Witch (21 page)

‘I freaked out when you ran away like that last night, Vania,' Bryce said as soon as we were out of earshot.

‘Well, what was I supposed to do?' I said. ‘Stand around in the rain watching you make out with Cassidy? Gross.'

‘Look, I tried to get her off, but she was all over me. She's a loser getting that wasted. And if you remember correctly, I had suggested that we leave.'

He had said that – before he made out with her.

‘And then you conjured up that storm,' he continued, shaking his head. ‘Cassidy got stuck. A wave came up and knocked her over. Matt and I had to jump in to find her. It was freezing.'

‘Oh, I'm so sorry to have caused you discomfort,' I said, rolling my eyes.

‘Listen, I've tried to apologise,' Bryce said, stopping to look at me, ‘but if you don't want to hear it I'm not going to waste any more of your time – or mine.' He turned to walk off.

‘Bryce, wait.' My fingers went to the chain at my throat. I realised I wasn't actually all that angry anymore; I'd been partly punishing Bryce for making me feel jealous. I'd poured all my rage into that storm. All of a sudden his side of things had become clear to me, and it would be crazy to throw our friendship away over Cassidy's drunken behaviour. ‘I do appreciate you saying sorry. To be honest, my whole birthday kind of freaked me out, with the séance, and then Cassidy and Matt being drunk. It was all a bit of a downer.' I didn't mention Brenda's vision about him.

His expression softened. ‘Yeah, I hear you.' He nodded sympathetically.

‘But I love the necklace you gave me.' I smiled.

‘I'm glad.' He smiled back at me, and I shivered as our eyes connected.

We continued to walk towards the cliffs, and my mind went back to the séance.

‘Bryce, when your great-grandmother came through you like that, it made me wonder – do all the ghosts you communicate with do it that way?'

‘No, usually they just stand in front of me. I think it's because I have a family connection to Bessie that she can enter my body like that. I've only talked to a few ghosts, though, so I'm not really sure.'

‘What about those witches? Don't they count?'

‘I don't think they were ghosts. I think they were spirits,' he said.

‘What's the difference?'

‘Spirits have never lived in a human body. They exist in a parallel world – a world that isn't solid, and that's a projection of our thoughts.'

‘Why do you think they came to us?' I asked.

‘I keep thinking about that riddle. I reckon they were trying to tell us something about the woman of Queen's Cross mystery, but I can't figure out what. Hopefully Dean will have some idea.'

‘Bryce . . . I saw them again.'

He turned and looked at me incredulously. ‘When?'

‘At the cafe this morning, in a mirror.'

I explained to him what they'd said.

‘You know, it sounds like it could be the second half of the riddle they told us last night.'

‘Maybe it's an extra clue,' I said. ‘But I don't know what trees and birds and a nursery rhyme have to do with danger.' I laughed a little as I said this. It really did sound ridiculous.

We'd reached the cliffs. It was soothing to look out over the slate-grey sea. Today it was smooth like silk, but on the sand were tangled knots of kelp and seaweed, dumped there by the storm. My storm.

‘My parents are going to let me learn to scuba dive,' I said. ‘They gave me lessons for my birthday.' I turned to him, beaming.

‘Awesome! You can hang out with the great whites!' he said.

‘You know, that is less scary to me than what happened last night.'

He smiled and nodded. ‘Cool storm, by the way.'

And we stood there staring out to sea together. I was finally really enjoying my sixteenth birthday.

On Sunday Dean and I met at the Purple Raven for lunch and a meeting. Brenda had a day off, so we ordered sandwiches and shakes from a girl I didn't know.

‘So, I did some research online and I was able to find part of the rhyme the witches told us,' Dean said proudly. He pulled out the parchment and a stack of printouts.

‘Nice!' I said.

‘It was actually originally spoken in Latin. I was researching old witches' curses and when I translated some of them to English, there it was. It's a warning, implying that someone is waiting for the right time to strike,' he said. ‘And I think the part that says “the devil plays with his nettle” refers to an old English herb called devil's nettle. It was used in folklore magic, and this article says that it's also known as yarrow.' He showed me a picture of a small flowered plant. The caption said, ‘
Achillea millefolium
: for treatment of cuts and abrasions.'

‘It sounds more like a medicinal herb than a magical one,' I said.

Dean nodded. ‘Yes, but all the magical herbs have medicinal qualities, too.' Yarrow is also used to get rid of headaches . . . and demons, apparently.'

‘Okay, but what's yarrow got to do with us? And what does this scary bit here mean – “When night becomes day blood will be shed”?' I pointed at the parchment.

‘The jury is still out on that.' Dean shook his head.

‘I don't like the idea of blood being shed. No more than is necessary, anyway,' I added, remembering when I had cut my hand for the spell to enchant Matt.

