Fire Girl (27 page)

The woodsman!
Hazel thought, fighting down a wave of panic.
And we were so close to escaping . . .

She tried to grab the reins but strong hands dragged her off the wagon. She landed heavily on the ground, winded and shaken but still conscious enough to lash out. The blow connected with
something soft and there was a gratifying grunt of pain.

But her fightback was cut short. Someone pinned her arms to her sides and then the world went black as a bag made of rough material was dragged over her head. She sensed people pressing in
around her, then a voice grated by her ear.

‘Try any magic, try to escape, make a noise, and you’re all going over the ravine.’

Hazel froze. She heard whispering, then the voice in her ear again. ‘We’re taking you back to Nicolas. He’ll decide what to do with you.’

‘Trust no one.’

The Woodsman

F
ingers gripped Hazel’s arms and a vicious prod in the back forced her to walk. Her fearful breathing made the heat inside the bag
unbearable. She stumbled a few times, but the iron grip on her arm never loosened or let her fall.

The ground’s sloping up,
she thought
. We’re going back to the castle.

Bramley crawled restlessly around the nape of her neck. ‘I can’t breathe! You’re taking up all the air.’

‘That’s the least of our problems,’ Hazel whispered.

‘I don’t think Murrell will harm you,’ squeaked the little mouse, pressing his cheek against her skin. ‘At least I hope not. You and your mother are too
important.’

Hazel let the idea sink in. ‘But what about Titus and David?’

‘I think it’s fair to say that they are in deep manure.’

‘And what if they find Lilith? Or she gets loose from her bonds? Murrell won’t take kindly to what we did to her, or her demon.’

Bramley didn’t respond so they stumbled on in silence, listening to the footfalls and whispers of the witches. Behind her came the woodsman’s heavy step; to her left, David’s
uncertain stumbling, and all around, carried on the breeze, was the tang of blood that she had grown to hate.

A change in the air told her they had entered the market square. Pinpricks of light filtered through the bag.

‘That’s far enough,’ a voice said.

A shove forced her on to the low wall of the fountain. She sensed two others on either side of her. One of them grabbed her hand: Hecate. The other smelt of old tobacco: Titus.

‘Get this filthy bag off my head,’ he said. ‘And where’s my dog? If you so much as—’

Someone must have hit him, because he grunted and collided with Hazel’s shoulder. Over the sound of her panicked breathing, Hazel heard the witches talking nervously to each other.

‘Bram, stay out of sight,’ Hazel whispered. ‘I don’t want them to take you away.’ He gave a frightened squeak and burrowed deeper into her hair.

Eventually the whispers stopped and the bag was whipped from her face. Black-garbed witches and their familiars stood around them in a semi-circle. David crouched on the ground like a beaten
dog. Leaning on his stick in front of her, with Rawhead by his side, was Murrell.

‘Together again,’ he said with a thin smile. ‘How
nice
.’

Titus pushed himself upright and spat on Murrell’s boot. Rawhead lowered his head and growled.

‘Damned dirty demon,’ Titus growled back.

‘What a strange little family you make,’ Murrell said, flicking the spit away with his walking stick. ‘It would be a shame if anything happened to you.’

Hazel glared at him. ‘We’re not going to help you, so just let us go, will you?’

‘But we’ve only just remade our acquaintance,’ Murrell said with mock surprise.

‘Hazel told me you went down into the Underworld,’ Titus said. ‘It seems you’re paying the price for your folly.’

‘I have demon blight,’ Murrell replied. ‘My flesh is withering, my blood drying up in my veins. I am dying.’

‘I should have killed you myself, all those years ago,’ Titus said. ‘Then the Witch War would never have started.’

‘What does he mean by that?’ Bramley whispered.

Hazel was surprised to see Murrell wince at Titus’s words before turning his black eyes to Hecate.

‘I told you I’d find your daughter,’ he said. ‘And you know what will happen if you refuse to cure me.’

Hecate gathered Tom into her arms and stood up. ‘I’ll do as you ask, but only after you let my daughter and the two Witch Finders go.’

‘Ma, no!’ Hazel cried.

‘You know I can’t do that. If I let Titus go he’ll come back with help.’ Murrell shook his head. ‘And Hazel will never leave your side, not even if you begged her
to.’

‘Why don’t you just get on with it?’ David said, his eyes red with angry tears. ‘Kill us and be done.’

‘I have no wish to kill you, tempting as the prospect is. Hecate, if you cure me I promise to hold them prisoner for the time being. No harm will come to them – you have my
word.’

Titus snorted in disgust.

‘Don’t do it, Ma,’ Hazel hissed. ‘He can’t be trusted.’

‘I have no choice,’ Hecate said, walking over to Murrell. ‘You’d do the same if you were in my position.’

