Witch Hollow: Stories From the Past: Witch Hollow, #6

By I.D. Blind

Dear reader,
This is a collection of short stories about the early years of our mischievous witches.
Please buy this book only if you have read "Witch Hollow" series, otherwise the stories may not make sense to you.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: I.D. Blind
• Release date: Mar 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524237776

Book preview

Dear reader,

This is a collection of short stories about the early years of our mischievous witches.

Please buy this book only if you have read Witch Hollow series, otherwise the stories may not make sense to you.

Your loving witch,

Irena

Contents

The Sluagh

Beltane

The Camera

The Present

The Winged Woman

The Spirit of Christmas

About the Author

Helpful Links

Also by I.D. Blind

The Sluagh

(Hollow, 20th century)

Morrigan rapped her beak against the window glass.

Morning already?

If you hear the alarm clock, then yes.

I need five more minutes. Just five more...

Morrigan's beak hit the window again.

Alright! I'm up! Valeria rubbed her eyes and yawned. As always, she was the first to get up and crawl out of bed. She pinched Sofia's foot that was peeping from under the blanket, then tussled Andromeda's hair. Get up, girls.

When she came back from the bathroom, Andromeda and Sofia were sitting up in their beds, one yawning, the other rubbing her sleepy eyes.

What time is it? Andromeda asked.

7:30. Valeria sat in front of the cheval glass, opened the drawer to take her brush and screamed when the drawer unexpectedly pulled itself back, almost hitting her fingers.

Hey! she cried out. That's enough. Time to let it go.

The drawer again? Sofia asked.

How much longer can this drawer be angry with me? Alright, I spilled my cup of milk on it, but I cleaned it up!

But that milk was so hot, Andromeda reminded her.

Valeria snorted. I know, but it doesn't mean I deserve to lose my fingers.

Sofia climbed out of bed and put her hands on her twin's shoulders. I'll tell Dad that the drawer is still angry, and he'll replace it.

Oh, but I like this drawer so much, Valeria said dejectedly.

And I like you with fingers. Sofia opened the drawer and took Valeria's brush out. There you go, she said, handing the brush to her twin.

You're right, Valeria said, brushing her hair. If it continues treating me like this, even after I apologized a hundred times, then we'll have to replace it.

The five drawers beneath the cheval glass opened simultaneously, and all the combs, perfume bottles, hairpins and bracelets leapt out, scattering across the floor.

This drawer is crazy! Andromeda yelled, hardly dodging a bottle of perfume. It crashed on the floor near the bed and the sweet scent of lavender filled the air.

Alright, let's go talk to Dad, Sofia said.

Seamus Bloodworth was reading in the library when his three daughters surrounded him and began complaining about their angry drawer.

Alright, girls, he said, trying to hear each of them and understand their problem. I will replace it right away. And meanwhile, go to the kitchen, have breakfast, and help your mother with the pie she's making for Mrs. Hephzibah.

She's still ill? Andromeda asked.

She is. And it seems she won't be getting well, her father said.

Sophronia was chopping apples when the girls entered the kitchen. Unlike the drawer in their bedroom that had gone awry only recently, they always knew what to expect from their kitchen cupboards and utensils. They had just come in, when Andromeda snatched a spoon from the air, Valeria caught a ceramic mug, and Sofia grasped the flying salt shaker.

Already up, my sweeties?

Morning, Ma, they crooned together.

As if you don't know Morrigan, Sofia added with a snort.

Morrigan, Sophronia laughed. She's been an alarm clock for the last six generations of our family.

Father said Mrs. Hephzibah is still unwell, Andromeda said, looking at the dough over her mother's shoulder.

She is, unfortunately, Sophronia said with a sigh. We'll pay her a visit in the afternoon. Poor old Hephzibah. I'm afraid this might be our last meeting.

Mrs. Hephzibah Stanton lived on the East Bank of the Sirtalion, on the Shamrock Street, in a nice two-story house, where a small group of people had gathered, most of them standing silently in the garden. It could mean only two things: that the old woman had passed away, or that she didn't have much time.

How is she, dear Arthur? Any news? Sophronia asked Hephzibah’s elder son, who was standing by the door and smoking a pipe.

Arthur Stanton shook his head.

Girls, Sophronia turned to her daughters, I'll go inside, to bid her farewell, but you don't have to come in, if you don't want to.

Why won't we want to? Valeria asked.

Because she's dying, silly, Sofia said. It's not the most pleasant of the scenes.

Sophie, quiet! Sophronia chided her. We should be respectful towards the family's grief.

Sofia pursed her lips and made an offended face. I'm not coming.

