For a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out Dramatis Personae.
Astris tells Sadie that Elsa is the one who has sealed off the village, though for what purpose she doesn’t know. The dryad also hints that Elsa is a witch, and that she harbours great power. Sadie researches the Derwold family and discovers they have a troubled history. She also discovers Elsa changed her name to conceal her past, and is inexplicably older than she seems.
At the post office, Sally Jeffries tells Sadie a disturbing childhood story, in which an eight-year-old Simon tortured and killed his pet dog. Suspecting the vicar’s murder may have been Simon’s doing, Sadie hastens to Beekeeper Cottage to make sure everyone’s safe, but Freya has already gone to the manor to meet with Elsa. Sadie races to retrieve her.
And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…
by BlueJean
1
Elsa stood on the floor and rubbed her cunt up and down the bedpost while Freya watched.
The eleven-year-old found herself mesmerised by the way Elsa’s red pubes parted like a curtain, the fleshy lips of her pussy dividing to accommodate the smooth finial, almost as if they were grasping at the polished wood. Elsa ground herself against it without a hint of inhibition, her eyes never leaving Freya. She was dressed in antique-style red lingerie, stockings held up by thick suspenders. Her creamy pale breasts had spilled free of her lacy bra.
Whilst trawling through the seemingly bottomless reservoir of internet pornography, Freya sometimes stumbled on older clips that usually fell under the banner of vintage. Elsa reminded her of one of those porn stars of old, before tattoos and shaved nether-regions became the norm.
Freya was naked but for her socks and pumps, just the way Elsa liked her. She toyed with her clit while she watched Elsa going at the bedpost like an animal in heat.
“This post and I are intimately acquainted,” Elsa said conversationally. “I’ve climaxed over it so many times, I’ve lost count. When I’m feeling particularly filthy, I like to sink down onto it and fuck myself. I like the feeling of it filling me up.“
Freya thought that would be quite a thing to see.
Elsa thrust herself at the bedpost with a snarl, almost slapping against it. “Bend your knees into a squat, darling girl,” she told Freya with greedy eyes. “Now strum that little pearl for all it’s worth. Yes, just like that. Oh, my word…”
Freya realised her red-haired friend was coming. Elsa humped the bedpost until her throes had petered out to an occasional twitch. “What a frightful mess I’ve made,” she crooned, a finger trailing through the sticky glaze coating the wood.
Not for the first time, Freya was struck by the impression that Elsa didn’t belong in the 21st century, that her mannerisms and speech derived from a different era, some place in the past. It was reflected in her attire, too. Elsa’s style was certainly smart and elegant, but it was also decidedly retro.
“Come and lick it,” Elsa demanded, gesturing at the bedpost.
Freya leaned forward and ran her tongue over the wet wood.
Elsa pushed the eleven-year-old’s hair back and held it in place. “Yes, that’s it. My, how depraved. Can you smell my cunt, little girl?“
Freya didn’t much like being called a little girl, but she nodded anyway. Elsa’s earthy musk perfumed the air, thick and intoxicating.
Elsa let her fingers glide through her folds, then smeared the resulting wetness over one of her pendulous breasts. She offered it to Freya. “Lick.”
Freya latched onto the moist nipple and suckled.
“Good,” Elsa crooned approvingly. “Now climb up onto the bed and bend over with your arse in the air. I should very much like to taste you now.“
Freya did as she was told. Elsa lay back on the bed and buried her head between the eleven-year-old’s open thighs. Freya clutched at a cushion, basking in the feel of her older friend’s tongue as it probed the folds of her sex and flicked over the sensitive nub of her clitoris. “Oh, shit,” she murmured.
Elsa caught Freya’s clit between her teeth and stretched it out, making the girl start.
“Ow!“
The woman gave a chuckle. “Don’t like the rough stuff, eh? That’s all right. My mother used to enjoy twisting my nipples.“
Freya sat up on her heels and peered back at Elsa. “You used to have sex with your mum, too?“
“Oh, no. There was no sexual element to our relationship. But there was certainly pain and pleasure. My pain, her pleasure.“
Freya wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’m… I’m sorry.“
“I don’t need your pity,” Elsa said with flashing eyes. “What I need is for you to spread your legs so I can press my cunt against yours. Yes, that’s the ticket.“
Elsa joined her pussy to Freya’s, the two of them sitting opposite one another with their legs splayed. Elsa’s sex was hot and moist against Freya’s smooth mound, her coppery thatch brushing exquisitely to and fro.
“I’m glad you’re my friend,” Freya panted as they ground against one another.
“Are we truly friends, I wonder?“ Elsa said. “Have we known each other long enough to call it friendship? I’m old enough to be your grandmother, you know.“
Freya gave a snort. “Hardly.“
“Perhaps I’m just a dirty old lady who likes rubbing herself on young girls’ sweet, adolescent bodies. Perhaps I’ll simply discard you when your titties grow out and that delectable vagina sprouts just a few too many hairs for my liking.”