‘Watch them while I’m gone,’ Murrell said to his followers. ‘And someone find Lilith. I need her.’

Hazel watched as Murrell and Hecate disappeared into the castle with Rawhead behind, sniffing the ground. The sun rose, a golden coin gleaming on a flawless blue cloth. It was going to be a
beautiful day.

Half an hour or so later, two figures re-emerged from the castle. Murrell strode towards them, tall and strong, just as he had been when Hazel first saw him; but he wasn’t
quite
the
same – darkness hid behind his smile, as if he was recalling a painful memory.

Hecate followed, looking pale and shaken. She slumped down on to the fountain wall. Hazel put her arms around her, alarmed at how cold she felt.

‘I’m all right, sweet-pea. It was a strain, that’s all. I just need a minute.’

Hazel wanted to lash out at the beaming Murrell, but she knew that would do no good.
I need to give us all as good a chance of escape as possible
, she thought.
But how?

She composed her features into an expression of humble submission and addressed Murrell. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ve been thinking about everything you’ve said, about
Cromwell . . . and the Witch Hunters. I don’t want to live my life in fear. I want to help you.’

‘Hazel, what are you doing?’ Hecate said, trying to grab her arm.

Murrell leaned on his stick. ‘So, our little Fire Witch has had a change of heart, has she?’

Hazel stood up. ‘I have. I’ve seen what it’s like for witches in England. I realize that it’s my duty to join your fight. Cromwell and his Witch Hunters must be
stopped.’

‘I knew she’d betray us,’ David hissed.

‘Shut up, boy,’ Titus said.

‘So you want to join our war?’ Murrell asked. ‘You want to be a warrior, marching into battle cloaked in fire?’

‘Yes,’ Hazel said, drawing herself up. ‘That’s what I want.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t believe you.’ Murrell sighed. ‘You’re just saying what you think I want to hear.’

‘No, really, I—’

Murrell held up his hand. ‘No more lies. I see now what I must do.’

‘Nicolas?’ Hecate’s voice trembled. ‘You promised me . . .’

‘I know, and I’m sorry to break my word,’ Murrell said. ‘But you are all against me, and I can’t leave anything to chance. There is simply too much at stake.’
‘What are you going to do?’ David breathed. Murrell smiled sadly and turned to his followers. ‘Take them to the church. It’s time Baal tasted some human souls.’

Demons crave human souls. Consuming souls gives them

strength and increases their standing among their own kind.

Necronomicon, Vol. II
(author unknown)

T
he church doors crashed open and Murrell marched inside with Rawhead in tow. Hazel struggled between two witches who held her arms tight. Titus
fought and shouted, and under the din Hecate pleaded for them to set her daughter free. David seemed to be in shock and didn’t make a sound.

‘To your places,’ Murrell ordered his followers. ‘Begin the containment chant.’ The witches raised their hoods, fanned out and took up their positions around the
circle.

A shove sent Hazel pitching forward over the line of salt. Titus and David stumbled after her. Hecate, still clutching Tom, was forced down into a pew.

Titus looked at the ugly marks carved into the stone floor. ‘Nicolas, this is
wrong,
and you know it.’

‘Right and wrong. It’s all a matter of perspective,’ Murrell said. ‘Witch Hunters kill witches every day. That’s wrong. But –’ he raised a finger into
the air – ‘Cromwell would disagree.’

The witches began their dolorous chant. The shimmering barrier rose up from the salt and everything on the other side became wavy and unreal. Cold gripped Hazel, freezing her magic. Her skin
tingled with ice.

‘After everything we’ve been through, it’s going to end like this,’ Bramley said, shivering in her hair.

‘At least let these two go,’ Titus said. ‘For God’s sake, Nicolas, they’re
only children
.’

‘I take no pleasure in this. I do it because I must.’

Titus was red-faced with fury. ‘Whatever happens, I’m coming back to get you,’ he said. ‘And believe me, I will be an especially vengeful ghost.’

Hazel put her hand against the barrier and felt it hum under her fingers. The incessant chant drummed into her brain.

Murrell loomed over her, his eyes burning with intent. ‘You will outshine us all, Hazel,’ he said. ‘A fire warrior with demonic gifts. You will win me my war, but I’m
afraid you must say goodbye to your little friend.’

Before she realized his intent, Murrell muttered a spell, reached through the barrier and plucked Bramley from her hair. Hazel threw herself forward, feeling as if her heart had been yanked from
its moorings.

‘Give him
back
,’ she screamed. ‘You’re
hurting
him.’

‘Do you know what happens to a familiar when their witch dies?’ Murrell asked, dangling the dormouse by his tail. ‘Their heart breaks and they eventually pine away. Such is
this little fellow’s fate. Don’t you think it would be more merciful to give him a quick death?’