Black Wood (A Witch Rising) (9 page)

On the following Thursday after
school, Emily peered out the window in her grandmother’s room when
her father called her for her afternoon tea. She ran downstairs to
the smell of smoke and her father opening the windows as wide as he
could, his arms flapping about like he was learning to fly.

She coughed, her eyes tearing.
“Are you okay? Did you burn something?”

Her father threw the blackened
contents of a rusty pan into the sink and wiped his hands on his
apron. “No beef today.”

She frowned at his mumble and
the dark circles under his eyes. First Sam, and then her father.
While she didn’t like this one bit, she had to find a way to get
rid of Muriel first. The magic diary hadn’t helped at all. “No
worries. I’m not hungry,” she said.

He pointed at a plate with
full-grain toast and something yellow that smelled like cheese but
looked nothing like it. “Well, take your sandwich up and eat it
later then.”

Emily shrugged and carried the
plate up the stairs, returning to her grandmother’s room.

***

Another couple of hours later
and Emily was nowhere near finding out how to get rid of Muriel.
Her grandmother’s books were filled with the strangest recipes and
notes on various festivals, Samhain and the likes, Emily couldn’t
even pronounce. And then there were poems, loads of them, some were
in English, others in a language Emily didn’t speak.

She had no clue what they said,
but they were beautiful nonetheless. With her orange-dyed hair and
long, flowing dresses, her grandmother had always been strange. But
maybe she was more than that. Reading through the recipe to turn a
young man into a lovesick pup, a thought popped into Emily’s head.
Who boiled frog eggs, chicken heart, cinnamon powder, peppermint
leaves, rose petals and strands of hair to a soup, if not a witch?
Maybe her grandmother had been one?

***

Muriel was back for dinner.
“Edgar, don’t I look simply delicious today?”

Munching on a vegetable stew
with burned beef, Emily spun her head to catch her father’s
reaction.

He bobbed his head. “You do,
Muriel. And very much so.”

Emily pulled a face. Okay, she
had to admit the wine-coloured dress accentuated the green in
Muriel’s eyes, but still. How could her father look at any other
woman than Mum? It wasn’t right.

Her fingers gently holding an
old, silver fork, Muriel took a bite of her stew. “This tastes like
dung. I’ve seen better food in garbage bins.” She spit, and the
half-chewed carrots landed on the floor next to Sam’s foot.

Sam continued eating, his head
hanging so low, one tiny shove and he’d be breathing down his
dinner. Emily kicked his leg under the table, but he showed no
reaction.

Her father’s head hung almost as
low as Sam’s. “I’m sorry, Muriel. You’re right, of course. I’ll try
to improve my cooking skills.”

Emily scowled. Now, that was
definitely not the answer she expected. What was wrong with them
all?

Muriel smiled regally. “I’m sure
you will, dear.” She brushed back her glossy black hair. “But this
isn’t all that bothers me.”

Emily rolled her eyes. What now?
Was the mattress too hard? The pillows not soft enough? Her tea too
cold? Her bath water too hot?

“You mustn’t cross her,” Sam
murmured, his gaze still lingering on his plate.

Muriel shot him a displeased
look, then turned her beautiful eyes toward Emily’s father. “Edgar,
how long have you been a single parent now?”

“Dad’s not a single parent!”
Emily shouted. “Tell her you’re not, Dad!”

Her father hesitated and Muriel
continued, smiling. “It’s not right for a man to raise two children
on his own. It’s not
natural
.”

Muriel placed her hand on top of
her father’s. Emily felt bile rising in her throat. She rose to her
feet, knocking down her chair. “That’s enough! I called you, I can
send you back!”

Her father turned red as a
lobster. “Emily! What’s wrong with you? If you don’t behave, I’ll
send you to your room.”

“But, Dad, how can you let her—”
Emily’s lower lip quivered, but she was too mad to cry. “She
doesn’t belong here. Tell her Mum’s coming over for Christmas and
we’ll be a family again.”

“Okay, Emily. I warned you not
to be disrespectful to guests.” Her father put down his fork with
such force that it clattered on the floor. “I won’t tolerate this
behaviour. Take your dinner up to your room, and no TV for you for
a week.”

