Abby the Witch (29 page)

'Historical, I
said. And it is. It is of historical importance that you two be
here together at this point in time. One of the Crones told me. She
said, Harvey, you make sure both them travellers are in that Ball
Room for the stroke of midnight. And I said I'd do it,' the
Governor sniffed, 'and I ain't ashamed of following the orders of a
witch, son.'

Pembrake's
mouth had actually dropped open. 'A witch told you that we both
needed to be in the Ball Room for the stroke of midnight? A
witch?'

'Yep. And what
with you having tossed Abby to the trash and left her all alone – I
had to make sure she could get here by other means,' the Governor
said.

'So he goes
and puts it into her head that she should go and get an invitation
as it were,' Martha winked disturbingly, 'from the Captain.'

'Abby, the Captain? You aren't serious?'

'Oh, you've
gone all pale, Pembrake,' Martha said.

'Oh stop your
fussing, you two; Abby's a level-headed girl. I know the Captain's
reputation, but Abby doesn't seem to be the kind of girl to fall
into his trap.

Pembrake
blinked slowly and shook his head. 'She's exactly the
kind of girl to fall into his trap,' Pembrake gave a short,
frustrated laugh, 'I can't believe this!'

'I told you he
wouldn't be happy,' Martha twittered.'

'What the
pleck were you thinking?' Pembrake didn't care he was shouting,
this was so incredibly maddening he'd lost all sense of
proportion.

'Calm down,
son,' the Governor still wasn't angry, 'if you're so worried about
Abby, then I suggest you go and find her.'

Pembrake
breathed in sharply. 'And where the pleck is she?'

The Governor
shrugged his shoulders.

'I imagine
she's getting ready like everyone else, but she should be here as
soon as the guests arrive.'

This was not
the answer Pembrake wanted to hear. He wanted Abby to be right next
to him so he could grab her by the wrist and lead her away from
this stupid mess. They were supposed to be finding their way home,
not messing at some Ball. What had he been thinking? How had he let
it get to this stage? Why had he let her out of his sight? Why had
he been such a pleck?

'I reckon
you're busy regretting, son. But don't be too busy doing that,
don't forget you need to be in the Ball room at 12
o'clock. Don't you forget that.'

'Oh that's
very fairytale, that is,' Martha said with a far-off coo.

'Why?'
Pembrake snapped.

'Because the
Crone said so, and I thinks you'll be wanting to take her advice,
don't you?'

'But why?' Pembrake spoke though his teeth.

'Because you
got to trust in someone.'

It had taken
Pembrake some time to calm down after the conversation, and then
only so much that he was no longer walking with white-knuckled
fists. Martha and the Governor had moved off, making excuses that
they needed to attend to their respective duties. They'd left
Pembrake at the back of the kitchens, incensed, confused, and
disbelieving all at the same time. He was incensed at the stupidity
of Abby, going after the Captain even after she'd been warned off
him, and at the Governor for giving her such a ludicrous idea. He
was confused at the Governor's order – that he and Abby had to be
in the Ball Room at the stroke of 12. And he was disbelieving at
his own feelings. There didn't seem to be any reason for him to be
so incensed and confused. It seemed simple, but he
couldn't seem to calm down enough to see that.

The remaining
hour before the Ball was a slow one. Pembrake went back to his room
to check that his suit sat properly, but lost all interest in the
view in the mirror and took to pacing instead. At one point one of
the maids had knocked at his door and had proceeded, through
giggles, to say that he was expected to meet the Princess in the
ball room in 20 minutes. But Pembrake couldn't take it anymore and
soon headed for the door.

He made his
way to the Ball Room with quick, efficient steps, not even
bothering to return the smiles from several ladies that were
floating around in their ball gowns. He came at the Ball Room from
the side, descending the sweeping staircase in order to get to the
pristine floor below that was already beginning to fill with
guests. But foot on the last step he stopped.

There she was
in the middle of the ball room, white gloved hands clasped before
her. She was smiling cheekily at him, having probably seen his
defiant entry. She was dressed in a delicate sky-blue dress with
pearl-white trimming and matching gloves. Her usually messy hair
was pulled into a bun set low against her neck and held by a gold
clasp.

