Constance paced back and forth across her room, her fingers flexing as she struggled to control the anger that was still coursing through her. The words of Buckweed drilled their way into her mind. She was still tainted as far as the council were concerned. No matter what she had achieved in the intervening years; she was still viewed through the same narrow perspective as before. She tried to tell herself that the words and the accusations didn't bother her, but she was tired of lying to herself. If they were so convinced that she was already in touch with her former school friends, then why didn't she just confirm the beliefs they already held.

Buckweed had arrived on the scene with her mind already made up; the whole interview had been little more than a sham, designed to make her lose her temper and she had walked right into the trap. The woman had gone straight for the one detail she knew would get a reaction. She had no pictures, no mementos of her former friends; that had been one of the rulings handed down. She recalled the dog-eared photographs being torn from where they were pinned on the walls, and picture frames smashed as her former teachers ruthlessly turned her room over in search of any item that linked her to the other members of the coven. Everything had been bagged and then burned. She had no physical reminders, but close her eyes and she could still see Veronica and the others. The impressions of them as clear as day.

She strode over to the window and pushed open the heavy wooden shutter that kept out the worst of the cold, clenching her fists as the freezing air washed over her. Dwelling on the past was not going to help. A flicker of movement caught her eye. She made out two fliers, battling the elements as they struggled to get their brooms aloft. Buckweed's lackeys were taking their reports back to the council. The wheels of bureaucracy would move at a surprisingly fast speed at the mere mention of potential impropriety.

She turned away and conjured up the small scrap of paper that Alice had given to her, turning it over in her hand. Alice Wellspring had come looking for her for a reason. In return she had played the situation by the rules, done everything that was expected of her and what had been the result? She was the one viewed as the untrustworthy party; treated as though she had no right to any support from the council. It was time to take matters into her own hands. She collected her cloak from the back of the door, pulling it around her shoulders. If the council were going to play things this way, then what had she to lose by finding out what her former school friend wanted? The memory of the voice she'd heard spiked in her mind, and she fought to bury it again. Its return had come as a direct result of the meeting with Alice. There were answers she wanted, and she wasn't going to get them by sitting quietly in her room, and waiting for the bitter and twisted members of the council to make their minds up about her guilt.
She cast her eyes over the scrawled address on the paper. To her surprise it was only a few miles away from where they had met. It looked as though Alice had had her own issues with moving on.

She clicked her fingers and waited for her broom to appear beneath her outstretched hand. When nothing happened, she clicked her tongue against her teeth. They had locked the room down. She closed her eyes and sought out the magic. It was easy to locate; the spellcaster proficient enough with their task, but lacking any real flair for the work. She concentrated her energies on the centre of the magic and was rewarded moments later with a gentle popping sound. She held out her hand and this time her broom obeyed the summons. She was tired, and another long flight was not the sensible thing to undertake. With Hester Buckweed within the school she didn't have the time to waste. Her breaking of the spell would be discovered within the hour, and Buckweed would take delight in bringing the weight of the council down upon her. She had worked for so long to distance herself from her former actions, but now it seemed that she was destined to return to her past. She only hoped that her actions would not be made to reflect badly against Cackles.

The alarm rang loudly throughout the school, and Amelia blearily pulled her dressing gown around her shoulders, muttering darkly as she made her way to the Great Hall and the source of the commotion.

"What on earth is going on?" she yelled at Hester Buckweed who was stationed in the middle of the hall, her arms tightly folded across her chest.

"Where is Constance?"

"I don't know… asleep in her room if she's any sense at this time of the day."Amelia was left shouting into empty air as Hester waved a hand and brought the cacophony to an immediate stop.

"She's not in her room," Imogen confirmed as she made her own way into the Great Hall. "I swung by there on my way here," she explained. "Had the feeling that this little side show was all for her benefit." She glared at Mistress Buckweed, not caring if the senior witch reported her for some perceived transgression of the witches code. She was seriously starting to tire of the woman's behaviour.

"That leaves us no other option," Hester frowned and turned her attention to Amelia. "We warned you this could happen."

"Warned me what could happen?" Amelia stifled a yawn. "She has left her room; that is all we know for certain."

