53. Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Three
T he orchard glittered with the fairy lights strung between the bare branches and they illuminated the sparkling frost crunching beneath their feet. Magic and apprehension hung in the air. The winter chill forced Willow to tug her ruby-red cloak tight around her as they approached the clearing and the altar Glenn had made from a fallen tree. Grateful for its warmth, she still thought dressing like an extra for The Lord of the Rings was ridiculous and unnecessary, but Amber insisted it was crucial to the plan. Dressed in an emerald cloak, Amber wore hers with a confidence Willow wished she had. Her doubts grew about the idea when she discovered the finer details, particularly the part involving Beetle, who was currently raiding Amber’s bag on the floor. His bushy demeanour reflected his excitement at the current adventure.
‘You’re asking me to put my life in the paws of a ferret,’ Willow said.
‘No. I’m asking you to trust me with your life. Beetle is just backup and knows what to do if he senses danger here. He’ll alert me, and we’ll be back here in a blink.’
‘And vomiting.’
‘You’re only sick if we come back too quick. I’ve prepared peppermint tea just in case.’ Amber shrugged, undeterred by Willow’s hesitancy and risk aversion. Dream walking was safer than soul walking, and she’d survived that. If anything went wrong, all they needed to do to come out of the shared dream was wake up. Beetle knew to nip Amber if danger approached. And Vincent would follow suit.
Willow looked at Amber and saw the witch she was and the witch she would become. Her chin thrust upwards, absorbing nature’s energy, and her fingertips tingled with magic; she was no longer the gawky teenager she first met. The wings on the dragonfly inked on Amber’s arm fluttered, and it preened its feet, ready for flight. To do this, Willow needed to hand over control to her young charge. Could she trust her? How could she not? This was Louise’s daughter, the child Willow promised to look after not realising how much she’d receive in return. The one Louise knew had more magic potential at four than she knew how to handle. If anyone could do this, Amber could. And if she walked away, Amber wouldn’t. She refused to let go of the desire to bring Clive to justice with a stubbornness on par with a terrier in a shed full of rats.
Music drifted from the cottage and the fairy lights flickered as ghosts of the orchard materialised, emerging in the shadows of the tree, Willow’s ancestors drawn out by Amber’s power to offer their support. Vincent settled on the limb of a large apple tree, watching the two witches cast a circle.
With Beetle curled around Amber’s neck, she set out the altar while Willow lit the candles with witchfire, in awe that it was successful. Louise was right, Willow’s innate magic just needed to come home to flourish and once tonight was over she’d experiment to know how far she’d come. Candlelight bounced off Willow’s ring, making Amber squeal with delight.
‘He did it and you said yes.’ Incantations were temporarily forgotten as she grabbed Willow’s hand. ‘It’s beautiful. I’d have preferred a skull myself, but it’s perfect for you. I have so many questions about the proposal.’
‘Which can wait until we’ve done this. Come on, let’s do it. I want to celebrate with Nate,’ Willow said.
Amber nodded and stepped away.
It was time to trust Amber and herself. She poured the swirling potion she’d made earlier into the goblet. Magic rumbled beneath their feet, with an incantation and plea for guidance from the Goddess; the spirits gathered around the cast circle, adding an extra layer of protection from outside danger. Willow reached for the lone apple on a nearby tree and sliced it open. She dripped the potion onto the creamy flesh and watched it take a blue hue as it soaked in. Each took a half, and while holding hands, they simultaneously took a bite. In seconds, they slumped to the ground, sleeping while Beetle guarded them until their return.
***
Their arrival was quick and simple. There were no flashing lights, spiralling tunnels, or the visual disturbances Willow had imagined or seen on TV. One minute, she was in the orchard, and the next she was in a landscape not of her own making. She looked round at the Mediterranean villa with its whitewashed walls and rustic furniture.
‘That’s a relief,’ Amber said, releasing her hand. ‘Buildings are easier to navigate and safer with more places to hide. I was concerned we’d end up in his driving dream. He likes fast cars and is a reckless driver. This location will be fun. Come on, we need to find him.’ They crept down an empty corridor with silent footsteps, looking into every room.
‘Stay out of sight. For now. You’ll be the last flourish,’ said Amber said. Willow bit her lip and silently apologised to Louise, fearing this would be the night she witnessed what her friend’s daughter was truly capable of. Wide-eyed, the teenager resembled a child given permission to run riot in a sweet shop or a witch given unrestricted access to ancient grimoires.
The kitchen looked out onto an idyllic scene of a clear blue sky and an orchard of orange trees. After the freezing conditions at home, she welcomed the dry heat and her mouth watered at the vibrant fruits’ citrus fragrance in the air. Peering round the door, she watched Amber enter the room. Clive stood at the sink with his back to them. He paused at a sound or unexpected breath above the chirp of the cicadas outside. Water flowed over his hands into the bowl of soapsuds.
