Rune Witch Mysteries- The Complete Series Page 4

  “I’ll be fine,” I said in response to his unspoken concern.

  Thomas looked at the torrent of magic blazing along my arm and beneath his fingers. He shook his head and smiled. “I know you will,” he said. “But, I’m coming anyway. Just... don’t yell, okay.”

  I smiled in sympathy, having first-hand experience of the massive headache caused by a magical backlash. “Okay,” I said. “But no chivalry, you stay behind me. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  I took his left arm, pulled him to his feet and led him through the warehouse, following the trail of disturbed dust.

  The only sound was that of our breathing, our footsteps on the concrete floor, and the heavy clatter of rain on the roof and windows.

  I centred my energy and focused on the magical trace left behind by whomever attacked Thomas. Immersed in a murky, violet haze, I traced the intricate weaves of magic. The scent of rowan burned on the air from Thomas’ protection ward. But there was more: yew, gorse, and holly mingled in a heady aroma, tracing a pattern that was all too familiar. I knew the spell. But more importantly, I knew its creator.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming. “Move,” I said to Thomas and we ran toward the exit.

  A pounding blanket of rain greeted us when I flung the door open. A diesel engine ignited. We ran around the building but were too late. The only sight was that of the black van with water bouncing off the road beneath its tires as it sped away.

  I shivered as the biblical deluge teemed from the heavens and plastered my hair and clothes to my skin.

  “What now?”

  I faced Thomas. Rain dripped from the peak of his cap and over his full lips. “Now,” I said, “we visit Gwen.”

  Chapter Six

  Wales is steeped in myth, legend, and fantasy, and beneath all the stories lies the true source of magic: trees. Trees provide the oxygen we breathe, clean the air, and mark the seasons. They heal, provide shelter, food, and unity. Intimately connected to the elements, they feel all, see all, and know all.

  Twenty tattoos adorned my arms, each a rune of the Ogham alphabet and each a symbolic representation of a tree. The blue ink, made from the leaves of the woad plant, shone brightly as we drove along the quiet roads of Newport and I absorbed the power of the trees, allowing them to recharge the magic within me.

  The world of magic is hidden away from most people, buried underground like the roots of a tree. But I see what others miss. That little hairdresser on the corner of the street, the one with black awnings and blinds. People rarely see past the protective camouflage that keeps them out. They may note the name: Elixir, and wonder if it’s ever open. But nobody braves the door, and nobody notices the blank spot on Google street view where the building sits. Nobody questions whether it’s really a hairdresser. It’s safer for them that way.

  “Are you going to tell me how Gwen can help?” Thomas asked as we parked the car on a side street across from her shop.

  “The magic that knocked you for six came from her,” I said. “The signature was unmistakable.”

  “But, Gwen? You really think she can help?”

  I ignored Thomas’ deep sigh, knowing full well his reluctance to see Gwen, even if she did worship the ground he walked on. She was something of a nag and had her own ideas on how our relationship should be progressing.

  “Don’t underestimate Gwen. She may be a little... kooky, and come across as though she’s been drinking one too many of her own potions, but she’s as smart as an owl and just as observant.”

  “You think she’s involved.”

  “No. I think she sold a spell. The question is, who to?”

  We crossed the deserted street and knocked on the door to Elixir. The rain had stopped, and some of the clouds had shifted, allowing a spattering of moonlight to filter through and reflect on the damp road.

  After a moment, we heard the click of several locks and the door opened.

  Gwen peered up at us. Hair as white as dandelion fluff, and just as wispy, framed her rosy face. “Hello, darlings,” she said. “Bit late to be out and about.”

  “Hi, Gwen, we’re sorry to wake you.”

  “No, no, don’t be silly. Come on in.”

  Gwen opened the door wider and let us through. A barrage of smells bombarded us, and I felt like I’d been attacked by a perfume lady in a department store. Thomas wrinkled his nose but kept a smile plastered on his face.

