Page 41 of Witchbane

RUE

Ilistened to Grandmama and Aunt Sorrel rage over the Witchfinder’s orders.

‘That man! He was a rogue as a youngster. Ever since your mother⁠—’

‘Mama, no,’ Aunt Sorrel pleaded, her eyes wide with warning.

I glared at Aunt Sorrel, irritated with her for stopping my grandmother in mid-sentence when I hoped to hear her thoughts on the matter. ‘Please continue, Grandmama. What about my mother and the Witchfinder? Please, you must tell me. What don’t I know?’

I saw Grandmama glance at my aunt, and my aunt look back appealingly. My grandmother lowered her head briefly. ‘Your aunt is right. Now is not the time.’

It was all I could do not to scream. ‘If now isn’t the time to tell me everything I might need to know, then when will be?’ I looked from one to the other. I could tell by their closed faces that I was wasting my time.

My grandmother walked over to the basement door. Unsure whether to follow her, I waited.

‘Well, come along the pair of you,’ she snapped. ‘We have much to do if we are to outwit that Witchfinder creature.’

My aunt and I immediately followed her down the steps to the spell room.

‘What are we doing first?’ I asked as she unlocked the door.

‘The most important thing we need to do,’ my aunt replied while my grandmother tucked the key back into her skirt pocket, ‘is hide everything we use to cast our spells.’

I followed them into the room and looked about me at the rows of shelves, the large table in the middle of the room, and the enormous array of bunches of herbs hanging from nails in the black beams. ‘But there’s so much of it. Where can we possibly hide it all?’

My grandmother sighed heavily and turned to me. ‘We won’t worry about the herbs, oils or tinctures. Anything we can explain as medicinal is fine. Only the more dangerous herbs like wolfsbane or belladonna, and our wands and especially our grimoires. Paraphernalia that will mark us out as witches.’

My aunt snatched her spell book from the table where she must have left it earlier in the day. ‘I’ll not be sharing any of these spells with anyone else. I’ve taken years to build up all this knowledge.’ I knew she didn’t mean me or my grandmother because we often helped each other when creating or enhancing spells.

I used to keep my own spell book tucked away under a floorboard in my bedroom – until that black mould appeared and spooked me, and I moved it. Now I went to a box of old rope stored at the end of the room and rummaged around until my hand touched it: my mother’s spell book, which my grandmother had passed on to me when I was twelve. I held it in front of me and ran a forefinger over one of the smoother patches in the leather worn by her fingers over the years. This was my most valuable possession, one I would never be able to replace. ‘No one is taking this from me. I’d burn it rather than let it leave my hands.’

‘Fetch a wooden crate, or something with a lid, Rue,’ my aunt instructed as she peered at several jars and moved some of them away from the others, pushing those left behind closer together to hide any gap. ‘I’ll begin collecting everything we need to keep hidden.’

I slipped my grimoire into the pocket in my skirt. It was larger than most pockets – deliberately, so that I could collect herbs and nuts and anything else I found, if I was out without a basket.

My grandmother wrapped her arms around a group of jars and carefully pulled them closer together, ready to sort and pack them away. ‘I’ll look through my notes and take my book of shadows from here. You’d be wise to do the same, the pair of you. Find somewhere safe to hide your treasures.’

I was about to do as she recommended when a thought occurred to me and I lifted my hand and touched the obsidian crystal amulet I wore for protection. It was similar to those worn by my grandmother and the rest of the coven.

‘What are we thinking?’ I said. My aunt and grandmother stopped what they were doing and gave me questioning looks. ‘If we are taken to the castle and our bodies are inspected, surely wearing these crystals will give the Witchfinder further proof of our work? Or go some way to doing so.’

Aunt Sorrel and my grandmother exchanged glances. ‘She’s right,’ my aunt said.

‘That’s the problem,’ my grandmother grumbled. ‘We are so used to these things being around us each day that we don’t realise others will see them as signs of our guilt.’

I continued. ‘We should hide these, but we’ll need something invisible to the Witchfinder and his cronies to replace them.’

‘A protection spell,’ Grandmama said thoughtfully.

‘Yes,’ my aunt agreed. ‘And a very powerful one at that.’

Relieved that they agreed with me, I said, ‘Shouldn’t we be conducting our protection spell before doing anything else? After all, we have no idea when the Witchfinder’s assistant will return, do we?’

My grandmother’s hand flew to cover her mouth. She looked at my aunt, frowning. ‘The girl is right. Why didn’t you think of that, Sorrel?’

My aunt glared at her. ‘Why didn’t you?’

I cleared my throat as they began bickering. Thankfully both ceased after a few seconds. ‘Enough,’ Grandmother said. ‘For all we know, that assistant will be back here again on some pretext or other. Let’s get to work.’