With my mouth and nose buried in the collar of the leather jacket Gabriel put on me, Hendrix and I both head into town.
‘You’re so fucking weird,’ Hendrix comments. ‘Always smelling that man’s clothes and skin. It ain’t normal.’
‘He smells like home.’
‘A person ain’t a home.’
‘The right person is. The right person is everything. One day, maybe you’ll understand.’
He gives a snort. ‘Doubtful. Not until I can make more of my kind at any rate. Ready?’ He adjusts his sunglasses and faces forwards.
‘So, Ava’s gone? No one knows where she went?’
‘Ya serious?’ Hendrix asks as we walk. ‘Look, Little Witch. Just focus on getting us the ring and forget Lurpak for now. We’ll track her down.’
‘Lurpak?’
‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s what some of the fellas at the camp call her. Ya know? Butter that’s easily spread… Like her legs.’ He laughs hard at his offensive joke. ‘Oh, lighten up would ya? I get that we’re about to walk through a group of witch-hating nut jobs and that the woman who has tried to ruin your life has done a runner, but how about ya take a second and look around, yeah?’ He takes hold of my elbow and makes me stop. ‘Look! No walls. No Grayson telling ya what to do. You’re in the world. Surrounded by people. Look.’ He nods to a small dog tied up outside a shop. ‘Ever seen a Chihuahua before?’ He points to a street performer. ‘What about a juggler? Or a busker? Hell, Little Witch… You ever even had a cup of coffee from a coffee shop before?’ He swerves off to the side and heads towards a little kiosk, pulling me close behind him. When he orders me a latte and a giant pretzel, I don’t know what has me more dumbstruck. The fact that I’m out in the world after a whole life of being locked away behind closed doors, or that it’s Hendrix forcing me to enjoy myself.
Hendrix!
We watch the busker play his guitar as I stuff my face with the fresh pretzel and drink my first latte. I watch the shoppers pass by with their bags and listen to their inane chatter about the most mundane of problems, and it’s beautiful. It’s just everyday life with innocent and normal people. But then we turn our attention to the museum, the crowd we pass are anything but mundane. They yell and holler about the Devil and damnation. Signs condemning my people to death are waved in my face as Hendrix keeps me close. My heart is hammering hard against my chest, and when a man grabs my elbow to try and stop me from going inside, I freeze up, the same as I always do when unwanted hands hold me.
Hendrix grips the man’s wrist hard.
‘Touch her again, I’ll snap it off,’ he growls, pushing him away. The man stumbles back with his mouth agape, clutching his hand. Hendrix takes my elbow. ‘Ya alright? Did he hurt ya?’ I shake my head. ‘C’mon. We need to get inside,’ he mutters, guiding me towards the door. ‘I have a feeling that prick saw my teeth.’
As soon as we’re inside and the doors are closed, I feel like I can breathe again.
‘I am so, so sorry.’ A woman rushes towards us dressed in a long tie-dye skirt and a floral baggy top with heavy, draping sleeves. She’s adorned with beads, bracelets and rings, and her hair is a big pile of curls on top of her head. She’s bright red in the face and clearly in a flap. ‘Those people out there are completely bonkers,’ she pants, her eyes going to the front door and watching it anxiously as the crowd outside continue to hurl abuse and threats. ‘There were only three out there when I arrived this morning.’
‘Well, there are a fair few more than that now,’ I tell her, rubbing my elbow. I can still feel where he grabbed me. ‘I’m not too sure you should stay here. I don’t think it’s very safe.’
‘I know. My son said the same thing this morning when he saw the papers. And then again when that public service announcement started. It’s been on non-stop. You would have thought that with all the acceptance of sexuality, cultures, race and religion we’ve experienced over the last few years, people would be a little more open minded. Anyway. What can I help you with?’
There’s a loud pounding on the door from outside and someone starts yelling threats. Hendrix slides over the bolt, locking us in.
‘We called earlier,’ Hendrix grunts bluntly and impatiently. ‘We were expecting to meet a man. Chris Foster.’
‘Yes. Yes of course. You spoke to my son, but he has to work elsewhere today. You… are the lecturer?’ She points to Hendrix who nods. ‘So, you must be his student, yes?’ She adds to me. I nod too. She looks at the old wooden staircase behind her. There are signs pointing upwards and I’m guessing that the museum is up the rickety flight of stairs. I myself glance up to Hendrix and think… lecturer of what? He looks like a bear wearing clothes.
‘Well, you are more than welcome here. Please head on up and have a look around. I’ve been assured that the protestors can’t come inside without being arrested, so they can do nothing more than shout at us. I will be up shortly to help you if needed.’
‘We’ll be fine.’ Hendrix nudges me towards the flight of stairs. The woman scurries past us and disappears in her office, sniffling and muttering her “oh dears”.