Emily snorted and turned toward
the door. “I’m not hungry,” she said even though no one listened.
As she headed for the stairs, her father's words crushed her
heart.

“I’m sorry, Muriel,” he said.
“She’s been a little rude lately. Of course you can stay here as
long as you wish.”

Pressing her lips together,
Emily slammed the door to the kitchen shut. Oh, how she hated that
sneaky Muriel. She ran up to her grandmother’s room, tears
streaming down her face. Her mother hadn’t called in two whole days
and asking the diary to make Muriel disappear didn’t seem to work.
She slumped down on the bed, pulled the covers over her head and
sank into her grandmother’s pillowcase. Why wasn’t the diary
helping? Maybe it wasn’t working on Muriel because she was from the
same world?

She only noticed Solace’s
presence when she felt a warm, fluffy ball tickle her cheek.
Sniffing, Emily crawled out from under the covers and shivered. The
room was cold as ice. By the time she reached the heating panel on
the other side of the room, her skin had turned into goosebumps.
She pressed a palm on the pane. It scalded her hand and she pulled
away quickly.

A breeze ruffled the
curtain.

“Not again.” Puffing, Emily
flicked it aside. The window stood ajar. “Why won’t it stay
shut?”

Solace meowed, jumped down from
the bed and bolted for the door, then stopped in front of it and
turned its head, her fluffy tail swishing about, as if waiting for
her.

“You’re right.” Emily closed the
window. “I won’t be hiding in here like a coward. Someone needs to
do something ‘cause she’s going
way
too far. I’m going to
tell Dad she’s an evil witch.”

With her chin raised and lips
pressed tight, Emily crossed the hall to her father’s office and
knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

When he didn't reply, she
entered nonetheless. After all, this was a pressing matter.

Her father wasn’t there. Maybe
he was getting a glass of water or preparing a snack in the
kitchen.

In the hall, she bumped into
Muriel. Was this woman everywhere?

“What is it you're looking for,
dear?” Muriel asked with raised eyebrows.

Emily clenched her fists and
glared at her. “Where’s my father?”

“Let me think.” Muriel scrunched
her face for a second. “No, I haven’t seen him. But I could help
you look. You know how much I want us to be friends.”

“Huh?” Emily’s jaw dropped. She
narrowed her eyes. “Are you for real? First you try to get rid of
me and now you want us to be friends?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem you have
any,” Muriel said as she walked past.

“I do. I have plenty of them in
London
,” Emily shouted after her, but all she got as a
response was Muriel’s ringing laughter.

She balled her hands into fists.
Her plan to get rid of this woman could wait. Right now, she had
something else to do. Emily waited until Muriel’s steps retreated.
Only then did she dart down the stairs to the kitchen.

With the lights switched off, it
was pitch-black. Emily pulled the switch and went about boiling
water. She placed a teabag into a mug, poured the hot water over it
and let it brew for a full five minutes. After stirring four
teaspoons of chilli powder into the tea, she let it cool down a bit
and then carried the mug upstairs.

The door stood ajar. Taking a
deep breath, Emily entered. “I’ve made you a cup of tea.”

Muriel rose from the chair near
the window and took the mug out of Emily’s hands. “You’re starting
to see sense, dear.”

Pointing to the tea, Emily
smiled. “Why don’t you try it?”

Muriel sat on the bed and lifted
the mug to her lips. Emily watched as Muriel took a large gulp, the
witch’s beautiful face turning into an ugly grimace. She coughed
and spat, her face as red as a lobster.

“Get out! Oh, you’ll regret
this, you nasty, little turd!” Muriel shouted.

Grimacing, Emily bolted out onto
the corridor. When she reached her grandmother’s room, she bent
over and burst into a fit of laughter. With the corners of her
mouth curled up, even Solace seemed to smile.

Muriel would tell her father, no
doubt about that, and Emily would get into a lot of trouble. But
trouble or not, it was so worth it.

That night, before Emily climbed
into her bed, she locked the door for the first time in her life.
She didn’t like closed doors but she also didn’t trust Muriel one
bit.

As soon as her head hit the
pillow, she fell into a dreamless slumber. She didn’t know how long
she’d been asleep when she heard the first scratching sound.
Thinking it was Solace, she opened her eyes to deep darkness. With
no digital clock, she had no idea how late it was. The room felt so
cold, her breath froze in her throat.

