In a reflex action, she drew the feather from her pocket and aimed it like a dart. With a swift throw, she sent it spearing through the air, landing several metres away from where she and Kizzy were cowering. The feather rustled the dry leaves as it hit the floor.
The Hunters spun around to trace the noise.
‘Run!’ Mia clasped Kizzy’s arm and set off through the trees, sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her. She knew that the diversion wouldn’t last long and the Hunters would be close behind them. She guessed that it was only a matter of time before they caught them, but she kept running anyway. She ran until she thought her legs would drop off. And just when she thought she couldn’t run any farther, they broke through the trees and were once again engulfed by the blinding mist.
‘Keep going!’ Kizzy yelled. With one last spurt they broke out into the bright light of day and raced up to the graveyard, dropping to the ground in relief.
Gasping for breath, the girls slumped behind a large gravestone.
Mia never thought she could ever have felt so glad to be in a graveyard. But then again, this wasn’t an ordinary graveyard. Well, it wasn’t like any graveyard that Mia had seen before, anyway. Instead of the usual array of shiny, elaborate headstones, it merely boasted a scattering of chunky slabs of rock with names etched into them.
‘Do you think we’re safe?’ she murmured.
Kizzy peeped out from behind the gravestone. Everything seemed quiet. Only the gentle sound of wind chimes floated through the air.
‘I think so,’ she said at last. ‘Those were Hunters, by the way.’
Mia gave her a look. ‘Yeah. I figured.’
‘Lotan and Colt,’ Kizzy went on. ‘They’re the leaders of the Hunter coven and you just threw a feather at them!’
Mia laughed.
‘Hey,’ Kizzy added, ‘how did you get the feather to fly like that, anyway?’
Mia shrugged. ‘Luck,’ she mused, remembering what her mother had said about the jackdaw feather bringing good luck.
‘Very lucky,’ Kizzy agreed. Strands of her blonde hair had fallen loose from her shoelace tie. She was looking dishevelled from the run.
In comparison Mia looked unaltered. Her warm-brown hair tumbled down in loose waves and, aside from a slight pinkish blush to her cheeks, it would have been hard to tell that she had been fazed at all.
‘Is that what they’re called?’ she asked, intrigued by the Hunters. ‘Lotan and Colt?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Which one is which?’
Kizzy contemplated how to distinguish them. ‘Colt was the one with darker hair.’
‘Colt,’ Mia repeated his name, sounding it out on her tongue. He had been the one whose green eyes she had glimpsed. The one whose eyes had smouldered with wrathful dominance. Somehow Mia knew that he was the one to fear.
Dino lay motionless in the blissful tranquillity of the bedchamber. He was relieved that Mia had gone out, for the simple reason that it gave him a brief spell of peace. A precious time span during which he could escape the deafening emotions of others that burrowed their way into his head, screaming like baying beasts. That was what it felt like – feral creatures screaming and clawing at his brain. And he couldn’t escape it, no matter what he did. The only rest was the few treasured moments that he had to himself. Completely alone.
That was why he felt so desperate to distance himself from Mia. For some reason, her emotions were the loudest. Perhaps it was because she was linked so closely to him. Or perhaps it was because she was going through such an emotionally heightened time. Either way, every subtle shift in mood that she experienced would shriek in his head like nails on a blackboard.
Dino knew that he had hurt her feelings – he literally heard the sound of her sadness. And he imagined that she probably thought he blamed her for all of this. Perhaps he did. But mostly he wanted to be away from her because the searing sound of her emotions was unbearable.
There was a knock on the bedroom door.
Dino groaned inwardly.
The knock came again, louder this time.
‘Come in,’ Dino said reluctantly.
The door creaked open. Hidden behind the drapes of the four-poster bed, Dino couldn’t see who had entered the room. But he knew that it was Wendolyn.
‘Hello, boy,’ she said.
‘Hello,’ he replied in a short voice. He squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out the sound of her sympathy. It didn’t work. The noise instantly branded itself on to his brain. A couple of days ago he could never have imagined that sympathy could be recognisable from a sound. But it was. It was as clear as if someone had said the actual word. Every emotion had its own sound. Fear, happiness, sadness, love – they were all uniquely identifiable. The only similarity was that they were all excruciatingly deafening, intense, and fierce.