I'll come, Valeria said, and the twins looked at their elder sister.

There's already too much crowd in there, Andromeda said. I'll stay outside with Sophie.

While their one third went to bid good-bye to old Mrs. Hephzibah, Andromeda and Sofia didn’t have anything better to do than to stroll around the house and discuss the townspeople.

Look there, Sofia whispered, pointing covertly at the gates. That's Mr. O’Toole with his son, Steward. Handsome, as always.

Andromeda tried hard not to chuckle. A laughter around the dying woman's house would immediately gather condemning looks. Steward O’Toole is twenty, she said.

So what?

And you are thirteen.

I'll be fourteen in a month.

Still too big of an age gap. Find someone younger.

Ronald Robinson was flirting with me yesterday.

Andromeda examined the butcher's son. Well, if you don't mind his always bloody apron then I'm happy for you. At least you'll always have meat to eat.

Giving me away already? Don't you think it's too soon? Sofia said with a low smirk.

If you've already started flirting with boys, then the time is approaching.

Sofia chuckled, then hurried to clap her hand over her mouth. What a shame, she whispered. Poor Mrs. Hephzibah is dying, and we're talking about boys and laughing.

I'm glad you feel embarrassed.

As if you're any better.

I'm not, Andromeda whispered. And I'm embarrassed too. But she's ninety-eight, and it makes her departure acceptable. Sad, but acceptable.

I wonder if I will live so long, Sofia said.

Oh, you'll live longer than Morrigan, Andromeda said knowingly. And will become as white and angry.

Sofia chuckled into her palms. When she raised her face, she spotted a fellow under the apple-tree, staring at her and Andromeda.

Who's that? she asked in a whisper.

Andromeda looked at the fellow. Gilbert De Roy Junior, she said. The sheriff's son.

Sofia examined the willowy fellow with greasy hair and yellowish skin, which made him look unhealthy and sad. I didn't know he was back, she said.

I've heard he has returned last week.

He has changed.

You think so? I think he looks the same: sullen, bored, and tired.

And that one next to him, chomping down a sandwich?

That's fatty Baldric.

Are you sure it's Louis Baldric? That huge hat has concealed half of his face.

You don't recognize Louis Baldric by his face, but by his fat belly and big—

Sofia managed to cover Andromeda's mouth before something crude came out of it. Not around Mrs. Hephzibah’s house. At least not today.

Why have they come? she wondered, dragging Andromeda to the other end of the garden.

Probably after free food, Andromeda said, looking at the oblong table that was set across the garden, heavy with all kinds of sandwiches and drinks. Old Hephzibah had many relatives who had come from all over Ireland, and it was a custom in Hollow to set a table for this type of gatherings.

And that one? Doesn't seem familiar at all, Sofia said.

Andromeda followed her glance and stared at a solemn man in a long black coat. Could be one of Mrs. Hephzibah’s distant relatives.

He's too dark to be their relative. They all are red-haired, with a net of freckles across their faces.

A relative by marriage, Andromeda suggested, but the idea didn't seem plausible to them. The man was standing away from everyone, staring at a window on the second floor without blinking. He was tall, with wavy black hair that reached his shoulders, and in a long black coat that seemed inappropriate for a hot summer afternoon.

I wonder why he’s staring at Hephzibah’s bedroom window, Andromeda said. Why won’t he just go inside to know how she is?

Mom will be staying there, Valeria said, appearing suddenly behind her sisters.

The whole night?

Why?

It seems that she's the only one whom Mrs. Hephzibah still recognizes, and Mom decided not to leave her bedside as long as she's still with us.

Poor Mom, Sofia said with a scowl. Has to stay there who knows how long. Why wouldn't she recognize one of her own children? Or grandchildren?

Don't be so harsh with her, Andromeda said.

"I’m not harsh. I just pity my Mom. She's always sacrificing her time and rest to people of Hollow, but I doubt they'd do the same for her... Ayyy!" Sofia yelled at the top of her voice when someone shoved his palms under her armpits. The people in the garden turned around and frowned at them. Some shook their heads disapprovingly, others muttered something about upbringing and manners.

Alan! You... Sofia muttered, whopping Alan Pickering on the shoulder. The latter sniggered.

I know, I know. I’m a pig.

Worse than a pig. A pig that suffers from a diarrhea.

Sophie, quiet! With a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, Valeria looked around the garden. We are guests here.

What are you doing here? Andromeda asked Alan.

Folks have come to bid good-bye to old Hephzibah. I came too, hoping to find you here.

And embarrassing us once again. Sofia pouted.

Alan gave her an innocent look. You know I love it.

And Andrew?

