The Last Witch: Volume Three

The night is eerily quiet. Not even the crickets are chirping. The owls fail to hoot and the leaves in the woodland below barely rustle in this dying breeze. The silence is deafening. A void rings in my ears so loudly it gives me a headache. I long for some noise to drown it out.

Below, at the foot of this towering hill, a sleepy market-town casts a hue of orange as the last of the street lights remain illuminated. The roads lie empty. These days, no one dares travel at night. Hunter vigilantes swarm every town, village and city now. They are armed with bats, knives, axes and anything that doesn’t require a licence to purchase. Part of me is glad that the Bloodstones are hidden in England. Not that I particularly care about the gun-loving countries beyond our shore or what is happening to them as they fight the ‘Wiccan Disease’.

Or whatever they are calling it over there.

But stopping bullets can be tricky. Give me a lunatic with a blade any day.

I peer over the stone walls of this massive country house, nestled in hills and elevated high over everything below, and I look at the phenomenal views it provides. To the sea.

‘Did you know that before Theo bought this place and turned it into one of his bases, this building was a safe haven for Jewish children after the war? After they fled their homes, forced to leave behind their families who died gasping, naked in chambers of gas, they came here.’ I say, looking out over the town. ‘Those chambers are back in action, so I hear, in many countries around the world. But being Jewish is not a crime now. Being different. Being a witch. That is the crime this century. And it is punishable by fates far worse than mere death.’ I turn and meet Gabriel’s intense stare. His blue eyes are filled with loathing and he barely blinks as he watches me. He’s secure. Chained to the wall and wearing the same collar he placed around my neck. His face is battered and bruised. The cut I marked his face with all those weeks ago looks almost as angry as him. He trembles, but not through the chill in the air, nor the fear of what awaits him, but because of my betrayal and the anger at his failure to free his dear Lilly when he had the chance.

Idiot.

I pull down the gag in his mouth.

‘Is that better?’ I ask. ‘You can’t use your magic against me with that collar on anyway so we can talk if you like.’

His lips remain sealed.

The faint and distant sound of a scream permeates the air.

‘Tonight is the waning moon,’ I tell him, pointing to the sky above. ‘That’s as small as that sliver is going to get. And then, tomorrow night is the-’

‘Blood Moon,’ he finishes.

‘Do you know why they call it the Blood Moon?’ I ask. ‘I mean, obviously because the moon turns red, but do you know why it turns red?’

‘No,’ he replies. ‘But I am sure that you know. You always did enjoy reading about the stars. Remember the star map you drew from memory for Amara?’

At the mention of that name, I feel her. She’s scratching at my skull. She’s clawing at my eyes. My Unbroken-self.

I ignore his words and carry on. ‘When the Earth moves between the moon and the sun, it casts a large shadow over the moon. But when the light from the sun passes around us, through our atmosphere, the light is filtered and scattered. It turns it red. Centuries ago, people believed that the moon turned red through God’s anger. They would set alight boats filled with offerings and sacrifices, and watch as the wind blew the smoke up into the heavens. When the moon returned to normal, God was appeased.’ I give a light laugh and look at him. ‘That is until the next Blood Moon, of course. I’m telling you, being a virgin back then had some serious downsides. They were always the first to be tossed in the sacrificial fires.’

I sit on the floor beside him with my back against the wall and together, we continue watching the moon. Another scream travels up from the town below. This time, it’s filled with pain as well as terror. I see a small flicker through the darkness telling me that an unlucky bastard has met someone’s flames tonight.

My hand rests on my belly and the life inside squirms at my touch.

Gabriel side glances at my action.

‘Did you ever meet Theo’s one true love?’ I ask. He lifts his eyes to mine and shakes his head. ‘She was a nutter.’

‘Really?’ he asks. ‘Rebecca Hooper’s mother was mad?’

‘Yeah. Rebecca wrote about her in her journal.’ From my coat pocket, I pull out the battered old journal and flick to a page near the back. ‘Can’t believe you had it on you the whole time,’ I add. ‘It’s a bit confusing. Rebecca definitely knew something was off with her mum but failed to see it clearly. Her mother had a sweet side, for sure. But there were deaths in the Coven. Murders. Weird blood spells, drenched in dark magic, and some believed that Rebecca’s mother was behind it. That’s how she and your dad met. He was called to investigate. They got close, it would seem. The murders continued. They actually got worse when Theo was around. Rebecca thinks they were working together on some dark spell.’

‘Makes you wonder.’

‘Wonder what?’

Gabriel looks at me. ‘What she and Theo were up to? And what they’ll get up to if she comes back?’ He waits to see if I have some insights to offer or any form of emotive response to that. I don’t. ‘I mean, he’s pretty desperate to get her back. You think it’s just because he loves her? Or do you think they had a plan of some kind? One that he is desperate to see through?’

