Timeless (11 page)

Andrew shrugged, cursing himself under his breath, remembering Alexandria telling him not to talk to anyone about what she had discovered in her mother's book. Not knowing who they could trust. "Alexandria mentioned it in passing the other day. She didn't elaborate. Why, who are they?"

"The Bloodthorn Clan want to control all the witch clans, and those they can't control, they endeavour to destroy, and usually succeed. Originally, there were seven clans. Today, only five remain. Only one of those clans practices black magic."

"The Bloodthorn C
lan," Andrew repeated.

"Yes, the Bloodthorn Clan. With the power the Bloodthorn witches have stolen over the years, they are a force to be reckoned with. A force not to be underestimated in any way, shape, or form."

Andrew frowned, a chill running down his spine. "What exactly do you mean, shape or form?"

"With black magic and trickery, the Bloodthorn witches are masters of changing their shape and form at will. Animals, birds, bugs, people. Anything, really."

Andrew thought back to his last bus trip to Ferntree Falls, when he had first met Alexandria. He thought about the dream he'd had about Eden, and how, in the blink of an eye, Eden had transformed into an old woman, before changing again, into a dark cloud of black bats. Perhaps it hadn't been a dream at all. "I think I've met a Bloodthorn witch," he said, the blood draining from his face.

The car swerved on the road as Mindy swivelled in the driver’s seat to stare at him. "What did she look like?"

Andrew frowned, dropping his head, contemplating the question for a long moment. After a moment, he looked at Mindy and shook his head slowly. "I have absolutely no idea."

Mindy nodded, a worried look on her face. "Definitely a Bloodthorn witch, and a powerful one at that."

"How do you know?"

"The fact that you can't remember what she looks like, other than that she was old, is a pretty good indication."

"I think she was old... The more I think about her, the less I seem to be able to remember about her. How is that even possible?"

"Like I said, black magic and trickery. There isn't anything a Bloodthorn witch wouldn't do to—"

As Mindy turned onto Main Street, the wail of a police siren and flashing lights cut her off mid-sentence.

"Oh, goodness," she said. "I do love a man in uniform." She pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the engine, while quickly checking her appearance in the rear view mirror. She reached over to the back of the vehicle and snatched her bag off the seat. Digging into her handbag, she retrieved her peach lip-gloss and applied a fresh coat. Next she found a bottle of perfume, and gave it a quick squirt before leaning into the flowery mist floating in the vehicle.

Andrew coughed and waved his arms around. He shook his head, thinking about how alike Kat and her aunt were. "Seriously," he said. "Do you really think that's going to work?"

"Watch and learn, young Jedi apprentice."

Andrew shook his head again, and sank lower into his seat.

A young officer dressed in a crisp police uniform swung his leg over his motorcycle and walked towards the vehicle, a flashlight in his hand. As he approached, Mindy wound down the window and smiled up at him sweetly.

"Did you know you were speeding, ma'am?" he asked, sweeping the flashlight and his eyes carefully over the vehicle before turning back to her.

"Was I?" she replied, a look of surprise crossing her face. She looked across at Andrew, who just folded his arms and shrugged.

"Can I see your licence, ma'am?" he asked indifferently.

"Absolutely," Mindy replied, turning on the small overhead light and fishing around in her bag. A few moments later, she handed him her licence. "There you go, officer."

The officer studied the licence with the flashlight for a moment, then looked down at Mindy. "Did you know this licence expired ten years ago, ma'am?"

Andrew shot up straight in his seat. "What?"

Mindy held the officer's gaze. "Actually, the licence is new. I should probably just move along. And just so you know, I don't have any plans next weekend, and please call me Mindy."

The officer handed the expired licence back to Mindy. "That's fine, Mindy. I'm sorry to have bothered you. How about I make it up to you by taking you out to dinner next weekend ... if you don't have any other plans, that is."

Mindy wrote her number down on a piece of paper from her bag and handed it to him. "That sounds lovely. I'd love to."

The officer pocketed the piece of paper and gave her a wink. "You will be hearing from me, Mindy."

"Goodnight, officer," Mindy said, winding up her window.

A few moments later the officer was swinging a long leg over his motorcycle, giving Mindy a nod and a smile as he sped past.

"And that, Jedi apprentice, is how it's done in the witch circle," she said triumphantly to Andrew, who sat open-mouthed and staring at her in an equal measure of surprise and awe.

Eventually he found his voice and spoke. "There has to be a law against that."

Mindy flicked off the overhead light and turned the key in the ignition. "I'm sure there is," she smiled, pulling the car back onto the street without looking.

Andrew scowled at her. "Oh, and I thought you said you had a licence."

"I do have a licence," Mindy retorted.

"Yes, an expired licence, not a current one, so that doesn't count."

Mindy shrugged. "Now you're just splitting hairs."

"Well, just so you know. I'm driving the car home."

Mindy shrugged again. "Please yourself."

Chapter 11 – Be Still My Beating Heart.

