Alice (18 page)

It was Betsy Gammon.

‘You’ve spoiled things for me, girl!’ she said, spitting her words out in a fury, her piggy eyes almost popping from her head. ‘I can’t use magic, but that was my one chance to have that kind of power. My girls would have given it to me gladly! You’ve taken it from me!’

She had a long curved blade in her right hand, and I had no doubt that she intended to kill me. She was almost within striking range. Death was in her eyes, so I defended myself instinctively. Using magic, I pushed her away from me.

She flew back, up into the air, head over heels, and dropped into the pond with a loud splash.

Moments later she came to the surface, spluttering and gasping. She began to flail her arms and her face was filled with panic.

I realized that she couldn’t swim.

It was strange to think that she was a keeper of water witches and that their natural environment could be her death. I felt torn. I could use my magic again to save her. But what would I be saving her for? So that she could organize her witches again? So that other children would die?

In anguish, pulled between actions and inaction, I did nothing. We watched in silence from the bank while she struggled and finally sank from sight.

AFTER BETSY GAMMON
drowned I led the children home.

As we approached the first hamlet, I saw men walking down the main street carrying torches. Some were armed with clubs; one, probably an ex-soldier, had a sword in his belt. No doubt they were a search party.

I didn’t want to get too close. My pointy shoes would identify me as a witch, and they might think I’d been party to the abductions – which, with a twinge of guilt, I acknowledged was true.

‘That’s my dad and my uncle!’ one little boy exclaimed, a smile widening on his face.

‘Go to them!’ I commanded the other children. ‘They’ll take you home.’

Some ran towards the distant figures eagerly, while others walked behind with far less enthusiasm. I put my hand on Emily’s shoulder.

‘You come with me,’ I said softly. ‘I’ll take you home myself.’

She came with me happily. I took hold of her hand, and we stepped off the path and skirted the hamlet before heading towards the village where Lizzie had seized her.

As we approached her house, I noted that it was in darkness. That wasn’t promising. Of course, her mam might have gone to join another search party, or she could be staying with friends or family.

But then it got worse. I saw that the front door was still unlocked.

I eased it open and slowly climbed the stairs, Emily at my heels. Neither of us said anything, but she began to cry softly. We both feared the worst.

When we reached the darkness of the bedroom, I heard someone breathing. The sounds were harsh, suggesting we were listening to a struggle to draw air into lungs that desperately needed it. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the stub of candle I always carried. I muttered a spell out of habit, realizing as I did so that the words were unnecessary. The candle flared into life.

Emily’s mother was on all fours, staring towards us. There was nothing in her eyes that told me she recognized her own daughter. She tried to speak, but only gibberish came out.

Then she tried to stand, but immediately collapsed onto her hands and knees again. Emily crouched beside her and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.

‘Oh Mam! Mam!’ she cried. ‘Don’t you know me? It’s me, your daughter, Emily. Can’t you speak?’

The poor woman only groaned and rolled her eyes. It might well be that she was dying. Some witches believe that a bad blow to the head can make the brain swell up until it becomes too big for the skull and oozes out of the ears and nose. There was certainly a spell to bring this about.

It was also possible that, despite the damage to her brain, the poor woman would live on, unable to speak or recognize her own daughter.

Could I help her? I wondered. Was my magic strong enough to heal her? I was not sure that I could do anything. Dark magic is useful for fighting enemies and forcing obedience upon others. It can kill, maim and terrify, but its use in healing is uncertain. Some believe that healers use a more gentle, benign magic.

My magic was probably the wrong kind, but I had to try.

‘Stand back, Emily,’ I said softly. ‘Let me see if I can do anything to help your mam.’

The girl did as I asked and I knelt down beside her mother, placing my right hand on her head. She just stared at me, her eyes wide, looking utterly bewildered.

I willed the woman to get better. With all my strength I pushed that wish towards her. For a few seconds
nothing happened. Then I felt intense warmth spreading down my arm and into my hand.

The expression in the woman’s eyes changed. She looked up at me angrily, and then pushed my hands away. She got to her feet and stared at her daughter. ‘Emily!’ she cried. ‘I thought I’d never see you again!’

She went to pick up her daughter and started to cry. Soon both of them were weeping; they seemed to have forgotten all about me. I slipped out of the room, went down the stairs and left the house.

As I headed back towards Pendle, I thought back over what I’d just done. I’d healed Emily’s mam. So my magic could do good as well as the other . . . Maybe there was hope for me?

I walked as if in a dream.

Walked? I was almost floating, wafting along effortlessly towards Pendle.

Brambles moved aside at my approach, low branches raised themselves so that I could have headroom, and butterflies fluttered in my wake.

I even walked through the middle of a small village in broad daylight, my pointy shoes clacking on the cobbles. I willed the people not to see me, and I was instantly invisible to them. There was a small market in the square, and I helped myself to a piece of fruit right in front of the stallholder. He didn’t notice a thing, and that rosy-cheeked apple proved to be one of the sweetest and juiciest I’d ever munched. Or perhaps it was just the manner in which I’d taken it that made it taste so delicious!