Freya felt a brief stab of worry. Then she grinned. “You’re teasing me. You wouldn’t do that.”
Elsa suddenly stopped grinding.
“What’s the matter?“ Freya asked.
“Someone’s just pulled up in the forecourt.“
2
The manor had almost been restored to its former glory. The scaffolding that had surrounded much of the building was gone, and the previously mutinous gardens had been restored to some semblance of order. Sadie parked on the gravel forecourt, next to Elsa’s Porsche and a crimson Rolls Royce that presumably belonged to Simon. So they were both at home. Not good.
She mounted the stone steps of the main entrance. The imposing oak doors were slightly ajar, but she rang the doorbell anyway. When there was no answer she rang a second time, then a third.
Shouldn’t there have been staff to answer doors? Come to think of it, the only people that would remotely qualify as staff were the two burly gentlemen she’d seen around the village from time to time. Burt and Ernie, was it? Somehow, Sadie couldn’t picture either of them in the role of butler, cook or maid. Maybe the Derwolds had yet to finalise their staff roster.
And if the manor was just a little too much like Castle Dracula for comfort, eerily empty and devoid of life, that was surely just her imagination running away with her, wasn’t it?
It’s just an open door, for Christ’s sake, Sadie told herself. Everything will be fine as long as I don’t lose my cool. Except if the fucking thing creaks when I push it open. If that happens, all bets are off.
She pushed open the door. It did not creak. Peering inside, she gave a hesitant, “Hello?”
Sadie had never been inside the manor, not even its previously dilapidated incarnation. The Great Hall was a sight to behold, the newly refurbished central staircase waxed and polished to a high sheen. The landing above was dominated by a huge oil painting of Elsa and Simon, and Sadie paused to study it for a moment. Strange that Elsa was the one sitting in the throne-like chair and not Simon, despite the fact that it was he who was heir to the Derwold estate. Instead, he was relegated to a standing position behind his wife, a hand poised upon her shoulder.
Sadie walked across the tiled mosaic floor. Her footfalls seemed far too loud to her own ears. There were six doors leading off from the hall. She supposed there was no choice but to steel herself and pick one. “Hello? Freya? Elsa?”
Suddenly, Elsa’s voice echoed through the Great Hall. “Hello, Miss Laine.”
Startled, Sadie peered up. Elsa stood at the top of the staircase with an arm around Freya’s waist.
“The door was open,” Sadie said. “I rang the bell but no one answered, so I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Elsa replied amicably. “The manor welcomes all. The problem is, it doesn’t always want to give them back again.”
Sadie’s brow darkened.
“Forgive me,” Elsa chuckled. “One of Simon’s little jokes.”
“I’ve come to pick Freya up.”
“Elsa can give me a lift back later,” Freya said as she and Elsa descended the stairs.
“Not today, Freya,” Sadie told the girl, her gaze never leaving Elsa. “Dinner’s on the table. Your mum asked me to come get you.”
Elsa was all smiles, but none of them had quite reached her eyes. She sauntered towards Sadie until the two women were mere inches apart.
“Is everything all right, Miss Laine? You seem rather strained.”
Sadie held her nerve. “I’m fine. It’s just been a hectic day. My cat was ill.”
Brilliant. Sadie Laine, the great improviser.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Sadie. May I call you Sadie?”
“Yes, of course.”
Elsa inched closer still. She flashed her eyes. “Pretty Sadie…”
“Get in the car, Freya,” Sadie said.
“I told you, Elsa can—”
“Get in the car. Now.”
Something in Sadie’s tone must have convinced the eleven-year-old. She made her way towards the open door, peered back at the two women briefly, then stepped outside.
Sadie watched her go, then turned back to Elsa. The two women eyed one another up in silence. It was Elsa who spoke first.
“It’s all right, I know what you are. Sister.”
“I’m not your sister.”
“Why the hostility? We have so much to offer each other. I’m of the Wicca, same as you.”
“Why have you sealed the village off?”
Elsa could have denied it. She didn’t bother. “I’m afraid it was necessary. There have been some… complications.”
“I think your husband killed the vicar. Did you know?”
Elsa gave an amused wince, as if Sadie had told her Simon had been seen prancing round the golf course with his underpants on his head. “You have been a busy little bee, haven’t you? Yes, that was the complication I mentioned. I’m afraid Simon can be rather impulsive.”
Of course, now it made sense. Elsa had shut the village off to protect Simon.
“Impulsive? Jesus Christ, Elsa, he’s a fucking psycho. He needs locking up and you know it. What if he turns on you next? Help me dispel this barrier so we can let the police deal with him.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Elsa, listen to me. You can’t keep Derwold isolated forever. Sooner or later the barrier comes down, and when it does, I have no choice but to call the police. If you had no part in the killing, then you have no reason to fear—”
“And what will the police say when I tell them you and Georgia have been molesting her two pre-teen children?”
