The Return of the Witch Read Online Free PDF Page B

laughing. And I heard my sister witches from the four corners of the earth calling my name. And above it all I heard one clear, strong voice, and she uttered just one single word.
    Fly!
    And I thought of Elizabeth, and of how she had taken my hand and led me up into the night sky and together we had soared aloft, swooping and diving and climbing and gliding.
    And I flew.
    And when finally I landed back on the cliff top, the old man was gone.

 
    3
    Over the following days we were able to fully turn our attention to our defenses. The moon was waxing as we neared the end of the month. Although the spring equinox was still some weeks off, and despite the snow, there was a sense of spring, of burgeoning life, of renewal and growth. It was a fitting time to make an offering to the Goddess and ask for her protection. In the kitchen, we assembled the items that would form part of our ritual, such as candles, incense water from the sacred pool, sprigs of thyme and lavender, and a small square of silk. We waited until the dark of night had cloaked the village entirely. In the garden to the rear of the cottage was my altar, formed of hedge and stone and spring, where Tegan had once before seen Gideon’s true nature reflected in the water. As we lit our ceremonial white candles the cold air made the flames pulsate, casting their own tiny dancing shadows. I looked into the flames and thought of the fire in Batchcombe Woods that night five years ago. Had it been daytime, from the top of the low hill behind the house we could have seen the treetops of that forest, seemingly undisturbed by what had happened, though there would still be some trees that bore the scars of the blaze. The air was perfumed by the oily incense. Tegan began reciting the prayer to the Goddess, imploring her to lend us her strength, to warn us of danger, to shield us with her steadfast love. As she spoke I crumbled the herbs into the center of the silk, folded its edges inward, and then set its corner to the candle flame. The fabric spat and flared, and as it burned I dropped it into the pool.
    â€œBless us with your wisdom,” I called gently. “Arm us with your power. Show us what we must guard against.”
    We leaned forward together and peered into the pool. The surface rippled and blotched as it swallowed up the dying embers and ash of the offering. The glossy water at first merely reflected the moon’s fading light, but then it altered, becoming first a rosy pink, then a hot orange and, lastly, a vivid scarlet. This redness, startling and bright, did not sit upon the water smoothly, but caused it to boil and bubble as if great heat were being applied beneath it. I gasped as a rancid odor burst up in the steam the bubbles gave off. Tegan and I staggered backward, recoiling from the smell, not wanting to inhale the noxious fumes. She turned to me, unable to stop herself saying what we both felt.
    â€œHe’s close, and he means us both harm. In fact, I’d say he means us both dead. Well, I guess we asked,” she added with an attempt at lightheartedness that was not entirely successful.
    Neither of us wanted to speak again of what had been revealed to us that night, though we were both all too aware of its significance. What was there to say? Gideon’s shadow preceded him. It fell upon us even in the brightest sunlight, or under the soft cloak of night’s darkness. The threat of his presence was a constant in our lives. It was, after all, why we had asked the Goddess for her help. It was why we did not venture out alone. It was why the slightest sound would rouse me from my sleep. It was why Tegan kept her beloved carved wooden staff close at hand wherever she went. Two days later we worked in the kitchen all day, turning the last of the winter store of apples into chutney. It was a peaceful, undemanding task, the rewards of which we would enjoy over the coming months. At the end of our labors the room still smelled