‘Not to freak you out or anything, but I think the last line has something to do with someone dying. “Time you do not have.” I think it means time has run out.'

‘That's full-on,' I said. ‘You're telling me someone's going to die?'

‘Maybe. Although I do have another theory. It could be a reference to the woman who has already died – the woman of Queen's Cross.'

‘Hmm, maybe! Um, listen, Dean, I told Bryce and I have to tell you now: the witches appeared to me again yesterday.'

His eyes widened as I handed him a piece of paper on which I'd written the second rhyme.

‘Trees and sparrows?' He shook his head. ‘What do they expect us to do? Go bird-watching?'

I hitched my bag higher up over my shoulder as I walked home. It was heavy with books. I'd borrowed three from the town library after I'd seen Dean – chemistry books that I needed to get through to be ready for an upcoming test. Monday was going to be a full moon, too – a good night to do some magic, which I also wanted to do some research for – so Dean had lent me one of his books on herb magic.

It was getting dark, and with my heavy load I stumbled off the kerb as I went to cross the street. I hit the tar hard, and books went spilling everywhere. Sitting up slowly, I saw that my jeans were torn and blood was seeping from one of my knees. As I gathered up the books there was a white flash of lights. A large van barrelled down the street towards me. Its lights were on high beam, blinding me. I froze.

At the last second it swerved, missing me by inches.

I leapt to my feet and stood there shaking in the dark. As my eyes adjusted again, a faint gloom over the land became apparent. The crescent moon was growing as it waxed towards full. And it hit me – ‘
When night becomes
day'
meant when the full moon rose in the sky. The witches were warning us that on the night of the full moon, someone would die. Maybe I needed the protection amulet more than Bryce did, though, after this near miss.

The next day at school I told my coven what had happened. They were freaked out that I'd nearly got hit by a car, of course, but they were more excited by my partial decoding of the riddle.

‘Of course!' Dean smacked his forehead. ‘The full moon affects the tide, too, which would explain “
The ocean flows before it ebbs
”.'

‘I wonder if it was a full moon the night the woman of Queen's Cross died,' Amelia said.

‘That's easy to find out,' said Bryce, taking out his iPhone. ‘Can anyone remember the exact date?'

‘I have it here,' I said, pulling a photocopy of the first newspaper article we'd found from my bag.

‘The article was published on 21 July 1997, which means she probably died the day before, on the twentieth.'

Bryce tapped away on his phone for a minute before raising his head triumphantly. ‘According to the Griffith Observatory Sky Report, 20 July 1997 was a full moon!'

‘And we all know magic is cast more effectively on a full moon, which adds more weight to the idea that the objects she was found with were being used in a witchcraft ritual,' I said.

Everyone nodded.

‘So the witches' riddle is telling us that the woman of Queen's Cross was a witch?' said Amelia.

‘What about that herb, yarrow, you were telling us about this morning, Dean?' Alyssa asked. ‘Obviously that has something to do with it. If it cures headaches then maybe they're warning that one of us is going to get knocked on the head!' She laughed.

The second bell sounded as we were talking, but none of us seemed to be in a rush to get to class.

‘What subjects do you guys have?' I asked. ‘Maybe we could skip first period and go to the cafe to talk to Brenda about all of this? From what the witches said, we don't have much time.'

‘Vania Thorn!' Mr Barrow's voice thundered from behind me. My stomach lurched at the now familiar, nasty tone in his voice. ‘Did I just hear you encouraging your friends to skip school?'

‘No, Mr Barrow,' I lied. Had he been around the corner listening to us the whole time? ‘We were actually discussing a class project we're working on together and were planning to do additional research for it,' I said.

‘The woman of Queen's Cross,' Alyssa chimed in. ‘We're solving the mystery for Friday's elective!'

Mr Barrow's eyes narrowed, and then suddenly he burst out laughing. It was almost more creepy than when he had been shouting at us. ‘Very well, children,' he snorted between laughs, ‘run along now.'

We backed away from him. But then his beady eyes focused solely on me.

‘And you, Vania Thorn, come with me,' he said, all trace of laughter gone.

The others stepped forward and stood around me as if forming a shield, but I meekly obeyed. ‘Yes, Mr Barrow.'

He turned on his heel, and after acknowledging the sympathetic looks from my coven I followed him down the hall, not sure where we were going until he turned right and stopped in front of the principal's office.

My heart sank.

He knocked and I could hear Mrs Stinson's faint but stern voice: ‘Enter.'

Mr Barrow opened the door and indicated with his head that I should go in ahead of him. I inched past him, doing my best not to brush against him as I moved through the narrow doorway.

I faced the principal uncertainly.

She shuffled some papers in front of her before looking up at Mr Barrow. ‘Yes?'

‘Vania Thorn, while being a capable student academically, is proving herself to be a disruptive influence among the other students,' Mr Barrow said loudly.