Black Wood (A Witch Rising) (5 page)

The room looked like a tornado
had just struck. Emily watched him squeeze his things into drawers.
What he dropped onto the floor, he kicked into the cupboard, his
face scrunched up in concentration as though unpacking challenged
his brain.

“It’d still be nice to have Mum
around,” she said.

“I don’t know, Em. I really
didn’t like them fighting all the time. Remember last summer before
Mum left?”

Yeah, she doubted she'd ever
forget the shouting and slamming of doors, and calling names when
her parents thought no one was listening.

Sam stuffed his empty suitcase
under the bed when the doorbell rang downstairs. Seconds later
heavy footsteps stopped in front of Sam’s room.

“Come in, Dad!” Sam said before
anyone knocked.

Her father pushed the door open
and walked in. “Look who’s here to see you.” He paced to the side
to reveal Clifford hiding behind him. When Emily’s eyes focused on
the boy, he turned a bright shade of red and looked away.

“Clifford, this is my son, Sam.
He’s just arrived from London. I’m sure you’ll get on just
fine.”

Clifford nodded.

“Well, then,” her father said.
“I’ll be in my study if you need me.” He turned on his heel and
left.

“Who’re you?” Sam asked, his
tone harsh. Emily elbowed him in the ribs but he paid her no heed.
Clearly, with the diary in mind, he wasn’t keen on visitors.

“This is Clifford, Aurelie’s
nephew,” Emily said before Clifford could answer. “She’s the one I
told you gave me the diary.”

Sam’s face lit up with laughter.
“That’s stupid. I’d never give it away.” His expression changed as
he realised what he just said. “What’re you doing here? You don’t
want it back, do you?”

Clifford shook his head and
pushed a red lock out of his eyes. “No! Aunt Aurelie would never
let me. I thought maybe…we could…hang out.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’ve
got loads of friends. I don’t need any more. Besides, we won’t be
staying here for long because soon Mum and Dad will hook up again,
won’t they? And then we’ll be on our way back to London.”

Clifford sat down on the floor
and scanned the room, his hooded eyes settling on Emily. “You’ll
want us to be friends when you hear what I have to tell you.”

“And what would that be?” Sam
asked. “You have another diary for us? I could use one of my
own.”

“Nope, but I have something much
better,” Clifford replied. “I know about the matching world. The
magic world where the diary comes from, that is. Without it, the
magic diary will not work forever and you'll need the magic mirror
and the secret words to open the portal.”

“Another world? What’re you
talking about? What’s it good for?” Emily asked.

“Whoa! Are there aliens?” Sam
staggered back, looking around the room as though a door with a
welcome sign might miraculously appear.

Emily rolled her eyes. Throw in
the word
magic
and all her brother could think of were
aliens.

“The portal’s a mirror right
here at Ravencourt Manor. If you open it, you’ll learn to spin your
own magic. You only have to say the right words,” Clifford
repeated. “Come on. Let’s find it, but I can’t open it myself.” He
got up to his feet. “You must have a special mirror somewhere in
this house.”

“There’s one in the bathroom,”
Emily said excited, “and then there’s a larger one in the
hall.”

Clifford turned to face her. For
a moment his eyes flickered like a star. “No, no. Those won’t work.
We need one that can stand on its own with a wooden frame.”

Emily shook her head. She
couldn’t remember any other.

Sam jumped up from the floor.
“Grandma used to have one of those. I haven’t seen it in a long
time though.”

“Maybe it’s in the cellar. Or
what about that locked shed in the garden? If we could only find
the key,” Clifford said.

“The shed.” Sam bolted toward
the door. “Let’s ask Dad about the key.”

“Wait!” Emily called. “Sam,
doesn’t the attic have a mirror?”

Her brother stopped in his
tracks and turned around. “You mean the one that’s always covered?
Of course! Why didn’t I think of it?”

“Well, let’s go have a look,
shall we?” Clifford said.

Emily followed as Sam led the
way toward the staircase running to the attic. Clifford was right
behind her. They climbed the steep, stony stairs. By the time they
reached the next level, they were panting. Emily rested for a
minute before she looked around. She hadn’t been here since her
grandmother had last shown them the mirror many years ago.