The blood drained from Sadie’s face. “Wh-what?”
“Oh, come now. No need to be coy, Sadie. Freya’s told me everything. And I do mean everything.”
“It’s not molestation,” Sadie said in a small voice. “We’re not molesting them. It’s… you wouldn’t understand.”
“I do understand. I understand completely, and believe me when I say I have no objections whatsoever. But nobody else would understand. They wouldn’t understand about Simon, either. And so you won’t go to the police, will you? Because you can’t.”
“Simon’s a monster, Elsa.”
“It was a mistake. I have a tighter leash on him now.”
“You make it sound as if you’re in control.”
Elsa gave an amicable smile. Sadie didn’t trust it one jot. “I’d like to show you something, if you have five minutes.”
“I need to get Freya back.”
“Freya can wait. It won’t take long. Humor me.”
Sadie glanced back at the half open main doors. What would Elsa do if she simply walked out? Let her go? Try to stop her? Maybe it was safer to play along for now. There was still the chance Elsa was just another victim of Simon’s brutality, protecting her husband out of some misguided sense of loyalty. Perhaps she could still talk some sense into her.
“All right, Elsa. What is it you want me to see?”
3
Elsa led them up the grand staircase and along a corridor. The paintings on the walls were predominantly occultic, so overtly satanic they seemed almost tacky, like something you’d pick up in a bric-a-brac shop. Simon’s choice of artwork, no doubt. Sadie wondered if any of them had hung here when his father had been Lord of the Manor.
She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “Elsa, where’s Simon?”
Elsa took Sadie’s hand, as if the two of them were best of friends. “Relax, sister. Simon’s safe and sound in his romper room. I’ve locked him in.”
What the hell is a ‘romper room’?
Elsa opened the door to a bedroom and gestured for Sadie to enter. Sadie didn’t move.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Sadie, I’m not going to smother you with a pillow, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Sadie reluctantly entered the room. It stank of sex, and she was quick to notice Freya’s cardigan draped across the footboard of the bed. The question of what Freya and her red-headed friend had been getting up to these past couple of weeks seemed to have been answered. Sadie wanted to slap the woman.
But what Elsa had to show her was so bizarre, so utterly shocking, her mind had no room for other concerns.
On the bedside table was a baby monitor, which Elsa switched on. Strange sucking noises issued from its speaker. Elsa gestured towards it. “Take a look.”
Sadie leaned across and inspected the small screen. The camera captured a room filled with soft toys of all sizes and descriptions. Stretched out amongst them was none other than Simon Derwold himself. The Lord of the Manor wore nothing but a man-nappy. He paddled his arms and legs in the air, then spat free the huge dummy that’d been lodged in his mouth.
“Elll-saa! Ellll-sssaaaa! Simon hungwy! Simon need booby milk! Elll-saaaaa!”
Sadie flopped down onto the edge of the bed, stunned. She squinted at the baby monitor, trying to clarify the bizarre scene. “What in the name of holy fuck am I watching, please?”
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Elsa said, taking a place next to Sadie. “The great Simon Derwold. Heir to the Derwold legacy.”
“What is this, like a fetish or something? His way of winding down after a busy day at the office?”
“I’m afraid it’s rather more severe than that. Simon’s an incredibly damaged human being. His father saw to that. Oh, he still can maintain some semblance of normality when the occasion calls for it, in the boardroom or hosting some event or other, and he has a quite brilliant mind when it comes to business. But this is the real Simon Derwold – a broken man-baby. Did you know your vicar sexually abused him when he was a small boy?”
And there was the motive for murder. Revenge. As simple as that.
Simon was off with his rambling again. “Praise Satan! Satan knows Simon’s a bad boy! Simon do poopoo in his shoe-shoe!” He leapt to his feet, brandishing a stuffed tiger like a weapon. “Mother, the Zulu are attacking! Man the walls!”
“I’m gonna be completely honest with you, Elsa. That man is not a catch.”
Elsa threw her head back and laughed. “No, he is not. But he is very rich. And everything he owns belongs to me. Including himself.”
Sadie gave the woman an incredulous look. “That’s what this is about? Money? You’re a gold digger? Where’s your self-respect?”
The blow connected before Sadie had time to register it. Her hand instinctively went to the cheek where Elsa had slapped her.
“No need to be rude, Miss Laine. I was hoping you and I could be friends. I’m counting on it, in fact.”
Sadie found her feet and made for the door. “Fuck you, Elsa. I’m leaving.”
She felt something pass through her, then Elsa was there in a heartbeat, her back against the closed door.
Teleportation? The bitch can teleport?!
Sadie had always been skeptical of the accounts she’d read. Even during the golden age of witchcraft such skill had been incredibly rare, perhaps only inherent in those touched by the Tuatha, if what Astris said was true.
