‘Eveline of the Birds is come to us.’
Only the fire moved.
‘With her sister, little Dill.’
The witches stared to Dill, who stared back. I knew she counted them. There would be twelve. For Mother did not sit among them. Still were their faces, some old, some young. Long was their hair, some grey and streaked like a charm of magpies. Strangers all, for I could not recall them. I remembered only the fire and them around it, laughing and talking and singing. Like they had been sitting there ever always, waiting for us.
Grey drew us forward. ‘They bring news of my sister,’ and those witches all looked to each other, then back to us.
‘Eveline, make your tell.’
Silence, but for the simmer of pot, and spit of flame. My belly groaned and my bones cried sleep. And in that watching stillness, Dill turned Spring from her shoulder. The pup yawned, blinking her black eye.
‘My…’ I looked to Dill. ‘Our…’
I swallowed the heat and looked straight at those eyes filled with flames.
‘Mother is dead.’
Like water hurled upon their fire, with one mouth they hissed aloud. Some threw their hands to the orange air, some wrung their faces, some sat and stared.
Grey pressed to my shoulder. ‘Finish your tell, Eveline.’
‘Men… Men came that day…’
Tears clawed my throat, as my words came flooding.
‘Witch hunters. Four men. They killed her. I…’
Murmuring and muttering rose, but Grey held her hand for silence.
‘Mother told us once that the witching way is… witch blood spilled must be balanced, and that the coven must be asked. So…’ I swallowed the pain, ‘I have two asks.’
Dill sat, her head down, as she stroked Spring. But I knew she listened true.
‘I have their names.’
And I thought of Mother shouting for us to flee.
‘First, I ask for blood. For my right. To avenge what they did.’
I closed my eyes to stop from crying. But instead I saw Tall One raise his arm high, like as to hail me. And he let it fall. And his dogs sprang to Mother.
I opened my eyes. My tears had run. I felt numb, as I watched Grey move from my side, to huddle in mutters with her sisters.
Why had I come here? I cared not for their witching way.
But I knew full why. Because of my second ask.
‘We hear you, Eveline of the Birds…’
Grey’s voice came bold across the flames. That name. How I hated that she used it.
‘Your ask is granted. Seek your balance, avenge your mother.’
And then she was hugging me, like she had stepped through the fire itself.
‘Hunt them for me,’ she whispered close to my ear.
The murmuring of those witches grew louder with shouts of anger and sobs and then the clearing was all hubbub, their shadows across the flickering light.
‘My sister was our natural leader…’ Her voice sounded through me, and again I smelled sweet lavender. ‘She was a good woman, who taught kindness and healing, helping others.’
She stepped back, tracing my hair.
‘And she was strong. Like you.’
I could not speak. I nodded.
‘Can you find these men?’
I watched Dill, as she lifted Mother’s stone from her pocket and murmured to it.
‘I can hunt,’ I said.
Grey held to my shoulders. ‘I believe you can, Eveline.’ She motioned. ‘Mabel…’
A young witch, all dusky curls, came and sat with Dill. She looked away.
‘Tally, bring food,’ said Grey to another.
‘Is that your mother’s scrying stone?’ asked Mabel.
She smiled and the fire shone in her round cheeks.
‘I like your pup, little Dill.’
Spring sniffed Mabel’s fingers. Dill shifted the stone away and drew Spring to her chest. A frown grew across her brow like a weed from a wall.
‘She has a way, the little one…’
Mabel laughed, and drew a blanket to my shoulders, as Grey circled the fireside, nodding, gesturing. The coven seemed to bend to her.
‘She is tired only.’ I looked to my sullen sister, as she picked at the ground.
‘Here, young ’uns. Tally made it good and hot.’
Her hands, bent and bony, held a bowl each. Two teeth glinted beneath her hood.
‘It will make your hair curl, like Mabel’s.’ She laughed like a branch cracking.
I grabbed that bowl right quick. It steamed full of food and warmth.
‘I don’t want no curls.’ Dill shook her head.
‘Oh, now…’ Mabel went to stroke her. ‘Such a shame, they would suit you.’
Dill hunched away, only stroking her dog and the stone.
‘Dill, please.’
She buried her head to her knees.
‘I’m sorry for her. Thank you.’
I took Dill’s bowl from Tally’s wrinkled fingers.
‘We drink to our sister, lost to us.’
Grey lifted her own to the flicking, spitting air. And those witches lifted same.
‘Lost to us… Lost to us…’
The coven settled, supping in silence.
All but Dill.
I could feel Grey’s eyes upon us, watching through the fire.
‘Dilly, I know you are hungry,’ I whispered. ‘And did you not swear to be good?’
Dill looked to me, not tired nor churlish, just sad.
‘I’m sorry, Evey.’ She twisted her fingers in Spring’s fur. ‘I miss Mother so and the broth minded me of her.’
‘Then do it for Mother. Please, Dill.’
Slow she took the bowl from me and lifted it to her trembling mouth.
My belly twisted for what was coming. So quick I drowned it, sank into the steam and drank and lapped and gobbled. I felt good as that broth ran warm about my body, sank me to a hot darkness that—
‘What is your second ask, Eveline of the Birds?’
Grey’s voice came across the clearing, through my raised bowl.
She had come to it, and I must face it.
All looked to me, and Grey smiled through the flames, and Dill hummed as she lifted scraps to Spring who bolted them down.
‘Ask it, Eveline,’ said Grey. ‘Do not be afeared. Are we not family?’
I wormed gristle from my teeth. They were no family I knew, yet I needed them. Mother said Grey would protect us. And Grey had brought me to it. So it was time.
‘I ask that…’ I must just say it. ‘That the coven look to my sister.’
Dill stopped her humming and turned to me.
‘Look to little Dill?’
‘Yes.’ I swallowed that fat, cold and slimy in my mouth. ‘Alone I must seek the men who killed Mother.’
‘Evey?’ Dill’s eyes were so wide to me. ‘What do you mean?’
Grey rose and moved along the fireside, Mabel and Tally following.
‘Dill, it is too dangerous.’ My belly twisted. But this was best. ‘You know I cannot take you.’
She stood, spilling her bowl for Spring to lap.
‘No, Evey! I do not know! I do not know!’
She pointed at me, jabbing the air with her fist round the stone.
‘I will not stay here! You promised we—’
‘Little Dill.’ Grey was close. ‘You will be safe with us.’