‘How are you feeling?’ Wendolyn asked, though her question was spoken only out of politeness, for she already knew the answer.
‘Peachy,’ he said hotly. ‘Thanks for asking.’
‘It gets better,’ Wendolyn assured him. She kept a respectful distance from the bed where Dino was still concealed behind the gold-embroidered curtains.
‘When?’ he demanded. Hidden in his curt tone was a glimmer of vulnerability.
‘When you’re ready.’
Dino laughed scornfully. ‘I’m ready!’
Tentatively, Wendolyn stepped closer to the bed. ‘I will help you.’
‘I want it gone,’ Dino hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I want it out of me.’
‘It’s a gift,’ Wendolyn reminded him gently. ‘And it’s who you are.’
‘It’s a curse,’ Dino corrected her sharply. ‘And you have no idea who I am.’
Wendolyn didn’t respond.
‘I don’t want this,’ Dino exclaimed.
Slowly, cautiously, Wendolyn drew apart the bed drapes. She observed Dino where he lay, his hands knotted into his hair and beads of sweat glistening on his brow. Every muscle and vein in his arms was visible, tensed and taut under the vigour with which his hands were clenching his scalp.
‘Try to embrace it,’ Wendolyn advised. ‘Try to allow it.’
‘I can’t,’ he groaned.
‘You are a Sententia,’ she told him. ‘You have the ability to hear human emotion. It’s a wonderful, precious thing, and if nurtured correctly it will grow into a phenomenal power.’
‘I’m not a Sententia,’ Dino spat out the word. ‘I’m a human.’
‘The power would not have come to you if you were truly unable to cope with it.’
‘It was an accident! It was Mia who read the words out…This is her fate. And she isn’t even suffering from it!’ He scowled.
‘And you wish her to suffer?’ Wendolyn asked in an even voice. It was more of a statement than a question.
Dino became rigid. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But why me? Why me and not her?’
‘Perhaps,’ Wendolyn said wisely, ‘you should stop pitying yourself and accept that this is not a sinister doom meted out on you, but rather that it’s simply who you are. And who you have always been. The sooner you stop fighting it, the less you will have to endure.’
Even if he’d wanted to, Dino couldn’t have understood her. How could he accept that such a brutal pain was a part of his genetic make-up? He was damned and, as far as he was concerned, there was no other explanation.
‘Let it happen,’ Wendolyn implored him.
The comment only enraged Dino further. ‘I don’t want it to happen!’
‘The more you defy it, the longer the pain will persist.’
‘I can’t!’ he cried. ‘I can’t bear it!’ His body began to tremble. Short strands of hair fell forward and stuck to his clammy brow. ‘Please, leave,’ he requested in a strangled voice.
‘Very well,’ Wendolyn submitted calmly. ‘If you are feeling up to it, I’ve asked the others to meet in the drawing room later. I’d like to talk to you all together.’
/> Fearfully Dino imagined the intensity of a room full of emotions.
‘I understand,’ Wendolyn told him. She had managed to read his thoughts. ‘But if you change your mind, we’ll be meeting at dusk.’
Annoyed by her uninvited intrusion, Dino focused on blocking her from entering his mind. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was able to do such a thing, but somehow he was confident that he had successfully accomplished it. It was as though he was able to raise a mental guard, a wall of sorts. The ability seemed to come naturally to him.
‘Clever!’ Wendolyn congratulated him; she was impressed rather than offended.
Dino closed his eyes.
‘Remember, the drawing room at dusk,’ Wendolyn added, before gliding out of the room and leaving Dino to the peacefulness of solitude once more.
Chapter Three
Buttons and Daggers
As dusk set in, the residents of the castle congregated in the drawing room. Like the library the room was hung with elaborately framed portraits whose pale watchful faces were illuminated by flickering candles that were mounted into the mahogany-panelled walls. The only real difference was that the drawing room was considerably larger, and the hundreds of dusty volumes were replaced by vast leaded windows facing out on to the courtyard.