‘We need to hurry. Only a matter of time before the police turn up. Or worse.’
I nod and we rush up the stairs.
‘Fuck-me…’ Hendrix murmurs as we reach the top of the stair case. ‘This is…’
‘Creepy. I think the word you’re looking for, Hendrix, is creepy.’
The floorboards creak as we head in. So much so, I wonder if Hendrix and his heavy frame will crash through the floor and land on the owner’s head. The walls are painted black and the only light comes from dozens and dozens of lit candles. There’s an open fire, roaring in the far corner, and no windows or natural light at all. It’s stifling and claustrophobic. The walls are lined with shelves and glass cabinets housing human skulls, rabbit’s feet, scrolls, statues, herbs and potions. All of which, apparently, have magical properties. Mannequins showcase wiccan robes. The tree branches nailed to the wall look like broomsticks or wands, and somewhere is some eerie chanting playing through old, tinny speakers. Slowly and a little in awe of the place, we walk through the room. My eyes scan it all. It’s fascinating, but very weird.
‘Does any of this stuff actually have magical properties?’ I ask Hendrix.
‘This junk?’ he scoffs. ‘Nah. Most of the real stuff was destroyed by Hunters centuries ago and the rest were either lost or hidden by survivors. These things?’ He gestures to the wands on the wall. ‘They’re just sticks. Magic ain’t in stuff, Little Witch. It’s in blood.’ His lips curl up in a grim smile at the word and he even licks his lips. ‘It’s all about the blood. That’s where magic really lives. The Bloodstone? Your brand? All of it was made with your blood. Otherwise, the Bloodstone would just be a pretty rock and the mark on your arm would just be a burn. Blood is the source of the power you lot have. And it’s the source of life for my kind. To share blood, that’s real power.’
‘What happens if you can’t drink blood?’ I ask. ‘I’ve always wondered.’
‘We dry out and turn into shriveled up corpses. That’s what. We don’t die either. We become trapped in mummified tombs of our own flesh.’
‘And how do you make more of your kind?’
‘I bite them, and they drink my blood. You see these?’ He flashes me his teeth. ‘When I bite someone, a small bit of poison from my fangs seeps into their blood. It’s harmless until it mixes with mine. Then they turn. Well, they would if the Veil was down. No magic? No turning.’
‘So… Without your teeth and without magic, you can’t make more of your kind? That’s interesting. I wonder what it’s like to be a living corpse,’ I ponder.
He narrows his eyes and then swiftly changes the subject. ‘Let’s see what’s over there.’
As we turn a corner, we come across a sight that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Torture devices.
Rusty and brutal looking contraptions which were used as a means of getting confessions or proof of guilt from a suspected witch. Dunking chairs and face masks covered in spikes. Thumb screws and long iron needles called prickers. And then, standing in pride of place, adorned with twigs, is a giant stake.
‘I really don’t like this place,’ I whisper.
‘Then let’s find this bloody ring and get gone, hmm?’ Hendrix turns and continues walking through the halls. We finally come to a wall, mounted with jewelry and trinkets. There are talismans and crowns made of bone, as well as a mannequin’s hand pinned to the wall. On each of its fingers are rings, and on the very middle finger, sparkling and ruby red, is Rebecca Hooper’s wedding ring.
‘There it is,’ I whisper to Hendrix, who’s stopped beside me. I nod in the ring’s direction. It’s even more beautiful than I imagined and far more detailed than any painting could show. The band is made of emerald green leaves knotting around each other, and the red ruby is held in a golden setting. But right in the centre of the heart shaped ruby is a seven-pointed, diamond set star. The hand isn’t behind anything more than a red velvet rope.
Hendrix’s phone starts to ring. He’s quick to answer it, greeting the caller as “Boss”. He nods and grunts a few times before telling Grayson that we’ve located the ring. But then whatever Grayson has to say next has Hendrix swearing. As he hangs up and sighs, I feel my magic come to me in a glorious wave. Which can only mean one thing.
‘Trouble?’ I ask.
He nods. ‘Trouble.’
‘What’s coming?’
‘About thirty teenagers with bats, bottles of spirits and lighters. Got a mob inbound and they’re gunning for this place hard, according to Grayson. You got your mojo?’
‘Grayson’s given me access to my magic, yes.’
I turn and reach out for the ring. Before my fingers get anywhere close, we hear a crash and a scream from down stairs. We both turn to look at the hallway leading back to the staircase where the owner is still screeching. Then we smell smoke. I reach out and slide the ring on my own finger before we turn and run towards the commotion. The owner is already up the stairs. Thick, black smoke follows her. Then, Hendrix’s phone rings again. He picks it up.
‘Yeah?’ he grunts.
‘They’ve set my house on fire!’ The owner cries between coughing and gasping. ‘The whole downstairs is ablaze!’
