Page 46 of Witchbane

He stared at it and without looking at me said in a hushed voice, ‘It looks as if it wants to take you.’

I shivered. ‘What do you mean?’

He half turned to me without taking his eyes from the thing and pointed at it. ‘Has it grown more today?’

‘It has,’ I said, feeling sick at the thought. ‘How could you know that?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m wondering whether it’s trying to reach all the way around the room to encompass you.’

‘Me?’

He looked at me, his face grey and eyes wide. ‘I don’t understand why, but there’s something about it that makes me feel like it’s trying to⁠—’

‘What, Jem?’ I snapped, barely able to suppress my panic. ‘Tell me your thoughts, all of them.’

He scowled at me. ‘Why are you asking me and not your grandmother?’ He stepped back to stand by my side. ‘I’m only guessing. I don’t know what this is or what it means.’

‘I know that.’ I wanted to calm him and encourage him to share his thoughts, needing the opinion of someone who didn’t practise witchcraft. ‘Do you think this is just mould and it’s just growing in an odd way? Maybe we’re getting carried away by our imaginations?’

‘We could be,’ he said doubtfully. ‘But it does seem to me to be otherworldly. I think you need to ask your grandmother, or at least my father. Maybe they’ve seen this sort of thing before. They might have a sensible explanation for this, whatever it is.’

‘But you do think it’s strange, like I do?’ I asked, needing to know I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. I thought of my aunt’s reaction. ‘Like I know Aunt Sorrel does.’

He nodded. ‘It’s definitely strange, and my gut tells me there’s more to this than we suspect.’

An icy trickle ran down my back. ‘Do you think it’s dangerous?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know, but I do think it’s trying to get your attention and that’s why it’s chosen your room to spread like this.’ He turned to me. ‘Unless this isn’t the only room where it is.’

‘There’s a little bit of it in the attic, but nothing like in here.’

Something occurred to me and I gasped.

‘What is it?’ he asked his face paler.

I recalled a comment my grandmother had once made about mould in Clarice Coutanche’s cottage near the top of Crack Ankle Lane. ‘It could be the remnants of a leftover intention,’ I suggested. ‘Not often, but on occasion, if a spell has gone wrong, or if the witch’s intention is too strong, some of the magick can seep into the walls.’ My memory stirred further. ‘Yes, and where deep grief has been felt.’ I saw the bemused look on Jem’s face and shrugged. Maybe I might have been a bit too definite. ‘I’ve no idea, but it could be something like that.’

‘It sounds strange, but I’m used to odd things happening around here.’ Jem grinned. ‘You’re probably right about all this. My dad always says that your intuition is stronger than most other witches he knows.’

I took the comment as a compliment. Pierre knew at least thirteen witches, because he was one of the few outsiders the women in the coven trusted. Then there had been his own wife and my mother. So I wasn’t surprised that his son, who had grown up around us all, accepted my suggestion so readily.

‘I just need to understand why the mould is here and what it is trying to achieve by growing at such speed. It’s disconcerting, to say the least, having to sleep in there.’ I stretched my arms out to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders. ‘What message do you think it’s trying to convey, though, Jem?’

He shrugged. ‘I wish I knew.’ He took my arms and turned me to face the door. ‘Which is why you need to speak to your grandmother or aunt. Maybe both of them.’

Or the coven, I thought as we left the room. I sensed we needed more than just the women in my house to solve the mystery.

Chapter Twenty-Three

THEO

Igripped the brim of my hat, hoping my anxiety didn’t show on my face. I forced a smile at the butler who opened the front door and, without giving him time to say anything, spoke in my most authoritative voice. ‘Kindly tell your master Theo Le Cerf is here to speak with him on a matter of some urgency.’

My father used a similar tone, and I knew from watching him that if you spoke to people with sufficient authority they rarely questioned it. I hoped for the same reaction this time.

The butler stepped back and, inclining his head to the side, said, ‘If you would step inside, sir, I will speak to His Lordship.’

I did as he asked and watched the man walk down the hall and turn into a room on the left. So, Rue’s father is still using his title, I mused. Interesting, but hardly compatible with keeping a low profile.