An Embittered Witch, page 5
I started, taken aback by her interruption. This was hardly the moment for brown-nosing and competing. We were having a serious discussion about false accusations.
Win’s dark eyes glittered at me across the table’s expanse of white linen. Her competitive spirit was fired up and ready to go. ‘We will find the hag Auld Meg and bring her back to justice. At least, I will. Doesn’t sound like Dara’s truly on board.’
Cate’s slight nod of approval was just too much for me to stomach. ‘But you have no evidence that it’s Margaret who did this,’ I blurted. ‘You have a spell that no one can figure out. Does it have her scent on it? Is it actually a curse, or was it natural causes? Did you have doctors examine him?’
I stared at both of them wildly. ‘And what does China have to do with it? Do you believe Meg is there?’
‘No,’ Cate replied. ‘I have no reason to think she’s in China.’
‘Then why?’
She smiled like a cat who had discovered the butter dish. ‘We’re going to China in order to find the one witch who can help us undo the curse.’
Cate laughed delightedly, that hated tinkle. ‘We’re on a quest to find Li Minh.’
Dead silence greeted her announcement. Li Minh. Rumored to be among the most powerful witches ever. If she in fact existed and wasn’t the Chinese equivalent of an Arthurian legend. She hadn’t been seen this century, as far as I knew. If she was still alive, her whereabouts were a closely guarded secret.
And how this mythological witch came into so much power? Well, this was the stuff of legends indeed.
Win finally drew a loud gasp as if on a delayed timer. ‘Li Minh?’ Her tone was reverent. ‘But she’s just a story. Does this witch exist? How do you know?’
‘I don’t,’ Cate said slowly. ‘But I have sources...’ She shook her head, the long raven black hair shining in the dim light. She looked at each of us in turn. ‘So? Are we a team? You accept this assignment?’
‘I’m in,’ Win gushed. Her face shone as the thrill of the chase set her blood to race. It was a no-lose scenario for her. No matter which way it turned out, Win would achieve greatness, or at least haul herself one rung up the ladder. If we found the legendary figure, well, that would make Win a legend herself. On the other hand, if we lost and found that she did not in fact exist and never had, we would be known as the team of witches who dared to try.
Cate looked expectantly at me. I absolutely had to say yes. And it had nothing to do with all those hollow ambitions I’d once held to become a hero within the Kin. Meg had nothing to do with any of this. She was being vilified, and I now understood the real reason Cate wanted the other witch gone.
After all, we were the only ones who had been present that night last June. Cate didn’t like loose ends. If I didn’t accept this assignment, then Cate would make sure I was right up there next to Meg in the bonfire. I had to be involved in this investigation, if only to save my own skin. I would help to clear Meg’s name, or at least to find some way to warn her. Though I owed her nothing at all.
I looked up at Cate and slowly nodded. The back of my neck tightened. Cate might be setting me up for a bigger fail than even my suspicious mind could imagine, yet, I had no choice.
Nine
We were free for the rest of the day. Hugh wasn’t, which was just as well, for he wouldn’t approve of my plans.
The first stop was to discuss this situation with someone who knew Margaret. The only other living witch who knew her well, in fact. The Venerable Nachtan, who else? True, he was the one who had somehow laid a curse on her, keeping her confined in the dungeon with her chronicle all those years ago. But there was more to that story than either of them were telling.
I’d seen the way he’d looked at her at Tomnahurich, his was a true love, possibly unrequited, but none the less powerful for all that. Even after all those years and the shit that had gone down between them, there were still feelings lurking in his old gray heart.
She had spoken disparagingly of him, yet at the same time there’d been an underlying tinge of affection in her words. I would get her to tell me the whole history between them, some day. If we ever met on good terms again.
I climbed the familiar dark stone steps to his tower, in no need of the faint light from the sconces to guide me. By now I knew every stone under my feet, every uneven surface and every dip worn from centuries of boots treading up and down their length. I knew exactly where I needed to stop and catch my breath, too.