Mia and Kizzy strolled in and took a seat on an unoccupied sofa. There were a dozen or so other teenagers already seated, clustered together in little groups.
Wendolyn stood at the head of the room, quietly observing the gathering of people.
‘Help yourselves to tea and biscuits,’ she said, gesturing towards a lavishly laden table.
Mia and Kizzy peered over at the table.
‘I’ll get us some,’ Kizzy offered. She hopped up from the sofa and skipped across the room towards the table. The bottoms of her oversized dungarees trailed along the carpet behind her.
Once she was alone, Mia scanned the groups of people in search of her brother. She quickly realised he wasn’t there. She wondered if he even knew about the meeting. After all, she hadn’t seen him since storming out of the bedchamber earlier that day.
‘Are you OK?’ Kizzy asked, reappearing with two china teacups with a couple of biscuits balanced precariously in their saucers. ‘You look a little spacey.’
Mia was jolted back to reality. ‘It’s nothing. I was just kind of hoping that my brother would be here,’ she explained.
Kizzy gave her a sympathetic look and handed her a teacup, filled to the brim with the murky orange witches’ brew. The abundant liquid sloshed over the edge of the cup, pooling in the delicate saucer.
Mia took a sip to reduce the volume. The strange taste was not so potent now that she was familiar with it.
‘So what’s the story with your brother?’ Kizzy mused, plopping down on to the sofa.
‘I don’t know. He doesn’t want to be here.’
‘How come?’
Mia shrugged her shoulders. ‘He’s having a hard time coming to terms with all of this. Plus, he blames me.’
‘Blames you for what?’
‘For turning him into a witch.’
Kizzy snorted. ‘That’s insane! You didn’t turn him into a witch. If he’s looking to blame anyone, he should do as everyone else does and blame the parents!’
Mia took another sip of tea. ‘Don’t worry – I’m sure he blames them, too. He’d blame you if he got half the chance.’
Kizzy laughed, her eyes shimmering like sapphires.
‘Anyway,’ Mia went on, ‘I don’t think I’m speaking to him at the moment, so it’s probably a good thing he didn’t show up.’ The words were easy to say, but not so easy to mean.
The sound of Wendolyn’s voice put an end to their conversation. ‘Thank you all for coming,’ she said graciously. With her white hair pulled back into a bun, she stood staunchly before the room, naturally commanding attention. ‘Take a look around. These are your brothers and sisters. United as Arcana.’
Mia felt a pang of sorrow as she looked around the room. While the others regarded each other with a sort of tribal pride, she saw only strangers. She wished to see a brother, too – her real brother.
Suddenly, Kizzy choked loudly on a mouthful of tea. ‘I just had a vision!’ she whispered into Mia’s ear, once again snapping her out of her reverie.
‘From the tea?’ Mia looked down at Kizzy’s empty cup.
‘Maybe. Or maybe it was my fabulous natural power.’ She feigned a conceited smirk.
Mia smiled. ‘What did you see?’
‘A boy. Dark hair, dark eyes. I think he might have been a Hunter.’
‘Is he here?’ Mia asked in a hushed voice.
Kizzy quickly glanced around the room. ‘No,’ she confirmed. ‘I wonder what it means. I hope it’s not a warning.’ She made an over-the-top gulp.
From the corner of her eye, Mia caught a glimpse of silver. But when she looked again, it was gone.
‘Oh, my God,’ she gasped, her breath catching in her throat. ‘I think I just saw a dagger!’
‘A Hunter and a dagger. Talk about bad omens.’
Mia groaned. ‘We should never have gone into the forest.’
‘Maybe it’s just a caution, telling us to stay away – you know, from now on, I mean.’
‘I was planning on doing that anyway,’ Mia replied dryly. ‘In fact, I am hereby proclaiming that this afternoon was the first and last time that I’ll ever be anywhere near a Hunter.’ She grinned in satisfaction.
Kizzy eyed her dubiously. ‘What if you accidentally cross paths?’
‘Nope,’ Mia shook her head obstinately. ‘I’ll run.’
