Many thanks for the reviews. They really do put a spring in my step and remind me that I need to keep posting.
For the benefit of this story the founding stone of Cackles was the same one that was repowered by Mirabellle Hubble.
Esme stared down at her hands and wished she didn't feel so ill at ease. She had spent months wanting nothing more than to be back within the walls of the school but now, as she sat in Miss Cackle's office and waited for the representative of the witches council to enter the room, she felt a knot of nervousness in the pit of her stomach. Miss Cackle had warned that there would be repercussions for all those involved in the events of the day. Whatever happened she didn't want Miss Cackle to take any of the blame.
She turned her head as the door creaked open and a young woman entered the room. She'd met most of the senior members of the council at one point or another as her mother insisted on throwing parties and inviting along anyone who she imagined would help her climb up into the highest ranks of the council. She forced a smile onto her face. This woman was in her mid-twenties at most; she was definitely not one of the hatchet-faced old crones she'd been expecting.
"Well met," the greeting was uttered with a smile. "You, I take it, are Esmeralda Hallow?"
Esme nodded, wincing as she felt a throbbing pain behind her right eye. "Well met."
"You should take something for that," the woman told her as she took up the chair on the far side of the desk that was usually occupied by Miss Cackle. She raised a hand. "I would offer, but it appears my own magic is being affected by whatever has been going on around here."
Esme waved the offer away. "I'm fine, really. It's just a headache."
There was another warm smile as the woman settled back into the chair. "I'm Melody Evensong. I know the council would prefer it if I were to insist you call me Miss Evensong, but it's Halloween and I am here, not with my own coven, so rules be damned."
Esme didn't know what she was supposed to say, so she simply sat there and waited for the woman to carry on.
"Halloween should be a time for celebration, not a time to be looking to find fault with a sister witch. There will have to be answers but I want you to know that I'm not here to judge, not here to tell you that you'll be cast out of the sisterhood without further recourse to magic."
Esme allowed herself to relax a little. She hadn't realised just how tense she'd been; how scared that perhaps the events of the day would lead to her losing all rights to magic again.
"I will have to investigate, have to find out how and why a founding stone was drained of its magic."
"I'll tell you all I know," Esme was quick to speak up, but her words fell away as Melody raised a hand.
"Don't be too eager," she advised. "I am only the first. Others will come and they will be looking for answers. I just need to give them the broad brush strokes. The outline if you will. There will be time for you to sit with Miss Cackle and perhaps Miss Hardbroom and decide amongst yourselves what did or didn't happen."
There was a lightness to Melody's voice, but Esme wasn't sure she liked what was being suggested.
"I'm not interested in making anything up. I'll say what happened and be judged on that."
"You took magic that wasn't yours to take."
"I had no choice," Esme protested.
"You had a choice. There was a choice to be made and you made it. You wilfully took the magic from the founding stone of the school. You put yourself and your sister above the safety of everyone else in this school. That's remarkably selfish."
"My sister would have fallen from the roof of the tower." Esme pushed herself to her feet; immediately grabbing hold of the edge of the table in front of her with both hands as her head swam with the sudden movement.
"To value one life above all others. That is not what witchcraft is about. All witches are your kin."
"I had seconds to make a call." Esme fought to stay focused as the world around her swam before her eyes. She felt hands close tightly over her arms and she tried and failed to pull away.
"Darkness falls. It walks upon the land thanks to you."
The words burned their way into her mind and she tried again to pull away.
"We will have what we want." The grip on her arms was released and she sat back heavily on the chair as she was pushed away. Pain lanced through her skull and she pressed both hands against her head, trying to contain it. Blackness edged the periphery of her vision. She closed her eyes, convinced that she was about to pass out.
"Well, perhaps we should pick this up in the morning."
Esme blinked, her hands dropping to her side as the pain vanishing as quickly as it had struck. She glanced across the table at Miss Evensong. The woman was smiling at her as though nothing was wrong.
"I'm sorry, I …" She tailed off; the events of the last few minutes unclear in her mind. She tried to grab hold of a memory, to recall what had passed between them, but there was nothing but a grey fog.
She heard the scuff of the chair against the stone floor as Miss Evensong rose to her feet.
"You must be tired. This perhaps isn't the best time to be asking such questions. We will speak again tomorrow when you are properly rested and I have finally shaken the last of the rain from my hat."
"I.." Esme was at a loss. Her memory of the last few minutes was a blank. She had no idea what they'd spoken about.
"Are you are feeling ok?" Miss Evensong motioned back to the door. "I can fetch Miss Cackle or one of the other teachers if you are not feeling well."
Esme shook her head. "I'm…. I'm fine… thank you."
"The school will fall and you will be the key."
"I'm…. I'm sorry?" She had heard the words this time, she was certain of it. There was a look of bemusement on Miss Evensong's face.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright? From what I hear it must have been something of a trying day."
Esme rubbed at her temples. "You're probably right. I should get some rest." She pushed herself up out of the chair and walked slowly towards the door, not seeing the way that the corners of Miss Evensong's mouth curled up into a sly smile.
