An Embittered Witch, page 7
‘The Kin have to investigate all possible avenues,’ she said. Her voice held no emotion. ‘And you are here on the spot.’
‘But I’m only here because I...’ Then I shut my mouth again. Best not to go there. ‘The coals from his fire were cold, nothing had been tended since at least before last night. I only got here today at noon. Last night I was with Hugh. You can ask him, they’ll believe him because they know he wouldn’t lie to the Kin even to save me!’
Her mouth was grim as she stared ahead, nodding in agreement.
‘Besides,’ I continued in a rush. ‘How would I know what to do, how to cast a curse like this? They can’t be seriously considering me as the culprit.’
She shrugged. ‘You have managed to accomplish some amazing things in your brief career thus far,’ she remarked drily.
I flashed her a dirty look. ‘And Africa? How the hell do they think I managed to get out there and back without anyone knowing?’
With that, she took a deep breath in as if steeling herself. She turned her head on her elegant neck to look right into my eyes. ‘It’s your connection to Margaret Forsythe. They’ve come up with the theory that you’re somehow working with her.’
She looked down at the stream again. ‘And the worst part is,’ she said slowly. ‘If you look at it through the lens of Cromwell’s utter dislike of you, their way of thinking and their beliefs, it actually all fits.’
‘Cate!’ I was too shocked for words almost, but not for long as I rushed to defend myself. ‘You can’t be serious, that’s crazy talk, there’s no way...’
She held up her hand, stopping my panicked flow. ‘You know that, and I know that, but we have to convince them.’ She jerked her chin at the stone hut behind us. The four male witches were only now emerging. Her voice became a fervent whisper. ‘You’re going to have to tell them everything you know about Margaret,’ she said. ‘And if you have any inkling as to where she’s hiding these days, best spill it now. To save your own hide.’
As I let her words sink in, I could feel her gaze still on me, as if she were searching for something I was hiding from her.
And I realized from Cate’s words that she had no inkling of the airport incident, that unexpected meeting engineered by Margaret. So the spook hadn’t been hired by her. But that left me with the burning question, who was he and why did he so urgently want to find Margaret Forsythe?
Twelve
We had to wait for an ambulance to arrive at the scene to bring Nachtan’s slumbering body back to the safety of Inverness Castle. There was some consternation when the attendants realized they couldn’t bring their wheeled stretcher up the path, and there was a further wait before the Emergency crew arrived with the burly team trained to rescue people from cliff tops and other dangerous spots. It was union rules apparently, and even the Kin couldn’t overstep those boundaries.
We were finally allowed to take the helicopter back to the town. One of the Kin was given the pleasure of driving my Mercedes convertible back, and I took his place on the return flight.
My interrogation was held at the Castle, a place for which I held no fond memories. At least they didn’t make me sit in the judgement chamber again, though. Instead we sat in the round room on the second story of the tower.
On the surface, it was a very civilized question and answer session, fuelled by endless cups of tea. When Johanna arrived, I had to reiterate everything I’d told the others.
‘You say you have no idea where she might be now?’ Her sharp nose remained trained on me like a bloodhound’s, sniffing for the faintest whiff of falsehood or obfuscation.
‘No, I never knew where she was,’ I said yet again. Yes, I might be throwing Margaret under the bus, but really, what difference did it make to me? She had walked out in a snit because I chose to remain within the Kin. She hadn’t factored my wishes and ambitions into her plan. I didn’t owe her a thing. But I also didn’t tell them about her appearance at Edinburgh airport. ‘All I know is that she was dressed for the beach when I saw her in St. John’s. She was drinking, I don’t know, margaritas, I think, if that helps at all.’
I crossed my arms and wriggled my spine on the hard back of the wooden chair. I was getting mighty tired of all this.
‘And how exactly did she travel both times?’ Johanna wasn’t letting anything go.
