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About this serial:
Sticky Witch is a modern fantasy tale with a mystery, myth and romance, set in Wiltshire. Rosen Pearce is a modern-day mage, capable of binding any material. She’s in high demand for fixing cracked walls and broken structures. Unfortunately, she’s also caught up in the machinations of the local covens, a magical terrorist movement and the return of the fae. In her spare time, she’s hoping to date a man who is not terrified of magic.
NB: If you are new - or have missed a few chapters - this episode is an excellent place to jump in. You’ll meet the characters and get a round-up of the plot.
First time? Start with chapter 1 here.
Missed a chapter? Here’s the full title list.
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It’s all free until the series is finished and published.
Previously on Sticky Witch:
Mundane Mages is under attack. Rosen, Tali, Beca and John have broken into the cottage to find Em and Mike unconscious and baked in clay. This is the aftermath - and Tali’s plan to find out who is behind it. You can catch up with the last episode here.
If in doubt: bake.
With enough tea on hand to sink the Cutty Sark.
After a bout of tears upstairs, Em had come down and started pounding bread dough like it had insulted her, with the teapot at her elbow. ‘For flat-bread pizzas’ apparently. In the meantime, I tiptoed around her and swept things up. The protest of broken glass and crockery made a nice counterpoint to Em’s muttering and the staccato tap of hammers from John and Mike. They were boarding up the broken window, replacing door hinges and putting the builder’s equivalent of sticking plasters over the worst of the damage. It was close to 10 pm now, and we were all wrung out.
I paused, broom in hand, to gently trace the hole punched in the wall. It was a plasterboard stud wall, the edges bowed in, like a bullet hole. I remembered painting it with Em, splattered with duck-egg blue and tipsy from cider. The radio was blaring out Beach Boys, and she was gleefully brushing sigils on the wall before I swiped over them with my paint roller. We were pain-spattered and breathless with laughter.
‘This one for parties, this one for safety, that one for spell explosions, that one for the post-spell sex...”
“Poor Mike!”
“Good point, better add stamina too...”
“Can’t you just give him ginseng tea like the rest of us?”
The house felt violated now; the memory polluted. I could understand why Em was pounding dough. Anything could have happened in the hours between their assault and our finding them.
“All done,” Beca said, wiping her feet on the kitchen back door mat.
“Leave them on”, I called out when she bent over to remove her boots. “There’s still glass on the ground.”
“O-ess. I understand. Can I help with the food at all?”
Em paused, hands in the bowl, back straight, and face towards the wall. “Did you find anything?” she asked.
“Tali did. Best let him explain it. It’s a long way from my hills, but I’ve warded the house, and neither beast, nor man, nor fae, nor spirit will enter her tonight without permission. You have our promise.”
Em sagged and started sobbing again. Beca hurried over, wiped her hands, and steered her towards the last intact chair in the room. I hovered awkwardly, but when Mike ran in to cuddle Em, I discarded the broom and moved towards the pantry. My earlier shakes had passed, and I was ravenous. Mike kept ready-baked potatoes in the freezer for emergencies like this, and I knew where the cheese and salad lived.
Tali joined me as I chopped the lettuce, scowling
“I’m in need of something to slice, Magus.”
I passed over the carrots. “Here you go. What did you find out?”
Tali leaned over to pluck a knife from the magnetic wall strip Em kept beside the cooker. He checked the edge of the blade and grunted in surprise. I half-smiled. “Mike doesn’t like blunt knives. He sharpens them to relax.”
“He would have made a good master-at-arms back in the day.”
I stabbed down on the last, innocent leaf. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“Ee-ya. With reason.” He positioned the carrot on the board and chopped it with deft strokes. Not quite a pro-chef, but not far off, either. “It’s a murky business, and I’d rather share my suspicions once, when our bellies are full.”
I picked up the cheese and the grater. “Does it involve the fae?”
“Alas, yes.”
He hunched over the vegetables and returned to chopping with a vengeance. I consulted with John and Beca, who agreed that a picnic in the sitting room was our best bet. The walls were intact, for a start, and we could sit on a thick blanket in front of the hearth. The sofa was a wreck, and Em’s favourite armchair was missing a leg. I left it leaning in the corner and hid the rest with throws. By the time Mike had coaxed Em in, we had a fire going and something passing for normalcy.
“Thanks, guys,” Em said, with a watery smile.
“All good, cyw.“ Beca said, waving a teapot. “Diota?”
“I need something stronger than tea.”
“I’m glad ta hear it. This is Long Island Iced Tea, and I made it strong. So, Tali, ye’d better hurry with your plans and suspicions. It’s been quite a day already an’ we need to relax.”
Pete chose that moment to fly in and perch on the armchair with a satisfied croak. We all looked expectantly at the bard, who smoothed down his waistcoat and tilted his glasses.
“We’re dealing with enemies on two separate fronts here,” he began. “Magus - Rosen here was kidnapped by Malcolm Anderson, who has links to Malborough Trust.”
John sat up straight at that name.
“That’s what he said,” I agreed. “And he definitely has some sort of verbal magic; I found myself compelled to do whatever he suggested. I burned out my powers trying to magically imbue an iron circlet.” I didn’t know what my face revealed with that sentence, but Em leaned over to squeeze my arm.
