Alicia

I first realised I was a witch when I was ten. I suppose it should have been obvious before, but how was I to know a child didn’t normally converse with her cat?

At the age of sixteen, I rebelled and decided to give up my powers altogether. Domino listened sympathetically but explained gently that I didn‘t have a choice in the matter. Apparently my calling, or gift as the old cat called it, was pre-ordained. He pointed out I should be grateful to be living in the twenty-first century. For a witch, this is as good as it gets.

But I suspect discrimination is still an issue for a witch, even in these enlightened times. I know some witches are proud to be “out” and good luck to them but my secret remained between me and the cat.

Or at least it did, until I reached the age of twenty-two and fell in love with James.

Now there are always things one feels shy of sharing with a new boyfriend; embarrassing relatives and those photographs they took of you as a baby. Those are nothing compared to the humiliation of confessing you’re a witch.

“Have another glass of wine, James? Hobbies? Yes, I usually practise the black arts on Mondays, Thursdays and every other weekend. You?”

It‘s hardly the same as admitting you play golf or enjoy line dancing. Well, perhaps line dancing was a bad example, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I knew I loved James and I was determined to be honest with him, in spite of dire warnings from the aged and decrepit Domino. Although I love my old friend, I must confess to enjoying chats with Tango, who had arrived late in his father’s life and was a surprise to us all, not least Domino.

And so it was. I bared my soul, or whatever a witch has as a substitute (though why we shouldn’t have a soul has never been clear to me.), and told James the truth. I didn’t see him for six months after that, and began to wonder if he’d taken it badly. Domino snorted and put on that smug, superior expression that irritates me so much. Tango, gentle as always, rubbed against my legs and purred, saying comforting and kind words that made me feel better, but I feared it was hopeless.

You can imagine my joy, therefore, when I opened the door on Halloween and found an apologetic James waiting there with an armful of flowers. We quickly found ourselves in each other‘s arms and Tango, romantic little soul that he is, purred with delight.
“Would you like to go out for the evening, darling?” asked James, gallantly. “I want to meet your friends and become a part of your life. I know this must be the most important night of the year for you.”

This was difficult. For one thing I had never celebrated Halloween. Submersing one’s face in a bowl of cold water seems an uncomfortable and bizarre way of eating an apple. As for mutilating a perfectly good turnip, throwing away the only edible part and wearing it on your head? And they say witches are eccentric.

More importantly, I didn’t actually have any friends in the occult. I’d never been tempted to join the village coven. They’re a peculiar group of people sporting long, flowing skirts and rings in their noses. I have no idea what they do in woodland glades but whatever it is, I’m sure it serves to reinforce the old stereotypes and makes it harder for the modern witch to be taken seriously. In my opinion, most of these people are not possessed of a single power, unlike myself. James was trying so hard to support me and respect my vocation, however, that I really didn’t feel I could refuse.

Had we known what primeval horrors awaited us on that dark, hostile night at the village duckpond, we would never have stirred.

* * * *

It was getting quite late when James and I finally left the cottage, as I was forced to set him straight on a few things first. He was so anxious to help and accept me the way I am that he made a few elementary mistakes. I could hear Domino positively sniggering on the windowsill.

“No, darling,” I said, smiling sweetly. “I don‘t actually possess a black hat, and the only flying I‘ve ever done was with Easyjet.”
Whoever invented the pointed hat and broomstick image deserves to be visited by a particularly unpleasant plague of locusts. Or a double-glazing salesman. Something lingering, anyway. I dressed instead in a white chunky sweater and corduroy jeans and announced I was ready to go.

“You look very nice,” said a small voice and I smiled down at little Tango gratefully.

“Thanks,” replied James, thinking I’d whispered the compliment to him.

“No, that was the cat talking to me,” I tried to explain but one glimpse of James’ face and I gave up. One step at a time.
We may have done a few other things than talk about black hats, but the upshot was it was past ten when we ventured out into the wild, black night and headed down the isolated lane towards the village. I knew there was a Halloween party in the square and thought we might find the quaint rituals amusing, but even I found the moaning of the wind and the shadows creeping across the moon eerie. I might have felt better if I had known Domino and Tango were following at a discreet distance. Dom might be cantankerous nowadays, but that old cat knows more about the demons that walk the night than anyone else I know.

I realised something was very wrong when Mrs. Wilkins from the Post Office met us at the edge of the square and smiled. She never did that.

“And here we were thinking we might have to go and drag you out to enjoy the party. Come closer to the bonfire, my dear,” she whispered cosily. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Now those are not the sort of words a witch likes to hear, as anyone who has ever watched those unpleasant Hammer films knows. I had nightmares after watching one as a child. And do we get the chance to correct the misrepresentations? Of course not.

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Wilkins. It is rather chilly, isn’t it?” said James politely.