The rain was not showing any sign of relenting. It hammered down relentlessly upon the dense woodland that surrounded the castle.
Julie had tried to shelter the unconscious witch as best she could before making her way back onto the path. She looked up at the steep, curving track that weaved its way through the trees. She'd never been one of life's natural runners, but she was going to have to push herself if she wanted to get help quickly. She took a few steadying breaths. Magical help was the only sort of help that was going to be of any use. That meant getting back to the school without delay.
"Come on Julie," she told herself, in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. "You can do this."
"Stop!" She'd not covered more than twenty metres when a commanding voice cut through the air. She skidded to a halt and looked around, her heart pounding in her chest, trying to see where the voice had come from. Her eyes took in nothing but the impenetrable woodland around her. She was at the point of telling herself she'd imagined it, when there was a thudding noise and a tall, black-cloaked figure appeared out of nowhere immediately in front of her. She let out an involuntary yelp and clutched a hand to her chest.
"For the love of…. Can you lot stop doing that. You could scare years off a person."
The tall witch regarded her steadily for a few seconds, before apparently deciding that it wasn't worth apologising.
"Going from your inability to see me whilst I had my broom in hand." There was a pause and Julie had the distinct impression she was being judged. "I'm assuming this isn't yours?"
She glanced down as the witch nudged one of the two brooms that lay on the floor with her left foot.
"Not mine," she concurred.
"Hmmm. Damn thing nearly careered right into me. I can't abide careless broom owners. No thought for the rest of the world and the fact that someone else might be out and about." The witch was swaying gently and Julie caught a definite whiff of something decidedly alcoholic.
"Been out celebrating, have we?"
The witch blinked slowly at her and then attempted to tap the side of her nose. "Just had the one," she slurred as she managed to catch the end of her nose on the fourth attempt. By her own admission Julie wasn't that good at guessing the age of witches and she was pretty sure it was considered rude to ask. There were times where the things Mildred told her got muddled in with things she'd read in books when she was younger, where witches had, by and large, been the villain of the piece. This woman appeared to be roughly her own age, but there was precious little of her to see. Her hat and cloak covered up most of her, and it was only the snub nose and deep blue eyes she could see. Eyes that were very definitely finding it hard to focus.
"Why do these things happen to me," she asked no-one in particular. She pointed down the path. "There's another witch back there… unconscious. I was trying to get help for her. By the look of you I now need to get help for two witches!"
The witch made a good attempt to straighten up and look serious. "Where's she? Show me."
Julie eyed the swaying witch for a few moments before realising she had nothing to lose. Magical help of any sort had to be better than no magical help at all. She led the way back through the undergrowth; behind her there was a lot of swearing as the witch appeared to trip over every possible tree root and shrub.
Esme moved silently through the deserted corridors of the castle, fingers brushing against the rough stone, taking the longest route she could back to the others. The school had always felt more like home than home ever had. She had always felt welcomed within the walls and now once again she felt the magic reach out. The place was never truly silent; there was always the subtle murmuring of magic in the air if you took the time to listen to its song. It was a melody she'd not been able to hear in months, and in the cold grey chill of night she took in its comforting presence welcoming her back.
The world had seemed such a stark, empty place without magic. Having been surrounded by it all her life its abrupt absence had been hard to accept and, if she was honest with herself, she'd not coped at all well. Her parents had kept her away from her sisters; almost as though they feared the loss of magic was somehow contagious. That sense of isolation had been hard to take and had served to compound the overwhelming feeling of loss. She had withdrawn into herself, not wanting to face the reality of what had happened.
Now; now it was back and she just wanted to enjoy the sensation. She wanted to ignore the pounding in her head and the tiny tremors she felt at the tips of her fingers. She had magic and that was right, that was good. She tried not to dwell on the haziness of the meeting with Miss Evensong. It had been a long day and she was tired. That was all it was. She would have a good night's sleep and then everything would look sharper and clearer in the morning.
She caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, half-expecting to see one of the cats stalking after her but there was nothing there. She shook her head, obviously mistaken, and carried on her way, only there it was again. There was something, on the very edge of her peripheral vision. She was certain of it this time. She spun on her heel, determined to catch sight of whatever it might be, but there was nothing but a few pieces of furniture and the bare walls of corridor. She folded her arms and ignored the pounding in her head.
"Come on," she called out into the darkness. "Show yourself."
She strained to hear any movement, but there was nothing but the gentle song of magic in the air. Frowning, she turned in a slow circle, trying to catch whatever it might have been. In her head she could imagine Miss Hardbroom berating her for an over-active imagination, but she was set on her course now and wasn't about to be dissuaded.
"Come on," she encouraged. "I know you're out there."
She took a pace towards the bend in the corridor where the shadows were darkest. "Come on. I won't bite."
"You found her like this?" Julie glanced back up from where she was crouched next to the motionless witch, trying to ignore the heavy drops of rain that had by now soaked through everything she was wearing. The new arrival was eaning rather heavily on her broom and squinting down at her. Julie didn't want to ask her just how clear her vision was, but she had the suspicion the witch was seeing at least two of everything.
