Dark Spell (12 page)

“All right.” Callie sounded reluctant, but Josh was delighted.

“Ready, Bessie?”

“Ready, Rose.”

Under Callie and Josh’s anxious gazes, the two witches set off up the stairs. At the top they paused to listen at the bedroom door for a minute or so, before cautiously pushing it open.

This time, the water wasn’t trapped by the invisible barrier. As the door opened it flowed out and cascaded off the landing and down the stairs like an indoor river. Within seconds all the downstairs floors were awash except for an island of dry carpet bounded by the wardstones.

“Crazy,” muttered Josh.

Callie’s eyes were fixed on Rose and Bessie. From where she stood she could see a little way into her room. The two witches had stopped just beyond the doorway. The air around them shimmered with protective spells. Heart thumping, Callie waited.

Rose and Bessie gaped at the room. Despite Callie’s description, it was still a shocking sight. To their sensitive noses, the air was acrid with power, like the
smell of lightning. For three or four minutes they did nothing, as the water rushed past their feet, trying to construct in their minds the flow and pattern of the power that had caused all this.

In the corner, the cloud of darkness brooded, waiting for them to turn their attention to it.

“What are they doing?” whispered Josh.

“Trying to work out what’s been happening, I think.”

“Then what?”

“I wish I knew.”

Rose and Bessie studied the cloud.

“That, I take it, is whatever remains of Duncan Corphat?” asked Bessie.

“And the others who were working with him, according to what Callie said.”

“Ah, what fun: a multiple entity. When did we last deal with one of those, Rose?”

“We never have, Bessie.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bessie rolled her sleeves up. “Shall we begin?”

Rose nodded.

“Duncan Corphat, we call you forth.”

The cloud swirled gently, like smoke in a draught, but no figure emerged from it.

Bessie added her voice, and they tried once more to summon Duncan Corphat.

“He’s not exactly keen to come out for a chat,” observed Bessie.

“I was afraid this would happen when I saw the mark on Callie’s wrist,” said Rose, ignoring Bessie’s attempt at humour.

“You think he’s linked himself to her?” Bessie looked at Rose, no levity in her voice now.

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“Callie,” whispered Josh. It was the first time either of them had spoken for several minutes. “I can hear him. I can hear him in my head.”

“What do you mean?” Callie glanced away from her grandmother to see Josh, white faced, with his hands to his head as though he was in pain.

“Josh, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“He’s in my head,” Josh gasped. “Duncan Corphat’s in my head.”

“Rose!” yelled Callie. “There’s something wrong with Josh.” She took him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Josh, what’s happening?”

“I can feel him. He’s so angry. Get Rose and Bessie out of the room,” said Josh with difficulty.

Callie glanced up the stairs. “They’re already coming.”

“Take him outside, Callie,” Rose called.

Callie hustled Josh out of the front door and sat him down on the wall, where he took several deep breaths before taking his hands cautiously away from his head.

“Is he still there?”

“No. He’s gone.”

“What happened?” asked Rose, sitting down beside him.

“When you opened the door to Callie’s room, he was suddenly there in my head, shouting curses.”

“But that shouldn’t be able to happen,” said Bessie. She peered at the wardstones in her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with these. Nothing should be able to get past them.”

“Perhaps nothing did,” said Rose thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?” asked Callie.

“If the wardstones were working properly, nothing
would get past them. That means whatever it was came from
inside
the ward square,” Bessie expanded.

“But the only things inside it were me and Josh,” protested Callie.

Bessie raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Let’s get away from the house a bit before we talk,” suggested Rose, so they started towards the beach.

“We had long enough in your room to find out something crucial about Duncan Corphat’s haunting,” Rose began, trying to think of a way to cushion the blow she was about to deliver.

“Yes?” said Callie eagerly.

“I’m afraid it means that Bessie and I can’t get him out.”

“Will you need Barbara and Isobel as well? Can I help?”

“That’s the thing. It’s not a case of more people. It’s the
right
people that matter. The right
person
.”

Callie stopped walking, the pit of her stomach dropping away with the awful certainty of what was coming.

“That’s me, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“But why?”

“The thing we’re calling Duncan Corphat is a distillation of all the fear and anger that were in that tunnel. It – he – made some sort of connection with you when you were down there. The black mark on your wrist is the physical evidence of that. Your power and his are connected now, and I fear you’re the only one who can get him out of your house.”

Callie was horrified. “But I told you what happened when I tried yesterday.”

“Yes, I know. But you weren’t prepared then, and neither were we. We’ll find a way for you to do this, Callie.”

“What about me?” said Josh. “Why could I hear him when no one else could?”

“You’re tuned in to the right frequency, since you went down the tunnel for us,” Rose replied. “You’re sensitive enough to pick him up here, now that he’s getting more powerful. It won’t happen as long as you stay out of the house.”

