The Lighthouse Witches(88)
“Luna,” the girl had said. “I’m Luna.”
II
Cassie gets into her car and reverses quickly down to the road. She woke to find Luna and the girl gone, and a horrible knot in her gut is telling her that it’s going to end badly. Luna thinks the girl is a wildling. Those nutcases from the island have wormed their fucking stupid ideologies into Luna and now her vulnerabilities are giving rise to it. She’s seen it so many times—intelligent people, capable of reasoning and critical thinking, giving in to these stories the moment they experience grief or some kind of emotional upheaval. Coming back to Lòn Haven must have taken balls, but now Luna’s alone and dealing with her childhood all over again. Cassie needs to warn her.
She had messaged her dad late last night back home in Auckland, where he was enjoying an early morning surf at Takapuna Beach. Finn was recently divorced, had taken up veganism and surfing as part of his “new me” regime. He worked in forestry. At fifty-seven years old, he was the healthiest he’d ever been.
She had asked what happened after the Stay girls went missing back in 1998.
He’d told her the rumor that had spread across Lòn Haven: folk said there had been two Lunas, one a wildling, one the “real” Luna. He’s pretty sure it was nonsense. Luna was found. He was the one who had taken her to the police station—he’d been worried that Isla might take her to the burning trees—and insisted they call social services until her mother was found. He had helped the search teams look for Liv for two months solid, swept every part of the island. But to no avail.
She’d told him about Clover. About how Luna had said Clover had a mark on her, that she suspected she was a wildling.
“What do you think, Dad?” she’d asked. “Why would Clover be a kid instead of a grown-up?”
“I have no idea,” Finn had said. “But you need to get them both off the island. Now.”
III
“Why are these trees all black?” Clover says, screwing up her face.
They’re at the burning trees, and Luna is shaking. She has to do this.
“Can you stand against this tree?” she asks Clover.
“Why?”
“Please?”
Clover looks at her darkly before stepping toward the tree.
“This is weird,” she says.
Luna positions herself in front of Clover, taking everything in: the small form of her amidst the trees, the wet, black branches above like spikes, the leaves at her feet. The faint smell of fire lingering in the burned wood, stoked by the wind. She steps forward, lifting her hand in the air, and Clover flinches.
“What are you doing?” she whimpers.
IV
“Come out, you dogs! We know you’re in there!”
Through the slats in the door I could make out about fifteen of them. Angus and his men—Stevens, a bear in human form, as wide as he was tall, holding a length of rope and a scabbard; Fotheringham with a pail of oil; and Argyle clutching a dirk. There would be no trial. They wanted blood, and they’d take it.
I boarded the door as best I could, then pressed a knife into Amy’s hand and threw my coat across her shoulders. “Run,” I told her. “Do not look back.”
“I’ll go to the cave,” she said, her eyes wild. “Promise me you’ll follow.”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. The door was beaten down and in a moment Stevens was lifting his scabbard and bringing the butt of it down hard on my head.
When I came to, we were in the broch surrounded by the men. Amy had not made it to Witches Hide, though we were in the broch. Amy was crying and shaking with fear, and I wanted to comfort her.
“No, you don’t,” Stevens said, his sword at my throat. He uncurled his filthy fingers to show me a handful of stones before plunging them into my mouth, breaking my teeth. They dragged Amy to a milking stool and began to hack off her hair, tossing her long black locks to the ground. They were so rough, hacking so close to the scalp that blood began to ooze out. I yelled at them, and with a terrific lunge Stevens plunged his knife deep into my chest. I fell to the ground, unable to breathe.
They had lit a fire, the hiss and crackle of it in the courtyard indicating that it was already a good size. When I came to again I saw Angus Reid at the back of the barn, watching darkly. He wanted to be sure the punishment was done before the Council found out.
“Patrick,” Amy wailed, and I looked up to see her being dragged off, naked as a babe, to the stake.
“You needn’t worry,” Stevens replied gruffly. “He’ll be joining you soon enough.”
I heard her cries as they tied her to the stake, the terrible shrieks that fell quickly to whimpers. I felt like I had stepped outside my body. Everything was happening so fast, and the smell of the fire had wrenched me back to the day I’d witnessed my mother being murdered.
A voice in my head shouted that Amy would not suffer the same fate, not if I acted. Amy would find a way. She had brought fish back from the dead. She had cursed the cave to thrust living people into the distant corners of time itself. She wouldn’t die. I just had to get to Witches Hide, like we’d planned.
We would escape. And so would the child that was growing in her belly.
The men were murmuring about whether the stake would topple if they added another body to it. I stayed put on the ground, feigning collapse, as they decided whether to take Amy off before tying me to the stake. Soon a decision was reached, and they began removing her, leaving me unattended.