Page 50 of Familiar of the Witch

Finally someone in a sharp pinstripe suit banged a gavel. He wore no cloak, and clearly worked for the auction house. The room was galvanised into action and there was an audible buzz as everyone moved towards the chairs. Bastion and I picked two chairs at the end of the aisle, close to the walls and escape – if we needed it. It’s not paranoia when they really are out to get you.

The man in the suit stepped aside, giving the gavel to a cowl-covered witch. Thank goodness we had accidentally complied with the dress code, though in truth it wasn’t really luck because witches have used bespelled cloaks for centuries. It’s our go-to disguise; how wonderfully predictable we are.

From what Ria had told me, the black Coven operated in cells. No one knew more than a handful of other black witches so that they couldn’t betray anyone else if they were caught. Consequently a meeting like this required anonymity for everyone present.

The witch who now held the gavel spoke in a thick French accent. His deep voice echoed around the room. ‘It is wonderful to see so many of you could join us at such short notice. I am grateful to our family that have travelled so far to be with us today. I know there have been grave concerns about our familiars’ continuing ill health.’

A loud murmur passed through the crowd.

‘To that end, the potion work of Madame X has continued to be resourceful and proactive.’ His voice darkened. ‘But as yet, she has not been able tosolvethe problem. However, she has given temporary energy to our familiars so that we can remain undetected within our so-called Covens. Samples of her enlivening potion will be handedout as you leave the auction tonight. Those samples are free. If you require more, do make further enquiries. In the same vein, the forcible removal of tails continues to provide the best pain treatment. The agony of such an act certainly continues to sustain us and our familiars for an extended period.’

Hidden in my top, Frogmatch let out an enraged growl. I coughed to hide the sound, not daring to look around to see if anyone was looking at me oddly. The tails! I had thought it was just a crazy vampyr on the loose but suddenly everything was clear. Even the tail of poor Cindy, Ria’s familiar, had been removed. I had thought it a brutal, horrific message, a warning to the member of my Coven, but now it took on a more sinister aspect. I didn’t just have a few stray vampyrs to worry about because they were just hired hands – either willingly or unwillingly.

The necromancer who’d killed Melva through a possessed vampyr was certainly busy. My stomach lurched; what if there was more than one necromancer? After all, Hilary had been one as well. How many of these black witches around me were necromancers who could re-animate the dead and possess vampyrs?

I wondered if the bastard that had killed Melva was here. My fists clenched and it took everything in me to sit still and look at the Frenchman who was still pontificating.

‘I will now pass you into the capable hands of Mr McGoughlin, our auctioneer. The opening lot will be a box of specially curated tails. I can verify the taste of agony on this bunch is truly delectable.’ There were polite claps, like all of this wasnormal.I thought I might be sick.

McGoughlin, in his sharp pinstripe suit, stepped back up to the microphone. He took the gavel from French Guy. ‘Opening bid for the Box o’ Tails is £500.’ The bidding increased rapidly until the small box finally went for just shy of £13,000, when McGoughlin finally let the gavel fall. Frogmatch was bubbling with fury, his skin getting progressively hotter as his anger rose. I was sure I could detect the faint smell of brimstone.

Next up was a brooch that would ensure the wearer passed out within thirty minutes of having it pinned on. After the brooch, things went from sinister to nightmarish very quickly. The lamenting mirror, or mirror of tears, caused madness in anyone that gazed in it for twenty minutes. The truly dark thing about it was that it wasn’t twenty minutes in one go but a cumulative effect. If you wanted to drive your enemy mad, all you needed do was gift themthis mirror and be patient; eventually the quick glances would add up, even if they weren’t vain enough to stare at themselves. The mirror went for an horrific £100,000. It seemed that the witches gathered here were eager to turn their enemies mad. I shivered.

The shadow skull went next for an eye-watering £250,000. It was sentient and stored the memories of both its original owner and the dozens of subsequent ones that had bonded with it. There were apparently a plethora of dark spells locked inside it. It reminded me uncomfortably of Grimmy.

Each item shocked me with its vileness. There was a cursed harp, a necro dagger and an ancient grimoire made of human skin. A number of items focused on removing people’s free will, forcing them into subservience or some semblance of cursed love. It was appalling how high the bidding went for those items.

But it was the last item that we’d all come to see.

The cloaked witch with the French accent brought it in. A gong sounded pretentiously and we all watched as he carried in a glass box containing a dark-red crystal. He walked through the assembly at a slow march, as if it were a wedding and he was the bride. This was the crown jewel ofthe auction; it was forthisthat people had travelled across oceans. A harkan crystal, a real one too.

The room vibrated with a power that was so strong it made my teeth ache. The implication of its size made my heart weep. So many had died for this piece of vile magic to come into being, hundreds – even thousands. It surprised me that it was for sale. I would have thought that the black witch owner would cling to it with all their might.

The room bubbled with excitement; whispers broke out and people were leaning forward in their seats. Next to me Bastion did the same, and I shifted forward too. As I moved, Frogmatch took advantage of the swirl of my cloak to sidle out of my top, down one of the cloak’s folds and run away. Rune ruin! Where was that damned imp going?

I dared not shout after him. I’d felt his anger at the Box o’ Tails and all that had followed. His skin had become progressively hotter against mine until I’d been sure he must be burning me with his rage. I had no idea what he was thinking or planning, but it couldn’t be good.

My stomach twisted in fear for him, and I silently prayed for the Goddess to watch over him.

Chapter 40

I struggled to pretend I was interested in the harkan crystal when all I wanted to do was to look around for Frogmatch. I only refocused on the stage because I had to. French Guy had finally reached the podium, having completed his stately march.

‘Here is what you have all come for,’ he intoned. ‘The Harkan Crystal of Delilah. A work of centuries in the making, it has come before you for sale only at the Leader’s insistence.’

The name Delilah felt important and somehow sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it other than hearing it being crooned by Tom Jones.

‘The Leader should have the crystal!’ Someone shouted from the back.

‘He can use it to break the Coven Council in two!’ someone else called. I wondered if they were plants, placed by the Leader to initiate those thoughts.

‘Is he here?’ an eager feminine voice called.

French Guy laughed. ‘But of course he is here,mes amis.He would not miss this for all the world. Now, let us commence bidding at one million pounds.’

There was a hush before someone bid. To my surprise, Bastion counter-bid. I struggled to keep the shock off my face, then I realised that with the cowl up I really didn’t have to.

A third player entered the bidding but Bastion showed no signs of letting up. Finally the third player dropped out, leaving only Bastion and the initial bidder in the running. Tension ran through me as my griffin bid more and more.

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