Sticky Witch V

Welcome to Avebury Henge

Rosen is part of a team of Material Practitioners (that’s a ‘witch' without the religious bit), engaged in house restoration, protection, and charmwork. Something magical is rippling through the ground in SouthWest England, toppling houses and henges alike. More ominously, she is being targeted for investigating it. Catch up with last week’s episode or read (for free) from the beginning.

“Still sulking?” Mike asked through the helmet mic. We stopped due to roadworks, and judging by the queue of cars, we would be there for some time. He put down the kickstand and turned off the engine before tapping my helmet visor.

I had been furious since we left Bath, but riding on the passenger seat of a motorbike doesn’t give you much opportunity to vent it. If we had taken the car, I could’ve used folded arms, facial grimaces and long, huffy sighing. The best I could do astride the road hog was an icy silence.

“You burned our bridges when you flirted with Sue,” I complained. “That agency manages the top residences of Bath - we could’ve had years of work from them. She’s going to be too embarrassed to call us now. Why the hell did you do it?”

Mike winced. “I know I’ve told you to be honest, but watch the tone, Rosen. This is still my firm.”

I fretted but kept my silence. He’d been an absolute plonker in Sion Hill.

After a moment, Mike spoke again. “I did it as an insurance policy,” he said. “We had a Grade II listed house with historic artwork and an angry ghost. If it caused any damage, we would be on the hook to pay it.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve got company coverage for that. Besides, I can usually fix anything that gets broken.”

“Our coverage only goes up to a million quid, Rosen. And yes, your mending skills were one of the reasons I brought you on the job. However, that would only work if Sue agreed to it instead of suing us. Hence the flirting.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t worry about Sue. I’ll send John around with flowers and an apology tomorrow, and he will be our liaison in the future.”

I groaned.

“Unless you want the job?”

That shut me up double-quick. I had skills but sweet-talking clients was not one of them. John diplomatically called me ‘unpolished’ whilst Em settled for “pricklier than a hedgehog’s arse.”

At that moment, the queue moved forward, and Mike turned his attention back to the road.

*

The key thing to remember about Avebury is that the earthworks and circles were here first. During the Middle Ages, the village and the roads crept into the centre like a cuckoo in the nest. The priests of the time thought that the stones were devil magic.

They were half-right.

We met Latika and John in the new, fenced-off car park. John was humming loudly, ignoring the stares from a busload of Japanese tourists whilst Latika rubbed her temples.

“Gum?” I offered, holding out a packet of mints.

She held up her wrists, each with a small purple compression band on them. “Travel sickness bands.” She gave me a weak smile. “John said it would be bad, but I didn’t understand his explanation about why.”

I nodded with complete sympathy. “He gets carried away sometimes. Let me guess – he mentioned magical substations?”

“Yep.”

“OK, think about it this way. Stone circles are the equivalent of a bathtub. They regulate magic, like we’d run a bath, and if you dip a magical practitioner in the circle, they can use the energy.”

Latika nodded, relieved. I held up a finger.

“The problem is, the amount of power in the land is a lot more than any single mage can handle. The stones make it safer by staggering the power’s flow –“

“Like bath taps.”

“ – yep – but the stones were down at the weekend. So we’ve got the equivalent of a burst pipe.”

Latika’s smile faded. “Oh.”

“You’ve got it. Floating people, exploding houses and talking trees. It was wild up here when magic first came back.”

Mike joined us, shaking his head like a dog with a tick once the helmet was off. “I’m going to have tinnitus for days,” he grumbled. “C’mon. Jack’s on sentry duty so we can skate through.”

We still had to endure the ID queue. Jack spotted us behind the tourists and waved us through the side gate. He was a long and lanky witch who belonged to the Berwick Basset coven and could be relied upon for games night.

“It’s bad today, mate,” John greeted him.

“Mass build-up,” Jack agreed, rubbing his silver lip piercing. “Normies are staying near the Manor House and mages-only near the stones, whatever you call yourself. Half of my lot’s already in there, and we’re looking at a ritual grounding this afternoon. I need your keys, coins, belts, phones and penknives, ladies and gents.”

“Daylight robbery,” Mike retorted automatically as he tossed his wallet into the proffered plastic tray. “I’m keeping my credit cards.”

“Suits me,” Jack shrugged. “First pint’s mine.”

“The pub’s still open?” Latika said, open-mouthed and fascinated.

“Yeah,” John said, pulling off his belt with one hand. “Staffed by a bunch of bloody Wiccans. No one stays overnight any more. If they offer to read your palm, say no.”