Stayed in the shop, Alan said. My brother is a lucky guy. It's boring here. He looked around the garden and feigned a wide yawn.

What were you expecting? Valeria asked. We've come to the house of a dying woman. Don't tell me you wanted fanfares and drums.

Fanfares and drums? Alan’s voice filled with enthusiasm. I know a place with all that. Let's get out of here and have some ice cream at the Hidden Cauldron.

The girls returned home by the evening. Sophronia was still at Mrs. Hephzibah's, so they helped their Grandmother with the dinner. By ten o’clock, their father went after his wife, leaving his daughters in their grandparents’ care.

Evenings with Grindewald and Cordelia were their favorite part of the day. Great Grindewald Arterberry had left the famous Academy of Lost Knowledge, which he had founded with his two younger brothers, and come to live in Hollow. And he couldn’t have chosen a better place than the old castle made of blue boulders and bricks, filled with so many secrets that even the old wizard sometimes would scratch his head in puzzlement whenever his three granddaughters told him about their newest discoveries inside those ancient walls. But there was something which they liked more than exploring the old castle, and that was listening to Grindewald’s unbelievable stories, then turning to Cordelia for a confirmation. What made his stories so fascinating was that the wizard didn't just tell about the evil witches and cunning sorcerers, but showed everything over the mock-ups he had brought from the Academy. His latest story lasted for two hours, and the three girls couldn’t take their eyes off the battlefield that spread over the floor in the fireplace hall, watching the Battle of Carrickfergus. When the swords became silent and the muskets’ smoke dispelled, all that was left beneath the shining duplicate of the moon were the bodies by the walls of the Carrickfergus Castle.

As you see, Grindewald said after a long pause, MacDonnells won. But alas, this wasn’t enough, and we lost the Nine Years’ War. Gently, he swept his old hand above the mock-up, and the small bodies of the fallen dissipated one after the other. I will tell the rest tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to go to bed.

Grandpa, Valeria said, watching the last body disappear into nothingness. What happens when we die?

A hint of a smile played upon the wizard’s lips. That, my dear child, is the greatest mystery.

But is it the same for everyone? For humans, and witches, and wizards, and everyone else?

The door to the fireplace hall opened and Seamus and Sophronia walked in.

Mrs. Hephzibah died, Sophronia said. May her soul rest in peace.

~ * ~

I hate black. Sofia crossed her arms over her chest as if that could hide the blackness of her dress.

It’s just for one day, Andromeda said with all the strictness she was capable of. Try to live through it.

I don't understand why people wear black at the funerals, Sofia continued muttering under her breath. She approached the table in the garden of old Hephzibah’s house and put a basket with cinnamon rolls near other pastries. Why not dark blue? Or dark gray.

It’s a tradition. Bear with it.

The elders had disappeared inside the house, but the girls had chosen to stay outside. The house was already too crowded, Andromeda had told her mother. Following Sofia, she put another basket with muffins on the table. So much food already, she said, arranging a free spot on the table for Valeria’s basket.

This all will be gone soon. Look how many people have come. Sofia looked around the garden, which was so crowded that many had to stay on the other side of the fence and wait for their chance to get inside.

Sophie, look there. Andromeda nudged Sofia. That man again.

On the other side of the garden, yesterday's stranger in black coat was standing silently under the same tree, looking as morose as ever.

Who's that? Valeria asked.

No idea, Andromeda said.

He's grim, Valeria said.

And spooky, Sofia added.

And he's the only one who's not holding a plate with food. Look, everyone else is eating, but not him. Just like yesterday.

Maybe he's not hungry, Meda, Valeria said.

Then why won't he leave?

Really, Sophie? Is that why people come to funerals? To eat?

Also. I mean, if he has already met the relatives, passed his condolences, why won't he leave?

He's a free man and can do whatever he wishes. Though she couldn’t explain why, but Valeria turned back to the man and took a long stare at him. He did look strange. That coat was too long and thick to wear it during summer. His hair was a bit messy, his face pale, shielded with dark round sunglasses. And he didn't talk to anyone. Wasn’t he a relative? Or a friend? And why was he staring at the house like that, as if anticipating something.

Val? Val! Sofia tapped her shoulder, and Valeria started. Come on, sweetheart, Grandpa is calling us in.

Valeria managed some mechanical steps after her sisters, all the way glancing at the stranger. She stopped over the threshold when a cool, gentle wind drifted out of the house, caressing her face and making the hair on her nape bristle. A sharp chill went through her body and Valeria shuddered. She saw the stranger take a deep breath then stride to the garden gates. Without bidding anyone farewell, he went out on the road and strode away.

And then she followed