Overblow castle was seldom quiet. Since its transformation from defensive structure to school for witches, the building had seen many changes, some by design, but others the direct result of wayward, but well-intentioned spells.
Amelia Cackle was the current custodian of the rambling collection of buildings, and she took the responsibilities of maintaining the castle very seriously. There were, she suspected, parts of the east wing that were only held together by force of magic. She made a mental note to ask her deputy to investigate the matter on her return. She puffed out her cheeks as she descended the spiral staircase and emerged back into the hallway where she had started out from two hours earlier. The place had been well overdue a magical checkup, and she was relieved to find that there weren't more areas of the castle crumbling away under the weight of errant magic. She brushed tendrils of cobwebs from her hair and headed to the staff room, where Mrs Tapioca had promised there would be a pot of tea waiting for her.
With the girls away for half-term, dining in the great hall seemed an extravagance. Amelia made her way into the cosier confines of the staff room and plopped down on her usual chair. A pot of tea sat on the low table next to her and she hummed contentedly to herself as she went about the serious business of pouring the perfect cup. There was a rack of golden brown toast, and a fresh jar of honey vying for her attention, but nothing was going to come between her and her well-deserved first cup of tea of the day.
She wrapped her hands around the over-sized cup and blew across its surface. Whilst she loved the school when it was bustling and full of life, there was a certain amount of enjoyment to be had in its rare moments of tranquillity. She glanced in the direction of the rather battered cupboard that stood against one wall. There was always a good chance that the school's chanting teacher would be holed up inside of it. For reasons Amelia never understood, the cupboard appeared to be more like home to Miss Bat than the staff quarters that had been provided. She held her breath and listened intently for the tell tale sound of her gentle snoring. Finally satisfied that she was truly on her own, she placed the cup down on the table and prepared to conjure up the magazine that was her guilty pleasure. Witches; certainly senior witches, were not supposed to be slaves to material goods. Amelia didn't know the witch who was responsible for coming up with that particular rule, but she wished just once that she could meet them and tell them exactly what she thought of them. Warm buttered toast and a read of the gossip pages was in order; a suitable reward for the work she had already completed.
Tea sloshed over the side of the cup and scalded her fingers as, without warning, the door to the room was flung open and Constance entered, sweeping past her without acknowledgement. It was early, far too early for Constance to have returned from her expedition, and the expression of unease on the woman's face was more than a little unsettling. Constance was the one who faced down out of control spells without flinching. She was the one who dispersed magic; picking apart its intricate threads in seconds, knowing that a misreading of it could be fatal. Unease was not an expression she wore well. All thoughts of conjuring the magazine were lost from her mind as she watched her deputy pace back and forth in front of the window.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Amelia asked the question, not really expecting anything by way of a response. Opening up and sharing was not something that her deputy indulged in. There was, now she came to think of it, precious little that she did that could be placed under the heading of indulging. She was so busy musing on her chosen theme that she nearly missed the reply when it came.
"I saw one of them… at The Grange…she was there when I went to pay my respects."
Amelia's eyes widened as she watched the taller woman sink down onto one of the chairs; knowing immediately what she was referring to. "But you're.."
"I know."
Amelia looked across the table at her. Constance's head was bowed, her hands clasped together, resting on the table top. "I take it that you're not going to meet her again?"
"It was hardly my choice to meet her this time." There was a puff of annoyance. "I didn't mean…"
Amelia waved the apology away. "I'm sorry, but you rather caught me on the hop. It wasn't something I was expecting you to say. How did she find you?"
"I don't know." The tone in her voice told Amelia that she was worried. "She knew I'd be there. That was the impression I got. She tried to make it look like a casual meeting, but she was never that good an actor. She knew I'd be there and, although she didn't say, she wanted to tell me something."
Amelia ran her fingers lightly across the top of the table. "Are you…That is I mean….Will you…."
Constance let out an impatient huff of a breath. "I am duty bound to report it if that's what you're hinting at."
"Are you sure that's wise? It's not as though you were the one who initiated the contact."
"From what I recall, the ruling was quite clear. Any contact and they need to be told." She shot a look in Amelia's direction. "I have no choice. I have to report it."
"Morning!" The cheery voice of Imogen Drill broke the atmosphere that had been building. The young games teacher stumbled into the room, her knees almost buckling beneath the weight of the clothes she was carrying; only the top of her head visible above the pile. Her restricted vision meant that she caught her right hip against the table and toppled forward, spilling the mountain of clothes across the table.