“They’re not that bad,” I said, jigging my belt buckle. The downside of my gift is that sometimes things get stuck without me realising. “Just naïve.”

“Naïve is fine for the tourist tat down at Wookey Hole,” John snapped back. “It’s not great when you are standing on the mages version of the Manhattan Project.”

His voice rose on the final words, causing everyone to stare.

Jack frowned and shooed away the tourists who were staring, herd-like, in our direction.

I leaned in towards him. “Want to wait in the car, sensai? It’s hitting me hard today, too.”

“Be fine once we get inside,” John grunted. I glanced over at Mike, who seemed equally worried. John’s gift meant he would feel the Avebury magic more keenly than the rest of us, but I’d never seen him look so agitated before.

Jack hesitated, then pulled a small copper bell from his coat pocket. He handed it to Mike. “Any problems, ring this. My coven’ll pull you out.”

Mike raised his eyebrows but accepted the bell without comment. We walked silently past the tour groups, each with a guide and down the main high street. I recognised most of the people standing around in the road. Local groups and single hedge witches in a mix of regular clothes and formal robes. They were standing in clusters and every so often, one person would peel off from a group to join another.

“They’re hiving,” John said quietly.

“Yes,” I agreed, my mouth dry.

“What’s hiving?” Latika asked.

Mike stowed the bell in his pocket and pulled out a long, knotted cord that he wrapped around his fist. He gave the end to Latika. “Don’t touch anyone’s skin at the moment,” he instructed. “And hiving is what us lot do when there’s magic in the air.”

“Why’s that bad?”

I cricked my neck and shook out my hands. “Because people are panicky emotional animals, Lat. When the magic is this strong, it forces groupthink on mages and spirals out of control. That’s when you get riots, sacrifices and sword-in-the-stone shit. Plus, you’re an empath. You’ll probably get everyone’s memories for free.”

“Oh.”

Mike gently tugged her along. Without speaking, John and I fell in behind her.

“Was it this bad at the weekend?” I said in a low undertone.

“No,” he whispered back. Now, we were past the first ring of outer stones; he seemed himself again. “But the build-up takes time, so you’d expect it to manifest as crazy-crack stuff now.”

I glanced at the newest shark-toothed menhir, brought from Wales to replace the ones that had been destroyed over the centuries. It was tall and pale with artistic spirals carved on its surface. I disliked the newcomers; it made me feel that the stones were a giant trap, about to snap shut.

Mike glanced at us over his shoulder. “I want to learn more about this grounding ritual, so I’m going to the pub,” he said. “You do your stone-prodding thing!”

“Very funny,” I said with a ghost of a smile. John nudged me with his shoulder, and we peeled off towards the inner southern circle.

The original stones here were smaller and more irregular – think stumps – interspersed with cubes of golden bath stone to mark the missing members. A house had once backed into the diameter, and its broken walls marked the northern boundary. There was a group inside the circle chanting around a couple. The woman – I think – was sitting, wrapped in a white fleece blanket topped with a pink felt hat. She looked like a fluffy ice cream cone. The man stood next to her: his arm wrapped around her shoulder in support.

The coven was organised. Whilst the leading group wailed away inside, they had four sentries drifting around the outside. One of them came over to intercept us, a wild-eyed, grey-haired witch with a coat over his loose, black robes. I noted with amusement that he wore sandals and his toes were turning blue.

“Can you stay out till we’ve finished?” he asked.

John nodded. “Knock yourselves out. I want to know where the surge came from so I won’t be in the circle. Give Cynthia my regards. What spell is it?”

The guy winced. “Life extension. She’s got cancer.”

I sucked in a breath, and John slapped me on the arm before I could speak.

Good luck,” he replied. “We’ll trace outside the stones.”

The man wandered off as John pulled out his birch dowsing rods.

“That’s not ethical!” I hissed at John, nodding over at the group.

“If it’s all voluntary, there’s nothing we can do,” he snapped. “It looks like a married couple. If he wants to donate some of his life to lengthen hers, that is on them. Watch my back and focus on why we’re here.”

I subsided.

John duckwalked from the most southerly stone towards the outer rim of the Henge. He stopped every so often with his face screwed up in concentration, shifting in micro-movements to the left and right. I shadowed him, making sure he did not stumble or fall over anything in the landscape.

Not that it mattered. John veered right, then right again, walking in a tight circle. Puzzled, he tried the next stone, then the next.

“You’re spiralling,” I said in a sugar-sweet voice.

John gave me a deadpan stare. “Yes. I’m getting the equivalent of ‘return to sender.’ It hasn’t happened to me in years.”

Behind us, in the circle, people started screaming.

Read Part 6