I resisted the temptation to use a spell and elbowed James in the stomach instead. He gasped and spluttered.

“I think Alicia would rather go and look at the children’s costumes first,” he murmured, his eyes watering.

“I didn’t know you had a young man. Have you told him all about yourself?”

“I know all about her condition and I’m fine with it,” said James bravely and I felt proud and happy in spite of the inherent dangers of the situation. I did just make a mental note to tell him the preferred terminology nowadays was gift, rather than condition. It sounded a little like acne, the way he put it.

“Well, don’t be too long. We wouldn’t want the fire to die down and you start to go cold.”

I grimaced politely in her direction and pulled James away into the shadows, my heart pounding.

“James,” I hissed, “do you realise what’s happening here? Mrs. Wilkins is the head witch in the local coven and they hate me because I’m powerful, a real witch. They’re going to try to sacrifice me tonight in the misguided belief my powers will transfer to them somehow. It’s one of those silly urban myths everyone grows up with, but this lot obviously believe it.”

“Mrs. Wilkins is a witch?” queried James, clearly trying hard to take it all in.

I sighed. I did just wonder if Domino was right when he said James was a little slow in his thinking. Or words to that effect.

“Yes,” I repeated. “Well, she thinks she is. She talks to trees and keeps a goat. That sort of thing.”

“Do you have a goat, then?” he asked, brightening. “Grand little creatures, I always thought.”

“They’re the devil’s apprentices!” I replied, shocked. “Don’t you know anything?”

James looked hurt and I was overcome with remorse. It was a silly thing to have got upset about, but I think I was anxious at the prospect of being burnt at the stake. Plus it was the wrong time of the month. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on James, when he only wanted to help.

“Psst,” said a voice and I turned to see Domino behind me.

“You’ve seen what’s happening then? A transference of powers ceremony using the barbecue technique.”

I sighed again. “Any helpful suggestions, or are you just here to mock?”

He swished his tail. “Tango’s gone to round up the locals—his paws are younger than mine, but you’ll have to stall until they get here. You know the cats of today, can’t get them away from an easy chair and the television. They’ve sacrificed their heritage for a saucer of milk and The Simpsons.”

I sniffed. Considering Domino’s love of ‘Good Kitty’ chocolate drops and my pillow, he was hardly in a position to talk.

“He talks,” cut in James, incredulous. “That cat talks!”

Dom shook his head sadly. “Give the man a chocolate mouse.”

I ignored them both and tried to think of the spells at my disposal. Of course I could always turn them into frogs, but that would only invite the attention of the local constabulary and the British Wildlife Trust. There had to be a less conspicuous way.

It was at that moment I spotted something that really made my blood run cold. Coming towards me out of the darkness were another group of women I recognised but had had no idea were part of the coven. Now I realised the true power of my enemy. For emerging into the ghostly moonlit clearing, only a few feet away from James and I, were seven members of the Women’s Institute.

“Oh no,” I whispered, “not the W.I.”

James peered at the portly Mrs. Brown from the butcher’s and tried to put his thoughts into words. He was obviously having difficulty.

“Are they all witches too, Alicia? Because I buy my garlic sausages from her and I didn’t think …”

“James! Have you forgotten these women are about to burn me on the bonfire or drown me in the duckpond? So if we could just concentrate on that for a moment and not on your garlic sausages!”

I suddenly realised exactly what James was saying. Mrs. Brown couldn’t be a witch if she put garlic in her sausages, and even a would-be witch has to keep up appearances.

“Oh. Sorry,” I replied, but too late. James was starting to look hurt again.

“Really, Alicia. This is all very new to me but I did get a book out of the library. I’m doing my best but you could try to be patient.”
I knew he was right and I apologised, again.

“Alicia, dear,” called Mrs. Brown as she and the other ladies gathered round us. “Did you know Mrs. Wilkins was planning to sacrifice you tonight?”

“Sort of,” I said, laughing a little to try and make light of it. It was all terribly embarrassing.

“Well, we’re much more broad-minded these days, and we don’t mind witches, but we think human sacrifice is going a bit far. In fact we’re short of a speaker for the December meeting. Perhaps you could give a talk on proper witchcraft in the twenty-first century? We’re sick and tired of those Yorkshire women and their calendar. If we had a practising witch as a member, do you think they might make a film of us? Oh and do you have a spell for cellulite?”

I looked around the ghostly glade for a moment and wondered if the whole world had gone mad.

“Perhaps we could talk about it later when my future has been sorted out,” I replied politely and she seemed to accept that—but then froze as she stared at something over my shoulder.

I turned round to face the full thirteen members of the Middlewich coven, all wearing black from head to toe, just starting to surround me.