"Sorry, sorry. Thought it was time for a bit of spring cleaning. Came back early this morning with the feeling that it was time to de-clutter and start afresh. Felt that it was only right once in a while to take stock of what you've got and…." She tailed off as she looked between the two women and realised that neither had been listening to a single word she'd said. That in itself wasn't entirely an unusual occurrence. "I get the feeling I shouldn't be here." She added as she picked up on the tension in the room.
"Imogen, if you wouldn't mind. Constance and I…"
"…have said all we need to." Constance finished for her as she rose to her feet. "Don't leave the room on my account Miss Drill. Miss Cackle, I will compose a letter, and I'd like you to assure me that you'll see it gets to the council before the day is out."
"Constance!"
There was no reply from the potions teacher, just a flick of her wrists as she vanished from the room.
Imogen hastily shovelled the clothes onto the floor and took a seat. "I'm sorry Miss Cackle, I didn't realise Miss Hardbroom was here. I thought she'd gone away for a few days."
"Hmmm?"
She was still not being listened to. Amelia was staring at the space where Constance had been sitting.
"Is there something going on that I should know about?" She waited for some sort of response. "Is she ok? I mean…" Imogen wasn't really sure exactly what she did mean, but there was something about the scene she'd walked in on that made her uneasy.
"I'm sorry Imogen. This really isn't a good time. Please excuse me." Amelia bustled from the room, muttering something inaudible beneath her breath, leaving Imogen standing there wondering just what on earth was going on.
Constance waved a hand and sealed her room off from the rest of the castle, not wanting company at this moment in time; however well-meaning. She paced back and forth across the small space; her mind replaying over and over the meeting that had taken place that morning. Why had Alice, of all people, been there? What had the woman wanted? She'd sworn to never have contact with any of her former friends, and though she'd not been the one to arrange the meeting, she knew she was duty bound to report it. She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to order her thoughts. It had been so many years; she had almost allowed herself to believe she was finally free of it. She'd long ago locked away the events of that night; buried them deep in her mind, used the suppression spells that had been instilled in her to quieten the memories. In a moment all that hard work was undone. Thoughts and emotions were stacking themselves one on top of the other, crowding into her head and threatening to overwhelm her. Amid the noise and imagery she heard it; the sound that she'd thought she'd rid herself of. It was there on the very edge of perception and she tried to force it completely from her mind.
Images were flashing before her eyes, sensory memories rushing through her, all demanding that she listen and remember, but she knew there was something else buried deep; something else that she desperately didn't want to reawaken. She closed her eyes, her hands bunched tightly into fists and attempted to regain control. She staggered as the waves of memory and emotion kept on coming. She threw out one hand; magic arcing from her fingertips and blackening the bare stone wall as it struck home.
"No," she muttered the one word, and tried again to centre her thoughts. His voice was there, she had heard it and now she couldn't deny it. He was there on the very edge of her hearing, and she feared that she wouldn't have the strength to banish him completely
Alice tapped nervously on the door and waited to be granted permission to enter. It had taken her a good two hours to make the trek back down from the hillside, and from there the journey back to the meeting place hadn't been the easiest. She had replayed the meeting with Constance over and over in her mind. The reality of the frosty reception shattering the long-held hope that they could, one day, all be reunited. She was so caught up in her misery that she failed to hear the call from the other side of the door. She took a step back in surprise when the door popped open without warning.
"I'm sorry," she apologised automatically as she stepped over the threshold.
"So?" the question came immediately. "She saw you?"
Alice nodded and wound a long strand of braided hair between her fingers. "I spoke to her." She glanced at the witch who was seated on the far side of the desk. "She seems so different to the girl I remember."
"Time has aged us all Alice. It has given advantages to some whilst denying others, but at the heart of it all we are still linked."
"Where there is one, the others will follow."
"As you say. She will come calling; now she has contact she will have no choice; her curiosity will eat away at her."
There was unease in Alice's heart. She had done as her friend had asked, but it didn't sit right on her shoulders. "She could report the meeting to the council."
"And bring the full scrutiny of the council to bear on the basis of a chance encounter?" There was a shake of the head. "No. She will come calling Alice… Mark my words. She will come and the coven will once again reconvene."