  “It’s lovely to see you both,” Gwen said as she led us through the shop and into her sitting room. The room was dominated by display cases full of ornaments and photographs. A large tome, over spilling with pages, rested on the table next to Gwen’s armchair. I tried not to stare at the Big Book of Spells, as I sat down on the floral sofa and Thomas sat next to me. But I couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t safely locked away. It was unlike Gwen to leave it lying around.

  “Cup of tea?” Gwen offered.

  “No, actually—”

  Gwen cleared her throat. “I take it you’re not here to invite me to your long-overdue wedding?”

  I smiled and tried not to look at Thomas. It’s not as though he hadn’t asked me, and maybe someday I’d say yes, but I wasn’t ready. Everyone I loved left me. In my heart of hearts I knew Thomas would never do the same, not by choice, but a part of me still needed to keep my distance just in case, and marriage was the only barrier between us.

  “No wedding plans, yet, Gwen,” Thomas said. “But we’ll be sure to make you one of the first to know when there are.”

  “You remind me of my husband,” Gwen said as she sat in the armchair. “He was tall and strong like you, with blue eyes. He had the patience of an oak, the strength, too. It’s just a tragedy he didn’t have an oak’s longevity.”

  Gwen sighed, lost in her memories, and I looked at Thomas. He was patient and kind, the best man I could ever hope to find, and I could have lost him tonight. I sometimes wonder if we take too many risks and if it was a mistake to bring him into my world of magic. Although, he would insist, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  After a moment, Gwen rubbed her hands along her knees and stood up. “Right,” she said and nodded to Thomas. “First, I’m going to get you a potion for your headache and then you can tell me what mess brings you to my door at midnight.”

  Thomas’ hand shot to his head. “How did you know about my headache?” he asked.

  “I’m not blind.” Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Nor have I lost my sense of smell, for that matter. Do you not think I can see the damage to your aura and that your warding spell was activated? Not to mention the scent of one of my own spells that seem to be the cause of the damage?”

  Gwen left the room and returned a few minutes later with a tray containing a pot of tea, three cups, and three small vials of potions: one green, and two red. She handed the green one to Thomas, who opened it and downed the contents as Gwen poured the tea.

  “Cheers, Gwen,” he said. “I feel better already.”

  She placed one hand on his shoulder and handed him a cup with the other. “You’re a good boy, right enough,” she said. “Now, get this down you to wash away the terrible taste I know you’re pretending doesn’t exist.”

  With a smile on her face, Gwen handed me a beverage despite my protests. Then, she sat in her armchair and took a sip from her own cup.

  “What can you tell us about the spell that knocked out Thomas?” I asked, keen to get on with the case.

  “About the spell, lots. I can tell you the ingredients. How it works. It attacks any magical signature within a twenty-foot radius.” She turned to Thomas and nodded her head. “Your ward was enough to set it off.”

  “But why would you make such a spell?” I asked. “And who—”

  “I’m sorry, Summer, that I just don’t know.” Gwen reached over the side table, hefted the large, battered tome and handed it to me. “I write all my spells down in here. You know that.”

  “I know.” I turned the weight
y book over in my hand and gently stroked the Tree of Life etching on the cover. It was crammed full of pages and held together by a leather strap. A second strap dissected the book, marking a page within. My fingers tingled as they caressed the deep brown leather. So much knowledge within its pages. I know a witch or two who would kill for just a look inside Gwen’s spell book.

  “Well, my Big Book of Spells has got a wee bit bigger in the last few weeks, and despite the writing being in my own hand, I have no recollection of creating the spells or writing them down.”

  “But how?”

  “If you open the book to where it’s marked, you may get an inkling.”

  I licked my lips in an attempt to ease the dryness in my mouth, then with apprehension burning through my veins, I opened the book and saw the unmistakable penmanship of Gwen’s delicate hand. Two spells were written on either side of the double page spread, the first was titled Gwrthyrru, the Welsh word for Repel. The second, Anghofiwch, Forget.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” I said.