"What do you need her to do before you'll accept what's happened?"

"I don't believe for a second that Constance has gone back to the coven. You only know her as the witch you met twenty years ago. A lot can change in that time."

"So you don't know where she is?"

Amelia clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Haven't I just said that?"

Hester stepped forward and closed the gap between them. "I hope that you are telling me everything you know Miss Cackle. If this coven were to attempt anything again, I need not remind you of what could happen."

Amelia waved at the woman to shut her up. "You obviously don't know my deputy at all. There is no way that she would become mixed up in that sort of thing."

"I believe that's what her mother said twenty years ago," Hester told her without a trace of sarcasm. "We never truly know anyone Miss Cackle, whatever we might like to tell ourselves."

"Well I know Constance a damn sight better than you do." Amelia's cheeks puffed out with frustration. "She has dedicated herself to the craft. She is not going to give that up just because members of her old coven come calling."

"She may not have much of a choice Miss Cackle; I wish you'd at least entertain the notion. Those women are bound together by their experiences. Where there is one; the others will follow."

Amelia shook her head; not wanting to listen to what was being said. She didn't want to admit it, but Hester had a point. The pull of a coven was stronger than anything else; stronger than family in some cases.

"She must be found Miss Cackle. If you know anything concerning her whereabouts it's best you say so now."

"You make her sound like she's some sort of criminal on the run," Imogen moved to stand at Miss Cackle's side, not happy with the way things were proceeding. The sneer that met her comment only served to anger her further.

"She is on the run my dear girl. She has - once again - flouted the rules of the witches code, and I wish the pair of you would stop treating her as though she was just some regular member of staff."

"She is my deputy, and I trust her implicitly," Amelia found herself stating for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"I wish that I could share your faith Miss Cackle," Hester rubbed the bridge of her nose. "She walked out of the meeting; refusing to answer the questions put to her and has subsequently used unauthorised magic to lift a lockdown spell designed to keep her within the school walls. Now, do these sound like the actions of a witch who has nothing to hide from the witches council?"

"Give her till first light." There was no changing Mistress Buckweed's view of the situation, but there was still a sliver of a chance to broker a deal. "She may have just gone to clear her head."

Buckweed looked levelly at Amelia. "The report from my fellow inspectors will be discussed, at length, during an emergency meeting of the council. They will be the ones who decide what is to be done. They will bring their answer here, and if Constance isn't within the walls to hear that ruling, then …"

Amelia raised a hand, not needing to hear the end of the threat. "I get the picture Mistress Buckweed."

"I will be in your office at nine on the dot. I expect you to be there, and if she has any sense, then Constance will be there as well." Her piece said, she gave a flick of her wrists and vanished from the room.

"Do you think she'll be there at nine?" there was a hopeful note to Imogen's question, and Amelia didn't want to be the one to quash it.

"Maybe dear… maybe."

"Where would she go?" Imogen seemed at a loss when trying to imagine a possible destination. "Does she have a family to go back to?"

Amelia stifled another yawn and placed a consoling hand on her colleague's arm. "She will do what she feels is right. I'm sure she'll be back."

Imogen frowned. "You've not answered my question."

"Cackles is where Constance chose to make her home. She will come back when she's ready."

Realising that she wasn't going to get a better answer from Miss Cackle at the present moment, Imogen allowed herself to be led gently from the hall.

It felt odd; it always felt odd. Constance told herself that she preferred the relative solitude of life within the castle walls; that it was the perfect environment in which to work, but there was more to it than that. She glanced around at the people who surrounded her on all sides and wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else, somewhere where they weren't. There were just too many of them; all of them going about their pointless little lives as though they were the most important people in the world. It was the noise they surrounded themselves with that she couldn't bear. There was no stillness, no quiet within their world; they filled their days with a seemingly never-ending barrage of sound. She failed to understand how they were able to think amid the continual cacophony of the everyday. She was thankful when her route took her off the main streets of the town and their gaudy window displays, and down a narrower, quieter, side street. Her boots clipped loudly on the hard cobbled stones as she covered the ground. She'd reluctantly amended her wardrobe upon landing in the town. Her broom and hat were hidden away where the eyes of the non-magical would not see them. She had bitterly argued over making that very concession only a year earlier, but back then she'd not been trying to avoid the attentions of the witches council. There were still practitioners of the arts in the area; the level of magic in the air was tangible. She needed to remain off the radar for as long as possible, and that meant she had to make a few sacrifices.

