Page 45 of Witchbane

He stood and faced me, glaring angrily. ‘Do you mean to tell me that if we can’t find a way out of this you will allow yourself to end up like your mother?’

I gasped, shocked to hear him speak so cruelly. His expression changed immediately and he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said such a thing.’

Jem would never do anything to cause me pain. I knew straight away that he had only spoken like that because he was scared about what might happen to me.

I rested a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t worry. I understand your frustration and I’m sure if our roles were reversed I would be upset with you for staying. I don’t feel I have any choice, though, Jem. You must understand that, surely?’

He took a deep breath and nodded. ‘That is true. I feel useless not being able to help you, though, Rue. I want to ensure your safety, but I can’t see how we can do that if you stay here.’

‘I know.’ It was hopeless, that much I did agree with, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t let down those close to me. If being arrested and tried as a witch like my mother was my future, then fate meant it to happen. I swallowed, recalling my mother’s terrible strangulation and her body being burnt in Market Square – even though Pierre had covered my eyes immediately when the flames began to lick at the hem of her dress, I had seen enough before he picked me up and carried me away. I remembered too that another member of our coven had suffered a similar fate several years later. After that, I had kept away from executions. Attending those of people who mattered to me was torment enough.

He began to pace back and forth in front of me. ‘I need to do something to help you, Rue. I can’t bear standing idly by like this. If only we knew who was behind the accusation against you, then maybe we could speak to them and persuade them to retract their statement.’

I wanted to placate him, but I knew we had no way of discovering that. Then I thought of the mould and that strange unearthly presence in the house. If Jem wasn’t able to keep me from the clutches of the Witchfinder or his son, perhaps he could at least help me and my grandmother solve that quandary.

Comforted by the thought that I might be able to resolve one dilemma, I told Jem to sit down and confided in him about the strange mould.

He looked surprised, then appalled. He stared at me with a look of disbelief on his sweet face.

‘Jem, are you going to stare at me for much longer, or is there something more you would like to know?’

He jumped to his feet, walked over to the side of the barn, peered down to the part of the house he could see across the yard and returned to stand in front of me.

I waited patiently for him to reply. Even speaking about it to him had felt odd.

‘Rue, are you trying to tell me there’s an unnatural thing growing in your house and slowly taking it over?’

I nodded, aware how strange that sounded.

‘And that you believe it began in your bedroom for a reason?’

‘It seems to have emanated from the attic, where the coven occasionally met to cast spells. I thought at first that it was due to damp, as there are a couple of holes in the roof. But now I believe the reason it’s in my room and growing bigger is that I’m supposed to notice something. It’s some sort of message, or warning. I don’t know.’ I jumped down from the wall, needing to feel grounded by the firmness of the earth under my feet. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

‘Do you think your grandmother knows?’

I shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, but I know Aunt Sorrel has seen it with her own eyes. She said as much to me.’

‘I need to see this thing for myself,’ he said, turning to walk back to the house. He stopped and waved for me to follow. ‘Come along. If you want me to see it we need to go now. I saw your grandmother go into your aunt’s cottage a little while back, so I know she’s not in the manor house.’ He frowned. ‘We both know she won’t like you taking me to your bedroom.’

He was right. Grandmama would be incensed by something like that. She never allowed any man upstairs, apart from Pierre, and he was only allowed up there to mend something, or carry items upstairs or bring them down from the attic. He only ever entered our bedrooms when we weren’t in them. I quickened my pace. ‘We had better go inside quickly before she returns.’ But my step faltered as it occurred to me that I couldn’t recall the last time Pierre had been sent upstairs for anything. Perhaps my grandmother didn’t want him to see what was happening to the house. She could be very secretive.

I reached the kitchen door and ran inside. I needed to take back power over the manor but was unsure how to do it. There was something about this odd growth that troubled me. It didn’t seem to have any physical cause, and the smell of roses and lavender was far from unpleasant.

‘Quickly,’ I whispered, though there were only the two of us in the house. ‘My room is this way.’ Then I remembered that he knew exactly where it was, since he had often called up to me or answered questions from me when I had shouted down to him about something. But to my knowledge he had never set foot upstairs.

We ran up the stairs and I instinctively stopped outside my room. I pointed to the door. ‘It’s this one.’

He looked sideways at me. ‘You hesitated.’

I grimaced. ‘It frightens me,’ I admitted. Only with Jem could I be this honest.

He stepped forward and placed his hand on the doorknob. ‘May I?’

I nodded. ‘Please do.’ I watched him push open the door and take one step inside and waited for his reaction.

He looked around the room then I saw his gaze settle on the black mould stretching right across my bedroom wall. It had grown even more in the short time I had been away from the room. Now, the two arm-like shapes were longer, and, though I would have felt foolish to say so, the blobs at the end of each ‘arm’ looked like hands. The scent was strong. I opened the window.

‘Jem?’ I asked, impatient to know his reaction. ‘Tell me what you think.’