I hesitated outside Mrs. Battersea’s door, then decided against checking in with her. She was the keeper of VN, his personal organizer, and would only discourage my unexpected visit. I needed not just to see the Venerable Nachtan. I needed the element of surprise in order to get the most information from him. What I was looking for, I didn’t even know. He wouldn’t be in touch with Meg these days, he wouldn’t know how to reach her. He wouldn’t be able to tell me what she’d been up to, where she’d been over the past year since I’d freed her from his prison.
But I knew he would be on her side.
The door to his chamber did not open when I pushed on it. I tried the handle again, but it was locked tight.
I stood back in confusion. That door had always opened easily enough to my touch. Did he have it spelled or something to avoid unwelcome visitors? Did the door act on some kind of magical ‘Invitation Only’ access? No matter how much I thumped and yelled, it remained shut with no sign of the VN. Crap. I turned and made my way back to Mrs. Battersea’s office door.
She looked up at me when I entered. She was dressed in warm navy today, the suit the exact same cut as ever, and her eyeglasses matching the blue. Mrs. Battersea was terrifyingly efficient and no nonsense, which made her extreme fondness and reverence for the smelly, cantankerous old witch all the more puzzling.
‘Dara?’
I guessed the tower’s stone walls were so thick she hadn’t heard me banging and hollering upstairs.
‘You don’t have an appointment with Him today, surely.’ There was concern in her eyes.
I shook my head. ‘No, but I really wanted to talk with, ah, Him. He’s not answering the door. Do you know when he, ah He’ll be free?’
Pursing her lips, she shook her head. ‘Ooh Dara, I’m afraid He’s not here. He’s taken Himself off.’
‘What, left the tower?’
‘Yes, he’s gone home for a rest.’
I waited a moment, but she was going to make me squeeze it out of her. I had to play on her sympathies.
‘That’s not like him. Is everything okay with Him?’
Mrs. Battersea looked down off to the desk on her left. ‘He did appear a little peaked, said he needed some time away. To regroup. That he was... tired.’ This last came out as a whisper. Her eyes were round behind the spectacle frames.
The Venerable Nachtan was never a picture of rosy health, not with his pipe smoking and never getting out for exercise in the fresh air. He’d been gray since I met him, his hair and beard and skin all the same not-quite-glowing shade. Much like Iced, now I came to think of it. But he had been that way for several decades, as far as I understood.
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to do next, I’d been pinning my hopes on the old witch. I needed him, because I couldn’t think who else to turn to. ‘Any idea when he’ll be back?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s just it.’ She leaned closer and spoke in a whisper. ‘I’ve had no word from Him, and it’s been two days.’
Even as I watched, the tiniest tear trickled from the inside corner of her right eye. I might have missed it if I hadn’t been searching her face closely. This was serious. The unflappable Mrs. Battersea brought to tears? Something was very wrong with VN. ‘What’s going on with Him?’
She sniffed, then bravely drew herself together. ‘In all the years I’ve worked here, this is unprecedented.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course, he leaves the tower all the time, it’s not that. He’s discovered Starbucks, and he’ll go out for his pint on a Friday night. Once a year, he likes to go to his little cottage in the country. But that’s in the summer, Dara. It’s winter now, it’s cold there. I doubt he has any form of heating, and as I said, I haven’t heard from him. I keep sending out the carrier pigeons with messages, but the poor things just return, unable to fulfill their missions.’
Carrier pigeons, in this age of email and cell phones? I shook my head. This was not the time to get into a discussion about stepping into the twenty-first century.
Mrs. Battersea began to straighten papers and files on her desk that were already perfectly aligned, a sure sign of the stress she was feeling. I took a deep breath.
‘Okay,’ I said, more to myself. I needed to find Nachtan, and by doing this I could also put Mrs. Battersea’s mind to rest. We had several days off before we needed to leave for China. ‘Do you want me to go check on him?’
It was like the sun came out on that bleak Edinburgh day, her smile lit her face from end to end. ‘Oh, would you, Dara? He’s always so independent, but if you wouldn’t mind nipping out to his country home, I’d be ever so grateful.’
