Page 36 of The Rising Dark
Michelle didn’t have much time to muse on this though, as when she finally rose that Monday afternoon, she found that Arran had left a message for her.She had been summoned, sorry,invitedto meet a bunch of witches.
“What if I don’t want to go?”she’d asked Lavinia when the vampire had shown her the cream-coloured envelope that had arrived that morning.Michelle felt relieved that the message came as a simple letter rather than anything more supernatural and disturbing, but the message felt ominous nonetheless.
Lavinia had shaken her head.“I don’t think you’d want to find out.”When Michelle had asked more questions, she’d only said that she didn’t know much about witches.Vampires and witches avoided each other whenever they could.
“Will it be dangerous?”None of Lavinia’s warnings made Michelle feel more confident about this meeting.
“Not to you, I don’t think,” Lavinia had said.That didn’t particularly help assuage her fears either.It all felt like a confusing case of mistaken identity.Lavinia had told her they would be testing her for some kind of magical abilities, which was ridiculous.She didn’t have any magical powers.
If she had, she wouldn’t have been living in a tiny apartment for the last five years.Wouldn’t she have been able to magic herself to richness?Shouldn’t she have felt, you know,specialordifferentin some way?Michelle had always felt perfectly ordinary.She was never the smartest kid in class, nor did she particularly struggle more than the other kids.Nursing school had been tough, but she worked hard and got her degree.She was special, say, to her mum, but to the rest of the world, Michelle was just… normal.If she’d been harbouring these amazing magical powers, wouldn’t she have known, somehow?
They were meeting the witches in some field half an hour’s drive away.Michelle had asked whether it wouldn’t make more sense for the witches to come to the mansion, but Lavinia had explained that Thornblood was protected by various measures that prevented magic.“Iron in the walls, underground salt circle, that kind of thing,” she’d said, like any of that meant anything to Michelle.Additionally, the vampires didn’t trust the witches not to spy on them or to try to find faults in their anti-witchery protections.The witches, on the other hand, seemed not particularly keen to be surrounded by a brood of warrior vampires on their own turf either.So, a neutral space was negotiated, away from human eyes.
“Couldn’t they have chosen anything indoors?”Michelle asked as they walked the last couple of hundred yards through a grey drizzle of rain.It beaded on her coat, somehow soaking her hair.
Lavinia shrugged beside her.Vesta simply said, “Witches.”
It had been decided that Vesta would accompany her, in addition to Lavinia.Lavinia herself refused to budge from Michelle’s side, and Michelle was incredibly grateful for her familiar presence now.Vesta, too, was formidable in her own way.She was almost impossibly beautiful, with waist-length blonde hair and alabaster skin, wearing loose flowing dresses that somehow just skimmed above the dewed grass.She was what Michelle imagined a goddess would look like, and she found herself somewhat awed by her presence.Michelle had also seen several daggers disappear between the folds of Vesta’s dress.She might seem serene and angelic, but Michelle was certain she could hold her own in a fight.
Despite Vesta’s pristine beauty, Michelle found her eyes being drawn to Lavinia.She marvelled at the green of her eyes, brought out by the grasses and hedges they walked past.Of the two, she very much preferred Lavinia’s clean handsomeness, a slightly more down-to-earth loveliness, than Vesta’s ethereal beauty.
They made their way to a muddy path striated with old knobbly roots.The track slid between two rows of tall hedges, and they entered a clearing sheltered by the far-reaching branches of oaks, their leaves yellowing in the October breeze.Three figures stood in front of the majestic trunk of a willow.The witches, Michelle assumed, though they looked just like anyone else.It was almost disappointing, in a way.All morning, images of pop-culture witches wearing pointy hats and floor-length black cloaks had darted through her mind.Lavinia had also warned her that the witches might resort to tricks, like appearing out of thin air.A nervous laugh tickled the back of her throat at the solemn looks of the three figures, one a child, one a bearded man in his twenties, and an older woman.They looked no more sinister than a family on a day’s outing in the woods.
The urge to laugh faded when they stopped within a couple of paces from the witches.It wasn’t just that Michelle feared what would happen now, although she did.Nor was it the solemnity with which the three gazed at them.There was something uncanny about the space itself.There was no sound besides the whisper of the leaves of the tree—no birdsong.Even though Michelle was a London-born city girl through and through, she had spent enough school holidays camping in the British countryside, and none of it had felt like this.It was like a blanket cloaked them from the surrounding area; like they wereenvelopedby something, some energy.She couldn’t explain it rationally, but she could feel something like electric static tingling and raising the tiny hairs on her arms.
Lavinia gently pressed a steadying hand onto her back.She hadn’t even realised she’d lost her balance.
Vesta spoke first.“As per the council’s request, the Sisterhood presents Michelle Hughes.”
“Thank you,” the man in the middle said.He was tall, and his red hair and beard shone golden in the grey light.With his flannel shirt and heavy work boots, he exuded the rugged air of a man comfortable in the outdoors.“Michelle, my name is Arran.These are Althea,” he gestured towards the older woman at his right hand, “And Balor.”He indicated the child on his left side.The boy looked to be about eight and wore a simple moss-green tunic over loose trousers.
Michelle didn’t like the way he looked at her: there was something in his face that didn’t suit the youth of his body.There was nothing of the energetic clumsiness of the child in the way he stood, or the disdain in the corners of his mouth.The worst, however, were his eyes.They were completely black, showing not even a sliver of iris or white.Michelle forced herself to look back at Arran, a cold shiver running down her spine.
“Hello,” she said uncertainly.
“All witches potentate are tested through the same three trials: earth, soul, and sky.If you have any magic in your veins, it will answer the call.If there isn’t…” He shrugged.“We will be on our way, and you may return to the Sisterhood.”
“And if I do?Have magic, I mean.”
“Then you will be subject to our laws and will complete an apprenticeship according to our custom.”Lavinia’s hand on Michelle’s back twitched.Michelle, too, tensed.Arran’s words sounded pretty damn ominous.She had no intention of going anywhere with these people, least of all the creepy child.
“The first trial is earth, which will be administered by me.”He gestured for Michelle to step forward.As she did so, Lavinia’s hand slid away from her back.She wished she could go back, flanked by the vampire warriors.They were intimidating in their own way, but they made her feel safe.These witches, on the other hand, she didn’t trust at all.
“Hold out your hands, palms up.”Michelle did as he directed.Arran took two stones from his pocket and placed one in each of her palms.They were crystals of some kind, still somewhat warm to the touch.One was a chocolate brown, roughly textured.The other was a beautifully polished and clear violet.She held each of them, feeling the slight weight of them in her palms.She looked back at Arran, who frowned.
Was she supposed to do anything with them?Make them move or something, like telekinesis?Before she could contemplate this further, Arran snatched the stones back.“Right,” he said, and returned to his companions.Michelle couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or merely annoyed.
“The next trial is air, which will be administered by Althea.”
The older woman stepped forward now.She wore her grey hair in a braid down her back, and her grey eyes reminded Michelle of the stone of an ancient fortress.
“Your hand,” Althea said, and this time a soft white feather was placed in her palm.Its barbs waved gently in the breeze, but the feather didn’t lift off into the wind.Again, Althea observed her for a moment, then took the feather back.
These trials were incredibly puzzling.Was she supposed to know what to do with these stones and the feather?Were they expecting some sort of magic trick?If that was the case, they were certainly barking up the wrong tree.All of Michelle’s life had been perfectly ordinary until a couple of weeks ago.
Althea returned to her place without a further word, but she wore a sour expression.Michelle felt like she had somehow disappointed her.
“The final trial is that of soul, administered by Balor.”
