Dark Spell (5 page)

“Will it fit?”

“It’ll be better than no wetsuit at all. And he’s only a few centimetres shorter than you.”

“No problem.”

“Where’s Mum?”

“Gone to see your grandmother.” He looked at her questioningly. “Is there something going on with them? It seems a bit… tense… these days.”

Callie knew that her father was a clever man, but he could be
very
slow to notice things going on in front of his nose sometimes.

She shrugged. “Dunno,” she said evasively. “When’s tea? I’m going for a shower.”

“In about an hour. I’m on barbecue duty.”

“Cool. Will there be prawns?”

“Of course.”

“Yum.”

Callie was glad to get into the shower. She still felt
grubby and gritty from this morning’s episode at the castle. It was strange just how spooked she’d been when the lights went out, imagining all that stuff. It seemed ridiculous now; Josh must have thought she was crazy. She pushed away the memory of the voice at Fife Ness.

The black mark on her left wrist wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard she rubbed. Odd. It wasn’t a graze, and it was the wrong colour for a bruise. It looked almost as if some soot had got under her skin. It was an unwelcome reminder of what had happened earlier in the day, and when she got dressed again she pulled her sleeve down to cover it so that her parents wouldn’t notice and ask about it.

There were prawns, and tuna and sausages too. And corn on the cob. And bananas with chocolate in them. They always made too much when they had a barbecue.

“You should have invited Josh over,” said David, looking at the leftovers.

“He’s going out somewhere with his mum,” Callie replied quickly.

“At least we can say hello to him tomorrow if he’s coming in to borrow your dad’s wetsuit,” said Julia. “Have you dug it out for him yet, David?”

“Not yet, but I haven’t forgotten,” said David, basking, eyes closed, in a patch of sunlight.

“You will bring him in to meet us, won’t you? Your grandparents have seen him today. Now it’s our turn,” Julia pressed on.

“All right. I’ll bring him in.” It was probably best just to get it over with.

Julia beamed.

It was a warm night. Another warm night. Callie slid the bedroom window up a few more centimetres, but the wind had dropped completely and now there wasn’t even enough breeze to stir the curtains. Chutney Mary lay on the bed in a purring heap.

“Don’t dare snuggle up to me, cat. If you make me too hot I’m shutting you out for the night,” Callie warned her as she climbed into bed, pushing the cat to one side. Chutney Mary gave a chirp of protest and settled down again as Callie opened a book.

Deep in the night, the cat woke suddenly, ears pricked, alert. At this time of year the sky never seemed to be totally dark, and there was enough light for her eyes.

She watched her mistress, quietly asleep, covers flung back because of the heat, then her eyes narrowed at something: a tiny, hunched, formless blot of darkness that moved across the bed. The cat’s ears went back as the darkness drifted to the floor, and settled, and slipped down through a narrow gap between the floorboards.

Chutney Mary hissed.

The doorbell rang. Callie hurried to answer it before her mother. “Come in,” she said to Josh.

He propped his body board against the wall just inside the gate and slid his bag off his shoulders.

“Waves look good,” he said. “I thought when the wind dropped last night it was going to be rubbish, but it’s back up this morning.”

Callie yawned.

“Late night?” Josh asked.

She shook her head. “Weird dreams.”

“Weird how?”

She found she didn’t want to talk about her dreams. They had been oddly disturbing.
Don’t be so stupid
, she told herself.
They were only dreams
. “People whispering to me.” She felt her palms itch. “Lots of hammering. I must have been building a wall or something.”

Without warning, the gate swung open behind Josh and banged shut, making them both jump.

“Er… Callie… you don’t use a hammer to build a wall,” Josh said, eyeing the gate suspiciously.

“Knocking it down then. Whatever. I’ll get the suit,” said Callie, keen to change the subject.

“Callie, is that Josh?” her mother’s voice called from upstairs.

“Yes,” Callie yelled back. “She wants to meet you,” she said to Josh, making a face.

“I’d quite like to meet her. And your dad.”

“Really?” Callie looked astonished. “Go into the kitchen and have a seat while I get the wetsuit.”

“It’s really warm out there, though.”

She laughed. “There speaks someone who’s never been in the sea in Fife.”

Callie, going out, almost collided with Julia, coming in. “Back in a minute,” Callie said, continuing determinedly on her way.

The wetsuits were hanging in the garage where Callie’s father was tinkering with his ancient and beloved Morris Traveller car. Callie took down her own and her dad’s.

“I take it Josh has arrived?”

“Yeah. Mum’s got him cornered in the kitchen.”

“Now, now. She’s just interested. We don’t often get to meet your friends. And this must be quite a friendship to have kept going when you’ve seen so little of each other.”

Callie thought about that and nodded. “I suppose it is. Are you coming in to meet him too?”

“Am I allowed to?”

“Ha ha.”

When they got back to the kitchen they found Josh chatting to Julia without looking in the least bit cornered, but Callie was itching to go, and after giving her dad a brief chance to say hello she dragged Josh away.

“At least that’s over,” she said grimly as she shut the gate behind them.