Wendolyn began speaking again, ‘You are all here for the same reason: because you are gifted. I want to spend the coming months helping you become who you are capable of being: strong, fine witches…’
Her sentence was cut short by the drawing-room door bursting open. A cold gust of air blew into the room and the flames of the candles flickered tremulously. Some wavered in their struggle to stay alight, while others were extinguished instantly. Then the four Hunters marched in, dark and hostile. In the vanguard were the two older boys whom Mia and Kizzy had seen in the forest – Lotan and Colt.
‘You were saying…?’ Kizzy muttered quietly.
Mia froze.
‘Welcome,’ Wendolyn greeted the new arrivals.
The Hunters nodded in response. They stood motionless in the deep shadows at the back of the room. The atmosphere became rigid.
Mia clasped her hands together, her eyes purposefully locked on Wendolyn. She was painfully aware of how close the Hunters were. They were more or less directly behind her.
As Wendolyn returned to her discussion, Kizzy leaned towards Mia. ‘Do you think they recognise us from the forest?’ she whispered.
Mia bit her lip. ‘Maybe they didn’t see us,’ she offered weakly.
‘What if they picked up our scent?’
Mia’s eyes widened. ‘Can they do that?’
‘Duh. They’re Hunters. That’s what they do.’
‘Well, then, they probably do recognise us.’
‘Mia!’ Kizzy pinched her arm. ‘Don’t say that! You’re freaking me out!’
Mia held up her hands, helplessly.
‘Hey,’ Kizzy went on, ‘I wonder if one of them is the boy I saw in my vision.’
‘Did you look?’
‘No way!’ Kizzy spluttered. ‘I’m not looking at them! You look.’
‘I’m not looking!’
‘Let’s both look,’ Kizzy suggested.
Mia wasn’t entirely sure why she chose to do so, but she gave in, craning her neck to get a glimpse of the Hunters. It was only for a brief instant, but she saw them. There they stood, regimented and impossibly still. All four expressionless faces were fixed unwaveringly on Wendolyn.
A sudden breeze brushed over Mia’s cheek, tousling her hair. For a split second, Colt turned his head and looked back at her. There were those eyes again: dark green, the colour of the pin
e forest. His stare was vacant, yet threatening at the same time. And a subtle twitch in his nose told Mia that she had indeed been recognised.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She hastily returned her focus to Wendolyn, ruing the fact that she had looked away from her in the first place.
‘Did you just see that?’ Mia hissed to Kizzy.
‘No. I didn’t look.’
‘Kizzy! You said you would!’
‘I know, but I thought we’d do a count of three or something first!’ Kizzy protested. ‘What did you see?’
‘Colt,’ Mia uttered. ‘He spotted me.’
Kizzy lowered her voice. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
From the front of the room, Wendolyn addressed the Hunters. ‘Lotan, could you please bring forward the Athame?’
Lotan, the leader of the Hunter coven, stepped out of the shadows and approached Wendolyn. He walked with remarkable bearing, his stride heavy yet graceful.
Mia and Kizzy shrank back into the sofa, hoping to go unnoticed. In an attempt to be inconspicuous, Kizzy accidently knocked her empty teacup, causing it to clatter loudly against its china saucer. Both girls cringed.
But Lotan didn’t even give them a second glance. He handed Wendolyn a small, silver dagger and then retreated to the back of the room.
Wendolyn raised the dagger and displayed it to her guests.
‘That’s what I saw in my vision!’ Mia gasped.
‘This is an Athame,’ Wendolyn declared. ‘One of the witches’ most sacred tools. The Athame is a ceremonial knife, passed down from generation upon generation of powerful witches. It directs magical energy in a way that is personal for each witch.’ She ran her fingers over the grooves in the blade. ‘Magical inscriptions engraved into it engage unseen helpers and channel the strongest of powers. As you can see, it is attached to a chain. This is because it’s a pacifist’s tool and is worn as a charm during rituals – it can never be used as a weapon. One day most of you will come into contact with, or even use, an Athame, which is why I felt it necessary to explain to you its purposes. However, for now, it’s far too powerful for undeveloped abilities like your own.’