Sticky Witch VII
Shifting the blame: the aftermath of Avebury's magical surge.
Rosen is part of a team of Material Practitioners engaged in house restoration, protection, and charmwork. Something magical is moving through SouthWest England, toppling houses and henges alike. She’s recovering from a self-inflicted heart attack after a magical surge at Avebury Circle that ended in a man’s death. Catch up with the last episode or read (for free) from the beginning.
John strode into the room, the slight jerk to his steps betraying his anger. Behind him trailed Latika, her expression a mix of fear, anger and defiance.
“Joh, I’m sorry-” I started.
He held up his left hand to stop me. His right held a half-full brandy glass.
“Whatever you say in the next few hours will be under scrutiny, understand?” he said, speaking fast and quietly. “Don’t apologise, don’t accept blame, don’t say anything more than you must. Cecelia’s covering her backside by blaming you.”
I was glad I was already lying down.
“I don’t understand,” I protested, my mind silent with shock.
John slumped on the bench beside my cot and sipped from his glass.
“It’s simple,” he said after a pause. “She was careless and greedy enough to risk a healing transfer in a re-established circle before the power had settled. Now the police are involved, we’re looking at criminal charges and she’s saying you killed him.”
Latika spoke up.
“She’s jealous of you, Rosen. Kept saying that you balanced more power than the whole coven, so of course, the old man couldn’t take it.”
I licked my lips. “He was magically aged before I touched him,” I retorted. “I was pumping magic into his heart to keep him alive.”
John sighed. “We all saw the flare-up, Rosen. Heck, everyone within the village felt it. Lass, how much magic have you been using on the house jobs?”
I sat up and plucked the glass from his fingertips. The brandy burned down my throat like a blessing.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “When I’m deep in concentration and down to the last crack, I just reach for that bit more. We get paid by the job, not the hour, so I pack as much as possible before I take a break.”
“Sounds like you’re chasing a stroke,” Latika said critically. Her hand hovered over my chest.
“Go for it,” I said with a sigh. “Em’s going to do it anyway.”
Latika flattened her palm against my collarbone and slid her fingers under my T-shirt. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes darkened as she drank from my surface memories. I watched her face screw up as she experienced the magical blowback, and her eyebrows creased as she slid back further into my attempts at CPR. With a disbelieving scoff, she sat back and shook out her fingertips.
“What’s the verdict?” John said, trying and failing for flippant.
“She’s lucky to be alive,” Latika said absently. “But I can’t sense any damage beyond general shock. The guy was dying before she touched him, but we’ll have a problem proving that, as she made his heart explode.”
“And it’s our word against the coven’s,” John said heavily. “Crap!”
I looked glumly at the empty brandy glass and put it on the seat beside me. “What about the other normie in the circle?” I asked. “The lady who survived? She saw it all.”
“Her name’s Charlotte, and she’s in shock, too,” Latika replied. “Keeps touching her hair and face. She told me they went in the circle, she felt better, and he fell. Then everyone started screaming, and you ran in like a lunatic.”
“Cecilia was trying to keep him alive,” I added. “She asked, I helped.”
John fell silent, his eyes tracing the patterned wallpaper above my head.
“Ok,” he said at last. “Rosen, play it straight when the police take your statement. Say that you followed Ceclia’s lead as the head witch in the ritual and helped with CPR.” He held up one lean finger, like Solomon's judgement. “Don’t mention hearts, magic or anything else unless they ask you. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said. “John…?”
“Yeah?”
“Was there any way to save him? If it’d been Em on-site instead of me?”
John considered it for a minute before shaking his head. “No, Rosen. When you’ve got a surge like that, you hold on and hope for the best. Even if the man hadn’t been aged, he might still have had a heart attack from the overload. You can’t beat yourself up thinking about what might have been.’
“OK,” I said, relieved.
The connecting door banged open, and Liam poked his head in. “We’ve got another ambulance ready,” he said. “It’s in the main car park.”
“I’ll get Mike,” John responded.
Latika pulled out her phone, which had buzzed. “Em’s here,” she said. “I’ll go and meet her before she hexes everyone. There’s a lot of rumours flying around about you, Roz.”
“That bad?” Liam asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” we all said in unison.
“Ah, OK.”
John and Latika scuttled out the door, leaving me alone with the handsome scruff. I took a moment to admire his shoulders - did he work out? – before shuffling off the cot.
“Can you stand up?” Liam asked.
“I’m a bit shaky,” I admitted.
“Here – let me help you.”
I nestled in and enjoyed his smell—a slight hint of musk, woodsmoke, sweat, and antiseptic. Underneath all that was a touch of frankincense.
“You don’t have to answer, but have you got magic in your family?” I asked carefully.
Liam’s eyes crinkled. “Mom and my sister. That’s why we came to the UK.”
“And why you got the short straw on the shift today,” I guessed.
Liam laughed, his eyes creasing a little.
“You were the easiest of the lot! They’re swearing the air blue over in the barn. Besides” – he walked me the few steps to the bar door – “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about with you.”
Before I could ask more questions, Mike propped open the door and swept me up in a lift carry. The room fell quiet, and I saw everyone staring at us. If the crowd was an animal, it had not decided to attack yet.
“C’mon,” Mike muttered to Liam. “Quickly.”
A few seconds more, we were out the door.