‘I dunno. Maybe. You seem to be willing to go to extreme lengths to save me. We don’t have some dark plan.’

‘Just a plan to save our entire species.’ He shrugs and looks ahead. ‘Anyway. You’re worth saving. Deep down,’ he adds. ‘Wouldn’t Rebecca have stopped her mum if she knew she was insane and a risk?’

I close the book and return it to my jacket. ‘She wrote down some of her suspicions but dismissed them. Mums have a way of making their little kids see what they want and then making them feel guilty for calling them out on their shit.’ I take out my mother’s necklace from beneath my collar and hold between my fingers the beautiful silver star with the deep red crystal in the very centre. ‘This necklace used to be of such comfort to me. It would remind me of my mum. A woman I thought loved me unconditionally. Who I believed was the only person that cared about me. Right up until a few months ago when I saw the truth about her. Now, it makes me sick. It makes me angry. There is no way, none, that I would ever subject my child to what she put me through. How she let Theo torture me until I manifested my magic. How she stole me from my father. How she took me to a house which would become my prison and personal hell. Oh, and how she tried to drown me!’

‘So that’s why you’re doing this? Why you’re betraying us all? To save our daughter?’

‘In part, yeah. But also because I just can’t be bothered, you know? To fight and to kill and to scramble about. I just want to sit and read an entire book without someone trying to blow me up or shoot me dead or come begging me to help them because Hunters took their family. Why, Gabriel? Why should I risk everything to save a world which has done nothing but make me suffer? I may be Broken to you. But to me I’m free. With a soul, I will never have a quiet and safe life. I will never get a happy ending, I assure you. Is that what you want for me? To die bloody? To suffer every day? Or do you want me to be safe and happy? Do you want our daughter to be safe and happy?’

‘Will she be safe and happy, though?’ he asks. His question irritates me. ‘I mean, you just said it yourself. Your mum stole you from your father and forced you into a life you didn’t want just as you are doing now. Taking her away from me. Handing me over to a man you hate because he tortured you. And now he will torture me. He’ll torture Collins and Connor. Your dad. He will kill children. Women. Men. Grandparents. He will kill, and he will kill until he has the power he needs to bring back a woman you said was a nutter with a dark agenda. Tell me, Lilly. How are you any different? How will our child feel when she learns what you did?’

‘She won’t. Because we’ll be in the Arcane Realm so-’

‘You don’t have to do this.’ He shuffles closer and looks at me with eager eyes. ‘Let me go. I can protect you. I can help you complete the spell and together we can-’

‘I’m not finishing the spell, Gabriel.’ I cross my arms over my belly and look forwards. ‘I am telling you that now. I am not finishing the last stone.’

‘Why?’ he asks. ‘Lilly, is there something about the spell that frightens you because if you tell me, I’ll help-’

‘Like I said. I’m not going to lose everything for the sake of a world which has done nothing but beat, starve, humiliate and abuse me. This deal with Theo is my only out. End of. So you can either sit here with me for a while and be quiet, or I can go. Leave you with Theo a night earlier than agreed. What’s it going to be?’

With a sigh, he sits back against the wall and watches the moon.

‘A ring, close to my heart.’

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘An heirloom handed down from mother to child.’

‘Oh,’ I groan, recognising the words. The words written in Rebecca Hooper’s journal, describing the final spell.

‘The ring close to her heart,’ Gabriel says. ‘Her wedding ring left on display in the British Museum. That’s what was needed for the first spell. An heirloom handed down from mother to child. That is what is needed for the next. Your necklace. The one your mother gave you and her mother gave her.’

‘I’m not really interested-’

‘And finally, the heart of all power,’ he interrupts, as if deep in thought. ‘That is what she wrote. The heart of all power and you know? I can’t help but wonder what that means. Do you know?’ he asks. ‘I mean, what is “the heart of all power”?’

His eyes meet mine. A hint of dread dancing in the vibrant blue.

‘Do you know? What do you need, to complete the final spell?’

I shrug and reach out, taking his cuffed hands and resting them on my belly. His eyes narrow in suspicion at my action.

‘After tomorrow, you won’t see us again. Seems only fair you can spend some time with her before we go.’

With a blink, he becomes hopeful once more.

‘Don’t get any ideas. I’m not going soft. I’m just…’

What the hell am I doing?

Whatever it is, the life inside me wriggles at his touch. More than ever before. His fingers stretch out and he gives the most beautiful chuckle at the sensations he feels.

And as he looks at my bump, I see love in his eyes. A deep and profound love. When those eyes shift up and meet mine, that same look remains.

‘Just watch the moon, would you? Stop looking at me like a puppy dog, or I’ll piss off and leave you on your own.’

With a secret smile, he looks away. But his hand remains on my stomach and my hand stays on his.

Just for tonight.