The Whispers of The Sprite (The Whispers series #1) (19 page)

‘I had an ability to see things that other people were unable to see. I was stabbed last year and after that, I started seeing people – creatures. As a result, I got attached to one, and he got attached to me too. I witnessed a murder few weeks ago. My best friend died and I think I was supposed to be the victim. I lost consciousness and after that I lost him. The ability seemed to vanish,’ I explain, trying to make sure I haven't given away too much by choosing particular words, but I am not certain if I conveyed everything that I meant without forcing the word
Sprite
out of my mouth.

Herne isn't focused on my words. Her eyes are closed. I stare at her, wondering if she understood my dilemma. After a few seconds, she gets up and disappears in the back, leaving me breathless. The adrenaline kicks in and I can no longer stand the silence in the shop. Then she comes back, carrying a large, dusty old book. Herne blows off the dust and opens it. She begin searching, turning the pages quickly and whispering something that I can't understand. My body is shaking with excitement. The warmth of the candles caresses my skin; the aroma of jasmine is so intense. The air is thick and I exhale the vibrations of the room.

‘Do you want to see him again?’ Herne asks, focusing on me.

I nod.

‘The blood of a changeling is still inside me. It's been in my family for generations, but no one was ever able to see them. You are the first. It will cost you to reverse what's happened.’

‘Aren't you afraid to talk about it?’

‘Don't worry, they won't know,’ she assures me, but I am not convinced. If anything happens to Gabriel because of me, I will never forgive myself.
 

‘I will do anything to have him back.’

‘Unfortunately, there is nothing that I can do right now. You must wait until the twenty-first of the month; this is the only day when you can get your ability back. Every person in this world has this ability inside them, but it's all about faith and no one knows how to believe in this sort of thing anymore. At the same time, this won't be easy; there is a sacrifice.’

‘I don't really understand. Why do I need to wait a month?’ I ask, confused. Her words don't make much sense and what does she mean about a sacrifice?
 

‘If you want to do this properly you have to become a vessel,’ she continues, glancing at me.
  

‘Please explain,’ I say. Her words frighten me. I do love him, but surely I won't die for him.
 

She looks annoyed.

‘It's an old ritual that has been in my family for a long time. The first day of our calendar summer is always magical, and this is the only day that will allow you to get back your ability. There are many legends about the people of peace, but only a handful are real. To be able to see what you lost, you have to sacrifice yourself; your blood and your soul. There is a ritual that requires your blood –
 
a lot of it. After the sacrifice, you need to bathe in seawater. I can’t stress enough that this pain will be unbearable. Your blood and sacrifice will change the order
and
you will meet the one that you lost.’
  

‘Herne, you said that the ritual requires my blood. What do I have to do to myself?’ I ask, not wanting to hear any more, but I came here for a reason so I brace myself for the answer.

‘You need to convince your body that you are dying, and if you almost died a year ago then you need
to be in a similar state of mind.’

‘So I have to stab myself – is that what are you saying?’

‘If that's what's happened before then you’ll probably need to use a knife. Yes, if the pain is real your ability will come back. It has to be done exactly at the sunrise. After getting to the sea, you will be weak and you're risking your life at that point. You can’t do this by yourself, there has to be another person with you,’ she explains.

I feel dizzy; I never imagined having to go through that pain again. I am mad to even consider this, but it’s worth going through the pain if it means I will see Gabriel. I can’t believe I’m going to stab myself and risk my life to see him again.

‘How do you know if this is going to work?’ I ask.

‘I don't, but if you love him then you must have faith that it will work. This book here is one of the oldest ritual books that I have. It's only going to work if you believe that you can do it. Remember, this is not a game. You need another person with you to treat the wound. I have their blood, so I will never be able to experience what you have, but you, on the other hand, have a different energy in you that embraces me in a way that I can't explain,’ she concludes, staring at me.

I exhale the air that I have been holding in my lungs. Who can I even ask to hold my hand during this whole crazy ritual? I can already imagine Gosia's face if I tell her that I want to stab myself to get back with my fairy lover!
 