At one point, as I passed south of the great brooding hill, it rained heavily, a torrential downpour that flattened the wheat in the fields and sent rivulets of rainwater rushing down the incline. But none of it touched me. Not one drop fell upon my head, and my shoes were as dry as if there had been a dusty road beneath my feet.

The inside of my head was filled with music – a choir of unseen stars sang in harmony only for me – and I was consumed with a tremendous sense of exultation. I was stronger than all of them. I was free of Lizzie. Free to do as I wished.

I was powerful, strong and invulnerable.

Nobody could touch me.

Not Lizzie. Not even Grimalkin.

It was dark by the time I reached the village of Roughlee. I climbed up through the trees towards the cottage of Agnes Sowerbutts. I’d been happy here. I would be happy again.

Didn’t I deserve some happiness after all I’d been through?

A light was showing at the window to the left of the front door. I had a secret call that I used to let her know I was on my way. It was the cry of a corpsefowl, slightly modulated so that Agnes would know that it was me and not the random call of a night bird.

But I didn’t bother to use it this time. I just willed Agnes to know that I was here. And it worked. The door to the cottage opened wide and I could see her standing in the doorway.

I walked right up to her and gave her a big grin.

She didn’t smile back.

She slapped me very hard across the face.

‘You little fool!’ she cried angrily.

‘
WHAT IS IT
, Agnes? What have I done wrong? You should be happy!’ I said, my eyes filling with tears. It wasn’t the pain. The slap had hurt, but much worse was the way Agnes was looking at me.

She took me by the shoulder and dragged me inside the cottage, slamming the door behind us.

‘No witch flaunts her power like that or it will consume her. And so much power too. I can smell the stink of it evaporating off your skin! Tell me everything!’ she demanded. ‘Something’s happened, something momentous. Tell me all of it!’

So I sat on a stool in the kitchen facing Agnes and told her everything I could remember: the leather egg, the meeting with
Betsy Gammon, the water witches and capturing the children to be sacrificed. Then I told her of my decision to flee the house.

‘I was scared, but I knew I had to do something. I was so desperate, I decided to go and ask for the help of the local spook. But the thunder and lightning started, and the rain came down, and I needed shelter. I saw a light ahead and thought it was a farm. When I got closer, I saw that it was a strange black barge on the canal; the light came from candles on the deck. The rain should have put them out, but it didn’t . . .’

Next I told her how I’d stepped onto the barge and climbed down too many steps to see the large throne before talking to the mysterious bargeman.

‘What was he like?’ Agnes demanded. ‘Tell me all about him.’

‘Well, he was invisible at first. Said he couldn’t be here in person, but that one day, with my help, he might be able to sit on that throne. For a couple of seconds he appeared above it. Hardly older than me, he was, but he had a smiley face and golden hair. However, it was the way he behaved that got to me. He was kind and friendly, and looked at me like he really cared about me. Ain’t many people ever looked at me in that way. Told me I had power inside me and didn’t need no spook to help those children – I could do it myself!’

‘Did he tell you who he was, Alice? Did he give you his name?’

I shook my head. ‘He said he was one of the unseen princes of this world.’

‘You foolish girl! It was the Fiend himself, if I’m not mistaken,’ Agnes cried, shaking her head.

I looked at her in astonishment. ‘That can’t be true! The Fiend’s ugly and old, with a sly look on his face. He has big curved horns too – everyone knows that.’

‘No, girl, there’s more to him than that. He can make himself large or small and change his shape to whatever he wants. He could become a handsome golden-haired boy in the twinkling of a maiden’s eye – as many have found out, to their cost!’

‘But why would the Fiend have used me to save those children? He’s of the dark, and yet he helped me to thwart the dark. Why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Yes it does. It makes perfect sense if you just think about it. He recognized your guilt and remorse for what you’d been involved in. He sensed your desperation to put things right. So he gave you what you needed. Child, he must want you very badly . . .’

‘What do you mean –
want
me?’

‘He wants your soul, child,’ Agnes told me. ‘He wants your allegiance. He wants you to stand at his side and fight the light. Some witches are relatively weak. All they can do is charm away a wart or poison an enemy. Others have a power that can be developed throughout their lives. Lizzie’s such a one. She works hard at getting stronger. Each year that she lives, her power grows. But there are a few witches, a very few, with extreme innate power; rare ones who are born incredibly strong. And that’s what you are, Alice. I’ve always known. And the Fiend wants you to use your power to help him. That’s why I wanted to look after you and bring you up. I wanted to keep you away from witches who’d awaken those dark
abilities within you. But Lizzie took you away . . . and now it’s come to this!

‘Listen to me . . . you can’t use that power for anyone or anything or it will destroy you. It comes from the very heart of darkness, and if you use it willy-nilly as you’ve just done, it will seize you for its own and take your soul. Show me your mark!’ Agnes commanded.

‘What mark?’ I asked.

‘Don’t try to hide things from me, child. Show me the secret mark that tells of your potential.’

I began to tremble. I knew what she meant, but I didn’t even want to think about it. In Pendle, every female child with the potential to become a witch had such a mark. It was a sign of what she could become.

‘Where is it, child?’

I pulled up my skirt above my knee to reveal the dark stain on the outside of my left thigh. It had been a thin crescent when I last looked.