Page 69 of The Snow Witch

‘Get away from her!’ he yelled as he ran, knowing that his words would be lost in that soundless valley, thrown back at him uselessly. But it made him feel better.

‘Emory, help me. Please come…’

The desperate words were loud in his mind, and they galvanised him to run faster. ‘Get away from her!’ he yelled again as he almost jumped over the rushing Burn.

Where her ashes had been thrown…

The black, formless thing was hovering over the man who was beside Violet and Jake let out a roar as he approached him. It was enough to distract the man, the entity or whatever it was attached to him, as he turned to see who was shouting, and that, thank God, gave Violet time to grab a big pole thing from nearby and whack the fellow around the shoulders.

No – whack fucking Ollie around the shoulders.

The man cried out in anger as he wobbled and slipped in the snow, but he didn’t fall to the ground. He seemed to stagger upright and fixed his eyes on Jake. An indescribable chill shuddered up Jake’s spine; it was clear even to him that this was not Ollie. His eyes were black and cold – soulless, Jake might even say – not to mention, of course, the fact that there was an unnatural fog that was swirling around the man. And those eyes sparked with a hideous recognition when Ollie spotted Jake.

And then Ollie, or whoever it was, laughed and turned his attention fully to Jake.

At least Violet was safe – whatever happened here to him, Jake, he had saved her.

‘Run away, Vi!’ shouted Jake, not breaking eye contact with Ollie. ‘Run away, and get back to the car. I can deal with this.’

He’d dealt with him before, he’d finished off Charles before, and he could do it again. Jake’s mind was a maelstrom of images, and he knew how it had played out before. If he could force him closer to the Well, he could…

But dear God. This was Ollie. It wasn’t Charles. If he pushed him in the Well, he would drown⁠—

Then Ollie spoke. ‘Aah, my so-called brother. I have waited a long time for this,’ he said, in a voice that was so unlike the one Ollie had greeted them with in Hexham that Jake felt the world tilt on its axis and real fear and hatred creep inside him.

‘Jake! Oh God, be careful. It’s not Ollie.’ cried Violet, her desperate shout interrupting his thoughts. ‘It’s Charles Milburn – he’s come back. For us both.’

Jake swore. Yep, Violet was right – even he had sensed that. But what on earth⁠—

Jake suddenly felt it grow colder and darker around him; something was wrapping him up and enveloping him in what could only be classed as a sense of pure evil. Then he felt ghostly fingers close around his neck.

51

NOW

Violet saw the black mass move over, taking Ollie with it, morphing into the shape of a man. Its arms were all elongated and skeletal, its fingers stretching out to grab Jake around the throat. She could see black lines crawling across Jake’s skin, and she knew that whatever it was, the black thing was out to eradicate Jake in whatever way possible.

And after him, it would come for her.

She cried out, unable to find words to describe it, but knowing it was inhuman and demonic: the embodiment of all of Charles Milburn’s evil deeds. She had no idea how it had been created; but then had a flash of a memory that wasn’t hers – Meg crying and walking around her home with a bundle of dried sage, which was smoking at the end. A smudge stick – a classic way of trying to rid a place of negative energy. She got an image of a tiny wax figure, thrown into the Well, and Meg begging Coventina to take it away – a wax poppet. Violet had studied enough about witch trials to know that this was one of the things they accused women of doing. And whatever dark magic Meggie had inadvertently meddled with had created something she could not control; whatever bits of Charles were hanging around, whatever negative vibes he was emanating, had coalesced into some sort of… she didn’t even know what to describe it as. ‘Demon’ sounded mad – but was she seeing one now?

It was evident now that this – thing – was Charles Milburn, or rather what was left of Charles Milburn. And he was busy strangling the man she loved.

Violet suddenly realised the brutal truth: the three of them were back together – Charles, Emory and Meg. They had found each other through some bizarre twist of fate, and she felt the power of Coventina filling her now. Was it the goddess who had made it happen? Woven her magic into the world? Drawing them here on silken threads to finish it?

Emory could not have saved Meg all those years ago – but Meg could sure as hell try to save Emory now.

And send Charles to Hell where he belonged.

Violet had no magic spells, no incantations. She didn’t know what Meg would say; all she had were her own emotions and her own brand of curses. She prayed it would be enough. She prayed to Coventina, and her own God, and to the elementals that Meggie had worshipped. She prayed to anyone who would listen, then she ducked down and retrieved Meggie’s dagger.

‘Jake! He thinks you’re Emory.’ cried Violet. ‘News for you, Milburn. He’s not and you can’t have him.’ She rushed at the men and raised her arm, hurling herself towards Jake, who was grasping at the shadowy hands around his throat, looking furious and trying to fight a ghost.

Brother against brother…

Violet roared as she drove the dagger into the black mass that was Milburn, not knowing that she could even utter such a noise. It came from her own soul, a build-up of energy that she didn’t know she possessed, from instincts older than time.

The black mass splintered apart with a horrible hissing sound and another animal-like howl rent the air. And this time, the noise wasn’t from Violet. She grabbed Jake and pushed him down hard, crouching on the ground next to him as she pressed her hands over her ears.