‘This is so absurd; he had never even told me how he felt about me,’ I say.

Herne looks angry with me for doubting myself and Gabriel’s feelings for me.

‘If you don't know, then don't do it. Why have you even come here today?’

‘Because I can't live without him.’

‘Then you know how he feels about you, otherwise
you wouldn’t have even considered it,’ she snaps.

I think that I have offended her. Herne has to be right; he kept coming back and saying that he couldn't stay away from me. He must have feelings for me that he couldn't understand before. The whole idea seems unrealistic, but I am willing to try anything. I look at Herne, who is still reading something from her old book. She doesn’t ask me for a payment. Somehow I want to believe her – despite the reputation, I know she wants to help me. Then another crazy idea pops into my head.

‘Herne?’ I ask, hesitating for a moment. ‘Would you be willing to help me, you know, with the ritual?’

She lifts her dark eyes to look at me. Her expression confuses me. She looks stunned for a split second, but then she clears her throat quickly.

‘I suppose that I can, but I expect you to fund all necessary travel arrangements. You didn’t pay for your tarot reading the last time you were here, but you’ve intrigued me, so I won't take any money from you while we wait for the ritual. We have a month to prepare.’

I nod. I want to get up and hug her, but I restrain myself. This is what I am expected to do to see Gabriel again, so I have to agree with her on her terms. She is right; I do have to think this through. I can't make irrational decisions. Gabriel will help me to make the right choice. He used to influence me, so it will be up to him.
 

‘Where are we going to do the ritual?’ I ask.
 

‘Anywhere near the sea; the choice is yours.’

I think about the place where Gabriel took me for our first walk, Oxwich Beach. It would be empty if we move to the same place, further from the pathway. I explain to her what I have in mind and she agrees with my plans. She asks me to call her when I’ve decided. I have mixed feelings about what just happened. It’s the end of May and there’s nothing I can do but wait until June approaches. I go over what I must do in my mind; I don't have the courage to slash myself with a knife. Would I risk my life to see him again, the man who makes me so happy and sad at the same time? He will know what I am planning and if he wants me then he will influence me to make the right decision.

As I walk back to my car, I feel as if someone is watching me. I turn to the right and the muscles in my stomach clench. I instantly recognise the mysterious lady that is somehow always around me. She is staring at me from across the road. Reluctantly, I change my direction, but she starts walking. It takes me a few seconds to decide if I want to follow her; it is too much of a coincidence that she is on this street. I try to cross the busy road, but the cars are going at quite a speed that when I finally manage to get to the other side she vanishes around the corner.

18

I see her by running through the busy streets. It is rush hour. The wind tangles her silver hair. She is wearing a long red coat. She turns right, passing the corner shop and I am determined that I won't lose her this time. I follow, pushing people aside, but when I get to the same corner, I lose sight of her. She just vanishes; I could have sworn that she walked onto the road in front of me. I decide to go back to my car and drive back to Swansea. I must forget about her for now; I have more important issues to worry about.

It’s around half past four and I am still in London, stuck in traffic. It’s so unusual being here and not visiting my mother; even if she has spent my entire life lying to me I still miss her. A few hours later, I’m driving along the M4 motorway feeling tired and hungry. Just before half past ten I arrive back in Swansea. I feel emotionally drained and exhausted. The house is empty, and I am glad to jump into a warm shower and then to my bed. The day has been eventful, but I don't have a chance to
analyse
everything that Herne said. I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow.

When I finally decide to get up, it’s after 12 and the house is pleasantly peaceful. I am in a better mood; there is a chance to bring Gabriel back into my life again.

I focus on the impending exams. There is no point in going through university if I am going to give up just before the final hurdle. For a whole week I eat, sleep and revise. It’s hard to push aside sad memories, especially of Amy. Life is fragile. Amy was so young and had a full future ahead of her. It’s so unfair that she isn’t around anymore.

On the day of the exam, I sit down with my classmates to take American Politics, feeling heartbroken as I remember Amy’s smiling face. A couple of girls who were close with Amy give me odd looks and I know what they are thinking. They have a right to feel angry that their friend is not here. I focus on my paper, trying to ignore the negative atmosphere around me. I leave half an hour before the scheduled time and avoid talking to anyone.