‘Out in the country?’ I hesitated because, well, I knew my area of Edinburgh city pretty well and its public transport system, but anything outside of it was sure to mean long distances driving on the wrong side of the road, and not being able to read the map while doing so. Sure, having a driver’s license was handy now, but it brought along with it all kinds of new worries I’d never thought to worry about before.
‘I don’t suppose he has a phone nearby, or any other means to get in touch?’
‘No, no.’ She dismissed the idea, already turned away to search one in one of the large filing cabinet drawers. She pulled out several large folded papers. ‘That’s why we use the pigeons. He finds their cooing more soothing than electronic instruments. He always says, ‘Mrs. B, if a message doesn’t fit onto a pigeon’s leg, then the writer is sadly lacking skill with words.’’ She smiled modestly. ‘He would never, of course, have that complaint about me.’
She laid the folders out on her desk.
‘Here’s the map of the area,’ she said. ‘I’ll just mark the location of his home.’ She looked up before making the X with her red pen, an unexpected look of apology on her face. ‘I’m afraid it’s not actually on a road or lane. You’ll have to do a bit of a hike, from what I understand.
‘Now, this is the road map of Scotland,’ she continued, then she pointed to a spot way over past Inverness, north of the loch. There didn’t appear to be any marked towns or villages nearby. She was back to her usual efficient self now. ‘You’ll want to make your way up to Inverness, and once through there, find the A82. Don’t cross the bridge over the Beauly Firth, you’ll have gone too far. D’ye see?’
She waited for my nod of confirmation as I followed her finger on the paper. ‘You’ll tootle along the north shore of Loch Ness.’ She looked up at me sternly. ‘That’s a left turning, that is.
She tapped the map after marking the turnoff point, then brought out an ordinance survey map of the area. ‘It’s fairly simple, just follow this road past Abreachan. Take a right turn there, you’ll pass over three wee streams, then you take the road on the left. It’ll not be paved. Ye park the car there and follow the path through the woods on foot, you should be able to find it no problem.’ She looked up at me and beamed again.
‘Here’s the map of the forest,’ she said, passing me yet another folded paper brochure. ‘It’s not hard going, I believe.’
‘That’s a long drive,’ I said, looking at the three maps in front of me. ‘It’ll take a couple of hours to get there. And a long hike when I eventually arrive.’
She had the grace to look a little discomfited. ‘Yes, a three-hour drive actually,’ she agreed. ‘Perhaps you’re better off waiting until morning.’
‘And you’re sure he’s there?’
Mrs. Battersea gave a quick, definite nod at that. ‘Oh yes, that’s where He said he was going, and He is a witch of His word.’
The maps were placed in an accordion folder which she handed to me forthwith. ‘I’ll arrange for a Kin car loan,’ she finished with a flourish. ‘You’re abiding with young Sabarin these days? It will be waiting at your door at six thirty AM, along with a picnic hamper to tide you over.’
I studied the maps as I walked back to the flat in New Town. Dear God, it was a long drive, there and back in one day. That was if I didn’t get lost or break a leg hiking up to Nachtan’s cottage on the way. But there was no choice, was there? I had to speak with Nachtan.
Hugh stirred and yawned as I hauled myself out of bed and measured the coffee scoops. It was still so dark out that the glass door leading to the courtyard showed only a mirror image of me in the small kitchen, my hair still unbrushed. I had explained to Hugh that I was taking this free day to drive around the coast a bit, to sightsee, maybe drop up to Inverness.
He’d thought it very odd, frankly quite out of character for me, and said so.
‘We’ll have lots of time to do this together in the summer, when the weather’s nicer,’ he pointed out. ‘And I thought you were nervous, driving here?’
I shrugged, my back to him. ‘I have to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road some time,’ I said. ‘Better out in the country when there’s not much traffic around, right?’
‘And Inverness.’ He stopped. It looked like he was biting his lip to prevent the rest of his thought coming out.
‘No, I’m not going anywhere near Tomnahurich,’ I told him firmly, and his shoulders relaxed a little.