Abby.

She was okay,
she was here, she was….

The way she
cocked her head up slightly as he approached and let her smile
spread all the way to her arched eyebrows. The way she rolled her
eyes when Pembrake almost ran into a couple crossing before him.
The way her nose crinkled when he rolled his eyes in turn. The way
she laughed into her hand while patting one hand to her stomach as
if she were worried all her good humour would escape. The way she
looked up so expectantly when he finally reached her, the way those
storm-grey eyes reminded him of the sea….

'Pembrake!'
The Captain of the Guard walked up to them and slipped a hand
behind Abby's back. He did not touch Abby, but his hand hovered so
close to the blue satin fabric of her dress that it did not
matter.

'Captain.'

'Pembrake!'
Abby exclaimed.

'Abby-' both
he and the Captain said at once.

The Captain
cleared his throat officially. 'Sir, how have you been?
For I believe you have not seen me for a week – is that right, has
it been a whole week?'

Pembrake
swivelled his eyes to the Captain. The man had that same hateful
glint to his eye. He was like the bully at school, prodding and
prodding, trying to make Pembrake snap with anger. 'I've been
marvellously busy with the Princess,' he shot back,
satisfied at the glint of frustration in the Captain's eyes.

Abby huffed.
'That's fantastic, Pembrake, congratulations. I can see you've
been doing exactly what you were supposed to be doing then,' she
sounded angry, her voice peaking bitterly.

'Yes, my
dear,' the Captain drew closer to Abby, ‘why would
Pembrake's escapades bother us, when we have been having
a delightful time on our own?'

Abby looked
sideways at the Captain. 'I don't know if I'd put it quite like
that.'

'Come now,
what fun we had picking you a dress yesterday? You simply
looked dazzling, mouse, as you do now of course.'

Mouse? What a
horrible, disturbing name. Pembrake wanted to wrap his hands around
the Captain's throat to ensure he never let slip that word
again.

'Now,
shouldn't you be awaiting the Princess' arrival, sir? This ballroom
is almost full, I'm sure she shouldn't be much longer.'

'And shouldn't
you be on actual guard duty? Or do you leave that to
the real guards?' Pembrake spat.

'Oh I leave
that to the real guards. Now if you would be so kind as to leave
us, Pembrake, my mouse and I are off to mingle,' the Captain
spelled out mingle with wide movements of his lips.

Pembrake
turned his hot gaze to Abby, but she just stood there with her arms
crossed, staring at the floor with an annoyed look on her face. Was
that the best she could do? Was that all she was going to offer in
his defence? She wasn't even going to look at him? She was just
going to let the Captain get away with this?

'Abby?'
Pembrake tried to sniff back the wave of frustration boiling his
stomach. 'Abby?'

'Pembrake,'
she said through gritted teeth, a strand of unruly hair unravelling
from her bun and dangling in front of her face like a hook, 'I'm
sure the Princess is waiting for you. You have to be there to meet
her when she comes down the stairs,' Abby was talking stiffly,
'then the King will make an official greeting to his
foreign guests and all the officials will be there.'

'Are you
alright, my mouse?' The Captain looked over-the-top concerned,
'there seems to be something wrong with you voice.'

'I need a
drink,' Abby said with the determination of a drunkard.

'You don't
seem the type!' the Captain said through a laugh.

'I just want
to watch the liquid going round in the glass, I'm strange like
that,' Abby hadn't taken her eyes off Pembrake.

'Well I shall
call the waiter over,' the Captain turned to signal a waiter with
an imperious wave of one gloved hand.

'Later' Abby
mouthed quickly, 'balcony'.

Then the
Captain had turned around and was fixing Pembrake with that same
sanctimonious smile. 'You are needed elsewhere, sir, more than you
are needed here.'

'Indeed,'
Pembrake gave a short nod to both of them and turned on his
heel.

He was
frustrated, there was no denying that. He was angry and annoyed
too. But she'd said later and she'd said balcony. So that's where
he'd find her.