‘Yeah, Boss. We know they’ve set the house on fire,’ Hendrix sighs. ‘We gotta go. Why? Because the bloody house is on fire! That’s why!’ He hangs up without another word.
‘Where are your fire extinguishers?’ I ask. But she shakes her head. She doesn’t have any? Fantastic.
‘Got another way out?’ Hendrix asks the hysterical woman. She just wails and shakes. ‘A back door? A window?’ She gives a short sharp shake of her head. ‘So just the front door?’ She nods. ‘Great.’
‘I can blast a hole in the wall?’ I offer. ‘You could jump down with us? Or I could-’
‘You’re not to use your…’ He glances at the woman who is in utter hysterics. ‘You-know-what, unless we got no other way to survive. This is just a little fire.’ There’s a big bang and the stairs collapse in a sudden inferno. Flames lick at the walls and the exhibits made of old, dried wood, quickly helps the fire to spread. ‘There’s gotta be another way out.’
‘I’ll put the flames out. Easy.’ I raise my hand, ready to take control of the blaze. But he takes hold of my wrist and shakes his head.
‘There are dozens of people watching this place. Ya start messing about with the fire, we’ll have Hunters here instead of a few rowdy teenagers. And they saw your face, remember? Last thing we need is your mug-shot all over the television. We need to get out of here on the quiet.’
‘They know we’re in here!’ I argue. ‘The bastards set this place on fire with people inside.’
‘We ain’t people in their eyes. We’re either witches or witch sympathisers. Oh, for fuck’s sake…’ He turns to the woman, who is now on the floor, howling like an animal. ‘Will ya shut up? I can’t hear myself think with ya wailing like that.’
She doesn’t listen. I don’t think she can hear us. In her mind, she’s going to die here. I guess that’s enough to make anyone lose their mind to grief and panic. I kneel down beside her, rest my hands on her shoulders and channel my magic. I feel my eyes change. I feel the power come when I call it and I know that I can control it.
‘Stop crying,’ I order. Her face falls still and her sobbing stops immediately. ‘Tell us, is there a way out of here that isn’t on fire?’
‘O-other than the front door, the only other exit is through the cellar in my office. There’s an old tunnel that leads out to the back of the carpark across the road, but it was flooded a few months back and its caved in,’ she sniffles.
Hendrix’s pocket is ringing again but he chooses to ignore it. I’m on my feet with a plan. ‘Okay. So, we go down to the cellar and through the tunnel. I’ll unblock it and we can get out unseen across the road. What do you say?’ I ask Hendrix. He shrugs as if there’s nothing better to do. ‘Great.’ I look down to the woman. ‘Go to sleep.’ Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she slumps on her side. ‘Hendrix, grab the weirdo.’
‘Why? Just leave her.’
I turn to him, my eyes as black as his and I go to open my mouth. But he beats me to it. ‘Alright. Alright. Keep your hair on. I’ve got the freaky chic. No need to go all Darren Brown on me.’ He scoops her up as I clap my hands together excitedly. I love testing the limits of my power. I send out a surge of my Telekinetic magic to the floor, blasting a hole through it big enough for us to fit through. Thick smoke and hot flames pour upwards. I get it under control easily enough, quelling the fire and pushing it back down and out of my way. The closer I get, the more it disappears. We stand by the edge of the hole and Hendrix jumps down first, landing on his feet with grace and dare I say it… style. He drops the woman to the floor and holds his hands out for me. I jump down and he catches me, then he scoops up the sleeping owner once more.
‘After you.’
I lead the way, heading to the office, and as we walk, the flames die down before us. I let them reignite after we’ve passed, because Hendrix is right. The people outside expect this place to burn and if it doesn’t, that will raise suspicions. We walk through her office and find the door. I blast it off its hinges and we make our way through. The cellar is full of boxes and more oddities that clearly didn’t make the cut for display. But we have what we came for safely on my finger and pass by without much interest. The tunnel is indeed blocked. But not for long. I clear it of mud and rock with a slight twitch of my hand and after a few minutes, we reach the doors that lead to the surface.
We stand across the road and watch the mob cheer and laugh as the house goes up in flames. There are more than fifty out there now and the hysteria a few had created has spread quicker and faster than the fire they set ever could. A couple of teenage boy’s leap on top of a car parked close by the inferno and start kicking through the windshield. I have no idea if it’s the woman’s car. Neither do they. The mentality to destroy without cause or consequence, has taken hold.
‘We need to go,’ Hendrix urges. ‘Before they see us.’ He lays the lady-owner down on the roadside. ‘Tell her to wake up and get the hell out of here before they spot her. They’ll lynch her if they do. The frenzy they’ve worked themselves into has taken over now.’
‘We’ve been in there less than half an hour. How could it have gotten so out of control?!’