The long, narrow hall had a
single small window to the right. The heavy blanket of dust tickled
Emily’s nose and she rubbed her palm over her face to stop herself
from sneezing.

Clifford talked first. “This is
the attic? Where’s the mirror then?”

“The attic’s up there.” Sam
pointed at a hatch door on the ceiling. “There should be a hidden
ladder somewhere.”

Emily pointed at the darkest
side of the hall. “It’s in the corner.”

Sam squinted. “Oh, I see it.” He
spun to face Clifford. “Grandma had this fitted because of the
crows up here. At least one or two build a nest every summer. She
even used to find them flying around the house. Once she opened her
bedroom door and a crow flew so close over her head it almost
landed in her hair.”

“How do they get in?” Clifford
asked, wide-eyed.

“No idea,” Sam said. “But
wherever they’re from, they come every year, punctual like the
postman.”

“Grandma told you that?” Emily
asked. She missed her terribly.

Sam nodded. “Yep.” He set up the
heavy ladder, climbed up and pushed against the latch until the
door jarred open with a thud. Then he climbed back down. “Grandma
was never scared living here all by herself. Dad used to call her
one tough lady. He tried to get her to sell the house and move to
London with us, but she wouldn’t listen. She said she couldn’t
leave Grandpa behind. I’m glad she never sold Ravencourt
Manor.”

Emily shuddered. “Why did she
stay even after Grandpa died? Do you think she talked to his
ghost?”

Sam chuckled, then looked at
Emily with raised eyebrows. “If I think that? I don’t
think
that. I
know
it ‘cause Grandma told me. She said she’d see
him at least once a week.”

A cold shiver ran down Emily’s
spine.

Clifford inched nearer. “Is the
mirror up there then?”

“Yep.” Sam pushed Emily forward.
“You go first ‘cause you’re the youngest.”

“You’re such a chicken.” Emily
rolled her eyes, but Sam just shrugged. “I still don’t get what the
portal’s good for. What kind of world is it?”

“A magic one,” Clifford said.
“Aunt Aurelie never told me what’s behind the mirror, but she said
you need to learn to open it because your grandmother would have
wanted you to. You can’t learn until you open the portal.”

“Wait! Learn what?” Sam
asked.

Clifford shook his head. “I
don’t know.”

Emily stopped in her tracks.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Look, if you want more magic,
you need to open the portal. It’s where the magic diary comes from
and it still draws its magic from there,” Clifford said. “Are you
coming or what?”

Emily nodded and climbed up the
ladder with the boys following behind. Rubbing her arms, she looked
around the semi-dark room. Dim light sipped in through two muddy
windows that needed a good scrub. The smell of crow poo lingered,
faint but there.

The wooden floorboards creaked
under her feet as she pulled a string to switch on a naked light
bulb and took several steps forward until she stopped in front of
what looked like a huge cupboard covered with a black sheet. Her
grandmother had never allowed her to see what was hidden
underneath. “This is so creepy.” Her hands trembling with
anticipation, Emily grabbed hold of the sheet and pulled it
down.

Sam sneezed. “Someone should
dust in here once in a while.”

“Is that it?” Clifford stared
ahead in awe.

It was the largest mirror Emily
had ever seen. The rusty gold frame was thick and adorned with
beautiful flowers and gemstones, now dull from dust and years of
neglect. Emily’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up.
Above the frame was carved the face of a beautiful woman staring
down at them. Her eyes glinted like precious emeralds and her mouth
was the colour of ripe cherries. As she stepped forward, the
woman’s gaze seemed to follow her. In an instant, Emily knew this
was no ordinary mirror. The thought made her shiver again and she
rubbed the goosebumps on her arms with her hands.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily
whispered. When she looked down she saw Clifford cowering at her
feet. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat
and jumped up, brushing the dust off his pants.

“Right! Now that we’ve found it
what’re we supposed to do?” Sam asked as he walked closer. He
seemed back in charge.

“The words,” Clifford whispered,
“Emily must speak the words.”

Sam glared at him through
squinted eyes. “Why Emily?”

“Cause she’s the one who owns
the diary, remember?” Clifford snapped. “Can we get on with
it?”

