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I’m back after a month’s hiatus - creative burnout, plus a heatwave. Here’s the next instalment of the adventure.
About this series
Sticky Witch is a modern British fantasy yarn, set in Wiltshire (yes, the place with Stonehenge). Magic is an accepted part of society, and our narrator - Rosen Pearce - spends most of her time as a construction mage. Unfortunately, her entire firm has been caught up in a hidden war between witches and fae, and wild magic is spinning out of control.
It’s getting messy.
First time? Start with chapter 1 here.
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Previously on Sticky Witch:
Rosen is still recovering from her kidnapping and forced spellwork, which burned out her magic. Meanwhile, she’s working on an MOD contract to hunt out ghosts in an abandoned village, and she’s just run across the mysterious Todd Bright again.
It should be easy. Todd commissioned me to find bay leaves - green, glossy things on bushes capable of growing tree height. We were standing in a deserted former village, with a few breeze-block buildings and no other barriers.
Hah! Yeah. It’s the things that you don’t see coming that kill you in my world.
The soldier’s warning from my drop-off earlier proved prescient. I finally twigged what he meant by UXO - unexploded ordnance - such as shell fragments, grenades, rockets and phosphorus flares. The ground was littered with them, as were the buildings. As long as I stayed on the cracked and worn road, I could side-step the rusted cylinders that looked like the rusted teardrops of a giant.
Stepping into the grass offered me no such protection. There, they lurked out of sight, sheltered by the land’s irregular surface and camouflaged in mud. At best, I risked a twisted ankle. At worst, I would die and face a tongue-lashing from Em via the ouji-board.
So I split the difference. I veered off the road onto a grass trail track made by smaller creatures and picked up a branch to sweep ahead of my feet. It was still risky, but I had a better chance of keeping my feet intact. I stumbled forward, branch going first. Two, three, four steps.
“What are you doing, Magus!?”
I jumped as Todd’s hand landed on my shoulder. He sounded three-parts angry and one-part incredulous. A moment later, I was being swept up in a Princess carry, and he was pivoting back to the path. From my angle, I could only see a furrowed brow and flared nose. Then, he whistled, and the wind blew straight past us, flattening the grass and showing the sheer numbers of shells I had walked past. Plus, what looked like an old rocket.
I felt sick.
We reached the concrete, and Todd dumped me at his feet. “That was immensely stupid, Ms Pierce.”
I stood up from the half-crouch and rubbed the back of my neck. The blush had already spread to my cheeks, and I felt small, hot and very embarrassed. “I-I thought you wanted bay leaves…”
Todd’s eyes widened, and he looked ready to explode.
“Did you not see the bush on the left as you enter the village? I’m not the type of scoundrel to ask you to leave the road.”
My heart sank even lower.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Can you show me where it is?”
He sighed and took my hand. “You’ve got to stop rushing into suicide situations, Magus. One of these days, I won’t be around to help you.” He gently tugged me forward, and I found myself trotting to keep up: two strides of my shorter legs to match his length.
“I’ve managed up until now,” I retorted. “And can you call me Rosen? Or Mrs Pierce? It’s weird for you to call me Magus when I’m wearing boots and a yellow vis jacket”
He half-smiled at that, and I grinned back. “Very well - erm, Rosen.”
The bush loomed up at the corner, and I felt even more foolish for missing it. In my defence, I spend more time on bricks than shrubbery, and I was looking for ghosts when I entered the village. Todd did not waste any time, producing a folding pruning knife from his pocket, with an evil curve. We cut several branches, left tobacco as an offering at the roots, and trudged back to the graveyard. I knelt back on my haunches and watched Todd weave the branches into a circle. With a hint of ceremony, he dug the bamboo cup out of my bag and placed it at the centre.
“I’ll sing the invocation song; you pour the wine when it ends,” he instructed me. “Right,” I nodded, a little nervous. My firm did not go in for formal rituals.
Todd hummed as he lowered his hands to the wreath and it burst into flames. I stepped back, coughed and wiped my eyes, which were now stinging from the smoke. Todd stayed where he was and started singing. I recognised the melody - Lavender’s Blue, Dilly, Dilly - but the words were unknown to me. It could have been old English; it could have been something else. It certainly wasn’t the nursery rhyme I had been taught. He sounded wistful, even sad, staring at the grave. I took a moment to trace the line of his cheek and mouth before looking again at the wreath.
