Jack of Ravens

14

Lucia woke at first light, swathed in a gradually fading warmth and hallucinogenic memories of startling potency that already felt like the remnants of a dream. The liminal zone between the snow-covered fields and the dark recesses of Myddlewood was deserted. Nor were there even footprints to signify that anyone had been there apart from her and Niamh.

Trying to draw some understanding from half-remembered visions, Lucia followed her own tracks back to the village. Smoke from morning fires was already rising into the chill red sky, but behind the cries of the winter birds hunting for food there was another sound that she couldn’t quite distinguish.

On the edge of the village, the doors of Tyler’s farmhouse hung open despite the cold, and as she passed the parsonage heading towards Castle Farm House where her room was, she came across a small gathering of villagers. They were animated and tempers were fraying. John Gossage was yelling at the parson, who was attempting to calm them down.

As she drew near, she saw a familiar figure hunched in the centre of the crowd. It was Jerzy, not wearing his mask. His white, grinning face was contorted with fear as blows and kicks rained down on him.

‘Leave him alone!’ Lucia yelled.

As she ran forward to intervene, a hooded figure stepped out from under the eaves of Castle Farm House and pointed an accusing finger at her.

‘Here she is — the witch!’ he shouted. ‘She’s come to call on the demon she’s summoned up!’

The knot of villagers surged towards Lucia, men and women, young and old, and dragged her forward in a storm of scratching, pinching and biting. Stunned, Lucia was driven to her knees before the parson.

‘A witch in our midst!’ John Gossage raged. ‘She has brought the Devil to Myddle! You must act now, before it is too late for our souls!’

The parson nodded. Take her to the churchyard. We must ask our Lord to deliver to us the truth. Bind her mouth to prevent her uttering spells.’

‘Leave her be! She has done nothing!’ Jerzy shrieked, but it only inflamed the villagers more.

As Lucia was dragged towards the churchyard, her eyes locked on those of the hooded man who had branded her a witch. He smiled darkly.

‘Better late than never,’ Veitch said.