James was terribly brave and immediately rushed in front of me, holding out a cross and shrieking, “Back, ye daughters of Hell!”
It took us all aback, I can tell you. I must have a good look at that book he’s been reading.

“One step further and I’ll be forced to use the Holy Water!”

This worked surprisingly well. Naturally I knew he was confusing witches with demons, but fortunately for me they did not. They were very impressed. Mrs. Wilkins dropped to her knees, begging him to have mercy on her. I was enjoying the moment when she revealed she was feigning remorse by launching herself at James’s knees, for what purpose I do not know. Luckily, Tango and his forces of the night arrived on the scene and hurled themselves upon the coven, a veritable frenzy of fur and claws. The W.I. put up a good show too, and after only a few minutes, the so-called witches surrendered. It seemed their “powers” must have deserted them.

And what did I do, you ask? I must confess, I did nothing. My powers are so terrible I can only use them as a last resort.

Mrs. Wilkins was forced to sniffle apologies to me while everyone watched. I was supposed to be magnanimous and tell her I forgave her. What I actually did was threaten to tell her husband she was having an affair with the postman if she ever tried anything like this again. As far as I knew she wasn’t, but now the WI had heard … I felt it was punishment enough. That should have been the end of that, and James and I should have been allowed to continue our romantic evening. But then Mrs. Wilkins confessed she had another crime to be taken into consideration.

As part of the Halloween celebration, Mrs. Wilkins explained, Esmeralda from the health shop had got hold of a book on the black arts and found what sounded like an interesting spell. It was supposed to slow the ageing process and was greeted enthusiastically by the ladies of a certain age. Thinking it was a sort of mystical Botox, they performed the spell.

There was a ghastly silence.

“Whom did she say they had invoked?”

I heard Domino’s quiet but dreadful voice behind me and I knew we should be afraid. He looked up at me, the fur on his back rigid. I repeated the question to the coven, and the girl with the ring in her nose answered softly.

“The Demon of Eternal Life.”

Domino stared at me, and I at him. His old eyes were rounder and larger than I had ever seen them.

Clouds crept over the full moon and the dark shadows seemed alive as they danced menacingly over the village. In the distance, I could hear the wind rising. The trees surrounding us began to wave ominously, closing ranks. The cats lay down, their tails swishing violently as they emitted low, blood-curdling growls. Even little Tango was aware of the enormity of the deed and pressed against my legs, trembling. I had never been so afraid in all my life.

“Will it work, do you think?” asked James. “Because I know my mother would definitely be interested.”

I closed my eyes. Could this night get worse? Unfortunately the answer was yes.

The next few minutes were frenetic and hysterical. I ordered the rest of the villagers to return to their homes and lock themselves in their cottages. They agreed enthusiastically and I noticed the dishevelled coven were amongst the first to disappear. Amateurs!
“What is this Demon of Eternal Life exactly?” asked James, having grasped it wasn’t the skin cream with active liposomes.
Rather than dwell on any possible shortcomings, I reminded myself how brave and selfless he had been when I was in danger and I felt proud.

Domino answered him, all hint of mockery gone. I think he had come to respect James on one level, albeit a very low one. “It’s the embodiment of evil,” he growled quietly. “The Demon of Eternal Life for Bad Things That Will Forever Haunt Us has been responsible for some of the worst horrors in history. The Flood, the Great Fire of London, the San Francisco Earthquake, and the Millennium Dome.”

We all shuddered.

I was the only one who could stop it.

* * * *

“Have you got everything you need, Alicia?” whispered James, putting his arm round my shoulders protectively. “Rowan berries, wooden stakes, that sort of thing?”

“Rowan berries are for constipation. And I’m not Buffy the Vampire Slayer!”

Actually, I’d rather liked that programme. It’s completely inaccurate of course, but at least the witches are young and attractive. I feel it provides a better role model for us than the old crones so popular with the media.

“Everything I need is in my head,” I continued smugly. I could tell he was impressed. Of course, Domino had to spoil it.

“Pride goeth before a fall, miss. Remember last year when you said you could remember the rain spell? You didn’t need to look it up,” he sneered and I wished I’d had him neutered. That might have mellowed him.

“What happened?” asked James innocently, and Domino looked up at me, grinning wickedly.

“Nothing very bad,” I murmured. “Do you remember those floods we had last summer that covered most of the east of England?”

Realisation dawned. “That was you!” he gasped, impressed and overawed all at the same time.

I smiled modestly. “Well, I was really only commissioned to give the Lake District a couple of wet days because the tourists expect it in July—but I overdid the runes a tad.”

Domino raised his eyes skyward. “And you’re the only one standing between us and Armageddon.”

“I can do it,” I shouted back impatiently, and Tango trotted up behind me.

“Alicia,” said the little voice and I looked down. “Does the bad demon look like a very large bat, with long, pointed fangs and blood dripping from its talons?”

