring, please protect Seth. Protect him from harm, protect him from the people who want to hurt him. Please, keep him safe. Keep him alive.’ My knuckles were white.

‘Now,’ Abe said, his voice very low. And he glanced at the knife.

Somehow … somehow I didn’t need to ask any more. With a feeling of sick reluctance, I took the hilt in my right hand and stretched my left arm on the table. It looked waxen in the candlelight; white and soft and vulnerable, like a mannequin’s, not flesh at all.

‘Do you really want to do this?’ Abe asked.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I drove the knife into my arm.

The blood welled up, dark in the darkness. It ran down my arm and I angled my hand, letting it trace a snaking path down my wrist and fingers, and drip slowly into the bowl.

‘Tell it,’ Abe said. ‘Tell it what you will give for Seth’s safety,’

‘Anything,’ I said. My voice sounded strange in my own ears. The only sound in the room was the drip, drip of the blood in the bowl. ‘I’d give anything. My life.’

Abe’s breath seemed to catch in his throat and he stood, suddenly, so that his chair screeched on the wooden floor. For a minute I thought he was going to leave. But he only walked to the dresser at the other side of the room and pulled a clean cloth out of a drawer.

The blood was already slowing. When it finally stopped he handed me the cloth without a word. I wrapped it round my arm. I felt weak, shaky.

‘Are you OK?’ Abe asked.

I nodded. ‘I’m all right. Did it work?’

‘Yes. At least, you won’t know for sure, until it’s needed. But it took the blood. That means that part of you, part of your power, is in the ring now.’

‘Took the blood? What do you mean?’

For answer, Abe just held out the bowl. I peered into it, ready to pick the ring out of the mess of gore, wipe the blood off with the cloth.

But there was only the slightest pool of blood in the bottom; a few drops, no more. And as I watched, even that last trace soaked into the solid silver of the ring, until there was no sign. No sign of what I’d done, what I’d given.

Abe picked the ring out of the bowl and held it out to me on his palm. It looked … unchanged. Completely unchanged. When I took it and weighed it in my own hand it felt not one gram heavier. But something about it, something utterly indefinable, was different. I could feel it as it lay in my palm, emanating a power that was my own, and yet not my own.

I took it – and as I did, Abe put out a hand, catching my wounded arm. He held it for a moment, holding me close to him, his fingers pressing the bloody cloth. Then he let go abruptly.

I unwound the makeshift bandage. The cut was gone – the scar remained.

‘Thank you,’ I said to Abe. ‘Thank you, I couldn’t …’

But he’d already turned away, looking for his car keys.

The final candle was in place on the table and I looked at my watch – Seth would be here in just over half an hour and I’d only just finished laying the table. I hadn’t showered or got dressed yet. I wanted everything to be
perfect
. I knew that was stupid – Seth had been over for supper enough times to know that we didn’t normally dine off white damask and bone china. But tonight – tonight was different.

Pulling off my apron, I ran upstairs to the shower and stood under the steamy blast thinking about all the jobs left to do before Seth arrived. Wash hair – check. Shave legs – check. Change bedclothes – check. The thought gave me a funny little shudder: half anticipation and half terror.

As I got out of the shower and towelled my hair off I looked out of the window. Darkness had fallen and a creeping sea-mist had spread across the forest, turning the lighthouse beam into a strange ghostly halo over the wood. I hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains – we had no neighbours; there was no one between us and the coast – but all of a sudden I was conscious of my nakedness and the unguarded window, and I shivered.

In my bedroom I scolded myself as I pulled on one of the dresses my grandmother had given me. It was silly to be so jumpy. Just because Dad was away tonight didn’t make it any more dangerous. And anyway, I was hardly some defenceless damsel. If it came to it, I could take care of myself a lot better than Dad could.

But all the same, as I smoothed the silky-soft material down over my hips and thighs, I was very glad that Seth would be here soon.

I looked at myself in the mirror as I pinned up my hair. The dress was lovely – it was made of a very fine silk jersey and started out deep, midnight-blue at the collarbones, fading through shades of cobalt and azure, until it ended just below the knee in a shimmer of pearly grey. It reminded me of the moon rising over Winter Harbour, and when I’d unwrapped it from its paper sheath I’d thought of my first proper date with Seth, when he’d taken me out on his boat for a moonlight picnic. The only snag was I couldn’t wear a bra because though the front was very demure, the back was kind of low, nearly to my waist. Still, I thought I’d get away with it.

Then the doorbell rang and I ran downstairs barefoot to answer it.

‘Ohhhhh my God …’ Seth groaned when I opened the door. ‘Don’t do this to me, Anna …’

‘What?’ I looked round anxiously, wondering what he’d seen, what had upset him.

‘You expect me to sit through dinner while you’re wearing
that
?’ His cold hands crept around my waist. ‘And … oh Christ, no bra …’ His fingertips traced an icy path up my naked back.

‘Ahhh!’ I yelped. ‘Your hands are like ice!’

‘Sorry,’ he grinned. ‘It’s very chilly out and there’s no shower yet on the boat. I had to wash with a jug over the side.’

‘Urgh.’ I shuddered as I led him through into the living room. ‘Rather you than me. Still, there’s a fire in here.’

‘If I warm up, will I be allowed to touch you?’