“The compulsion is an old fae trick,” Tali said. “I can’t be sure, but he would need some fae ancestry to make it work.”
“Not a spell, then?” Mike asked, setting down his plate.
“Na, too many variables,” Beca chimed in. “Innate magic flexes in a way yer ni all do with spellcraft.”
“Magic 101,” Em agreed. “If you don’t have a spell focus, you don’t have results. But the Malborough Trust bit is interesting. I’ve run across it before.”
“With fae?” I asked. “Or Arthurian legends? That’s what Anderson was on about. Everyone knows that massive mound in the college grounds is linked to Merlin.”
She frowned. “No. With Gia. One of the old police reports. I’ll have to dig it out.”
“I know them,” John said. “A lot of academic contacts and a lot of money. They’ve been cropping up on my radar for years. The actual Trust is a corporation, separate from the Malborough Mound charity: that’s the public face of Malborough archaeology. I’m on the steering group for the new site investigation they’re planning, and they are very open about what they are doing. The Malbrough Trust, on the other hand, sponsors a lot of different stuff without saying why.”
“Dodgy stuff?” Mike asked.
“No, just scattered. Like grants for research into medieval folklore, geological dowsing around Bristol and magical manipulation of stem cells in bio sciences. Aside from magic, there’s nothing connecting them together.”
“Which leads me to the second enemy front,” Tali went on. “We already know whoever attacked Em and Mike had magic. I’m fairly certain it was fae and witches working together. Fae can’t stand iron, but I found it in two places: an iron rod disrupting the earth around your house and iron filings on all the doorsteps and windowsills. However, the memory loss and clay bindings are typically fae.”
“Could a human do it?” Mike asked. His tone was probing rather than angry, and I could almost see the thoughts in his head: “Better check before we run down this road without a compass.”
“If pushed, yes,” Tali conceded. “But it would take all of us assembled here. A group of weekend wand-wavers would not manage it.”
John held out his mug for the cocktail teapot, and Beca poured. “The timing was not a coincidence. Three of us attacked with fae magic and links to underground Arthurian legends.”
“So we’ve got method, means and opportunity,” Mike agreed. “I’m still not clear on the motive. Why us? Why Roz? There’s got to be other practitioners they could target instead.”
Beca screwed up her face, whilst Tali looked down at his plate.
“Yer kinda notorious,” she said. “Ever since the circle death an’ siren at the docks. People keep talkin’ bout Roz’s power. An’ the Williams are a big name round here. Everyone knows Em is a material witch. If I were a betting wight, I’d choose this firm to solve the iron problem. One set went after Rosen. The others after your group’s home base. Since yer still alive an’ nothing’s been stolen I reckon they came for knowledge.”
There was a slight, depressed pause. Pete hopped down and strutted around the blanket, inspecting the plates.
“So: Gia. Covens. Malborough Trust. Fae. The bloody Government,” Em said, ticking them off her fingers. “Did I forget anyone?”
I waved away the raven who was angling for the cheese crumbs on my lap. “Mark. Although he’s in prison, and he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“He wouldn’t mean to,” John muttered darkly. “Face it, Roz, your brother has high intentions and low morals. He’d break the world if it meant he could figure out how it worked.”
“So we’re caught up in a mad, magical experiment?” Em said, settling back against Mike, who hugged her to him. The food and drink had worked their charms on her, and she looked calmer.
“No”, Tali said, pushing away his plate. “We’re at war, and we need to start acting like we are. You are all lucky to have survived so far.”
Mine and John’s phones buzzed at the same time. We pulled it out. “It’s Latika,” he said, glancing up at me. “I’ll fill her in - you guys strategise.”
I swiped on my own phone’s screen. Latika’s message appeared.
“Just got back from friends: had no phone on me.
What’s going on? 15 missed calls!
U OK?
John’s mad.”
I texted back. “Magic attack. John will tell U. Stay safe.”
“Ahem,” Tali coughed. I looked up.
“Apart from Anderson, we don’t know exactly who is behind this, but we know they’re out in the community, and we know what they want,” he went on. “Magical iron.”
“Which we don’t have,” Mike pointed out.
“But they don’t know that,” Em said, sitting up. “And they do know I’m capable of making spells out of spite.”
“Spell-bait,” I said, smiling.
“Yes,” Tali agreed. “But it will take time to build the trap. So, I’m proposing Beca stays here to protect you until it happens.”
He turned to me. “And you should stay with her.”
I scrunched my nose. I loved Em, but we’d kill each other in two days if we had to share a bathroom. “Can’t we add another gargolye to my house and I lay low?”
“No,” everyone said in almost perfect harmony.
“You’ve got no magic,” Em added.
“I’ll go nuts if I stay indoors. We’ve still got the Malborough connection to research, plus the Rollerstone survey next week. Can’t I stay with John?”
Everyone looked at John, who groaned. “Fine. But you’re going to Em’s on Wednesday, when I have my date night.”
“I can do one better,” Tali said thoughtfully. “Pete - you’re staying with Roz.”
Oh hell, no.
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