I shook my head, letting a small explosion of breath out through my lips. ‘I have no idea,’ I explained for the umpteenth time. ‘She was far faster than the elves, that’s all I know. She must have travelled thousands of miles in a very short time. Even if she’d been down in the Caribbean somewhere, that’s a long way to go.’
‘Flight, or some other means of transport?’ The Master Elder appeared to be murmuring to herself. ‘If only we had Nachtan to ask.’ She tapped her fingers on the wooden table before beginning at me again.
‘She didn’t share this with you?’
I shook my head. ‘No, she showed me how to physically fly, but I have no idea how she covered those great distances so quickly.’
‘Flight, actual flight.’ Johanna was lost in thought again. ‘It’s amazing. We will, of course, require you to write an explanation of this process so that we can replicate it. But that can wait for a later time.’
She took another breath. The room was silent, waiting for her to speak. ‘And how did you call her to you? Explain again, please.’
The dragonfly brooch that had appeared in all its magic one morning on the balcony, the jewels glinting brightly in the sun, as colorful as Margaret herself. In times of need, if I touched it and called out, either for her or just to let my pain loose, she came. All this I told Johanna, and even as I spoke the words out loud, I realized how incredible this story must sound.
‘And this brooch, is it still in your possession?’
All of this long afternoon, Cate had sat by my side, not uttering a word. But now she interrupted. Perhaps she didn’t trust me still not to breathe a word about the events of that night last June in St. John’s.
‘Margaret removed it from Dara’s jacket,’ she said decisively. ‘I saw this action myself.’
Johanna nodded, more accepting of Cate’s word than of mine.
‘And you’ve had no contact with this witch since?’
‘None,’ I lied firmly.
How much longer could this go for? After three cups of tea, my bladder was bursting, but no one dared interrupt Johanna until she was satisfied she’d picked every morsel of Margaret-related information out of my brain.
‘Fine.’ Johanna appeared to be relenting, but her brow was lined with worry. She stared round at the few of us in the room. ‘We will have to send out a PANEC notification throughout all Kin-friendly countries to be on high alert for any sightings of this witch. She is not to be harmed, but we need to bring her in, with force if necessary, before she does any more damage.’
‘We will, of course,’ Cate inserted smoothly, ‘Be doing all in our power to regain contact with her. While overseas.’
‘I don’t know if it’s a good idea for Dara to be traveling at the moment.’ Johanna made no secret about the fact she wanted to keep a close, very close, eye on me.
But really? My first chance to actually travel and see the world was being stymied, because of Margaret, of all witches. I couldn’t for a minute believe she was responsible for these strange curses laid on the powerful witches of the world, not Margaret. She didn’t care enough and she had no earthly or heavenly reason to do such a thing. Yet here we were, me being stuck in Edinburgh or worse, under the Covenanter’s eyes in Inverness, all because they truly believed she was capable of such dark deeds.
‘I think,’ Cate spoke respectfully yet firmly. ‘It’s my opinion that Dara may be more successful in reaching out to Margaret Forsythe if she is removed from the Kin center. Margaret may be more inclined to be in touch. And who’s to say where in the world she might be? There are beaches all over. I think, with a combined approach of Dara searching for her with whatever mind connection the two have, and Kin forces combing phone and credit card records, her trust fund activities and all that, we’ll have more success. That’s my thoughts.’
The room was silent as Johanna gave serious consideration to the idea, then she nodded decisively. ‘Yes, I see your point, Cate. Alright, Dara will go with the delegation. And remain with you at all times.’
I closed my eyes, giving thanks to the universe or whatever that she didn’t cancel my assignment. I was now more determined than ever to find Margaret, but not simply to save her from false accusations. At that moment, I was more concerned with saving my own butt.
But Cate wasn’t done with me yet for the day. The two of us waited just inside the Castle’s gate for the taxi which would bring me to the train station for my return to Edinburgh. I’d been inside enough that day, and now the evening was drawing in. I needed the fresh air.
‘Did you remove anything from the bothy? Something you’re withholding, not sharing with me?’