“I’m not your enemy, Sadie. A new age is dawning and it begins here, in Derwold. I want you by my side. Millie too.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“A female revolution! A world governed by women. I planned to bide my time, prepare things meticulously, but events have forced my hand. It’s already begun, Sadie. Derwold is mine. Nobody has a clue what’s happening right under their noses. This is where the coup begins.”
Sadie backed away slowly. “You’re insane…”
“Am I? Look at the power we wield. How long have we hidden in the shadows like rats? For thousands of years we’ve had the means to take control, to twist men’s minds, to bend them to our will. And what have we done with that power? Brewed potions. Acted as midwives and medics. Told rich men where best to dig their wells. And what was our reward? Burnt at the stake! Drowned in ponds! Hung from trees! Yes, I know what happened to Isabel. What was her crime? To have a child out of wedlock, to use her skills to heal the sick. No more!”
“That happened centuries ago, Elsa!”
“You think it’s not happening still? I could tell you some quite horrific stories about witches in Africa.”
“You can’t take over the world single-handedly, Elsa! It’s ridiculous!”
“I’m building a foundation others of our kind can follow. If a lone witch can control an entire village, imagine what twenty can do, fifty, a hundred! They won’t even realise it’s happening, Sadie! Don’t you see how things have changed? A few hundred years ago any woman could be accused of witchcraft for the most spurious of reasons. Most of the women that ended up on those pyres weren’t even witches. Now I can place a weavewall around Derwold, and play havoc with the minds of anyone who tries to enter, and they’ll come up with a hundred plausible reasons for what’s happening to them. But they’ll never entertain the notion that it’s a woman using witchcraft on them! That’s not the world we live in any more, is it? We’ll hide in plain sight. We’ll take this country village by village, town by town, city by city. By the time they realise what’s happening, it’ll be too late.”
With breathtaking clarity Sadie realised Elsa and Simon were in fact a perfect match. They were both as insane as each other.
“And this new world of yours. What part do men play in it?”
Elsa shrugged. “They’re surplus to requirements. The age of masculinity is coming to an end. The world has begun to turn against men and their poison. You only have to switch on the TV to see that.”
“Uh… you may have skipped school when they were giving biology lessons. Guys provide some fairly important services in the field of reproduction.”
“Don’t patronise me, you fucking Barbie doll,” Elsa snarled. “Never heard of sperm banks? We’ll keep enough men around to harvest what we need. In the short term, at least. I have something much more permanent in mind eventually, something that will eliminate the need for males altogether.”
“So the fate of anyone born male is to either be used as sperm cattle or quietly euthanased? You’re sick in the head.”
“There are some difficult decisions to be made. I take no pleasure in it, but for a world free of male aggression and domination I’m willing to do what needs to be done. The human race has a few hundred years at most before it implodes under the current regime. How long before there’s another world war? It’s inevitable. And it’s unlikely we’ll survive the next one. Can you honestly tell me you don’t believe women will make for wiser leaders?”
“You’re not making a particularly good case for wise, benevolent females right now, Elsa.”
“Touché, Miss Laine,” Elsa said with a thin smile. “I realise how crazy this all sounds, but my whole life has been leading up to this moment. What I’m telling you is well within the realms of possibility, if only we have the courage to make it happen. It’s monumental, almost unfathomable, and make no mistake, it’s going to get ugly. But I truly believe there’s a better world at the end of it all.”
Elsa stepped towards Sadie. She took the young teacher’s face in her hands and kissed her three times, once on each cheek, then a final kiss upon her brow. “I need you, sister. I need Millie. Will you join me?”
Sadie thrust Elsa’s hands away. “No, Elsa. Of course I’m not going to join you. We were meant to use our power for the greater good, not wage a war against men. You need help, but it’s not the kind I can give you. I’d like to leave now. Will you let me go, please? Or are you going to kill me?”
Elsa stood stock-still for a long moment, simply staring at Sadie with a kind of weary disappointment. Sadie would fight if it came down to that, though how, she couldn’t say.
If Astris has reason to fear Elsa, what chance do I have against the woman?
But Elsa simply opened the bedroom door and gestured for Sadie to pass. “There’s no need for melodrama. Go home and have a think about what I’ve said. If not for your sake, then for Georgia and her children’s. When things pass the point of no return, you’ll wish you’d picked the right side.”
Sadie hurried from the manor and climbed behind the wheel of her car.
Freya looked forlornly at her from the passenger seat. “Did you and Elsa have an argument?”
Sadie fired the engine up and sped away from the house. “You could say that, yes.”
“Because of me?”
“Elsa’s not the person you think she is, Freya. She used you to get to me, and now we’re all in a spot of bother.”
Freya shook her head. “No, Elsa’s not like that. I trust her.”
“You told her everything! How could you be so stupid?”