Her pace slowed as she reached the end of the road. Ahead of her was a small shop, set slightly back off the street. In swirling red letters the sign above the door told her she was about to pay a visit to Myth and Magik.

The window display was overly busy as far as she was concerned. It was the usual new age rubbish that the girls had a tendency to latch onto in their third year. She turned her nose up at the white painted sign on the glass offering tarot readings, and boasting of crystals and candles and oils for sale within. There was nothing truly magical about any of it; it was the sort of thing that the deluded new-ager liked to cling to when they pretended that they had an ounce of magic within them. She pushed a hand into the folds of her cloak and pulled out the small white square of paper to check the address. There was no need of course; it was the right place. She took a deep breath, surprised to find that her heart had been racing. The voice in her head told her to turn away, to turn away and cast a forgetfulness spell on herself. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't even be contemplating the meeting with her former school friend. Everything she'd done up till now had been in contravention of the oath that she'd taken, but all of it could be forgiven. One step over the threshold of the shop and it would be another matter entirely; she could risk expulsion from the guild altogether. She could lose everything she had ever worked for, with no possibility of ever getting any of it back. She paused for a second and then reached out and gave the door a firm push.

The bell above the door jangled loudly as Constance entered the shop. There was a strong smell of incense in the air and the small space was made to feel even smaller by the narrow gaps between the overcrowded shelves that ran the length of the room. Every available surface appeared to be piled high with crystals and trinkets, and nothing that any self-respecting practitioner would want to have anything to do with.

"I'll be there in a minute," came the cheerful voice from somewhere further back. Constance clenched her hands into fists; there was still time to walk away, still time to go back to the witches council and tell them that she had met one of her former friends, but that she knew it was a mistake. She stayed where she was, not trusting herself to move. She didn't hear the words that Alice called out, but she heard the lightness of her tone; a world away from the nervous, concerned woman she had encountered on the hillside only a few scant days earlier. Whatever she was doing with her life; it certainly sounded as though it agreed with her.

There was a wide smile on Alice's face as she approached; it lasted right up to the moment where she realised just who was standing, slightly awkwardly, just inside the door of her shop. Her expression changed straight away. As Constance watched, there was a startling array of emotions that flashed across her features. One of those expressions was most definitely fear; it was a look she was all too familiar with. She gestured back towards the door with one hand, as her host struggled to regain her composure. "I can go….it was a foolish thing for me to come unannounced like this. I should have called ahead."

There was no immediate response so Constance turned and pulled on the door; the bell stationed above it jangling loudly.

"No. Wait!" Constance paused, with one hand on the door, and waited to hear what Alice would say. There was nothing; the woman obviously finding this meeting as awkward as she had found their previous encounter. She had worried about making the trip, but it appeared she was not the only one with issues.

"Constance, please." Alice finally found her voice. It was definitely lacking in strength, more subdued than moments earlier, but there was a note in it that made Constance halt her progress from the shop. "Come back inside and let's have that drink I promised you."

She closed the door again, and turned to meet the gaze of the woman she'd once promised she'd stay friends with forever.

Alice led the way silently past the congested shelves and through a plastic strip curtain out into the back of the shop. She gestured wordlessly for Constance to take a seat.
There was a fire in the grate, and it spat and crackled loudly; sparks jumping from the hearth and burning tiny holes in the worn carpet. Alice busied herself in her kitchen, a series of clattering noises as she gathered together the necessary items for her guest.

She placed the tea things down on the small round table and took a seat on the opposite side of the fire. "I'm glad you changed your mind. Glad that you came."

"Hmmm."

"You still not sure you should be here?"

"I know I shouldn't be here," Constance said frostily. "It's breaking essentially every promise we made."

"That we were forced to make."