“Hurry up, Em! I want a diary of
my own,” Sam said.

Emily sighed. “Okay. What am I
supposed to say?”

Clifford rose to his full height
and put up his arms. “Porta, manifeste et fac quod vis!”

“What does that mean?” Sam
asked.

“Shush! Emily, you’re supposed
to say those words. Porta, manifeste et fac quod vis!”

Emily repeated the words several
times until she knew them by heart. She looked from the mirror to
Sam and Clifford and then back to her reflection in the mirror.
Nothing happened.

Sam frowned. “Why’s it not
working?”

“I…I don’t know,” Clifford
stammered. “Something should be happening.”

“Well, it clearly isn’t and I’m
hungry.” Sam stomped back down the ladder. “You’ll have to share
your diary with me, Em, ‘cause it looks like I won’t be able to get
my own PlayStation.”

“What about the mirror? Grandma
said it should be kept covered at all times,” Emily called behind
him.

Sam shrugged. “Nah, just leave
it.”

“But Grandma—never mind.” Emily
grabbed the black sheet from the floor when a cawing sound cut
through the silence. She flinched and her heart skipped a beat.

“Did you hear that?” Clifford
whispered, his eyes as wide as saucers in the dim light.

“Let’s get outta here.” Grabbing
Clifford’s arm, she dragged him to the trapdoor. He moved
reluctantly as though he had no intention to leave.

As soon as they reached the
first floor, the smell of food wafted from the kitchen. Emily
grimaced. Not again.

“Ah, kids. You’re just in time.
Dinner’s ready,” her father greeted them.

Clifford averted his gaze and
walked past. “Sorry, Mr Jones, I should get going. Aunt Aurelie’s
waiting.” He pulled Emily aside and whispered in her ear, “Promise
me you’ll try again.”

What a strange boy. She shrugged
and accompanied Sam and her father to the kitchen to have dinner.
She’d visit the mirror soon, but first she’d write in her diary and
ask for fish and chips and maybe some pudding. As she fished for
sausage chunks, Emily decided she had enough baked beans to last
her a lifetime.

After dinner, Emily pulled out
the diary from under the bed and began writing when Sam barged in.
He jumped on the bed and peered over her shoulder. “What’cha
writing? Don’t forget my Playstation.”

Emily scowled and turned to face
him. How could she focus with her brother breathing down her neck?
“I’ll get you one if you promise to leave me alone.”

“All right. You got yourself a
deal.” Sam laughed. “I’ll go watch TV then. But don’t take too
long.”

As the door closed behind him,
Emily exhaled with relief and focused her attention back to the
diary. It still amazed her how the pages turned blank again. The
book felt strange in her hand. All beautiful and polished, not
mucky and old like before. All of a sudden, she felt nervous. How
should she start?

She decided to get straight to
the point. A PlayStation for Sam. Something other than baked beans
and sausages for dinner. And then that her mother and her father
would finally spend some time together. She noted the magic words
at the bottom of the page too so she wouldn’t forget them.

Porta, manifeste et fac quod
vis!

When she finished writing, she
put the pen aside and went about her evening routine, pleased she
had thought of everything. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, for
tomorrow was the day when her parents would finally get back
together.

Emily woke up with a jolt.
Something rustled outside her window. She sat up straight in bed
and strained her ears to listen. It sounded like fingernails on a
chalkboard. Drawing in her breath, she tried to calm her racing
heart. The scratching continued.

Goosebumps covered her arms as
she scrambled out of bed and bolted for the door. She tiptoed down
the dark corridor, her hand gliding across the brick wall to feel
for the door to her brother’s room. When she found the knob, she
flung the door wide open.

“Sam!” she whispered, but no one
answered. He was a deep sleeper. Usually, it took more than calling
his name to wake him. She jumped on the bed, grabbed his arm and
yanked as hard as she could, her leg kicking against the bedframe.
“Sam? Wake up!”

Sam tossed and groaned. “Go
away.”

“You gotta wake up. There’s
something outside my window,” Emily said.

He pushed her hand aside and
turned his back on her. “It was just a dream. Now go back to
sleep.”

She shook his arm again. “No, it
wasn’t. Listen! It’s still there.”