Witch (17 page)

‘Do y'all go to Summerland High?' Mrs Greenlaw looked us up and down in a friendly way.

‘Yes,' said Dean.

‘Well, one of your teachers lives in there! Such a nice man . . .'

At that moment the front door of the house swung open and a familiar figure walked out.

Mrs Greenlaw turned and waved with a cheery smile. ‘Good evening, Mr Barrow!' she called.

I involuntarily took a step back. My creepy chemistry teacher lived in the woman of Queen's Cross's house!

Mr Barrow lifted his hand in greeting to Mrs Greenlaw, but then turned away and went back inside. No doubt he hadn't been expecting to encounter his least favourite group of students on the street outside his house.

Mrs Greenlaw shrugged. ‘He's a bit of a loner, but he does help me take out my bins when the trash man comes.'

We sat around one of the big tables at the Purple Raven a bit later, going over the various articles and notes we'd collected so far.

After re-reading the newspaper article Amelia had found the day before, I was convinced the woman of Queen's Cross had been doing a magical ritual of some kind when her house had caught on fire. But I didn't believe her death had been an accident. My gut was telling me there was more to it.

‘Our guts are saying that, too,' the twins said.

Brenda overheard our conversation and came over to the table. ‘You should always pay attention to your gut,' she said. ‘You can trust your hunches when you feel them there. It's where your solar-plexus chakra is – the centre of your being. That's why we eat after a ritual.'

‘Well, my gut is telling me this woman was murdered,' I said.

‘Stop being so dramatic, Vania! Why on earth do you think she was murdered?' Dean said.

‘Because one report says the mains box looked tampered with. And because if she'd just knocked over a candle she should have been able to get out. Why did she just stay there on the floor? It doesn't make any sense. Unless someone killed her first and then tried to make it look like an accident.'

‘I'm not sure we're expected to solve an actual murder,' Dean said. ‘It's just a school subject after all.'

‘No, it's more than that now,' I said.

‘Pandora's box,' murmured Brenda.

‘What's that?' Dean asked.

‘According to Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman in the world, and she was given a box to take care of by the god Zeus. Zeus told her not to open it, but curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the box.' Brenda paused dramatically.

‘And what happened?' Dean said.

‘Terrible evil and misfortune poured out of it, but she managed to close it before everything escaped.'

‘What stayed in the box?'

‘Hope.'

‘I hope we solve this mystery,' Alyssa said, sitting back with her arms folded.

‘I think we will,' Bryce said, ‘and I agree with Vania – there's something really fishy about all this.'

‘Maybe I could ask my father to help? Maybe get the case reopened?' I suggested.

‘I think we should keep this on the down-low for now,' said Bryce. ‘There must be some reason the newspaper never reported on the possibility of murder. Someone's hiding something. Let's not draw too much attention to the case again just yet.'

‘Okay, so say Vania's hunch is correct and this woman was doing a witchcraft ritual; what does that have to do with someone killing her?' Dean asked.

‘Think about the history of witchcraft,' said Brenda. ‘There are tons of reports of women being killed as witches, and most of them never had any powers at all. Witches have long been the victims of hysteria and fear. And it wasn't always women who were accused of witchcraft, it was men and children too – even animals!

‘All those unjust deaths, it's so horrible!' I said softly, my stomach churned uncomfortably; it was awful to think about. ‘It's hard to imagine how it could have ever happened.'

Brenda patted my shoulder comfortingly but continued, ‘Let's remember that the victims were mostly women, at a time when being a woman meant being a second-class citizen. Many of the people who instigated the murders – the judges, inquisitors, bishops and the like – did it for personal gain. It was very easy to point the finger at your neighbour and say, “She's a witch!” Then when they were locked up or murdered, you could just take over their land or steal their belongings. It was criminal.'

‘What were the criteria for being accused of witchcraft?' Dean asked.

‘There was a crazy book called
Malleus Maleficarum
– Latin for H
ammer of the Witches
. For two hundred and fifty years it was used as a guide for identifying witches and giving the church licence to kill people for supposedly cavorting with the devil by doing magic.' Brenda shook her head.

‘Gosh, I hope that book's not around now!' I said.

‘No, it was revoked a long time ago. But the damage was already done, and the misconceptions are still around today. About devil-worshipping and all that rubbish.' Brenda snorted.

‘Our magic has got nothing to do with the devil!' I said.

‘This is a majorly depressing conversation,' Alyssa said. ‘And given that we're in a coven and all, it's starting to freak me out. I definitely don't want to draw attention to what we're doing by putting in our report that we think the woman was a witch.'