“I’ve been having sex with her! She couldn’t get us into trouble without getting herself into trouble.”
“Well, we are in trouble. Big trouble. We need to pick Georgia and Millie up, then find some way out of Derwold.”
“What do you mean ‘find some way out of Derwold’? I don’t understand what’s going on, Sadie.”
“I’ll explain on the way.”
4
Elsa took a key from her pocket, then inserted it into the romper room door. She found Simon asleep amongst his soft toys, buried so completely beneath the menagerie that only his dummy and a pair of hairy feet were visible.
She booted toys out of her way as she came. “Simon. Wakey wakey.”
Simon didn’t stir. A quick kick to the feet would have done the trick, but there were subtler ways to wake a person. Of all the people Elsa needed to keep on side, Simon was the most important, at least for now. He had the money. He had the connections. He also held a seat of power. Scant power, admittedly – he was a minor lord in a country that had gone to rot – but it was something to start with. A foundation.
So she planted a small horror in his sleeping mind. A thing of blood and bone and agony, something drawn from the imagery of the ridiculous satanic religion he clung to with such fervour.
Simon exploded from the mountain of toys with a muffled wail. “Mwoooo!”
Elsa was there by his side. She pulled the dummy from his mouth.
“Nooooo!”
“Aww, did my little man have a bad dream?”
“Bloody hell, it was horrible! What time is it?”
“Almost 5pm, darling.”
“Right. It’s about time for a brandy and a hot bath, I think. Where’s Kurt and Bernie?”
“I’ve sent them on a little errand. But you’re not going anywhere just yet, young man.”
“I’m not?”
Elsa brandished the large black strap-on she’d brought with her. “You’ve caused me no end of problems. I really am quite disappointed in you.”
Simon eyed the plastic phallus with some alarm. “Oh, come now, Elsa. I’ve already said I’m sorry. Surely there’s no need for this, is there?”
Elsa began strapping the apparatus to her waist. “I’m afraid there is, Simon. Now… nappy off. Then we’ll have you on all fours, if you don’t mind.”
Simon was still protesting even as he pulled his giant nappy away and assumed the position. But when he peered back across his shoulder, there was a delighted grin alighting his face.
As Elsa thrust into him, the Lord of the Manor flipped off a salute, then broke into an enthusiastic rendition of “Land of Hope and Glory”.
5
Sadie pulled her car in next to Georgia’s Volkswagen Bug. She switched the engine off, then rested her head upon the steering wheel.
“What’re you doing?” Freya asked her.
“Thinking,” Sadie replied.
Another few hours and they would lose the daylight, but as Sadie saw it, the four of them had no option but to head straight into the woods and find Astris. Between herself, Millie and the dryad, perhaps they could unravel the weavewall and get out of Derwold.
But what then? Run and hide? Hope that they were insignificant enough to Elsa’s plans that she would simply forget about them?
Isn’t it my job to stop Elsa? If not me, then who?
Isabel had been Sadie’s problem to deal with, and really, wasn’t it much the same with Elsa? ‘Sister’ the dark witch had called her, and Sadie had balked at the notion. But that’s what they were, wasn’t it? Sisters bound in magic, born of the same legacy. And just as with Isabel, Elsa was surely her responsibility, her mess to clean up.
When the wall was down she would get Georgia and the girls to safety, then come back to finish the job with Astris. She’d never killed a person before, but there was no getting away from the possibility that it might come down to that. Elsa’s death. Or hers.
When they approached the cottage, Sadie noticed the back door was ajar. Bee came running from the direction of the nearby fields, clearly in an agitated state. Sadie’s heart sank.
Freya got down on her haunches to calm the dog. “What’re you doing running around out here on your own, hmm?”
Sadie entered the cottage. “Georgia, are you here? Millie?”
There was broken glass on the kitchen floor, along with several pans and a rolling pin. Undoubtedly, there’d been a struggle.
“Georgia?”
Bee was barking frantically outside. When Sadie turned to check the rest of the house, she gave a start. One of Simon’s stooges – or more likely Elsa’s, now that she thought about it – was standing in the kitchen doorway pointing a gun at her. Burt. Or Ernie. Possibly none of the above.
“Gonna have to ask you to come with me, Miss Laine.”
“What’ve you done with Georgia and Millie? If you’ve hurt them, you’ll be sorry.”
Burt or Ernie laughed at that. “What’re you gonna do, give me detention? You’ll see them soon enough, if you do like I say.” He jiggled the gun at her. It was the smallest gun Sadie had ever seen. She considered asking him if he’d found it inside a Christmas cracker, then thought better of it. “Go outside,” the man said.
Outside in the yard, the other thug held Freya’s arms tightly against her body. Bee harried the man’s ankles, snarling and dipping in for a series of small bites.
The man kicked half-heartedly at the dog. “Oi, stop it! Nice dog! Nice dog!”