Josh nodded. He just hoped they were right this time.

“It’s not just getting him out that we have to think about, though,” cautioned Rose. “It’s what we do with him afterwards. We can’t simply shove him – it – them – back in the tunnels under the castle. The fight he would put up would put the whole of the surrounding area, never mind us, in far too much danger.”

“So what do we do with him?” asked Callie.

“I have no idea.”

Callie floated on her back, her ears full of water, trying not to move so much as a finger. The chlorine in the water made her eyes sting, but she kept them open, staring at the wood panels of the roof. She caught sight of a shape from the corner of her eye and Josh surfaced and shook the water out of his hair like a dog.

When they had arrived back at The Smithy after their
fruitless attempt to evict Duncan, they had found the house empty and a message from George saying that he had taken Julia and David down to Fife Ness to do a spot of birdwatching.

“If I had any doubts my spell had worked, that would lay them to rest,” observed Rose dryly. “It’ll be the first time Julia’s watched a bird in her life.”

Josh had suggested Callie come back to East Neuk Cottages with him, and Rose had encouraged her to go.

“It’ll take your mind off things for a while. Off you go. Try to relax. There’s nothing you can do here anyway.”

At the cottages, they had found the car missing and a note from Anna to say she’d gone to Dundee, which happily meant they didn’t have to invent an alternative version of the morning’s events.

“Watch this,” said Callie as Josh blinked the water out of his eyes.

She kept absolutely still and pulled herself through the water using her mind alone. Josh grinned in amazement as she swept past him as though powered by an invisible motor.

“C’mon, give me a shot,” he pleaded.

“You can’t do that!”

“I know that, but maybe you can do it to me.”

Callie stood up. “I hadn’t thought of that. Let’s see. Lie on your back and keep as still as you can.”

Josh did as she said. Callie held her hands above him as if she was warming them over an invisible fire. After a few seconds, she moved them to the right, and to Josh’s – and Callie’s – surprise, Josh moved along like a puppet on a string.

She gave a delighted laugh. “Wow. I never knew I could do stuff like this.”

She moved her hands the other way, more forcefully this time, and Josh went sailing off to the left, chuckling as he went.

Callie snapped her hands to the right again, and Josh whizzed past her, laughing like a maniac, at such a speed that he left a wake, and she had to stop him with another gesture before he crashed into the pool wall.

“Now that was fun. I thought you said there was nothing good about being a witch?” Josh said, wiping his face. “Maybe we could just book Duncan into one of the cottages for a few hundred years, and you could teach him how to do that. I bet he’s never been in a swimming pool. Might improve his outlook a bit. It would be better than roaming around as a ghost or getting shoved into some grave.”

For a second, Callie felt as though she was on the verge of remembering something important, but it was gone before she could grasp it. With a sigh, she headed for the ladder at the edge of the pool.

“Why are you getting out?”

“I want to be at The Smithy when Mum and Dad get back from Fife Ness, just in case the spell’s worn off or something and Rose needs help.”

“Okay.”

Rose heard a car stop outside, and the sound of voices and happy barking: George and the others back from
their constitutional. She’d tried to reassure Callie that she wouldn’t be needed, but Callie’s face had just taken on that stubborn look she knew too well.

“Hello Mother, hello Callie,” said Julia happily as she came in.

“Had a nice time, dear?”

“Lovely, thank you, Mother. We saw some birds.”

“Goodness me, that must have been interesting.”

“Yes, it was.”

Rose was beginning to think she preferred Julia like this. An unworthy thought, but there you were.

“Would you and David like to cook today?” she said, ignoring a twinge of conscience that knew this wasn’t what spells of compulsion were for.

“Ooh yes. I like cooking,” said Julia enthusiastically. “I’ll go and see what you’ve got. Come on, David.”

Rose looked at Callie. “Satisfied?”

“I suppose so. Sorry. Where did you take them, George?”

“Along the beach from the golf course as far as Constantine’s Cave then back across to Longman’s Grave and along Dane’s Dyke.”

Callie stared at him.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You’re a genius. That was it. That was what I almost remembered before.”

“Should I have any idea what you’re talking about?”

“No. Definitely not.”

Rose eyed her granddaughter curiously. “Keep an eye on Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver in the kitchen for me, would you, George?” she said.

When they were alone, Rose turned to Callie.

“What is it?”

“Longman’s Grave. George’s story,” Callie said excitedly. “He was told the Longman sometimes takes the unquiet dead down into the underworld to protect our world. Maybe we can persuade him to take Duncan. What do you think?”

A slow smile spread over Rose’s face. “I think I’d better phone Bessie.”

“It’s Rose. I know what we can do with Duncan.”

“That’s a relief, because I’ve got no idea,” said Bessie.

“It was Callie’s idea, clever girl. I should have thought of it myself, mind. So should you.”

