‘Sooner we get started, the better, then.’
IN THE CORNER of the hovel there was a small oblong piece of wood that the hermit used as a table. It had no legs, but rested on four stones. Lizzie knelt before it, swept the plates and cups off with the back of her hand, then wiped the surface carefully with the hem of her skirt. Next, slowly and reverentially, she placed the leather egg on the wooden surface.
I couldn’t bear to look at it. I’d a really bad feeling that Lizzie was dabbling in something really dangerous. But it was a waste of time telling her that – before I knew it I’d have sprogs clawing their way up my nose and into my ears. So I kept quiet and backed away a little.
She beckoned the hermit across and, with some difficulty, he knelt down opposite her, with the table between them. I heard his knees creak and his face twisted in pain. He positioned his hand directly above the egg so that the crystal at the end of the piece of string was suspended just a couple of inches above it.
‘I’m ready,’ he said. ‘Ask your first question. The crystal will spin clockwise for a yes and against the clock for a no.’
‘Does this egg belong to the dark?’ Lizzie asked, wasting no time.
The crystal jerked into motion and began to spin clockwise. No surprise to me, that.
‘That’s a yes,’ said the hermit.
‘Ain’t blind, am I?’ snapped Lizzie. ‘Shut your gob, old man, and let me do the talking. Now for my second question: Can this egg bestow magical power on its owner?’
Once again the crystal spun clockwise, and for the first time in days Lizzie smiled.
‘How can the owner get this power?’ she asked, forgetting herself for the first time. Of course, it was a question that couldn’t be answered by a simple yes or no, so the crystal didn’t move.
Her mouth began to twitch at the corners, and her eyes rolled up into her head – which was a sign that she was concentrating, working out what to do next. It made her look uglier than ever, and twice as daft as any village idiot. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so frightened of that egg.
Suddenly Lizzie opened her eyes wide, muttered a spell under her breath and spat into the old hermit’s face. His jaw dropped in astonishment, but he gave no other reaction.
‘I’ve wasted too much time on this foolish yes-and-no business.’ She stared into his face: by now his eyes appeared glassy, as if he were no longer seeing anything. ‘Now you are the egg . . . Be it! Become it now! Just tell me what I need to know!’
This was something new. I’d never seen Lizzie do anything like this before. Sometimes her power surprised me.
‘What’s this spell called?’ I asked.
‘Quiet, girl!’ she snarled at me. ‘Can’t you see that I’m trying to concentrate!’
Then she continued speaking, looking at the egg rather than at the hermit.
‘I want your power. What do you need in exchange?’ she demanded. ‘Do you need blood?’
The crystal began to spin in a clockwise direction for a yes.
‘How much blood?’
The string didn’t even twitch. Instead the hermit opened his mouth and spoke, but his voice was different now. It sounded like the growl of an animal, though the words were clear enough: they sent a chill down my spine.
‘Give me the heart’s blood of seven human children on the night of a full moon. Give me thirteen witches united in that deed, and I will give the one who holds the egg her heart’s desire! More power than she has ever dreamed of. Once my need is met, let her think only upon what she wishes, and it will be done within seven days.’
My heart sank and my throat tightened against a feeling of nausea. Lizzie wouldn’t hesitate to do what was required. Seven children were going to be snatched from their parents and slain so that she could get her way.
‘That can be done easily enough,’ Lizzie said with a smirk. ‘Now tell me exactly what you are!’
‘What I am is not for you to know,’ the voice growled from the throat of the hermit. ‘And remember that you cannot do this alone. It is the work of a full coven of thirteen combining its strength!’
I saw the anger in Lizzie’s face. She didn’t want to share power with her coven. But it seemed that she had no choice.
We left right away, and set off down the hill. Lizzie seemed determined to cover as much ground as possible before dawn. Surprisingly she left the hermit alive. I guessed she thought he might be of use again one day.
As dawn approached we were heading east, the sea visible on our right-hand side. We found a refuge in a small wood, and Lizzie sent me out to hunt for rabbits. When I came back, she had a small fire going, and I cleaned and gutted the rabbits and cooked them on a spit while she sat cross-legged before the flames, her eyes closed.
We ate in silence, but every so often Lizzie would shudder, her eyes rolling up into her head to leave only the whites staring blindly at the fire. When she finally spoke, she seemed to be just thinking aloud.
‘Ain’t going back to the Malkin coven with this,’ she muttered, lifting the leather egg out of her bag and clutching it to her bosom. ‘Not going to share this with anyone. The power’s all going to be mine.
‘But only two of us, there are, just me and a girl who’s too young to count. So I needs twelve other witches to form a new coven. Witches who ain’t too bright and won’t expect anything but blood. They’re dangerous to work with, our slimy sisters are, but it could be done . . . It might just work!’
Lizzie never bothered to explain her plan to me. She didn’t sleep that day, and we set off well before dusk. We were quite close to the sea, but the tide was a long way out, and at first all I could see was mile upon mile of flat sands. Then I saw a group of people in the distance, heading towards the shore. There seemed to be a coach and horses down there as well.
‘It’s a dangerous short cut across the sand,’ Lizzie told me. ‘Though there’s a guide who leads parties across, including coaches. We witches have to go round the bay the long way, because at times you have to wade through salt water. Best move on, girl, before they reach the shore and see us!’
However, just as we set off again, there was the sound of barking from the party crossing the sands, and Lizzie pulled me down into a clump of bushes.
‘Could it be? Could it be . . .?’ she whispered. ‘Might just be farm dogs . . . but could I be that lucky? Could I really? Sometimes things are just meant to be, and this could be one of ’em!’