Hemlock and Hedge Read online

  “Tarot cards,” I observed picking up the dusty box. “I think I’ve seen enough of these today to last a…” I stopped talking when the old box failed and the cards spilled out onto the floor. Brightly coloured pictures had their faces turned up towards me.

  I was hit with the startling realisation that this was the pack I’d been looking for. I could have got down on my hands and knees and searched through them for the missing Lovers card, but I knew I wouldn’t find it. I wouldn’t find it because it had been in an envelope inside a hollow oak for the past twenty-seven years. My mother had known who’d baked the lemon cake. She’d known what had been in it, too - probably having sold Olivia the Wormwood she’d then turned into the alcoholic added ingredient. Lastly, she’d known Olivia’s intentions when she’d made a cake and displayed a card intended to seduce the man who sampled the cake.

  Only… the wrong man had taken a bite.

  I considered the cards on the floor and then the town’s strong beliefs that these things worked… magic was real. I spun on my heel and walked back into the consultation room with the kitten in the crook of my arm.

  “Is Richard Starbright Natalia’s father?” I asked, making a stab at the man I felt was more likely, given the psychological element I believed might be at play.

  Olivia Ghoul turned white. Her eyes flashed, and when they made contact with mine, I saw the truth in the fortuneteller’s eyes.

  “How dare you? You’re a snake, just like your mother. Get out!” she snapped, looking like she wanted to fling every curse under the sun in my direction.

  “Does Natalia know?” I had to ask it when I’d been denied the same knowledge.

  “Out. Now!”

  I made a hasty retreat with a single rueful glance in the direction of the scattered cards. I was sure that they would send a very obvious message when found. I really was following in my mother’s footsteps when it came to the business of blackmail. Even though I knew it was a terrible thing to hold a secret over someone, I couldn’t help but wonder what my mother had got out of it. Money? I doubted it, given the state of the shop’s accounts. It had to be something else then. Power? Protection?

  I couldn’t imagine my mother wanting either of those things, beyond the joy of having something on an enemy. That would definitely have been her style.

  I shut the door after me and hurried down the steps with a surprisingly compliant kitten. “I’d say I got my money’s worth from that reading,” I told him as we walked back through Wormwood. As I walked, I wondered about the original intention behind the cake. I was certain it had been baked for Elliot Hex, dashing magician. But it had been Richard Starbright who’d evidently fallen for Olivia Ghoul’s charms, and she believed it was because of a cake laced with Wormwood.

  The secret of the poisoned cake and the identity of Natalia’s father had been kept silent for twenty-seven years. As well as it being only too clear that Natalia had no idea who he was, I found I could also say for certain that the old mayor was unaware. A man like that would never have abandoned any child of his… even though his older firstborn and steady marriage showed that the child had clearly arisen through infidelity. I could understand why Olivia might have kept the truth from both of them… but I also knew what it felt like to have something like that kept from you.

  I had a big decision to make.

  4

  Avenging Angel

  Even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went to the coven meeting.

  Olivia had warned me before I’d figured out her secret, and Natalia had invited me. Both of those things should have told me to stay away, but I was going to respect my mother’s last wishes and try. And I had a pretty big secret to share.

  Or perhaps I didn’t.

  I’d spent the rest of the day agonising over the right thing to do. Should I tell Natalia? Would she even thank me for letting her know?

  In the end, I decided there was only one thing to do… and that was to go to the meeting and make my decision later.

  I hesitated on the doorstep of the Ghoul residence. The house had belonged to an elderly witch when I’d been growing up in Wormwood, but now Natalia had it. I wondered who she’d had to kill, before chiding myself for having such a low opinion of someone I didn’t even know that well. I was every bit as prejudiced against them as they were towards me, and one of us needed to change their ways.

  Summoning up a whole lot of courage and open-mindedness, I knocked on the door.

  Aurelia, Natalia’s younger sister, answered the door.

  “Oh. It’s you,” she said before turning and shouting into the dark interior of the house. “She came!”

  I had a good look at Aurelia whilst she was yelling and decided that, in her case, the father had been someone else. She had blue eyes and a face with much sharper angles. In fact… she reminded me of one of Wormwood’s most eligible magicians…

  Olivia got her man in the end, I silently concluded. I wondered if there’d been another spell, or if she’d realised that there were better ways to attract love - like being nice. Although, in Olivia’s case, that seemed hard to believe. Maybe it had been witchcraft after all.

  When Aurelia made no move to invite me in but walked away, leaving the door wide open, I took the plunge and stepped inside. The first thing that struck me was the icy cold interior. It was the middle of the summer, but the air just beyond the threshold felt like a January frost. I decided that the sisters must have a hidden air conditioning unit as well as the pots of money needed to buy this place. Seriously… were they drug barons now?

  I walked through the house, keeping my thoughts to myself. This was about keeping an open mind. It was about trying to fit in. It was… they were literally dancing around a cauldron over an open flame in the middle of the living room.

  I took a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Hazel,” I said with an awkward little wave.

  The thirteen witches stopped dancing and looked at me. “We know who you are,” they said in one voice.