“Please put me out of my misery, you irritating woman.”

“Dane’s Dyke. Longman’s Grave.”

There was silence on the line for a few seconds.

“You think we can raise the Longman?” For once, Bessie’s voice betrayed doubt.

“I think we have to try.”

“I’ll go and dig up the grimoire and come over at six.”

“I’ll have mine by then too.”

Just before she put the phone down, Rose heard Bessie mutter, “We must be off our heads.”

She checked that George and the chefs were still occupied in the kitchen, went out to the garden and collected a spade from the shed.

There was a white-barked birch tree in one corner.
Rose counted five paces along the wall from it, two out, and struck the spade into the soil.

Just as well George hasn’t planted anything really precious here in the seventeen years since I put my grimoire away.

About a foot down, the spade hit something. Rose knelt down and brushed soil from the surface of a stone slab, about fifteen centimetres square, with an iron ring at its centre. She got a couple of fingers through the ring and heaved. Seventeen years was a long time, and at first nothing happened. She picked up the spade again and gave the stone a good whack, hoping to loosen it. This time when she pulled, the slab shifted, and she was able to drag it out of the hole.

Beneath it lay the rest of a small stone box, and snug inside was a bundle wrapped in black plastic. Rose put it in her pocket, replaced the stone lid and roughly filled in the hole again.

Back in the house she could feel the grimoire in her pocket, heavier than its size suggested it should be. Heat leaked from it, but she didn’t dare put it down anywhere in case someone else picked it up and opened it.

She hoped Bessie remembered where she’d buried hers.

Bessie arrived half an hour later, looking flustered.

“It’s not happy about having been buried,” she said, as they stood round George’s work bench in the garage.

“Neither is Duncan Corphat,” said Rose briskly. “They should get on like a house on fire.”

“There was a tree root cuddling it. I nearly took the end off my foot with a hatchet trying to get at it.”

Bessie looked at Rose properly. “Seriously, Rose, how long do you think it is since anyone tried to raise the Longman?”

“I’ve heard stories of it being done, but I’ve never heard of anyone who’s actually done it.”

“Me neither,” said Bessie gloomily. “Certainly not in our lifetime.”

“Do you know how to raise him?” Josh asked.

“There are various things we can try,” said Rose, a bit evasively. “Callie, you should see this. It will be yours one day.” She took the packet containing the grimoire from her pocket.

“Should
he
see this, Rose?” Bessie asked sharply, gesturing at Josh.

Rose sighed. “Josh is so deeply tangled in this that I hardly think it matters if he does. Who would he tell, anyway? He’d just make himself a laughing stock.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone about any of this,” Josh protested, offended.

Bessie nodded, apparently satisfied, and bent to take something out of her handbag. She set a package wrapped in a flowery tea towel on the table beside Rose’s.

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Does it not object to that?” She gestured at the tea towel.

“It needs reminding that I’m the boss. That seemed an easy way to do it.” Bessie looked at the tea-
towel-wrapped
object sternly.

Josh wondered what on earth could be inside. A familiar, maybe?

“What are they?” asked Callie as Rose and Bessie began to unwrap the parcels.

“Grimoires.”

When Callie looked blank, Rose added, “Spell books. They’re passed down from witch to witch. Mine will pass to you when I die.”

“It doesn’t look as if you use them very often,” Josh observed, watching the unwrapping.

“The spells in a grimoire aren’t the sort of spells you use every day,” said Bessie. “We haven’t used ours in seventeen years. They’ve been buried since then. It’s safer for them and safer for us. You don’t want to keep a grimoire where you can pick it up and leaf through it on a whim.”

She laid a small, thin book bound in faded red leather on the table. Rose put a similar book with a black binding next to it.

Callie’s eyes were wide. “Why haven’t you told me about this before? How old is it? What sort of spells are in there? Can I look?” She reached out to pick up Rose’s grimoire and was shocked when Rose slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch!” she said sharply, then, more gently, “These are dangerous things, Callie. Why do you think we’re not doing this in the house? You’re not ready for them yet, but you will be, one day.”

“Sorry.” She still couldn’t take her eyes off the little book.

“Ready, Bessie?” Rose asked.

“Yes,” said Bessie, getting to her feet. “Best stand back a bit, you two. You can never be quite sure how these things will react.”

The way they spoke about the books made Josh wonder if he ought to pick up one of the hammers from George’s toolbox, just in case.

They pointed at the grimoires and their covers slowly opened. Josh saw pages that were yellow with age, covered in handwriting that was indecipherable from where he stood.

The pages turned themselves slowly, one by one, Rose and Bessie peering closely at them. Callie and Josh watched in silence.

Occasionally one of the books would pause somewhere while Rose or Bessie considered a spell more closely before the pages began to flicker by again.