The Princess
had gripped Pembrake so tightly by the arm after she'd made her
impressive entrance, that he was sure he'd never get it back again.
She'd pulled him around, bubbling with excitement as she'd met
various dignitaries. At times he'd felt like he'd over balance and
tip over when she'd pull excitedly at his sleeve. It was hard to
describe exactly how it felt, but Pembrake had a strange connection
with the plight of livestock being paraded in front of farmers. He
felt like the prize bull about to receive the blue ribbon and
about, judging by the unimpressed looks from most of the
stiff-necked, fat male guests, to be taken to the abattoir.

But finally,
just as Abby had predicted, the King began his official welcome.
Pembrake was unceremoniously shoved to the back of the crowd
despite the whimpers of the Princess. This suited him perfectly,
and he headed for the balcony at the far end of the ball room.
Fortunately he'd noted the Captain of the Guard dutifully at the
side of the King, and had refrained from shooting him a triumphant
look.

Finally he
made it through the crowd, through the half-open door allowing a
snippet of breeze in to cool the guests, and onto the waiting
balcony.

She turned to
see him, more hair popping out of her bun and jutting out at
peculiar angles. She'd been staring at the full moon above, her
hands delicately resting on the balcony edge, but now she rested
them on her hips and she rolled her eyes slowly and dramatically.
'You shouldn't let him get to you so much.'

'And you
shouldn't let him get to you at all,' Pembrake took another awkward
step forward, not wanting their conversation to filter back into
the ball room.

'You don't
have to worry about me,' each word Abby spoke she seemed to slow
down, like a spring gently uncoiling, 'but, thank you. I know you
were only concerned. Only concerned?' she repeated slowly, her
voice hazarding the question while her eyes flickered.

'Y-yes. I was
worried the Captain would… ruin everything and the timeline would…
I was just worried our future wouldn't be waiting for us when we
got back.'

'And you and
the Princess… the future's fine?' Abby's shoulders tightened, her
loose hair brushing against the neckline of her dress.

'Of course it
is… everything's fine I'm sure. I mean, I haven't done anything to
ruin it, that is.'

Abby nodded.
'That's good.'

'And you
haven't done anything to ruin the timeline either… have you?'

'Me?' she put
one gloved hand against her neck, 'I'm a witch, we're not meant to
ruin the future. So I haven't done anything either.'

'Oh,' Pembrake
slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded, 'that's good.'

Abby nodded
too. 'We need to get back to our quest. We need to find the Key of
Time and fix your mother's bracelet. I think the less time we hang
around in the past the better.'

Pembrake
nodded firmly. There was some truth in that. They did need to
figure out how to get home, but there was something they needed to
do here first, something important. But how to tell her? How to
tell Abby that he didn't plan on going back to the future until
he'd changed it for the better. How to tell her that he, Pembrake
Hunter, was proposing to dispose of the Colonel.

He couldn't
tell her yet, could he? She'd just hit him with those white-gloved
hands and look at him with round, frightened eyes, bemoaning how
horrible he was for even thinking of such a thing.

But Pembrake
would be helping them both. Without the Colonel there would be no
Witch Ban: Abby would be safe and free to return to the future.

He had to
introduce this slowly; he had to make her understand.

He took a
breath. 'There's another reason we have to get out of here. Abby,
how good are you with your history?'

She bit her
lip and made a face. 'I'm good on the history of mountain
herbs.'

'How much do
you know about the Witch Ban?'

She withdrew
from his words, as if he'd struck her. But then took a little
sniff. 'I have direct experience of it… but I guess I don't really
understand how it happened.'

Pembrake
licked his lips urgently and looked around the balcony as an
automatic precaution. 'It's happening now: this is what
will lead to the Witch Ban.'

Abby looked
paler than usual. 'What?'

'This, the
assassination attempts. They succeed – the Prince.… The murder of
the Prince by the witches is what leads to the Ban.'

'What are you
talking abou… it does? The Prince is going to die?' she
said a little too loudly.

He stepped in
hushing quickly. 'If I remember correctly, that's the first move.
Then they find a conspiracy or something... the point is we are
living it right now and have to get the pleck out of here.'