Gabriel was probably in the class observing me and whispering into my ear. I miss his warm touch and his azure eyes, but I have to shut my mind off and concentrate on the material.

I realise that this past year in Swansea, I hadn’t made any effort to make new friends, and instead
focussed
my time on a man that I couldn’t fully have. Amy was making new friends and enjoying her life and there I was, pathetic and stuck behind closed doors, waiting for my fairy lover to turn up.

After the last exam is over, I feel deflated, wondering what I am going to do next. There is nothing left to do, no more studies to distract me and the reality hits me: I am lonelier than I have ever been before.
 
My life has never been so depressing; I always used to have friends around me. In this sunny weather I take time to think about the end of the month, wondering if I am going to go through with the ritual. I contemplate if I need to go back to London, but I can't face my mother after telling her that I never wanted to see her again.
 

One evening Michael and Carl emerge from their rooms and we have a chat. They reveal that they found another house to live in next year with a few guys that they know. I take the rejection well, but I can't believe that I have been left out. I don't have accommodation for next year and have no one to live with. It's my own fault – I hadn’t even thought about the living arrangements for next year. I had always thought that I would be living with Amy.

The only person who I can talk to right now is Gosia. She is living in London and renting a two-bedroom flat with another girl. We haven’t been in touch recently, but I know that she would let me crash on her sofa if there were no other alternative. I call her and explain what's going through my mind and she tells me that her
flatmate
is going away for a month, so she will have a spare room. I have to move out of the house in Swansea by the end of June. The house is already empty with Michael and Carl having finished their exams and left already; they promised to keep in touch next year, but I don't think that our paths will ever cross again.

The time passes unexpectedly slow; every day seems to be dragging. Everything I do is almost mechanical; I eat, sleep and watch TV every day. I am staring at the calendar, counting the minutes and hours before the ritual. I will have to call Herne about my decision soon. Reading doesn't help pass the time, as I can't concentrate; the beach is the only place that allows me to forget about everything and think straight about what I am going to do. Finally, when the twentieth of June approaches, I make a phone call to Herne and tell her that the ticket is booked and I am going ahead with the ritual. I don't know where I will find the courage to cause my own pain, but I know I have only one chance. Herne says that she will be in Swansea in the evening with all the necessary items.

The ritual frightens me, but I can’t back down now; my future is in my hands. The day before the ritual I drive to the station to pick up Herne. The worst-case scenario is going through my head. There isn't any other way around it. I don't know how I am going to take the pain, but I’ve agreed to it now and the only person that I will let down if I don't go ahead with it is myself.

After a short greeting, we drive back in silence. It’s hard to even think about the time that I was stabbed almost a year ago. The pain was unbearable and the time in hospital after was very unpleasant too. By the time we get home it is dark. I offer Herne my bed, but she refuses and tells me that she is happy with the sofa. I make her a cup of tea and we sit down to discuss the next twenty-four hours.
 

‘Everything is ready on my part. Have you decided where we will complete the ritual?’ Herne asks.

‘It’s around half an hour's drive away; Oxwich Bay. It will be empty and I know the perfect spot,’ I say.
 

‘It's an old ritual but very simple. You need to repeat exactly what I say. I brought the knife and the first aid box,’ Herne says, looking excited but anxious.
 

She takes something from her backpack; the knife. It shines in the light and looks very sharp, finished with a wooden handle. I look at it for a while, wondering whether I will be able to hurt myself. This seems so crazy and dangerous.

Herne seems to notice my sudden anxious expression, and she asks, ‘What's the matter?’

‘Nothing, I’m just wondering if this is really going to work. I mean, has anyone else ever done this before?’

‘I am not sure. The book was passed to me from my great-great-grandmother,’ she explains.

‘And did she try it?’

‘Once, years ago. But the woman didn't have any ability; she was rich and desired to experience an extraordinary power.’