The first man – Sadie decided he was Burt – pushed Sadie towards Freya, then aimed the gun at Bee.
“Don’t hurt her!” Freya cried, struggling in Ernie’s arms. “Please don’t!”
“Tell it to stop biting my mate, then.”
“Bee, go play! Go find Mum and Millie!”
Sadie mustered up all the mental energy she could and directed it at the dog. Bee wasn’t as receptive as Billy, and the Hungarian Vizsla would never make a suitable familiar, but she hoped it would be enough to convey the message.
Bee. Danger! Run! I’ll protect them. Go! Go!
Bee pricked her ears at Sadie, then slowly backed away. With a final bark she turned and ran.
“Aww, thank goodness for that!” Ernie sighed. “I would’ve hated to see it hurt. I love dogs, I do.”
“Shut it, you numpty,” Bert told him, then wiggled the tiny gun in Sadie and Freya’s direction. “Move.”
Bert and Ernie’s van was parked up a dirt track leading to the neighboring farm. When the rear doors were opened, Sadie breathed a sigh of relief. Georgia and Millie were in the back, apparently unhurt.
“I’ll have them phones,” Bert said, looking from Sadie to Freya.
They handed the devices over, then the man pushed them inside and slammed the doors closed. A moment later, the van was on the move.
“Now what’ve you done?” A furious Georgia demanded of Sadie.
“Me?” Sadie said, gesturing to herself. “Why do you assume it’s my fault?”
“Because it’s always your bloody fault! Deranged ancestors, weird time travelling rocks, dodgy potions – yes, I know about that, by the way. Chances are you’ll be involved somehow. What is it this time, a moonlit sacrifice? Or is this just a regular kidnapping?”
“Well…” Sadie began. “Elsa’s a dark witch who wants to take over the world, if you must know. And Simon murdered the vicar. But I didn’t start it!”
“Oh, that’s alright, then,” Georgia said sarcastically. “For a moment there I thought it was something serious.”
“Will you please stop fighting,” Freya said forlornly.
“Where’s Bee?” Millie asked.
Sadie pushed the eight-year-old’s hair back behind her ears. “She’s safe, Millie, don’t worry.”
“Is the vicar really dead?” Georgia asked. “What do Elsa and Simon want with us?”
Sadie told her what she knew. Georgia put her face in her hands. “What the hell is wrong with this place? I should’ve stayed in the city.”
6
When the van came to a sudden stop, Sadie briefly wondered if they’d been driven to some isolated location, destined to end their days in a shallow grave or at the bottom of a river. But when the rear doors of the van were opened up, they found themselves back at the manor.
The two thugs manhandled them out of the vehicle, then inside the property. They were marshaled through a door behind the central staircase and down a flight of steps. The overhead bulbs lighting the way were dim, but it was obvious this damp, dark space was either a basement or a wine cellar, though if it had ever been stocked with bottles of fine vintage, they were long gone now. Apart from what appeared to be a large rock that’d toppled over in the center of the floor, the room was entirely empty.
The four of them were pushed inside, then Burt and Ernie were back up the stairs and gone. At least they’d left the lights on, which was some small comfort.
Sadie climbed the stairs and tried the door. “Locked.”
“Obviously,” Georgia grumped. Her and the girls perched themselves on the rock. Sadie paced the dusty floor, looking for something, anything, that could help them escape.
“Why’s Elsa doing this to us?” Freya said. “I thought she was nice.”
Georgia put an arm around her oldest daughter. “Elsa’s not well, Freya. You mustn’t take this personally. She had everyone fooled, not just you.”
“Can she really take over the world, Sadie?” Millie asked.
Sadie considered that. Could she? Did Elsa have enough support to take control of the British Isles, let alone the rest of the world? Were there even that many witches left anymore? It seemed unlikely. Sadie had spent years trying to track down any remaining operating covens, but her search had been fruitless. And if Elsa could take control of the country, what systems would she have in place to govern? Where were her potential politicians? Her military? No. The whole thing was pure folly, the product of a damaged mind. Elsa couldn’t take over the world. But by the gods, she would cause carnage trying.
“No, Millie. Your mum’s right – Elsa’s crazy.”
“Can’t you create a portal out of here or something?” Georgia said.
Sadie gave her a tired look. “I’m not Mary Poppins, Georgia.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Georgia muttered.
“Is there a reason you’re being so mean?”
Georgia leapt to her feet. She counted off the fingers on one hand. “Let’s see. My youngest daughter nearly died getting sucked into a tree because of your ancestor. My eldest daughter ends up getting used by a madwoman and her murderer husband so they could get to you. And now here we are locked in a basement. Because of you!”
“That’s unfair. I didn’t cause any of this, and I’m doing my best to put it right.”
“But you’re always at the center of it, aren’t you? I have two children to think about, Sadie. I really don’t need all this magic bullshit.“ She turned away from Sadie. “I sometimes wonder if we should’ve just stayed friends.”