"Just like this. I mean, I tried to make her comfortable, get her out of the rain, but she was unresponsive when I found her."
"Right. Hold this." The witch let go of the broom and Julie had to react quickly to stop it falling and striking the collapsed woman. "Ooops," came what passed for an apology as the drunken witch staggered back a few paces, somehow managing to retain her balance. She pushed the edges of her cloak away and flexed her fingers. "You might want to…" she motioned with her hand. "Probably best if you're not in the way."
Julie scrambled to her feet and made sure she put a good few feet between them. She watched as the witch staggered again.
"Are you sure you…."
"Sssssshhhhh," there was a hand flapped in her direction. "This will be easier without interruption."
Julie bit back the rest of the question, but quietly took another pace back. She couldn't hear the words that were spoken, but knew that something was happening when she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. There was an intangible something in the air. She waited expectantly for the next thing to happen, but after a few moments the witch lowered her hands and then turned them towards herself and stared at them.
"That was it?" she asked before she could stop herself. It had been like watching a firework streak into the sky and then fail to go bang. It all felt rather anti-climactic.
"It's never done that before." The words were muttered, but Julie just about made them out.
"You did finish the…. Spell?" She guessed at the word.
The witch drew herself up to her full height. "Are you questioning my prof… my professs… My ability to do my job?"
Julie held up her hands. "The thought never crossed my mind." She laced the words with as much sarcasm as she could, fairly certain it would pass undetected.
"Good." There was more waggling of fingers. "Something is very wrong."
"You're drunk!" Julie was past being polite to the new arrival. "Your magic isn't working because, by the smell of it, you've drunk an industrial amount of alcohol."
"Pfffttt. I might have had one, but I know my limits," came the response.
Julie simply raised a questioning eyebrow as the witch staggered backwards again. A hand was waved around and Julie did her best not to flinch.
"Magic has not been working the way it should around here."
"Bad news travels fast I see."
"So…. Is true?" The witch fixed her with one beady eye as she squinted at her.
"I don't have time for this." There was only so much drunken, unhelpful witch she was prepared to tolerate. "If you're incapable of doing anything useful, then stay here with her whilst I go for help." She looked at the broom she was still clutching in her hands. "You should probably keep off this for a few hours too."
With a surprising turn of speed the witch stepped forward and snatched the broom back from her. "Sssss….mine."
"I know it's yours. You wouldn't get me on one of those things for all the money in the world." She put her hands on her hips and tried to ignore the fact that she was soaked to the skin. "Are you going to do anything remotely helpful, or am I to leave you here with her?"
"Shhhhhh…" The witch looked at the unconscious figure and then down at the broom in her hand as though surprised to see it there. "Take this." She threw it at a surprised Julie and turned back to tend the fallen witch.
Julie tightened her grip on the handle of the broom as she attempted to keep her temper in check. She raised her face to the heavens and welcomed the rain as it pounded against her skin. Witches who'd had a drink or two were more impossible to deal with than regular ones. She closed her eyes and let out a long calming breath.
It was the small explosion next to her ear that brought her back to the present day. She wearily opened one eye to see what damage had been done. She was a little surprised to see the older witch slumped to the ground as though someone had sucked all the life out of her. "She's gone," she reported hollowly.
"What do you mean?" Despite herself, Julie took a pace forward.
The witch pulled the hat from her head, long dark hair falling around her shoulders as she did so. She looked up at Julie, her face drained of all colour, her eyes suddenly clear, all trace of her earlier levity gone. "Her soul's been taken."
Mildred had rehearsed the line in her head a dozen times now, but she wasn't exactly certain what it would sound like if she was to say it out loud. It sounded right in her head; it sounded like exactly the sort of thing you would say to someone who possessed the magic that had been destined to sustain your family line. She had tried to ignore Enid; had tried to pretend to herself that she wasn't remotely interested in the magic that Esme Hallow now possessed, but the more she turned the thought over in her head, the more she realised that she needed to talk to the older girl. She wanted to know if the magic felt any different to Hallow magic. Did different magic feel different, was that even a thing? She pushed the thought from her mind. She wanted to have a sensible meeting with Esme. They could start with something simple, she could open with a joke about how Esme would never have to catch the bus again, and then see where the conversation went from there. She paused and tapped the side of her head with the flat of her palm. This was just Esme she was going to be talking to. She'd spoken to the older girl a number of times, there was nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.
She skipped down the short flight of stairs and turned the corner. It was there she skidded to a halt, the thoughts falling from her mind, her eyes widening in fear as she took in the slumped figure on the ground ahead of her. She stood stock still, staring at the unmoving form and willing there to be even the faintest sign of life. There was nothing. She fought for air, fought to give voice to the name on the tip of her tongue, but sound refused to come. She stumbled back a pace and then another, the heels of her boots clattering into the base of a step. The jolt was enough to shake the silence from her shoulders. She raised her head towards the ceiling. "Miss Hardbroom. Miss Cackle!" She shouted their names for all she was worth. She tried to take a pace forward, but fear held her in place. She stood where she was, heart thumping inside her chest as she stared at the motionless form of Esme Hallow.