Carmen paced back and forth across the cold stone floor of the dungeon, an underground room that had been used as a cellar in the 1700s for the Lancaster winery. Six flaming torches in sconces lined the walls, illuminating the damp-smelling room. Long fingers of cobwebs dangled ghostlike from long rows of timber racks. Empty of wine bottles, they had been forgotten about long ago. Agitated, Carmen walked in long, determined strides, her long black skirts sweeping the floor soundlessly behind her. In her hand, she held a long, knotted switch from a birch tree, which had been lacquered with poison from the bloodthorn flower. "I'll ask you one more time, girl. Who sent you to pretend to be a waitress so you could spy on me? Which clan do you belong to?"

The blond girl, who was dishevelled and weak from previous lashings, was chained by the wrists and ankles to the side of the dank dungeon. Her long blond curls, now damp and limp, clung to her face, neck, and arms. Frail and tired, she had lost her defiant attitude a day ago when, kicking and screaming, Henry had dragged her down to the dungeon at Carmen's request. Now, a day later, she was barely hanging onto life by a quickly unravelling thread.

"I've told you a thousand times already," the pretty girl pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "Nobody sent me. I just moved here and I saw the job advertised in the paper. I just needed a job. I don't know anything about any witch clans," Matilda sobbed, her wrists and ankles bleeding from the rusty manacles restraining her.

"Liar," Carmen screeched, the coiled gold snake on her arm hissing. Poison from the bloodthorn flower burned into the girl's flesh as the switch slashed across her pretty, tear-streaked face. "You're a lying little witch. Now tell me which clan you belong to. Who sent you?" Carmen's hand came down again and again, whipping the girl’s face, throat and arms. Red, burning welts, beading with poison, rose across the girl's glistening, blood-soaked flesh.

Matilda screamed in pain as the poison leached into her bloodstream and raced along her veins.

"Scream as loud as you want," Carmen screamed in anger and frustration, rather than in pain. "No one will hear you down here. You could die and rot down here, the rats could feed on you, and no one would be any the wiser. So scream, if that's what you want to do, until you are hoarse, or you could speak to me, tell me who sent you!"

Matilda's head lulled back and forth. "I told you," she breathed, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a witch."

Carmen threw the switch down onto the floor at Matilda's feet. Marching toward the heavy timber door, she shoved it open and walked out into the lighted hallway. "Have it your own way, you stupid girl. But let me tell you this, no one is coming for you." She slammed the door shut, extinguishing the torches in the dungeon.

Matilda heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, and screamed, but her cries for help were lost in the mute darkness of the cavernous room.

Time passed, Matilda was not aware how long, when the sound of the door being opened stirred her from a restless sleep. A dark figure, a hood concealing its face, hung the key on the wall.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you, but I'm too late, and there is nothing else I can do," the hooded woman whispered. "Someone will come for you, soon. Perhaps your people can help you."

"I don't have any people. Please don't leave me here," Matilda pleaded in a small, hoarse voice. But she was too late, the woman had gone, closing the door behind her.

After Alexandria had bathed and changed into dry clothes, she sat down, spoke her piece, then stared accusingly at Kat, her foot tapping impatiently under the table.

"I can't believe that you would think I could ever do that," Kat began, staring at Alexandria in disbelief. "I could see that you and Bran were really into each other. Actually, how far into—"

Alexandria raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms on the kitchen table.

Kat looked crestfallen for a moment, then said, "Okay, I would, but I would never do that to
you
. You're my family, for Christ's sake."

"Then why was he coming out of your room at that hour of the morning, half naked?"

"For a start, he wasn't really half naked ... he still had his pants on," Kat held up her hand when it looked like Alexandria was about to protest. "And secondly, he was coming out of my room because he spent the night—"

"He spent the night?" Alexandria cut in, looking mortified. The cups and plates on the table and benches around the kitchen began to rattle noisily.

"No. That came out all wrong ... well, not wrong, exactly, just not what you're thinking..." The cups and plates rattled louder. "Will you please just settle and let me finish telling you what happened before you go smashing all the china. Geez... I thought I was supposed to be the drama queen in this family—"

"Kat!"

"Alright," Kat sighed. "Like I was trying to tell you, he spent the night because I was about to turn
Stanton Jameson into…" Kat paused, noting the bewildered look on Alexandria's face. "Stanton is that guy—"

"I know who Stanton is," Alexandria said irritably, recalling the boy propping open the front door at the Abbots' mansion that morning with whiskers drawn on his cheeks in black and fingernails painted with fire engine red nail polish. The same color nail polish Kat was wearing. Okay. Now the whiskers and the nail polish on Stanton made sense, at least, Alexandria thought.

Kat continued. "Good. Anyway, Stanton was being a complete jerk, and I was about to turn him into a hideous, pimply teenager with bad hair when Bran swooped in out of nowhere and dragged me, very ungentlemanly I might add, upstairs where he barricaded me in my room until I fell asleep, and, well, I guess he fell asleep, too." The accusing look on Alexandria's face hadn't shifted. "He fell asleep on the sofa in my room, not in my bed." Kat shook her head. "You have some serious trust issues."