“You make it sound like some sort of torture,” Josh laughed.

“It was for me.”

They started to walk down the beach road.

“Dunno why. They seem okay.”

“It’s just they – well, Mum really – always want to know what I’m doing, and why I’m not hanging out with other people. And she disapproves of some of the stuff I do and just goes on and on about it.”

Josh couldn’t imagine Callie doing anything much that a parent would disapprove of.

“What sort of stuff?”

Oh, just the usual sort of witchy stuff: conjuring lights, talking through water, casting the net to protect things. I did mention I’m a witch, didn’t I?

“Just stuff. Never mind – it’s too good a day to waste it talking about parents.”

The waves were as good as Callie had predicted and they spent a couple of hours messing about in the surf before hunger pulled them back to the beach and the picnic lunch they’d brought.

“Okay,” said Josh, round a mouthful of sandwich. “You were right. I’d have been frozen without the wetsuit. You never know, I could have been the first person in Scotland to get sunstroke and hypothermia simultaneously if it wasn’t for you.”

“Told you so,” Callie said with a triumphant smirk as she rummaged in the bag for a drink. “You just need to learn to accept that I’m always right.”

“What did you do to your wrist?” Josh asked, pointing to the mark on Callie’s arm.

“Dunno. Nothing,” she said, quickly pulling the sleeve of her sweatshirt down to cover it and forcing herself to be calm so that the tingling in her fingers would go.

Josh grabbed the can out of her hand, shook it and tore back the ring-pull so that it squirted in her face.

Callie shrieked. “Right, you… you… This is war.” And she chased him back into the waves.

“Let me drop off the wetsuits and I’ll walk up with you,” said Callie. “I’ve got to go over to The Smithy.”

Callie disappeared into her house without asking Josh in, so he leaned against the wall and tried to pull his fingers through his salt-stiff hair. He wondered why she was so neurotic about her parents. They seemed okay: not especially embarrassing, no more so than his own mother.

The sound of the front door slamming cut across his thoughts and Callie reappeared beside him.

There were three cars parked outside The Smithy when they reached it.

“They must have visitors,” said Josh.

“It’s just Rose’s friends,” said Callie.

Another few steps and he could see over the gate and into the garden, where Rose, Bessie and another
two elderly ladies sat in deckchairs sunning themselves like cats around a table laden with tea and cakes. Luath sprawled on the grass nearby looking like a melted dog.

“Pour me another cuppa, would you, Bessie?” one of them said.

Josh realised he must have been out in the sun for too long because he thought, for a fraction of a second, that Bessie had waved a finger and the teapot had floated up into the air on its own. He blinked hard and when he opened his eyes again, Bessie was holding the pot quite normally and waving to him and Callie.

“They’re expecting you?”

“Yes. They’re… sort of… tutoring me.”

Josh blew out a breath. “During the holidays? That’s a bit heavy. What are they tutoring you in?”

There was a very long pause.

“Local… historical stuff.” Callie opened the gate. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye.” Josh took one last long look at the group in the garden then turned towards East Neuk Cottages.
Local history
? Josh had no idea what was going on, but he was sure it wasn’t that.

“You should have brought him in to meet Isobel and Barbara, dear,” said Bessie. “He seemed a nice boy when I met him at the castle.”

“He was in a rush,” Callie said firmly.

The mention of the castle made her wonder if she should tell Rose about what had happened in the tunnel. She imagined how it was going to sound here in the sun, in the familiar surroundings of The Smithy, and
decided against it. She’d just come across like an
over-imaginative
idiot.

“It’s a shame he didn’t come in,” said Barbara. “Isobel and I won’t get another chance to see him. We’re both off on holiday tomorrow.”

“Your mother was here yesterday,” said Rose gloomily. “She says I’m ruining your life.”

“No you’re not,” said Callie indignantly. “You’re trying to help. But you know how I feel: I just want to be me; I don’t want all this witch stuff. It’s just going to get in the way.”

“But the ‘witch stuff’
is
you. It’s part of you, Callie,” said Isobel. “It’s not going to go away.”

“And it’s not a
bad
thing,” added Barbara. “Once you know what you’re doing, it doesn’t have to get in the way of anything; it can be really useful.”

They’d been over this again and again, but no one seemed to have made any progress convincing Callie. On the other hand, Julia hadn’t persuaded her to abandon the training either…

“Let’s get started,” said Bessie.

“Yes,” said Rose. “Barbara, you go into the bathroom.” As Barbara went, Rose filled the washing-up bowl with water. “Just you come over to the sink, Callie.”

This was one of the things Callie was getting the hang of. She waited for the water surface to grow completely still, then breathed on it, saying the words of the spell in her head. The water turned hazy white, then cleared to show Barbara’s face.

“Hello, Callie. Well done.”

“Hello, Barbara. Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, dear.”

“You’ve got this nicely, Callie.” Rose was smiling now.

“You’re right. This isn’t hard once you get the hang of it. I suppose it’s a bit like Skype, really. But I can’t see the point of it. Why would you muck about with bowls of water when there’s phones and texts and emails and stuff?”