I turned to her, startled. So she hadn’t missed that fact. She held her hand out.
I slowly opened the satchel and withdrew the orb.
‘Interesting,’ she said, her eyes avidly scouring it in the half light of the late afternoon. She took it from my hand and held it up to the streetlight. As I had done, she lightly sniffed it.
‘Not a thing on it.’ She sounded almost pleased with the result. ‘What do you know about this?’
I shook my head and shifted my position on the hard boulder. ‘Nothing. It was under his bed.’
‘Alright.’ She accepted my word and gently placed the glass into the deep pockets of her fringed jacket, I assumed for safe keeping. ‘This… I’m afraid it’s best if I keep it. And you don’t need to share with the Kin. I think this might be pivotal in our investigation, and I do love a surprise.’
If I’d known what the origin of the ball really was, I’d have smashed it underfoot while I waited outside Nachtan’s bothy, to let the stream carry the shards away. If I’d know then. But hindsight is everything, isn’t it? I dumbly shook my head.
No, I wouldn’t tell.
Thirteen
That is, I wouldn’t tell anyone except Margaret. She needed to know what was going on, how her name was being bandied about as the guilty curser, and now my name as her associate was, too. This was not good at all.
Back in Edinburgh that evening, I walked down the Royal Mile, lost in thought. As far as I was concerned, the accusations against Margaret weren’t my business. She could row her own boat up the stream as much as she wanted.
But when I was also facing their accusations, well, that changed things mightily. I needed her to come out of hiding to clear my name.
She’d been right in saying it was all going to hell. How had she known? I paused my steps, right there by St. Giles’ Cathedral. This was too big a thought for me to pay attention to walking on the cobblestones at the same time. I leaned against the granite walls, for a new understanding threatened to overwhelm me and I needed them to lend me their solid support.
Was Margaret actually at the heart of these dastardly curses? Was she the instigator?
As Cate had pointed out, Margaret Forsythe had a good reason to hold a grudge against the Kin. Being locked away for a century would have upset the most stable of witches, surely. I bit my bottom lip and stared across the road at the tourists, still thronging Edinburgh even in early January.
Who’s the most powerful witch of all? I remembered Cate’s words as she looked at me in the old mirror. Power. Margaret was the most powerful witch of all There was no doubt in my mind. But still, it didn’t make any sense. Yes, if she was going to curse any witch, it would be Nachtan of course, that would be tit-for-tat in her mind. But the Great Zande? Would Margaret have even heard of him, living in her little trust fund bubble, lazing on the beaches of the world?
A meeting with Margaret was needed. It had to be this evening. As I left the shelter of the stone walls, the wind picked up its bite. My feet kept on along the path I’d been following, down the Royal Mile, but it wasn’t until I reached Holyrood Palace that I realized where I was heading.
Arthur’s Seat. It was the closest holy place untainted by the Christian churches, high above the city of Edinburgh, a magical place for magic.
I brushed aside the memory of the last time I’d tried to work a spell up there, when I was attempting to find Mom in the Ice Kingdom. No, it hadn’t worked, then. I’d just managed to call down a rainstorm on me and that jerk Terrance the goblin. But I also hadn’t really understood what I was doing, back then.
The hill hadn’t gotten any easier to climb, and the wind pushed against me every step of the way up there on the high ground. The last time I’d come up here, back when the energy of the Crystal Charm Stone was still pounding fresh in my veins, I’d practically bounced up the rabbit paths straight to the summit. The power in me had calmed down a lot since then, perhaps I’d learned to channel it appropriately or maybe it merely had found its level within me and my body had grown used to it. I rather missed the highs of it.
I took the road rather than the faint trails tonight. There was no moon to light my way.
Finally I reached the summit yet I had no idea what I was going to do, how I was going to call on Margaret from wherever she was. I would just have to wing it, reasoning to myself that surely to God, a witch of her strength, and a witch as powerful as me, we could somehow connect just by calling.