I swallow the giant lump in my throat and my body tenses. The swooping sensation flows through my stomach. I am going to be sick. I turn around and rush to the bathroom, quickly vomiting my dinner. All of this is so nerve-racking and stressful. I stare at my face in the mirror for a long moment. My breathing gets heavier and more laboured. I come back to the living room shaking, staring at Herne.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn't have told you that, but you have to know that you are risking your life. This isn't a joke, it's black magic,’ she says and her shiny forehead is gleaming with sweat.

‘I know that, but I want to do it. I can't live like this,’ I say, sitting on the floor. ‘Let's go over this again. We wake up at 4am, and we have to leave the house as soon as possible to get there by quarter to 5.’

‘Yes. When we get there, I will prepare everything – the ground and the knife, and you just have to repeat after me. Then when I give you the sign, use the knife,’ she explains.
 

‘What do I have to say?’

‘Just a few formulas in Latin. I have a good feeling about this.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ I shrug, wiping the sweat off my face.

The plan sounds simple and straightforward, but at the same time any person with common sense would try to talk me out of it. Before we go to bed, Herne once again runs through what will happen tomorrow morning when the sun appears, and the longest day of the year will begin. At 10 o'clock, I leave Herne on the sofa and I go to bed, hoping that I'll get a good night’s sleep and this time tomorrow everything will be over. I fall asleep pretty quickly as my body is tired and overwhelmed with emotions.

Despite the exhaustion, I wake up at 2am with a headache and I can't get back to sleep. That is the end of my rest and it may be the end of my life. After tossing and turning for another half an hour, I walk downstairs to make a cup of tea and realise that Herne is up as well. We end up leaving the house just before 4, which is earlier than planned, but I am too nervous to even think about sitting in one place for more than five minutes.

The cold sweat starts blazing through my body and my heart starts thumping faster. It is still dark and the streets are deserted and unnaturally silent. Herne doesn't say anything while I am driving. Various thoughts are going through my head, making me more agitated. I can barely concentrate on the road. My head hurts and my mind is blank. Despite it being the end of June, it is only fifteen degrees outside. I can't imagine myself jumping into freezing water with a slashed stomach. I bite my lip and force myself to follow Herne’s plan, focusing on the last positive thought that I have about Gabriel. We walk for about twenty minutes, following the same path that I used when I was here with him a few months back.
 

We stop in complete darkness close to the sea between the rocks. The tide is coming in and I can hear the waves splashing on the sand. The light breeze ruffles my hair and I inhale the fresh seaside smell. I pull my jacket tightly around me, wondering how much time we have before the ritual must start.

Herne lights a few candles that she had placed around me, forming the circle. Soon the sun is going to appear on the horizon. My body feels numb and I wonder if this is really what I want. I still have time to change my mind. Herne places herself back on the ground and then starts murmuring quickly, probably in her language, while spreading a circle with the white powder. Every so often she stops and roars loudly, but my mind is blank so I don’t pay attention to her words.

I look at my watch, checking how much time I have until what may be my final moment on this earth. My heart is pounding faster and I wipe the sweat off my upper lip. I count the seconds, trying to distract myself from what’s coming. One minute, two, five, then ten minutes drag on.
 

‘Okay darling, come into the circle,’ she says, but her own voice is crisp and unnatural.

My body stopped responding.

She is afraid as well; she can’t hide it. She looks at me for a long time, frowning. ‘Are you okay?’

Is she seriously asking me if I am okay?
 

‘I am not feeling well, but let's get on with it,’ I say in a business-like tone. It is getting lighter and I can feel the sunrise in my blood.

‘Okay, you have to repeat after me:
Coèuntes
,
sagittent
inimicum
meam
.
Sagitta
Magica
, Series/
Convergentia
.’

There isn't time to even think about what that means. I repeat, ‘
Coèuntes
,
sagittent
inimicum
meam
.
Sagitta
Magica
, Series/
Convergentia
.’

'Three times,' she shouts. 'Repeat it three times.'

‘
Coèuntes
,
sagittent
inimicum
meam
.
Sagitta
Magica
, Series/
Convergentia
.’