She chose to ignore the correction. "How are things?"

"I get by," Alice told her and then gestured towards the archway that led back to the shop. "It's not real magic, but I like to feel as though I'm keeping my hand in."

"You no longer practice?"

Alice shook her head. "Not since that day." She looked down at her hands and twisted the white handkerchief she held tightly between her fingers. "I…" she risked a glance in Constance's direction. "I..I can't believe that you still do." Constance stiffened but said nothing by way of reply. "I still think about it," Alice admitted. "I think about who we were, and that just seems like a different person, not me at all." Constance felt the woman's gaze shift again in her direction. "And you; what do you do?"

"I teach." It was more information than she wanted to give out, but it was information that was already out in the wider world, so it seemed pointless to deny it.

"You do more than that," came the reply. "I may not practice, but I could feel the increase of magic in the air the moment you stepped through the door…the moment we met on that hillside. To wield so much… Does it not scare you?"

Constance shook her head. "I have mastered it. There is nothing to be scared of as long as you know your limits."

Alice plucked an iced cake from the plate on the table and bit into it. Her eyes stayed fixed on her visitor. "It's too dangerous." She muttered between mouthfuls, the fear evident in her voice.

"Anything is dangerous if misused."

Alice shook her head, the braids in her long blond hair falling across her face. "I'm glad I'm free of it.,

"It is part of who you are," Constance reminded her sharply. "You don't choose it. You either are magical or you are not."

"I don't believe that. You can choose….I chose. I walked away from it….gave it up."

"And the others…?"

"What of them?"

Constance had been hoping Alice would trip up on that particular question. "You have seen the others, haven't you?"

Alice took another mouthful of cake to avoid answering.

"Alice you must tell me. I already have the council out looking for me. Tell me if I need to worry about meeting any of the others."

"I… I…"

"Where there is one…the others will follow."

She shook her head. "All that is behind us. I'm not a witch; I'm not bound by the rules they lay down."

"You will always be a witch. It's not just what you are, it's who you are. You cannot simply wake up one day and choose to be someone different."

"I did."

"No you didn't. You put magic away, in a box. Pretended it never existed. There's a difference."

"Have you really changed so much?" Constance felt herself under a great deal of scrutiny. "You were so very different back then. You were adventurous, you were so bright, so eager to learn about the world around you. Look at you now, locked away in that castle of yours, falling back and becoming the very sort of witch we promised we'd never be."

Constance chose not to comment on Alice's mention of a castle. There were only a handful of schools that resisted the pull of the modern world and remained within castle walls. It looked as though her former school friend had been doing more than a little digging.

"I promised I would look after the magic I had, put it to good use."

"And you think you're doing that now?"

"I know I am." She was puzzled by the question. "Why do you ask?"

"Why did you go to The Grange? Why did you go back there of all places?"

It wasn't a question that Constance wanted to answer. It wasn't something she ever really thought about. It was simply something she did. She shrugged her shoulders. "I go because I must."

"I don't know how you can bear to be near that place."

"I go because we cannot simply forget and pretend it never happened. In my experience running away from something seldom works."

"Are you saying that's what I've done?"

"No….I…" Constance frowned as she narrowly misjudged the distance between the cup she was holding and the table. The delicate china rattled against the edge of its saucer, and it took her two further attempts before she was able to seat it where it belonged.

"Are you feeling alright?" Alice's voice was strangely muffled, and Constance shook her head, trying to clear the fogginess from her mind. "You look a little pale, are you sure you're alright?" The voice was only barely audible above the rush of white noise that filled her head. Her vision tunnelled, colour bleeding from her peripheral vision, leaving only a narrow view in black and white. She fought against the sensation, but felt her heart rate increase as it too picked up that something was amiss. Cold perspiration prickled her skin and she attempted to rise from her seat, to try and shake the lethargy that was washing over her in crushing waves. There were voices that she could just make out through the roaring in her ears, new voices, ones she was certain hadn't been present a few moments earlier. She tried to turn to face them, but her limbs refused to obey her commands. Her knees buckled and she sank down onto the worn carpet, consciousness ebbing slowly away till the blackness engulfed her.