‘That’s good,’ he murmured. ‘Johanna’s still trying to get back on the Fae’s good side after all that to-do last spring.’
I stared at myself in the reflection of the garden door. I hadn’t told him the truth, that I was terrified to set off on this journey. It wasn’t just the driving. I’d Googled the distance. Mrs. Battersea was correct, as she inevitably was. An estimated three hours driving from Edinburgh to Inverness, and that wasn’t counting the time I needed to budget getting lost on small back lanes and then hiking to the cottage. It was going to be a long day, and with the shortness of the January days here, I might not even return before dark.
The physical car trip wasn’t what scared me. Something deep inside me, in my chest or my heart or where ever these things hide, it was breathing a hint that this journey would unlock a portal that once opened, could never be undone.
I hesitated at the doorway. I didn’t need more crap in my life. I didn’t have to do this, make this journey. I could just let Margaret defend herself from the accusations. She wasn’t anything to me, was she?
Except that Mrs. Battersea was now counting on me, and one could never disappoint that good lady.
‘Call if you run into any difficulties, then,’ he murmured casually as he kissed me good-bye. He was still sleep-warm and cozy and I clung to that comfort for a long moment. ‘There’s always Kin around to give you a hand. Although they’re mostly Covenanters up that way, still...’
I sure hoped there would be no need of calling on Elder Cromwell. I checked again that my phone was fully charged and that I had enough food to last in case I got lost on the moors overnight, and I set out the front door. There was the Kin car waiting, as promised, with the keys tucked into the ignition. Thank God it was a small one.
It was actually tiny, and a convertible to boot.
Hugh poked his head out the front door to look up to the car on the street, and gave a whistle. He managed to look impressed and a little put out at the same time. ‘The Mercedes SLC! How did you manage to snag that one? You must have good connections, Dara. They don’t loan that one out to just anyone.’
‘Must have been the last one on the lot,’ I murmured before he could ask any probing questions about my connections. I smiled and blew a kiss as I jumped into the vehicle, and I juddered, stop-starting all the way down the street until I figured out the touchy clutch pedal.
And I was off on my reluctant adventure, off into the still-pitch dark of the early morning on these unknown roads.
Ten
It was closer to seven o’clock when I left the city, and the sun wouldn’t fully rise until half-past eight. That drive through the dark on unknown roads was among the most disconcerting of experiences I’d ever had. I’d recently acquired my driver’s license, but that was in Canada, where we drove on the right side of the road. I had to force myself to stay on the correct side of the Scottish roads by chanting ‘stay left, stay left’ the whole time as I left Edinburgh, but that wasn’t so awful. Getting to the main highway was the worst. I had no idea where I was going, just aimed the car and tried to ignore all the busier, impatient cars passing me.
My only savior was the GPS which Mrs. Battersea had thoughtfully caused to have pre-programmed for me. It helped me navigate out of the city and onto the A9 without too many hair-raising incidents. I knew once I navigated through Inverness I would soon turn off onto the A82 which promised to be quieter, with a reduced speed limit. And so I made my way along the north shore of Loch Ness, the home of the legendary monster, and happily could report no sightings of her.
It did my heart good to be so close to water again, even if it wasn’t the saltiness of the ocean that I was used to back home. I rolled down my window to let that brisk air bathe my face. Despite the time of year, it wasn’t that cold out, not like back home, although the North Sea wind did have a good bite to it at times.
On the long trip up to Loch Ness, I gave some thought to what I needed from the Venerable Nachtan, what he might tell me that could clear Meg’s name with the Kin. Despite their suspicions, I knew in my heart of hearts that Margaret Forsythe had nothing to do with the curse laid upon Zande. How could she? More to the point, why would she?
She was quick-tempered, yes, and a touch narcissistic. But she didn’t even bear a grudge against the Kin or Nachtan as far as I could see, although you’d expect her to be annoyed at the lot of them for casting her into a dungeon for the full span of a century. I would certainly be narked, if they’d done it to me.