Bessie harrumphed. “You don’t think all that’s been around for ever, do you? Anyway, just consider what happens to the lights and the radio sometimes when you’re practising. Strong magic can scramble all this electrical gubbins. There’ll come a time when you’ll be grateful for this old-fashioned stuff. And this,” she gesticulated at the bowl, “is what witches do.”

Callie wasn’t convinced. “When can I learn a spell that might actually be useful for something? Teach me how to stop the magic breaking out when I don’t want it to. Show me how to stop my fingers tingling then something crazy happening that I didn’t mean to do. If I’m stuck with witchcraft, I want to be in charge of it.”

“That’s all part of taking control of your power fully,” said Rose. “It’ll come. Surely you’ve noticed that it’s getting better?”

“I suppose so. But it still gets away from me sometimes.”

Rose gave her a sympathetic smile. “Cast the net.” She handed Callie two candles.

“And you can’t say this isn’t useful,” said Bessie, still intent on defending traditional witchcraft. “It’s a spell of protection. No dark magic can cross the net.”

“We think it’s time you tried this on something alive,” Isobel said.

“No!” Callie exclaimed instantly. “What if I get it wrong?”

“No harm done.”

“No harm? Remember what happened to Bessie’s teapot? I don’t want to lop someone’s arm off,” she continued, panic-stricken.

“No, no. Not one of
us
,” Isobel said.

“Luath?”

“Certainly not! I thought we’d try with something in the garden first and see if that’s still in one piece when you finish with it.”

“A
plant
? I thought you said something alive?”

“For goodness sake, girl. Plants are alive. You do biology, don’t you?”

They trooped into the back garden, where they wouldn’t be seen from the road. Rose pointed to an apple tree.

“That should do.”

“George won’t be pleased if I knock that down by accident,” said Callie doubtfully.

“Well, he’ll just have to deal with it if you do. But you won’t. I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I didn’t think you were ready.”

“All right.” Callie chose her spot and set the candles down next to a rose bush covered in white blooms. Rose, Bessie, Isobel and Barbara moved to stand (safely) behind her.

Callie took a few seconds to collect her thoughts, then set fire to the wicks with a word. She spun the
flames into filaments, drawing them out, twisting them into the net of light, weaving in the protective spells so that nothing could get through the net to harm what was inside.

It was ready. She took a slow breath and moved her hands to cast the net.

It floated up from her fingers, a mesh of sparkling threads. Up and over the apple tree it went, then settled around it like a veil and dissolved into shimmering mist, then into nothing.

“Oh, well done,” said Barbara.

“Beautiful, dear. Couldn’t have done better myself,” added Isobel.

Callie looked at the tree. Not a leaf or a twig had moved. George’s tree was safe. She really had done it! She was fizzing with pleasure at her achievement.

“I might even let you back into my kitchen in the future,” said Bessie dryly. “You’ve got the basics now. We’ll be able to move on to interesting stuff soon.”

“I thought we were nearly finished.” Callie was dismayed.

“Heavens, no,” said Rose. “We’ve barely begun.”

The white roses next to Callie shrivelled, turned brown, and fell off.

Callie trudged home. She’d been so elated when she’d managed to cast the net over the tree. She’d really thought that she’d done it, passed some sort of test, and she wouldn’t have to keep thinking about being a witch
any more. But now she had to start all over again, or at least that was what it felt like.

Home again, she went straight upstairs for a shower. When she went into her bedroom afterwards, she found Julia sitting on the bed.

“Why are you in my room?” she said, rubbing her hair dry with a towel.

“How long are you going to keep this nonsense up?”

“What nonsense?” Callie asked, choosing not to understand.

“You should be spending more time with Josh and your other friends, not that coven of old women.”

“Coven? Surely that’s what you call witches, Mother?”

“Don’t get smart. I don’t want you going round there again, do you understand?”

“You’re trying to forbid me to visit my
grandparents
?” Callie’s voice rose.

“Yes. Only until you get this ridiculous delusion out of your head.”

“Delusion
? You think this is a delusion?” Callie yelled. There was a noise like a gunshot.

Julia and Callie turned to the window. One of the panes had cracked from top to bottom.

“What have you done?” Julia hissed.

“I can’t have done anything,” Callie spat back. “It’s a delusion, remember?”

There was a shout from downstairs. “Is everything all right up there?”

“Yes, David,” Julia called, getting up. “I mean it,” she said to Callie on her way out. “Keep away from The Smithy.”

Callie didn’t even bother to answer.

Callie couldn’t sleep. Chutney Mary was off hunting somewhere, and she missed the cat’s comforting purr. She was upset, too, about what had happened earlier. Her window was temporarily held together with tape, and her dad had chosen to accept her claim that the pane had just cracked without anyone doing anything to cause it, but she shouldn’t have let things get out of control like that. After all that Rose had said…

She punched her pillow into a comfortable position, closed her eyes.

She slept, trapped in a dream of cold and dark and stone; whispers and muttered curses, the harsh noise of hammers and picks on rock, the smell of sweat and fear. She’d been down here in the dark for ever, in the cold, surrounded by fear.