Who washes up in their dreams? Amber was right when she declared some dreams were mundane. It was time to add some excitement. Come on, turn around , both witches urged. All they needed was an acknowledgement or a simple response like eye contact for the fun to begin. Nothing. He continued to stare out of the window. It wasn’t going to work. He was trying to wake himself up. Willow stepped back. Something darted and zipped in the air towards him. Amber’s dragonfly had released itself from the confines of her skin. Clive flung his arm up in defence as it flew around him.
‘Get it off me.’ He spun round and stared at the figure cloaked in green. The game could commence.
The insect retreated at Amber’s command. Clive ran through the open kitchen door to the terrace with the young witch in pursuit. As she raised her arms, dark clouds rolled in. A flick of her wrist sent a fork of lightning down from the sky. The loud crack echoed through the orchard and the smell of burning confirmed a tree took a direct hit. Clive turned. His pale face was visible in the glow of witch light Amber held in her hand.
‘What do you want from me?’ he said.
‘It is not what I want. This is about her.’ Amber smirked, nodding in Willow’s direction.
She stepped forward, releasing energy balls from her fingers, and willing them to morph into woodland sprites. Imagination was key, and the sense of power it produced was intoxicating. No wonder Amber fought against reining it in.
The creatures flew around him, poking and prodding, forcing him to back up against a tree. They shrieked with laughter as they surrounded him. He paled further and stammered incoherently. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky.
‘One elephant. Two elephants. Three elephants. Four—’ Amber counted. The roar of the thunder vibrated across the landscape.
‘Look, I don’t know why you’re haunting me. I’ve done nothing to you. You witches are all the same. Hateful creatures.’
His rant stopped as more lightning flashed, and Amber counted up to three elephants tracking the storm. ‘You don’t like storms, do you? Made you quiver under the bed as a child. Even locked yourself in the cupboard once, much to your brother’s delight. Made you wet yourself. Shall we see if we can do it again?’
‘No more. Please. How did you know?’ he pleaded.
‘I don’t know, us witches know things. See things and know when you hurt another,’ Amber replied, striding closer to him.
‘As she said, this isn’t about her. This is about me,’ Willow said as she stepped forward and flipped down her hood.
On recognising her, Clive’s hatred replaced his fear. He stood taller and more defiant. ‘Should have known you’d be behind this. Not content with ruining my life, you are haunting my dreams.’
‘Ruined your life? How have I done that?’ she said.
‘As soon as you came into the agency, you ruined it. No commission on the sale of the Old Apothecary or bonuses that followed. No. All that went to Michael. I showed you the property. Me. Not him. It was my commission, my promotion he took. You always thought you were better than me. Well, you didn’t know about Speedwell Cottage, did you? So much for witches knowing things. You know nothing. Your constant need for updates on sales of farms in the area made diverting the repair costs into my account all the sweeter when I realised you were the missing granddaughter connected to Speedwell. Two properties connected to witches, both connected to you. Bloody witches, but someone knew how to get under your skin, didn’t they? Who was it that first called you Goldilocks, eh? Who was it that first made you scared?’
He spat onto the ground. His words empowered him when she remained silent, an icy rage running through her. ‘Whoever it was, they kept you in line, hiding. Despite hexing me, my nest egg was safe. I learnt how to protect myself from you vile creatures. Witchcraft couldn’t touch me, and then he turns up with his posh boarding school accent. He gives you a black eye, yet you fawn all over him, telling him about the cottage. My cottage, my income. And now you’ve made me lose my job, my car and house. You’re in league with the devil.’
The mention of the devil sparked an idea. The gytrash of her own nightmares, with its glowing red eyes and sharp teeth, crashed through the trees at her command. It circled Clive as the sprites scuttled away. Its mouth drooled as it snapped its powerful jaws shut.
Willow walked closer and closer until she could see the beads of sweat running down Clive’s face and the tremble in his hands. He shrank under her gaze.
‘No. You ruined your life. Your greed. Your hate. You didn’t do a thing the day you showed me the apothecary. You were too scared of the rumours of harmless ghosts. You will find witches are not so docile. No protection you can find here will keep us or the devil away.’
The gytrash growled and lumbered closer. Clive scurried up the tree, higher and higher, into the canopy.
‘We’ll be back night after night until you confess everything to the police. And we mean everything. Every scam and dodgy deal you’ve made, every assault, every time you hurt another person. They need to know it all before we back off. See you tomorrow.’
Willow strode away, her cape flying behind her, and nodded at Amber who beamed as she commandeered the weather. In sync, the next flash of lightning streaked down and thunder boomed as she said, ‘No elephant.’
It hit the tree. Clive flew into the air, his limbs scrabbling to find something to grasp. His bloodcurdling scream echoed around the garden. Both witches wondered if he’d wake up before he fell into the gnashing jaws below.
***
They didn’t have to wait long. Willow’s phone rang shortly after she woke up to sun streaming on her face. The detective in charge of her case informed her Clive had staggered into a Greek police station, clearly intoxicated, demanding to see someone. Aside from his ramblings about witches and the devil, he confessed to multiple fraud over many years, theft, stalking Willow and two other women, blackmail, and the assault on Amber and multiple speeding offences. As the detective listed his crimes, she cringed. No wonder his dreams were as warped as Amber confessed to seeing on her quest to find him. It was over.