  “You understand about as much as I do, I’m afraid, Summer.” Gwen took another sip of her tea, and for the first time, I noticed how old and tired she seemed. The bags under her eyes were deeper, her shoulders sagged as though she were ten years older than I’d last seen her, and the normal spark was missing from her eyes.

  “You’ve been waiting for us to come,” I realised.

  “You. Someone else. I have time missing over the last few weeks. Periods that are just blank and no amount of magic I’ve tried seems able to bring them back.”

  “You used the Forget spell on yourself.”

  “Or someone used it on me.” Gwen rubbed at her forehead. “The problem is, I just don’t know. My memories, it seems, have been taken.”

  She took a final sip of her tea, placed the cup on the tray and set her shoulders. “Right,” she said and picked up the two red vials from the tray. “If you turn the page you’ll find another spell.”

  “Cofiwch.”

  “Remember,” Gwen translated. “But I need another witch to travel through my mind and unlock that which is hidden.”

  The spell was a complex weave of rowan, willow, fir, and heather. Connection, vision, clarity, and dreams. Powerful magic. Dangerous. She could trap me in her mind, but, in turn, I could cause untold damage and drive her insane. She would have to surrender to my mind completely for it to work.

  “There’s no other way,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve tried everything else.” Gwen placed one vial firmly in my hand. “I trust you,” she said.

  We sat on the floor cross-legged and faced each other.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Thomas asked.

  I shook my head and sighed. “Just make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  Gwen opened her vial and downed her potion. With only the briefest hesitation, I opened my vial and did the same. The bitter, waxy liquid slid down my throat. Gwen reached out and held both my hands in hers. “Now, look into my eyes,” she said. “Call forth your magic.”

  The tattoos circling my arms blazed to life in unison with Gwen’s. Her eyes drew me deeper and deeper into their glassy depths. At first, there was a cacophony of images and sound. A clatter of noise too intense and jumbled to make any sense of. Then I felt her yield to me, open herself up. She hid nothing, buried nothing. I saw the time when she was six and fell off her bike and broke her arm. The memories of her childhood. The brother I never knew she had. Laughing, playing, fighting, crying...

  Her father’s funeral. Her husband’s.

  I tried not to look, but I was being pulled deeper in. A vague sense of moisture flooded my face, and I realised that my body was crying. A lifetime of emotions shared in a heartbeat. I wanted to pull away, leave this jumble. It was too much, too intense. My heart pounded and I felt as though I might pass out at any second.

  Then Gwen spoke.

  “You have to concentrate. Shut everything else out.” Her voice was strong, but the unmistakable quiver told me that the emotions I felt, she felt a hundred-fold.

  I centred my power, focused on my goal. But her mind was like a maze and I was lost. There were black spots in Gwen’s memory. I could feel them. A flicker in the distance.

  “That’s it,” Gwen said. “Focus.”

  I had to do this. I composed myself, shut out all the background noise and moved in.

  I was there, sucked into the black-hole of Gwen’s memories, encased in a bubble of complete and profound darkness. There was no sound. No feeling of the tears streaming from my eyes. No sense of the body I’d left behind, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  The more I focused on my surroundings, the more I realised that the blackness was not a solid mass. It was a swirling maelstrom, an inky river of black cloud. A wall trapping Gwen’s memories behind it.

  I was nothing more than a thought, but a thought can have infinite power if you let it. I concentrated on shaping my physical form around me, pulling it from Gwen’s memory as much as my own. My body took shape and the black void filled with an indigo light, blazing from my body like a beacon on the rippling bay. The light pushed at the edge of the maelstrom. I saw the flicker of an image behind it, before the wall reformed, fighting back against my intrusion.

  I stretched my hands out towards the teeming mass, then breathed deeply, taking in the essence of the magical block, tracing the pattern of its power, the roots that tied it together.

  My whole body tingled. Lightning sang beneath my skin, danced across my fingers. Then, in a shower of light, the magic shot from my hands, burned into the barrier and vanquished it at the source.