‘There is a witches' saying,' Brenda said wisely. ‘“To know, to will, to dare and to be silent.” For now, why don't you do some more research to get a clearer idea of what you're dealing with.'

Sunday morning I spent poring over the magic books that I'd started to amass, which I hid under the loose floorboard in my bedroom. It would have been easier to do my research on the internet, but my parents still hadn't agreed to get a connection at home and there was no way I was going to look up spells on the computers in the school library.

I liked the simplicity of having no internet anyway, I thought as I stuffed a couple of books deep into my backpack. Shouldering it, I headed to the kitchen to grab an apple from the fruit bowl. My mother was preparing lunch.

‘I'm going for a walk along the beach,' I said.

‘You don't want to stay and have lunch with us, honey?'

‘Thanks anyway, but I need some fresh air.'

‘All right, well don't be too late. I want to have a chat with you later about the plans for your sixteenth.'

My sixteenth birthday – how could I have forgotten? It was only a week away, but with all the magic and mystery I'd been swept up in recently I'd pretty much forgotten about it. I hadn't even told my coven.

‘Thanks, Mum. I'll be back in a couple of hours; we can talk about it then. Later, Dad,' I called, before taking a huge bite of apple.

‘Bye,' he called back, without looking up from the paper he was reading. He spent every Sunday sprawled out on the lounge chair.

As I wandered down the hill I again considered asking my father about the woman of Queen's Cross, but decided against it. My relationship with Dad was sketchy at best. Even though we'd been getting on okay since my positive-thinking kick, I knew that if I pushed any buttons he would still ground me in an instant.

I sometimes wondered if my parents missed the old, argumentative me. Our placid mealtimes were mainly punctuated by sounds of chewing now, rather than spirited arguments. I couldn't tell them what was going on in my life – about the spells and the coven and the mystery.

The wind caught my hair as I wound my way down the steep path towards the beach. I reached the sand and inhaled deeply. I loved the salty smell, and the kelp that grew in giant forests just offshore. One day I wanted to scuba dive out there. When I moved out of home. My parents had told me I would not be allowed to do something so dangerous as long as I lived under their roof. I didn't think it was that dangerous. True, Matt had told me that when he was surfing he often saw sharks, but he said they stayed out of his way. He saw a lot of dolphins, too. I could see some surfers up the far end of the beach, where the waves were breaking. It was another grey, misty afternoon and I pulled my jacket closer around my waist, folding my arms to keep it there as I gazed out to sea.

Thinking about Matt made me think about Bryce, of course. I still didn't believe Dean's theory that Bryce had joined our group because he liked me. He had magic in him, that was certain, and I thought our group's combined love of magic was the glue that held us all together. I wondered if there were any other groups of kids in the world who had magic in common.

I sat on a large piece of driftwood near the shore and kicked off my Converses, nestling my feet in the sand and watching the water's edge ebb and flow, tendrils of foam lazily reaching out towards my toes but not touching them.

I reached into my backpack and pulled out one of the books. Rather than reading my magic books from start to finish, lately I'd been letting chance play a hand by opening them at random places. I flicked through the pages, looking out to sea, and then let the book fall open in my lap. A chapter called ‘Divination: Finding Out What You Need to Know' presented itself.

Too appropriate
, I thought, and began to read.

The elements of nature can be used as divinatory tools.
Ask your question and look to the air. If it blows west,
your answer is yes. If it blows east, your answer is no.

I raised my head, but the wind was whipping around so much I decided that the element of air wouldn't be a reliable tool. I read on.

The element of earth will reveal its knowledge in stones.
Cast your eye around – a round stone means yes and a
jagged stone, no.

I cast my eye around and all I could see was sand – I'd need to walk further up the beach, and I couldn't be bothered doing that right now.

The element of water is mutable and can be dictated
as you desire.

I looked at the edge of the tide lapping away in front of me – this could work.

‘If the water touches my toes the next time, it will mean I have met the person who knows the secret of the woman of Queen's Cross,' I said aloud.

Immediately an extra thrust of water surged up and completely covered my feet.

I jumped – and not just because the water was freezing.

I decided to ask another question. ‘Is it a woman?'

I waited as the next wave surged forwards . . . but the water stopped short of my toes.

My next question was obvious, but I asked it anyway. ‘Is it a man?'

A wave raced up with enough force to soak my rolled-up jeans to my calves.

I stood up. My feet were freezing and my head was spinning. I knew the man.
A dark presence around you
, I could hear Mrs Torre whisper in my ear. Prickles ran up my spine and I shivered. I jumped to my feet – I'd had enough of sitting out here all alone. I grabbed my stuff and hurried along the sand back towards town and safety.