“Oh. That’s nice. Thank you.”
“Well, you were never fully committed, were you? You didn’t even want to move in with us properly.”
“I told you, I like my house! That doesn’t mean I don’t love you and the girls. I asked you to move in with me, didn’t I?”
“Your house only has one bedroom, for God’s sake!”
“Will you both shut up!” Freya snapped.
Millie was running her hand over the rock, brow furrowed in deep concentration.
“What’s wrong, Millie?” Sadie asked the eight-year-old.
But before Millie could answer, the door to the basement swung open and Elsa waltzed down the stairs with Burt and Ernie in tow. Georgia noticed something perched on the woman’s shoulder. On closer inspection she could see it was a magpie.
“Good evening everyone,” Elsa said in good natured tones. “I hope Kurt and Bernie weren’t too rough with you.”
“Kurt and Bernie!” Georgia and Sadie said together.
“I knew it was something like that!” Georgia said.
Sadie nodded in agreement. “I know, right? I kept calling them Burt and Ernie!”
“Me too!” Georgia said. “That’s so funny…”
Elsa stood patiently, hands folded across her chest. “When you’re quite finished.” She glanced toward Freya, who turned her head away in disgust.
Georgia sidled up to their captor. “Elsa, this is really silly,” she said, keeping her voice low enough that Kurt and Bernie couldn’t make out the words. “If you want to take over the world, good luck to you, nothing wrong with a bit of ambition, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me and my kids. Let’s all just take a step back and have a good long think about what we’ve got ourselves into. Let us go and we’ll say no more about it. No hard feelings, eh? Nice bird, by the way!”
Elsa ignored Georgia, turning to Sadie instead. “Tell me where the dryad is, Sadie.”
“The dryad? I don’t know where she is, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
“You know where she is. Minerva can smell her on you.” Sadie assumed Minerva was the magpie. “Tell me where she is and I’ll let Georgia and Freya go.”
“I’m not leaving without my girlfriend and both my daughters,” Georgia said resolutely.
“What do you want with the dryad?” Sadie asked.
“I believe she holds the key to asexual reproduction.”
“Uh… what?”
“It’s called parthenogenesis. When females reproduce independently of males.” Elsa added sarcastically, “Were you not paying attention in biology class, Miss Laine?”
Touché, Elsa, Sadie thought. “That’s not possible.”
“Oh, but it is. It already exists in other species. Did you know the Dryad are exclusively female? Did the nymph not tell you why people like Millie and I crop up from time to time?”
Sadie could only shake her head.
“Good lord, Sadie. And you call yourself a witch. You’ll be telling me next you learnt everything you know from Agnes Munt’s Witchcraft for Beginners.”
Sadie cleared her throat and looked off into the middle distance. Her poker face had never been particularly convincing.
Elsa threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, dear! That’s hilarious! Poor Sadie.” The bird on her shoulder fluttered its wings and croaked out a mocking cackle of its own.
“I’ve read other books,” Sadie said defensively.
Elsa nodded sympathetically. “Simon’s connections have given me access to many forbidden archives. Some of the original Wiccan texts still exist, recovered or stolen from the covens when they were abandoned. I’ve learnt much.” She stepped closer to Sadie. “The Dryad bred with our ancestors, Sadie! Planted children in their wombs! Female to female procreation. Those genetic traits manifest themselves on rare occasions. In me. In Millie.”
Sadie shook her head. “Even if that’s true, Astris would never help you.”
“Astris? I never imagined you were on first name terms with the dryad. All the better. And why wouldn’t Astris help me? Wasn’t it men who slaughtered her kind? Do you think it a coincidence that those born with the power of the Tuatha are all female?”
“Vengeance isn’t their way, Elsa. Astris has no interest in our petty concerns, other than the fact that you’ve crapped in her backyard. You might come to regret that decision.”
“Well, I don’t see her anywhere,” Elsa said, peering mockingly this way and that. “If she was going to give me a slap on the wrist, I’m sure she would have done it by now. Tell me where she is, Sadie.”
“No.”
Elsa hunkered down next to Millie. Georgia moved to block her, but the thug with the tiny gun stepped forward muttering, “Move back, you.”
“I’ll move back when this mad bitch gets away from my daughter.”
“We’re just talking, Georgia!” Elsa said, as if she were somehow the most reasonable person in the room. “Why’s everyone so uptight?”
Georgia reluctantly moved back a step or two.
Elsa offered Millie a smile. “You and I are the same, Millie. Did you know that? They used to call us ‘Old Blood’.”
Millie glared at Elsa, hands folded across her chest. “No, I’m not the same as you, ‘cos you’re a skanky old cow.”
“That’s rude.”
“You’re rude.”
“Will you tell me where Astris lives? I bet you’re good friends with her. I’d love to meet her.”
