‘It’s probably nothing,’ Jackson said when I started for the gate, the one that led right out onto the sand. ‘Just kids who don’t know better.’
Wyn glanced over at him then at me, clearly desperate for Jackson to be right but, just like me, he knew something was amiss.
‘What do you think?’ he asked, following me to the gate and lowering his voice. ‘It’s not right, is it?’
No.’ I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, wishing I had something to help keep me calm, some lavender or valerian,or even some juniper to give my intuition a boost. ‘Will you stay here and make sure they’re OK?’
‘I’ll do what I can.’ He caught my face in his hands and kissed me as though Jackson and Lydia were not standing a few feet behind us. ‘Be careful.’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ I said, repeating Jackson’s statement and willing it into reality as I swallowed hard and let myself out the gate.
The first sign that something was wrong wasn’t the fire but the beach. It was completely deserted in every direction as far as the eye could see. As I walked along the pathway, sticking close to the houses and away from the water, I saw lights turning on and off in the windows of mansions and cottages, people living their lives up and down the island, but not a single one of them was out for an evening stroll on the sand. The reddest of flags. Mid-July in one of the most popular tourist spots in the whole country and not one person felt like coming outside to take in the sea air. No. They were being kept away. I knew this magic, I’d used this magic, a compulsion that played into fear. I don’t want you to see me, you don’t want to see me.
Only I didn’t need to burn a six-foot high pile of live oak and Spanish moss to make the spell stick.
My feet touched the sand and the trees screamed, black flames licking up and down their trunks and tearing my heart in two. These weren’t any old trees, they had been chopped down in Lafayette Square, the oaks closest to my home. It was dark magic, brutal and unnecessary. To chop down a tree with the sole intent of causing harm was counterintuitive to everything I knew about the blessing and I was in almost as much pain as the trees. I raced towards the fire, searching for a way to put it out. Sand maybe, water too, but the thoughtof getting any closer to the waves than I already was filled me with another kind of dread.
On the other side of the bonfire, the Atlantic Ocean lapped at the shore, the tide rising as the waning moon pulled higher into the sky. Every push and pull called me on, urging me to leave the bonfire behind, kick off my shoes and feel the fresh, sparkling water on my skin. It would feel so good, the water promised, it would hold me close and take away the pain, the panic would only last for a second then there would be peace. At the same time, the Lafayette Square oaks shrieked as they smoked and between their deafening cries and the insistent song of the ocean, I couldn’t even tell who was screaming the loudest, them or me.
The beach seemed to spin, slowing me down, and as I approached the heart of the fire, everything faded into greyscale as I struggled to stay upright. There was something else in the flames, something that caused the serpent-like columns of smoke that had stopped rising into the air and instead directed themselves straight at me. Inhaling deeply for one long, dangerous moment, I waited for the newcomer to announce itself.
‘Henbane,’ I choked out, trying to anchor myself to the sound of my own voice. Delirium, vision problems, palpitations, drowsiness, the sensation of flying, overheating, and in cases of overdose, death. None of my knowledge of the herb was reassuring.
In the far distance, I thought I heard someone call my name but the sound was swallowed up by the crackling of the fire and the roar of the ocean, and as I fell to my knees, my eyesight began to blur. I shouldn’t have come this close. White smoke choked my lungs as I crawled; closer or further away, I couldn’t tell anymore, it was only when my hand struck something hard and sharp I realized I was at the edge of the blaze. Tears streamed down my face, trying to wash away the tainted smoke.The fire was held in place by a ring of stones, huge chunks of clear quartz, each piece touching the next to make a perfect circle. Positioned inside the quartz was a second, smaller circle made of malachite. Alone, it was a beautiful crystal with healing properties but combined with the amplifying effects of the clear quartz, it would work alongside the henbane to overwhelm and disorient someone. Oaks from my home. Henbane, clear quartz and malachite.
I should’ve let Wyn and Jackson investigate. Instead I had run straight into a trap. This fire had been set for me and me alone.
‘What do you want?’ I asked no one, the words spitting from my chest as I forced myself to focus. I had to stay present, I had to rise out of this moment, even as it tried to drag me under. ‘Who are you? Why are you doing this?’