Something moved beyond the smoke. I could see a shape forming; arms, legs, and head like a gingerbread man being woven from air.
Repeating the refrain, Todd poured beer into the cup.
The shade was becoming more substantial now: I could see fingers forming, with calluses, wrinkles, and dirt under the nails. The hands moved, grabbing the cup and bringing it up the body. Now I could see the clothing as the cup moved: heavy-duty canvas trousers, secured by a belt, the cotton shirt, slightly open at the collar, the corduroy jacket and the cap. He was clean-shaven, with expressive eyebrows that furrowed as he drained the cup.
“Good to see you, old mucker,” Todd said, standing and stretching. His breath came out in a gust of warm air, and I realised I had started hugging my torso as the temperature had plunged.
Albert dropped the cup back into the charred wreath’s circle.
“Same, mate,” he said. I had a weird moment of dissonance; although Albert’s lips moved, the words arrived in my brain without reaching my ears. It was like watching an old movie where the soundtrack was out of sync with the actors.
“Your bird?” he went on, and I realised they were talking about me.
“Just colleagues,” I said hastily. Albert looked at me blankly, and I amended my words. “Friends, I mean.”
The shade made a face. “I know what you mean. So you’re Todd’s posh bird, then, but your family don’t know? Or are you stringing him along?”
“We’re trying to find a ghost,” Todd injected. Albert chuckled at that and patted his chest. “Best bobbish ghost in the parish at your service.” He was becoming more substantial by the minute, but I was freezing. I curled my fingers into my sleeves and bobbed from foot to foot.
“We’re hoping you can help us,” I said. “There’s been reports of bullets curving around the village and misfires. And someone crying. Could you take a look?”
Albert stared at me for a long moment, then at Todd. “Usual payment, then?”
Todd nodded. “One favour, requested within one month.” He glanced at my open mouth and tugged on my sleeve. I closed it.
“Don’ need a month,” Albert grumbled. “Fresh flowers on mine and Ray’s graves. That’ll do.”
“Deal.”
Albert touched the front of his cap with gentle courtesy and faded from view. A bird flew overhead, and something squawked in the bushes. The churchyard remained deathly cold. I saw a rabbit hop down the road and a squirrel scuttled from branch to branch in the nearby trees.
Todd broke the awkward silence. “Ray’s over that way. Albert’s great-nephew.”
“Oh.”
”He’s one of the last buried here.”
”Right.” I bit my lip. “I’m not stringing you along.” I stared at his left elbow. “I just don’t know enough about you, aside from the mysterious powers and stalking.”
Todd chuckled. “Let’s fix that then. May I take you to dinner, Rosen Pierce?”
My cheeks flamed. “Er, like a date? Or something else?”
“If you wish.”
He was staring at the sky too, with a Gods, this was awkward. The nap of his neck had turned red and I could see his throat bob nervously.
“Go to the Kings Arms. My missus loved it when we were stepping out.”
We both spun around. Albert was standing there, sheltering a small girl by his side. She was dressed in an old-fashioned smock, with tangled hair. He was grinning.
“This is Lillibet,” he went on. “She woke up and the guns scared her. She’s looking for her mam.”
The girl hid her face.
Todd sighed. “Does she need a guide home?” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small silver pipe. I squinted. Was that’s Tali’s pipe? They looked similar.
Albert shuffled forward and lay an etheral hand on Todd’s chest. Todd gave an involuntary shiver. I could feel the cold raidating off Albert from where I stood next to him - it must’ve been like Frosty the Snowman giving him a pat-down.
“There’s something queer going on,” Albert said with quiet intensity. “Lilibet’s older n’ me - I reckon at least a century. And I could sense two or three others stirring too. The land’s unsettled. Like the earth after ploughing.”
“The fae,” I blurted out. Both men stared at me. “They’re coming back.”
Albert shrugged. “Not my wheelhouse,” he said. “But as long as there’s a forge, there’s a place they can’t touch.” He picked up Lillibet and cradled her in his arms, looking at us both expectantly.
I nodded. Todd touched his hand to his head in a semiformal salute. “Thanks, Albert.” He raised the flute to his lips. “Sleep well.”