‘We told ya.’ He shrugs plainly. ‘Mob mentality. It spreads quick and it’s dangerous. Now, like I said. Wake her up and let’s get the fuck outta here.’
After I’ve compelled the owner of the burning pile of rubble to get as far away from here as possible, and also to forget that I was able to compel her at all, we turn to leave ourselves. But an aggressive yell makes me turn. One of the lads from the car has spotted a couple of teenagers walking quickly past them. A young guy and his girlfriend who have their heads down and are charging away from the commotion as quickly as their feet can carry them. The yob is yelling at them to stop. Others join him and I see the mob mentality spread for myself as they all turn their focus from the fire, to the couple. The young couple have dyed hair and piercings. They wear baggy jeans and dark hoodies. The yobs call them freaks and devil worshipers. They lift their bats and fists as they hurl abuse at the terrified couple. Hendrix’s phone rings again and he picks it up.
‘Yeah, we got the ring and we’re out,’ he reports, as I watch the events still unfolding. He looks at me. ‘She’s fine. Got us out unseen and without any injury. Yeah. Uh-huh. Okay, Grayson. We’re coming your way.’
And unfortunately, the mob is heading the poor couple’s way too. ‘They’re witches!’ one of them hollers. ‘Look at them! Look at what they’re wearing. GET THEM!’ The mob of teenagers start stampeding towards them. The poor girl screams in terror as her boyfriend begins dragging her away at a sprint. They’re running for their lives and they know it.
‘Hendrix, we have to help them!’ I’m on my feet and ready to run over there to protect them. My flames appear on my hand in preparation for the fight.
‘Cut her off!’ Hendrix says down the phone as he grabs me by the waist and pins me to his body, stopping me from going to help.
‘GET OFF ME!’ I press my hand into his arm and the smell of his burning flesh fills my nostrils. ‘THEY’RE GOING TO KILL THEM!’
‘ARRGGGH! FUCK! CUT HER OFF, GRAYSON! NOW!’ He drops the phone in the struggle. I scream as my magic leaves me, and knowing I’m powerless, Hendrix tosses me on the curb hard while clutching his burnt arm.
‘You fucking bitch!’ he spits.
As he tends his wound, I push myself up and start running towards them. I have to help them! I know Hendrix is coming after me. But I daren’t look back at him. One of the mob members has reached the couple. He grabs the girl by her long, purple hair and hurls her into the road. Her boyfriend goes to help her up but is hit hard over the head with a baseball bat before he can. He goes down and tries to crawl away as his assailant raises the bat high above his head. His pleas for mercy send a chill down my spine, but his words don’t stop the bat coming down on his skull. Blood splatters the pavement and the boy falls still. The bat is raised again. And down it goes. The girl is screaming as more guys start pummeling the boy. Six are gathered around him and they are beating him into pulp. A boot thrusts into her face and she falls on her back. Two boys grab her ankles and drag her away from the growing crowd that surrounds what I assume is now the boy’s corpse.
‘STOP!’ I scream through horrified tears. ‘STOP! PLEASE!’
They start kicking the girl. Again and again and again. I want to be sick. I want to tear them all to pieces. She’s curled up in the fetal position as they hammer down hit after hit. Passersby’s don’t help. They back away in fear or they join in. I’m the only one rushing to save her. Hendrix grabs me from behind and clamps his hand over my mouth so I can’t scream another syllable. I’m thrashing and scratching, biting and hitting. But without my magic, I’m just a girl against a vampire four times my size. He hauls me through some bushes and into someone’s front garden.
‘You can’t help her!’ he tells me firmly.
Before either of us can say another word, we hear the shrillest most pain-filled scream I’ve heard in a while.
Four months in fact. Not since the night I left my uncle’s home.
We turn, his hand still over my mouth, and we look on as the girl screams and rolls on the floor.
On fire.
They set her on fire!
She’s burning alive and they all just watch. They laugh.
‘Burn-the-witch!’ They chant together. ‘Burn-the-witch! Burn-the-witch!’
Her cries start to grow weaker. She stops writhing. She stops moving. And the mob cheer at her death.
Hendrix peels his hand away from my mouth because I’ve stopped fighting. There’s no point whatsoever going over there to help.
They’re dead.
‘We need to go,’ Hendrix urges. ‘Little Witch… Lilly, we have to go. Look!’ Blue lights and sirens are descending on the crowd. The mob sees and start to scatter. Hendrix grips my arm and starts pulling me away.
‘T-they were kids… They… They were just kids! How… How… I-’
‘We have to go. Right now!’
I’m so in shock I just nod and let him guide me away. But my eyes never, not once, look away from the carnage we leave behind. From the bloody mess of the boy and the smoldering pile of his girl, to the high flames coming from the oddity museum, licking up at the sky.