“Yes, I think it does, dear. Why do you ask?”

And all hell broke loose.

“Run!” cried Domino, and his furry army hared off across the clearing into the village square with James and I in hot pursuit. The wind was howling behind us now and branches whipped at our faces.

“Should we head for the Church?” wheezed James and I nodded miserably. The Reverend Harding had been very hostile since the incident with the communion wine and the corn dollies but everyone knew Harvest was a pagan festival before his cult stole it from us. And I was not responsible for the crop circles, whatever he said! However, much as I felt nervous in St. Mary’s, I had to agree it was probably the safest place there was.

The vicar met us at the lych-gate but was forced to assume a crash position as the evil demon swooped dangerously low over his head before veering away from the Church. I knew he wasn’t going to be pleased.

“Alicia Meldrew, I knew this would be your doing!” he remonstrated, very unfairly I thought.

“It was Mrs. Wilkins who invoked it,” I protested. “I’m here to try to defeat it and save Middlewich. But if you’d rather I just went home …”

“No, wait,” said the vicar, hurriedly, gazing up at the dreadful apparition perched on the steeple. “I may have spoken out of turn.”

“Is that an apology, Reverend?” I smiled sweetly, determined to make the most of this opportunity.

“Alicia,” said James, surprisingly cold. “I think you should be putting your powers of persuasion to better use ridding your friends and neighbours of this demon.”

I saw Domino look up at him with new respect and nod his agreement. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased at this new side of James. Before I had the chance to decide, a dreadful thing happened. The demon swooped again and picked up my little Tango in its talons. As it rose up, terrifying and huge in front of us, I screamed for all I was worth. The scream was taken up by Domino and all the other cats in the churchyard until nothing could be heard but the dreadful caterwauling. I knew I had to use my powers now—however dangerous and terrifying they might be!

I rushed out into the square and uttered a high-pitched wail. Domino signalled to his distressed companions to be quiet and the whole village fell silent. The huge bat flew menacingly low, the small cat mewing piteously in his claws. I looked up slowly and deliberately into the ghastly eyes of the demon, and uttered the dreadful curse of Akdjhoutfdw. I knew the primordial horrors I was unleashing upon the firmament would be virtually impossible to control—but it was muck or nettles so what the heck.

There was a deafening crash of thunder. The wind rose to such a frenzy I was almost blown off my feet and had to hang onto the lych-gate. James and the Vicar were doing the same, and the poor little cats were making an unearthly din. At least I think it was the cats. Jagged swords of lightning struck the ground all around us, making hissing, fizzing sounds. There was an overpowering smell of burning. I tried to see what was happening to Tango, but the large bat was circling round and round in a drunken swoop, as if it had lost its bearings. Smoke rose from its wings.

As the storm increased and the thunder got louder, I managed to signal Domino. With the utmost difficulty, the feline scrambled his troops and they made their way through the gate to form a circle outside. The Demon of Eternal Life was now in its death throes and I knew it couldn’t hold on to Tango for much longer. At last, the small bundle fell from the deadly talons—and flopped safely into the middle of a soft furry bed made up of twenty of his friends.

Domino picked Tango up in his mouth and the cats escaped only a few moments before the mighty demon crashed onto the square and burst into flames. I fainted. Being forced to witness spontaneous combustion can do that to you sometimes.

* * * *

When I awoke, I was back in my own cottage and James was sitting by my chair, patting my hand.

“You were wonderful, darling. My very own, brave Alicia.”

Domino was washing my other hand, and this worried me. It definitely wasn’t like him.

“Am I dying?” I asked suspiciously, and Domino smiled.

“You’re fine, Alicia. And so is Tango. I’m trying to say thank you.”

I looked round the room and saw the small ginger and white cat asleep on a big cushion in front of the fire.

“Poor little chap was all in,” smiled James. “He wanted to thank you himself but he fell asleep before you came round.”

“And the demon?” I asked, memories still a little vague.

“Burnt to a cinder,” replied Dom, still purring gently.

“I assume the whole village knows I’m a witch now, don’t they?” I murmured, wondering if I would still be allowed to live here. I was really quite attached to the place and its residents, even if they were a trifle eccentric and had tried to sacrifice me.

I saw James and Domino exchange glances and James looked serious.

“Yes, Alicia, they do all know. And they were so proud of you tonight, and so grateful to you for saving them from the demon—they want to honour you.”

“Me?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “I’m just glad I was able to help.”

James took both of my hands in his and smiled proudly.

“Alicia, they’ve decided to change the name of the village. From now on, it will be known as Middlewitch, in honour of you.”

He bent over and kissed me. I became aware of a quiet purring, but this time I wasn’t sure if it was coming from Tango or from me.

Domino crept quietly away, grinning to himself.