Otherworld. He shivered suddenly and felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. Despite its emptiness, he knew suddenly that he wasn’t alone in the wicker dome.
Sylvie had almost reached the beech-lined gravel drive leading up to the Hall. She knew she should’ve stayed by Yul’s side until the end, but watching him dancing endlessly with every woman at Stonewylde or stand around drinking cider with all the men was difficult. She must wait patiently, smiling at everyone, dancing with the men, ignoring the looks many women gave her husband and pretending she didn’t mind. She knew it was ridiculous, that he was only doing his duty as magus, but she still remembered Holly and how the girl had thrown herself at Yul. That was all so long ago now but Sylvie hated being reminded of her jealousy and negativity. So rather than hang around uselessly in the Barn watching people drinking, she’d decided to go to bed. It’d be peaceful and quiet as everyone was still down in the Village and hopefully Yul would come back soon too and leave the others to their revelry.
As she walked under the great beech trees, finally relinquishing their hold on their leaves, Sylvie breathed deeply of the cool night air. She remembered walking along this drive with Professor Siskin, and that funny way he had of skipping with excitement, babbling on about his theories and research. She wished so much that he were still alive. She often worried that her invitation to return to Stonewylde had hastened his death and wished she could see him and say sorry.
Sylvie felt his presence close as she walked along the crunchy gravel, almost sensed him by her side, a good head shorter than her and struggling to keep up with her long-legged strides. Her skin begin to prickle and she had the overwhelming feeling that he actually was walking beside her, his head cocked to one side like the little bird he was named for.
‘Professor Siskin, I’m sorry,’ she whispered. Tears choked her throat and her skin crawled with a strange emotion – almost dread. She stared straight ahead, terrified that if she did turn to look she’d see him there.
‘No matter, my dear, no matter,’ he would’ve said. Did he say it? Was she imagining the voice or was it really there? ‘Be careful, Sylvie, and look to yourself. You must fight all over again, my dear girl. You must be so strong in the dark times ahead.’
In the dark cave Leveret stirred again on her bed of dried bracken. The fire had died low and Clip still sat near the entrance, motionless in the light of the glowing embers, his mind far away from his body. He was protecting her and yet she felt alone in the darkness. She struggled to remember something vital that she’d forgotten and then, in a moment of lucidity, she realised where she was – up in the Dolmen with Clip, with the red and white magic of Fly Agaric coursing through her. But it was so late. This should’ve happened in the afternoon, so that in the evening she could …
It hit her like a punch to the stomach. It was Samhain! She’d prepared everything so she could cast a circle in the old hovel, try her very first spell, and contact Mother Heggy. Yet here she was miles away in a stone cave up in the hills with the owner of Stonewylde, her mind still spiralling out of control from the effects of the mushroom. Leveret cried out loud, a sound of utter despair. It was the Dark Moon and Samhain – goddess knew when the two would coincide again. She was in the wrong place with none of the things she needed for the spell, and she sensed with the inner Stonewylde knowledge that it was only minutes away from the magic hour of midnight. The veil would be drawn aside very soon and there was nothing she could do. She’d missed her chance to call upon Mother Heggy for help to become the new Wise Woman.
Leveret struggled to sit up in the darkness, just able to make out the motionless shape of Clip in his black-feathered cloak at the mouth of the cave. She hung her head in misery – how could she have been so stupid? How could she have misjudged it so badly? She buried her face in her hands, curls hanging down. Something brushed her shoulders in