Taking a deep breath, I faced toward the east, and calmed my mind, letting only thoughts of Margaret in. Auld Meg underground in the Vaults, Lady Margaret Forsythe riding in her ancient Daimler, Margaret in her beachwear with the smell of margaritas on her like a perfume. I pictured her in all her various aspects, the few times I’d seen her. I summoned the feeling of her, her lightness of being, her snarkiness when I didn’t agree with her.
Believe, I told myself. Believe that she is here next to me. Feel her aura, feel her magic print.
And there was something, a whirl in the wind, a presence not too far away. I could almost feel her by my side.
‘Margaret?’ I kept my eyes closed, the better to concentrate on that slight essence I felt wavering about. ‘Margaret, please come. I need to speak with you. There’s a matter which concerns both of us.’
I listened. Was that her laughter sounding, so faintly? It might be the wind humming through the power lines, far below at Holyrood Palace.
‘Please, Margaret,’ I said, still with my eyes clamped shut. ‘What you were trying to tell me at the airport, I realize you were right. We need to discuss this. Now.’
I could almost feel the sunny warmth of her beach, smell the saltwater crystals in her hair, and I knew without a doubt she was listening. It was as if she was hovering over an old-fashioned message machine, hearing my pleas but not picking up the phone to speak.
‘Goddammit Margaret! You were right, okay? Talk to me. Stop ignoring me. I know you have nothing to do with the curses on Zande and Nachtan. I believe this, but if you don’t respond, I’ll… I’ll accept that Cate is right. I will work to clear my own name, and I don’t care if I throw you under the bus while I’m at it. Speak to me now!’
And just like that, silence. The presence of Margaret had disappeared as if she’d pressed the reject button. Her absence in the wind around me was palpable.
I screamed out in frustration and raised my fists to the sky as the wind whipped my hair around my face. Then, I let go. Defeated. That was it then.
The lights of the harbor far below shone through the damp, each streetlight with its own tiny halo. Nothing moved down there. It was as dead as the connection to my former mentor.
‘I don’t think threatening her was the way to go.’ A tall figure shifted in the wind and walked into my view. He huddled inside a trench coat inadequate for this winter wind, a scarf tightly knotted around his neck and a flat cap smushed down over his blond hair. His nose looked reddened with cold even in the faint light on the hill, and even as I watched, he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket with which to wipe a drip.
The spook. No wonder she refused to connect with me. She must have known he was there.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I snarled at him, glad to find an outlet for my frustration. ‘You scared her away. I almost had her!’
He shook his head. ‘No, you scuppered it yourself,’ he pointed out. His voice was surprisingly deep to come from such a thin frame. He had the aristocratic Kin accent though, that tone of privilege and confidence that made everything he said sound like a pronouncement of truth.
‘You must know her well enough to realize that you took the wrong approach with her,’ he added.
‘What do you know of Margaret Forsythe?’ I threw at him. My voice had dropped twenty degrees, not that I’d had any warmth towards him before. Yes, I’d failed to connect with her and that stung, never mind the possibility he might be right. I had chased Margaret away this time, as I had done all the other times. The sharp pain that rose up inside me had to be anger.
‘Not a lot,’ he said earnestly, shoving his hankie back into his pocket as he did so. ‘That’s why I’ve been following you - ‘
‘You stupid Kin spy,’ I broke across his voice. He didn’t know anything about Margaret, and seriously, it was none of his business anyway. It was time for him to butt out. ‘You don’t even have the sense to stay undercover, do you?’ I turned to go. I was tired and freezing, and so annoyed at life and this guy. I began quickly walking down the path.
He took long strides to catch up with me, managing to not even look like he was hurrying. ‘While we’re walking, I really think we should discuss the matter of Margaret. It’s imperative I – ‘
‘Imperative for you! Not for me. Not anymore.’ I shoved my gloved hands deep into my winter jacket and picked up my pace, practically running downhill now.
‘Stop interrupting me and listen for a moment, will you?’