  That wasn’t creepy at all.

  Natalia Ghoul detached herself from the group and walked to stand in front of them. They all turned and stared in my direction from behind the skirts of their high priestess. “I didn’t believe you’d actually be stupid enough to come here tonight. Not when it is so achingly obvious that you don’t have a single spark of talent.” She practically spat the words at me. Behind her, I saw sneers and smirks on the other witches’ faces.

  Natalia took two steps towards me, so that we were close enough to touch. “I heard you caused trouble at my mother’s house today. That’s low. Even for a Salem.” Natalia’s eyes were bright with malice.

  “I didn’t cause trouble. I went to get a card reading,” I protested, knowing that Olivia would not have told her daughter the truth.

  “That’s not what she told me,”

  “That’s not all she’s not told you…” I started to say, deciding that I was going to tell Natalia the truth about her heritage, whether she liked it or not. When I’d come here, I’d wanted to do it out of kindness to end the doubt that must have haunted her for so long, but now I wanted her to know that her father had been the mayor and not some powerful magician - the way she’d always boasted when we’d been at school together.

  “Shhh,” Natalia said, and for one very strange moment, I found I couldn’t speak.

  “Shhh!” the witch pack echoed and laughed… before they began to chant.

  It’s just psychology, I told myself as my skin began to crawl unnervingly. The coldness in the room had got worse, in spite of the fire. I managed to breathe out and saw it mist in the air. The air con was probably stuck on high, and I was probably coming down with something. I should go home and sleep it off. I should definitely try to move my feet from the spot they were rooted to…

  A loud yowl was swiftly followed by a scream when a small black ball of fury rushed through the room. My eyes followed as it darted amongst the legs of the witches, clawing their ankles to pieces.
/>   I took a deep, shuddering breath and realised I could move again, and my skin was back to normal. Definitely psychology, I repeated in my head, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing Aziraphale and fleeing the Ghoul residence.

  “I don’t think business will be improving anytime soon after that display. I probably made an enemy out of all the witches in Wormwood today.”

  “At least they didn’t curse you,” the kitten replied.

  I screamed and dropped him on the floor.

  “Ouch.”

  “I thought cats were supposed to land on their feet?” I remarked and then clamped my hands over my mouth. This was not happening. I was not having a conversation with a cat.

  “You surprised me!” He glared at me with blue eyes that were already showing the first signs of turning green.

  “You’ve been saving me, haven’t you, Aziraphale?” I whispered, still wondering if I’d banged my head on the way out of the coven meeting and hadn’t noticed.

  “Obviously. And stop calling me that ridiculous name. My true name is… Hemlock,” he announced, with dramatic pause. “And the other kitten is called Hedge. Not that he got saddled with a stupid name. Come on! I am so much more of a Crowley than he is.” The kitten blinked at me.

  “Hemlock… why have you been saving me? And how come you can talk?!” I said, tacking on the most important question of all.

  “I’ve been saving you because I had to come to your aid in order for our magical bond to snap into place… and you’re the only one who can understand me. I am your witch’s familiar.”

  I blinked at him. “But I’m not a witch.”

  The kitten looked perplexed. “You’re not wrong about that. But you must be. You probably just don’t know it yet.”

  “Who abandoned you?” I wanted to shift the conversation away from all things ‘witch’. After tonight, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to hear the word again. There was definitely no way I was anything like those dancing hags.

  “No one. I pushed a cardboard box to your door and got inside, so you’d have to take me in. I was born in Wormwood Forest. There’s a feral cat colony that lives there.”

  That was no great surprise with the number of cats that roamed around the town. Some of them were bound to strike out on their own… and that tended to lead to kittens. “What about Hedge? Is he my familiar, too?”

  Hemlock looked as awkward as a kitten could “Uh… no. He just followed me out of the forest. I suppose he must have wanted free board and lodging instead of the wild seduction of open spaces, tall trees, and endless sky.”

  I twisted my lips. “You mean you don’t know why he came here? Can’t you understand him?”

  “Of course I can! He just doesn’t talk.”

  I nodded. Even I had been able to tell that much about the other kitten.

  “You won’t kick him out, will you?” Hemlock looked genuinely concerned.

  “Trust me… he’s not the one I’m thinking about kicking out,” I told my furry psychological break.

  “You’re not crazy. This is a normal witch thing to happen. Now… how are we going to get revenge on those evil witches?” He rubbed his tiny, fluffy paws together in anticipation.

  I regarded him steadily. “Revenge isn’t healthy.”

  “Neither is nearly getting your hair cursed off. Revenge! We must seek revenge!”

  “Who’s my cute little sidekick?” I told the sweet, evil fluffy thing, tickling his tummy until he tried to claw me.

  “Don’t patronise me!”

  I sighed. I wasn’t sure that there was a psychiatrist on earth who would know what to make of this one.

  5

  Lovers and Lemon Cake

  I made a big decision in the dreary days that followed the coven incident.