“She lives in a tree.”
“Which tree?”
Millie shrugged. “Dunno, they all look the same.”
“Millie, you’re trying my patience.”
“You’re trying your patience.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
“Millie, stop it.”
“You stop it.”
Elsa regarded Millie cooly. She found her feet and adjusted her tweed jacket. “Well, none of you are going anywhere until I know where the dryad is. I’ll find her myself, eventually. But if you don’t cooperate I’ll leave you all here to rot. Have a good think about that.”
With that, she gestured to Kurt and Bernie, and the three of them disappeared up the stairs.
When they were alone again, Georgia spoke low in Sadie’s ear. “If it comes down to it, you’ll have to tell her where the dryad is.”
“Elsa might kill her, Georgia.”
“She might kill us. Your green friend will have to look out for herself. My kids are more important.”
“Maybe I can talk to Elsa,” Freya said. “Persuade her to let us go.”
Georgia shook her head. “I don’t want you talking to her.”
“Why?”
“Because I say so, that’s why.”
“Oh, thanks for trusting me. As usual.”
“Not now, Freya.”
Sadie left Georgia and Freya to bicker. She’d never felt it was her place to intervene in their domestic spats. Trying to take on the role of surrogate father seemed wrong somehow. That wasn’t a space she had any intention of filling.
Millie’s attention was once again focused on the stone. She ran a hand over its rough surface.
Sadie hunkered down next to her. “What’ve you found?”
“Runes,” Millie replied. “Just like the ones on the menhir near your house.”
Sadie spat on a hand, then rubbed it over a section of the writing. They were runes, no doubt about that. “It’s another menhir,” she said in astonishment.
“What’s it doing here?”
The idea that anyone had managed to move several tons of stone through doors and down a flight of steps seemed highly unlikely. Sadie brought up a mental map of the other known standing stones dotted around the village. Derwold Manor stood on the outskirts. The stone here would fit perfectly into the greater circle, wouldn’t it?
“It’s always been here,” Sadie decided. “The Derwolds must have built the manor around it all those centuries ago.”
“I don’t like it here, Sadie,” Millie said in a quiet voice. “I can hear dead people.”
Sadie sat on the fallen menhir and put her arms around the eight-year-old. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. I came to the rescue when you were in trouble at the tree, didn’t I?”
“Mmm.”
“And I’ll save the day this time, too. What is it I like to say?”
Millie gave a little smile. “Trust me, I’m a witch.”
Sadie nodded. “Trust me, I’m a witch.”
7
Sadie woke some time later, her limbs complaining about the dusty, hard floor she’d been forced to sleep on. Bernie – the least thuggish of the two thugs – had returned briefly to bring them food and blankets, apologising for the inconvenience and complaining this wasn’t what he had signed up for.
When Georgia suggested he make amends by letting them go, the man quickly shook his head. “Sorry, but I ain’t goin’ against her. Don’t know exactly what she’d do to me, but I don’t plan on findin’ out,” he mumbled before making a hasty exit. His fear was plain to see, and Sadie thought she could work with that, given time.
Sadie caught movement over by the menhir. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and slowly made sense of the shadows there. “Millie?”
Millie was crouched down by the stone. The fingers of a hand traced the worn shapes of the runes. When she turned to Sadie, her eyes were distant and unfocused. “It’s calling to me. Tar, trasnaigh crann an ama.”
“Come, traverse thy tree of time?“ Sadie translated. “What does that mean?”
At the sound of voices, Georgia and Freya stirred from their own uneasy slumber. “What’s happening?” Georgia groaned.
“I understand now,” Millie was saying in a faraway voice. “You don’t move to a place. You bring it to you.”
Alarmed, Sadie held a hand out to the girl. “Millie, take your hand off the stone. Don’t touch—”
The air around Millie seemed to shimmer and vibrate. Sadie caught the strong scent of ozone.
“Shit! Millie, no!”
She covered the last few feet with a leap and seized Millie, then the two of them were tumbling through a bright vortex of light and sound. “Oh my god! What’s happ—”
Sadie’s cries were abruptly cut short by a mouthful of salty liquid. She was underwater. What the hell was she doing underwater? Was Millie still with her?
More importantly, which way was up? Because if she didn’t reach the surface – if there was a surface – in the next few seconds, none of those questions would need answering. There was really no skirting round the inconvenient truth:
Sadie Laine was drowning.
Soon to come: Chapter Eight!
The TV is on in the background. It might be Strictly, or the news, or even a commercial break. Either way, it’s unimportant. Thirty-five-year-old Melanie Andrews isn’t watching TV. All she’s aware of right now is the torrid kiss she’s currently engaged in – a hot, wet, deep, lip-smacking, tongue-tangling kiss, punctuated by the occasional feminine moan or hastily drawn breath.
A photograph often tells more about its subject than what is captured by the lens alone.