There was no answer, only the spitting of the flames and another flourish of smoke. Rolling onto my back, I reached deep into myself, seeking the source of my magic. All my ancestors, all the witches who went before me, surely there was something I could do. I couldn’t summon a wind or settle the elements, no ghosts rushed to my defence, and knowing what herbs were currently poisoning me did nothing to help me survive. I had no idea how I’d slipped into the past at the Pirates’ House and every time I tried to heal myself, drawing energy from the sea and the sand, the henbane seeped deeper into my skin.
‘Help,’ I whispered as the sky above me disappeared, my eyes watering until I could not see. ‘Someone please help me.’
I wasn’t sure what I hoped to find when I opened my eyes again but standing over me, growling with menace, was the last thing I could’ve imagined.
The wolf prowled through the smoke and even with my vision impaired, I could see the size of it, feel the poweremanating from its enormous body. It was a Were. Somehow, though the moon was four days past full, I was being hunted by a Were.
‘You can’t be real?’ I croaked, pulling up the hem of my shirt to swipe at my eyes. ‘It isn’t possible.’
The wolf responded with a snarl that came from deep within its belly. It was very real and entirely possible and I had willingly walked right into their ambush. The henbane leached out of the smoke and into my body, filling my head with silver spirals as it lolled from side to side on my shoulders. Between the agony of the trees and the despair of the moss, I was overwhelmed. The siren song of the ocean was beginning to sound beautiful as the henbane seeped into my blood, burning me from the inside out. I stretched out one hand and began to inch my way towards the water, but my arms buckled under my own weight. I didn’t even have the strength I needed to drown myself.
Pacing in a figure of eight, the wolf circled me and then the bonfire, watching us both closely. It was a blur, grey and white, with flashes of red and yellow, teeth and eyes and tongue. I knew it must be a trick of my sore, raw eyes, but for a moment, it looked like there were two wolves, one standing beside the other. As my eyes rolled back in my skull I looked up at the sky, all the stars blacked out to me, and wondered how it would feel to finally see my parents again. One small moment of peace amid all the pain.
The wolf howled up at the same sky but for what? To brag? To scare me? As if I was any kind of threat to it now. Curled up in the sand, I couldn’t be less dangerous. I couldn’t call my ancestors, I couldn’t speak any ancient curses or summon the elements or even think. I couldn’t feel my magic at all.
‘Please don’t hurt my friends,’ I begged as the wolf, or wolves, advanced, keeping their forelegs close to the ground, heads lowered and ready to strike.
With a growl that could never be mistaken for a promise, a claw swiped at me, a test blow. I felt my skin split under my shirt but there wasn’t any pain. At least it wouldn’t hurt too much, I told myself, at least the burning oaks could offer me that much. The wolf was on top of me and the first spittle from its gaping maw dropped onto my forehead, warm like a kiss. With my eyes closed, I prepared myself to join the rest of the Bell witches in the world beyond this but, as I held my breath and waited, the savage clash of its jaws never came.
But the lightning did.
Using every ounce of strength left in me, I forced my eyes open, the world still smeared with henbane, and saw the clouds, a moody grey instead of the malevolent black from only moments ago. Then the beach lit up with a split second of ghostly white light, the sand, sea and sky all the same colour. Single, solitary raindrops turned into something more insistent, the bonfire hissed, spitting at me and the wolf. When it looked away, turning its head upwards as though it was as surprised by the rain as I was, I grabbed at one of the chunks of quartz and broke the sacred circle. The fire leapt out of confinement and lunged at the wolf, punishment for the violent act against nature. The flames licked at its side, and I heard a yowling sound, watching it drop to the sand, the smell of singed fur joining immolated wood.
The fire shrank back as the rain kept coming, a shower turning into a storm, turning into a torrential nightmare, the heavens opening with the most unholy downpour I had ever seen. Torrents of water fell from the sky, washing out my eyes, my mouth, the wound on my back. I exhaled long, hard breaths, pushing out the henbane and breathing in the energy of the storm, bathing in its offering. My clothes were nothing but wet rags, clinging to my body as I crawled, one inch at a time and always waiting for the wolf to strike, over to the edge of thering of quartz and malachite. Swiping through the downpour, I pushed the stones out of sequence, breaking up the circle and quelling the fire.
‘Emily! Emily?!’
Strong arms wrapped around me and I leaned into a solid chest.
