Page 42 of Witchbane

They immediately began collecting ingredients for a spell to protect us and the rest of our household and estate. We worked in silence, each of us knowing what needed to be done. I lit a black candle to force away negative energy, then a white one for spiritual protection. We removed our shoes to ground ourselves and my grandmother mixed her chosen ingredients: rosemary, sage, frankincense and cedar.

‘Maybe add a little pine,’ my aunt suggested, dropping a pinch from the jar she was holding into the stone mortar my grandmother was using. The three of us stood in a circle around the lit candles and bowl.

‘I believe Rue should be the one to lead the casting of this spell,’ my grandmother said.

The thought made me nervous. I was used to helping cast spells but was rarely the one in the foreground; I was happy to leave that to the more experienced witches in our coven. ‘Why me?’

‘Because you’re the focus of this evil man’s attention, your intent will be the most powerful. And because you’re still young and were restricted from developing your powers until you joined the coven, you must practise as much as possible to bring out your full powers.’

‘I have been doing that,’ I assured her. I didn’t admit that I had been working on strengthening my powers since I first discovered them as a child, because I knew I had been forbidden to do so in case I accidentally hurt someone. Secretly I quite liked the idea of being the one to lead the protection of my beloved grandmother and aunt as well as myself. ‘Of course.’

My grandmother handed me her small silver bell, then I took up my wand and waved it in a circle above our heads.

‘By leaf and flame, light and smoke, do the bidding we invoke,’ I said with as much intensity as I could muster. ‘Keep us safe and those like family, morning, noon, night and for eternity.’

I repeated the chant and this time my grandmother and aunt accompanied me. A warm sense of protection and love wafted over me, seeming to rise from my bare feet up through my entire body and out of my head like an invisible light, calming my fears and giving me strength. I had never known one of our spells to fail and I trusted in my powers implicitly, because if my grandmother insisted I could do this, then who was I to disbelieve her?

That done, we blew out the candles in silence. After a moment’s contemplation, I took a long, deep breath, satisfied we had done our best.

‘I’ll fetch a casket now for our treasures,’ I said and left the room, my hand resting on my skirt pocket where my spell book somehow felt warmer against my skin.

I wondered where to hide my most valuable possession. It had always intrigued me as a child when I saw my mother studying or adding to her spells. Now, whenever I experienced the ache of losing her, I would sit quietly somewhere and open the grimoire, confident that I’d be soothed by reading her perfect handwriting, or running the tip of my finger over the dried ink.

I hated the thought of someone discovering her precious words and spells and the keepsakes she had glued into the pages – such as dried bay leaves with sigils painted onto them to bring safety to our home, or money, or better health. I often tried the easier spells and was sure that was why we always had enough money to get by. I loved that her old spells still worked and dreaded the day when they might not do so.

I ran my fingertips over several tiny notes on another page. I had read these many times and knew them to be from my grandmother. Other pages held love tokens from my father, and snippets of poetry in his spidery handwriting. There was a thin ribbon tied in a tiny bow around a dark curl of what my grandmother insisted was my hair. So many mementoes that my mother had held dear. I treasured them. Where was the safest place to hide this most precious memento of her life?

I ran to the barn to fetch a casket for my aunt and grandmother to fill. I had almost crossed the back yard when a white dove took flight, its wings fluttering noisily, surprising me and giving me a fright. I was about to continue on my way when the bird stopped and hovered. It was giving me a sign, but what?

I watched it, willing it to make me understand. Then, behind it, I spotted the old oak tree where I used to store keepsakes as a child.

‘Thank you, you clever dove,’ I said, blowing it a kiss. The bird flew away.

Delighted at this discovery, I looked around me, checking no one was in sight, before running over to the tree. I hoped there was room in my secret hiding place.

I reached up and felt inside the hole in the trunk that had been left by a branch that was torn down many years ago. It was deeper than I recalled, which was a relief: my book wasn’t large and it would be very secure there. Needing to protect the beautiful leather cover, I went to the barn to find an oilcloth to wrap it in. The last thing I wanted was for insects to dine on the pages, or driving rain from a storm to ruin it.

A short while later, I stood on the casket I had also collected from the barn and carefully slid my book, now wrapped and tied neatly with twine, into the hole. Standing back, I studied the tree from various angles until I was satisfied that nothing was visible to a passer-by, or even someone looking for it.

‘Where is that girl?’ I heard my aunt shout from the back door.

‘I’ve not seen her,’ Pierre answered. ‘But I’ll look for her now and send her to you.’

I didn’t want to reveal my hiding place, reasoning that what they didn’t know they couldn’t inadvertently be overheard discussing. I picked up the casket and ran across the yard to the back door. ‘I’m here, Pierre,’ I called, passing him quickly as I entered the house.

‘Where have you been?’ my grandmother snapped, waving for me to take the casket over to the table and place it in front of a stack of jars and bunches of herbs. ‘Help your aunt pack that lot away. We can’t waste any more time if we’re to ensure everything is as we need it to be before that dreaded man returns.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has someone posted in the bushes watching us right now,’ my aunt said with a shiver.

I hadn’t thought of that and hoped she was being over-cautious. I helped her pack everything she had gathered, using pieces of linen to protect each jar and hide what was in inside.

‘We’ve finished,’ my aunt announced, and waited for my grandmother to check there were no gaps on the shelves that might alert the Witchfinder’s assistant to what we had done.

Grandmama came over and inspected our box of ingredients, wands and paperwork. ‘Well done. That’s all of it. At least, I hope we haven’t forgotten anything. I hate to think of us missing something that’s staring at us in plain sight.’

‘I’m sure we haven’t, Mama.’

I agreed with my aunt. ‘Anyway, we can each come down here after supper and study the room to see if we can spot something we might have overlooked,’ I suggested.