  The wall dissipated, disappearing like the clouds after a thunderstorm. Gwen’s mind was free from the block that plagued her.

  She appeared beside me and reached out, taking my hand in hers. “You did good,” she said. “Now, let’s see what all this fuss is about, shall we?”

  We entered the memory together.

  I stood in the front room of Gwen’s shop, but something was off. The view was one I hadn’t noticed before. I saw the order, where before I had only noticed a jumble of chaos. The workbench wasn’t cluttered, it was laid out with various tree samples, each methodically organised by the seasons they represented. Why had I never see that before?

  Then it came to me. I didn’t see the room through my eyes. I saw it through Gwen’s. She busied herself stacking jars on a shelf. The shop bell rang and she turned to the sound. A slim figure came through the door, a grey-hoodie covered the face in shadow until she pulled it down and tucked her flowing blonde locks behind her ear. Lips painted bright red, tears streaking more eye makeup that I could get through in a month down her cheeks. Rachel.

  “I need your help,” she said between sobbing gasps.

  Concern flooded through Gwen. She rushed to the girl’s side. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

  Gwen ushered Rachel through the shop and into her sitting room. In typical fashion, she busied herself making tea and soothing the child.

  Rachel stayed silent until Gwen sat beside her on the sofa. Then, with eyes facing forward, she recounted her tale. An abusive, violent father. A fear for her life, of magical retribution. A desperate need to escape.

  But there were holes in the story. Something that didn’t ring true. Gwen noticed the spark of falsehood in the girl’s eyes.

  Rachel cleared her throat and apologised. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten all day,” she said. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a biscuit?”

  Gwen smiled and nodded, but the nagging doubt within her mind lingered. She returned with a plate of biscuits, sat down and took a sip of her own tea.

  The sweet tang of yew berry flesh was unmistakable amongst the hot liquid. Her heart jumped in warning, but the damage was done. Rachel radiated with her glamour, projecting a lost soul desperate for help. Gwen tried to fight it off, but it was too late, the yew berries reinforced the illusion and shattered the remaining doubt Gwen harboured. Her
very nature was turned against her. She could never turn away a lost child in need.

  I experienced the days of memory. Visit after visit as Rachel convinced Gwen to create the spells she needed. Until finally, the deed was done.

  Gwen embraced Rachel and wished her well. A slow smile built on Rachel’s face. The shop bell rang and Gwen caught a brief glimpse of a young man before Rachel pushed her to the floor.

  I stood helpless as Rachel poured a potion down Gwen’s throat. “I think it’s best that you forget we ever met,” she said.

  The memory faded and once again, Gwen stood beside me within her mind. “Well, now we know,” she said. “The question is, what do we do about it?”

  Chapter Seven

  Anger burned within me as I paced Gwen’s sitting room.

  “God damn that girl,” I said. “All night we’ve been searching for her, worried for her, and she’s the one causing all the trouble.”

  Thomas stopped me in my tracks by placing his hands on my shoulders. “So, we call her dad, tell him she’s not really in trouble, tell the Council she’s involved in the murder of the bwbach, then go home and get some much-needed sleep.”

  “Go home! Are you kidding me?” I clenched my fists and growled. “She needs to pay. She could have killed you with the Repel spell. She used Gwen, spiked her drink, and then attacked her, taking her memories in the process. And that poor fairy. A loyal friend, Platt called her. I guess that loyalty didn’t cross both ways. Darren Platt is a goblin, a monster of sorts, and it looks like Rachel’s human side did little to dampen that half of her nature.”

  “I understand why you’re angry, dear,” Gwen said. “But you need to calm down a little and think things through.”

  I sat on the edge of the sofa and tapped my hands on my knees. “Okay, what do we know?” I asked.

  “We know she wasn’t acting alone.”

  “The boy,” said Gwen, taking events a whole lot calmer than I seemed to be.

  “What boy?” Thomas asked.

  “There was a boy, a young man. Came into the shop just before Rachel poured the Forget position down Gwen’s throat.”