“Oh, Solace. Go away. I’ll let
you in tomorrow in the morning. How about that?” Emily mumbled,
turning over and pulling the covers over her head.

The scratching continued. Why
wouldn’t the cat stop it? Emily pressed her pillow over her ears,
but the air was getting a little too stuffy to breathe. The noise
grew louder and the door began to rattle. Emily gasped. No way
could a cat do that.

Beads of sweat gathered above
her brows as she sat up under the covers, holding in her breath to
listen.

The rattling stopped, and she
heard a
bang
. Something dropped to the floor. Then she heard
the echo of a whimper, like that of an injured animal. Emily pushed
the covers aside and let her legs dangle over the edge of her
grandmother’s bed.

She frowned and tiptoed to the
door, pressing her ear against the wood to listen. Whatever was on
the other side kept scratching and whimpering.

Surely, Muriel would just knock
instead of trying any tricks. Emily counted to three, and then,
taking a huge gulp of air, yanked the door open.

Startled, she jumped a step
back. Right in front of her eyes stood one of those hideous
creatures from her dream. Except, this one wore her brother’s
pyjamas, now torn and frayed at the bulging shoulders and stumpy
legs. The creature’s skin was pale, in places covered by a thick,
long fur as black as coal. Hunched, it reached almost her shoulder.
It took a hesitant step forward, its eyes fixed on Emily’s
face.

“Sam?” Emily asked. The creature
raised its chin and grunted. She held out her hand. “Is that really
you?”

Sam raised a knobbly hand with
long, greyish nails and touched Emily’s wrist, then turned and,
with one leg shorter than the other, hobbled along the corridor and
down the stairs toward the ground floor.

“Wait!” Emily bolted after him
to the living room, where he stood waiting in front of the glass
door. She frowned. “You want to get out?”

Sam grunted, his knobbly fingers
trying to grasp and turn the key. Emily gently pushed his scorching
hand aside and opened the door. He stepped out into the night,
motioning her to follow.

“Sam, stop! Where are you
going?” Emily called as she raced after him. Her brother reached
the same spot at the back of the garden, where she had seen the
tracks only a few days ago, and jumped over the fence.

A chilly breeze swept through
the bushes, rustling the few remaining leaves. Emily shivered in
her flannel pyjamas as she looked up at the clouded sky littered
with thousands of stars, marvelling at their beauty for a moment.
In London, you could never see so many.

Somewhere in the darkness, Sam
growled, jolting Emily out of her thoughts. The fence reached up to
her shoulder. She put her freezing hands on a panel and lifted
herself off the ground, trying to find a level in the wood for her
foot. When her slipper connected with a hole in the fence, she
pushed herself up, draping the other leg over it. And now what? She
peered at the ground on the other side, sweat pouring down her back
in spite of the cold. From up here, earth seemed a long way
down.

“Hey, Sam!” she whispered. Her
brother moved a few steps closer. His grunting sounded a lot like
suppressed laughter. “Help me down, or I swear I’ll tell Dad how
you sold his Star Trek DVD collection so you could buy part of the
Milky Way on the internet, and then pretended a burglar stole
it.”

Sam snarled and retreated behind
a bush. No help from him then. Emily shook her head and closed her
eyes as she flung her other leg over the fence. “Well, you know it
was a stupid idea. The aliens never came to buy their planets
back.”

She slid down when her pyjama
sleeve got caught in a protruding nail. As her feet connected with
the ground, the sound of ripping material carried through the
night. Her brother snorted and took off through Aurelie’s garden
toward the house.

“What are you doing?” Emily
called after him, but he didn’t stop. She followed at a distance
when the living room lamp went on and a flaxen head peered out of a
window. Aurelie opened the back door and stepped out, her blonde
hair floating about her like a halo.

Emily’s breath caught in her
throat. She turned, ready to make a sprit for the fence, then
stopped. Would she really be able to climb over it fast enough
before Aurelie spotted her? From the corner of her eye she noticed
a second huddled figure shuffle toward the bushes. Sam stepped out
of the darkness onto the illuminated patch of grass underneath the
floodlight. Emily covered her mouth with her palm to keep herself
from calling out. What was he doing?