  I was sick of waiting around in the apothecary for customers who came in dribs in drabs, if at all. My time was being wasted in Wormwood… and I was the one to blame. I’d resented returning to Wormwood from the life I’d - in all honesty - been failing to build for myself up north. I’d let that dictate everything I did. The shop was the same as it had ever been, with the exception of my wildly unsuccessful tea corner, and how many words had I written since I’d been back here?

  None.

  For a writer, I was quitting way too easily.

  That was when I realised I’d already come up with the solution. People had praised my idea of starting a local interest magazine when I’d used it as a cover story for my investigation. So why not pursue that? I’d looked around for a local printers, added the cost of distribution, and had stalked my first advertisers. The magazine was going to be free, so the only profit I would make would be from businesses placing ads. In Wormwood, that was going to take some persuasion, especially when I was hardly part of the ‘in’ crowd. If I believed Hemlock, the ‘in’ crowd had tried to curse me with baldness.

  Tristan from the bakery was the first to sign up. He’d helped get a few others on board, too. It wasn’t much, but it had been enough. I’d been able to write the magazine, send it to print, and distribute the first ever issue of Tales from Wormwood - the made-up name I’d already come up with.

  So far, the feedback had been good… and people had actually visited the Salem Apothecary to tell me so. Some of them had even stayed for tea.

  I hadn’t published the cake poisoning article I’d claimed I was investigating.

  I knew there would be those who might question why it wasn’t added, but I would simply tell them that I hadn’t been able to find out anything new. The only nod I’d made was to publish the recipe for the lemon cake that had poisoned the old mayor and perhaps even put him under a spell.

  I’d left out the special ingredient.

  The cake itself was fantastic. It was moist and dense and had the most lemony flavour imaginable. It was the perfect cake for the start of September issue of the magazine, and I’d already had many compliments from the other Wormwooders who’d tried it.

  The real surprise came when Natalia walked into the shop a week after I’d published the magazine.

  “What does she want?” Hemlock asked cattily from his place on the counter.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” I muttered in return, before waiting for the witch to approach.

  She looked down her nose at me. I made no effort to smile.

  “I want lemon balm and dried Wormwood,” she announced. “My mother has requested them.” For just a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt cross Natalia’s expression.

  I understood what had happened. Olivia knew I hadn’t told her daughter the truth about who her father was. Judging by this unusual order, she’d also noticed the lemon cake recipe. I’ll admit - when I’d shared it, it hadn’t been without spite, but it would appear that Olivia Ghoul had taken it as a message. The arrangement, whatever it had been, would continue.

  I told Natalia the price and didn’t even mind when she slid the coins across the counter to me. I didn’t want to risk touching her either.

  “I’ll be back when I need other supplies,” Natalia told me, even more grudgingly.

  I nodded, like this was no big deal, and then watched her until she was out of the shop and turning the corner of the street.

  “I guess that was the arrangement. The Ghouls shop here and everyone local sees them,” I told Hemlock.

  “I would have preferred cold, hard cash.”

  “And I would have preferred it if you hadn’t dug up my best aloe vera plant and kicked the pot on the floor. But that’s life.”

  Hemlock lifted a paw and innocently began to wash it. “Isn’t it just?”

  I rested my elbows on the counter and put my head in my hands. It was early in September and my head was filling with ideas for the October issue of the magazine. It would come out long before Halloween, but Halloween would be the theme of the month. It was bigger than Christmas in Wormwood. All I needed now was a good feature to put on the cover, a few more advertisers, and to repeat the whole thing again the month a
fter.

  I had a good feeling about the magazine. What’s more, I was happy for the first time since I’d returned to my hometown. After spending so long trying to get away, I hadn’t been open to the idea that it might be the place where I finally realised my dreams. Wormwood was weird, there was no doubt about that, but it was home. I even had kittens to share it with.

  “You should really consider a new wardrobe,” Hemlock randomly commented.

  “What’s wrong with my clothing?”

  “Not your clothing. Your wardrobe. Also, you forgot to change the cat litter this morning, so I made alternative arrangements.”

  I finally realised exactly what he was implying. “Hemlock!”

  My familiar leapt of the edge of the counter and retreated, laughing all the way. I’d preferred living in a world where cats couldn’t talk. But now he’d started, there was no shutting him up. Or apparently curbing his antisocial behaviour. “That proves it. Cats are evil villains who want to drive their human overlords mad… one potted plant death at a time.”

  Lemon Cake Recipe

  (As printed in Tales from Wormwood magazine)

  * * *

  This cake is a glorious flourless creation that is naturally gluten free. It tastes like a cake you drench with syrup after cooking, but with this cake, there is no need to. It is wonderful eaten on its own, covered in dark chocolate, or served (my personal favourite) with a great big dollop of mascarpone on top. Bring it to your next summer barbecue!

  * * *

  Ingredients:

  * * *

  Approx 375g/13 oz lemons (2 large lemons)

  250g/ 9 oz ground almonds

  6 large eggs

  Honey or sugar added to suit your taste. Start with 250g/8 oz (The bitterness of lemons can vary a lot, as do our personal tastes!)

  1 heaped tsp baking powder (Make sure it’s gluten free, if you’re making it for someone with a gluten intolerance.)