The Last Witch: 3.5: Beyond The Veil. A Novella

Gabriel holds me as he wades into the ocean. My legs are wrapped around his waist and my head rests on his shoulder as he takes us deeper and deeper into the sea.

The cool water is refreshing on our hot skin, and the sun slowly rising in the horizon is a wonder to behold.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ he says. ‘What you did, with The Stolen and coming to find the guys, you’re a natural leader. A protector. A defender.’

‘I thought you were mad at me.’

‘Mad you left without me. Not mad you left.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘But to the fool who attacked you, well, they’re going to wish they had never been born.’

‘Do you think that they’re trying to re-open the Veil?’ I ask him, my eyes on the glowing horizon. ‘Do you think that’s what this is all about?’

‘Maybe.’

‘We have to do something about this, Gabriel. If they succeed, they could bring the whole human world down on us.’ I tense around him. ‘I can’t go back to that life. None of us can. Callie can’t.’

‘The Bloodstones are dead, Lilly. The only real power they had was put there by Rebecca Hooper and then harnessed by you. The Hooper witches are the real power here. Not the Bloodstones. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together,’ he promises. ‘All of us. The entire Council are looking for the missing witches, and if there is a threat, we will deal with it as one.’

His hands grip me a little harder as I nod.

‘Come on. Let’s get back to camp and get a couple of hours sleep before heading home.’

He turns and wades out of the water, carrying me in his arms to the beach and back to our discarded clothes.

We climb the steep pathway up to Connor’s camp, Gabriel holding my hand and leading the way. He turns back to me.

‘So Connor and Bias…’

‘Connor and Bias.’ I reply.

‘Is that more than a friendship, do you think?’

‘I think that Bias finds comfort in Connor. I think he finds peace. Connor’s an extremely kind and sweet man. Very patient and always looks at the positives. I found that a tremendous comfort on some of my darker times at The Orchard.’

‘But Connor’s a guy.’

‘No shit,’ I laugh. ‘I don’t think a silly thing like gender ever really bothered Bias. He wasn’t shy about experimenting when we were-’ I shut the hell up. Why would I even bring that up? I wait for his reaction. For Gabriel to turn with a scowl or a glare.

But he doesn’t. He just carries on.

‘Funny thing is, when we were kids, I always thought that Bias preferred guys to girls. I was convinced, but with our family it was better to keep that to yourself. If Bias ever had feelings for a man, he never would have said. Finding acceptance in my house was like finding a virgin in a brothel. Except for our mother, of course. She would have screamed her pride from the rooftops.’ He looks at me with a sad little smile as he thinks of his mother. ‘She would have fucking loved you.’

‘You think?’

‘I know. I’m glad they’ve found each other. I’m glad Bias has-’

‘Gabriel!’ I stop suddenly, yanking at his hand.

‘What?’ What’s the matter?’

‘I… I can’t see…’ I tighten my grip on his hand, swallowed suddenly in pitch blackness. ‘I can’t see! Gabriel… Something’s-’

I scream and grab my head, howling in pain as I get bombarded with images. They slam into my brain with relentless violence, forcing their way into the deepest recesses of my mind.

I haven’t had a vision since returning. I wasn’t sure that the realm had manifested yet, but it sure as shit has now.

The agony expels a blast of Telekinetic energy from my body. The edge of the cliff trembles and the ground beneath our feet crumbles into dust.

I fall.

I stand in the doorway, watching a woman on all fours screaming with all her might. Her sobs echo all around the darkness of this old bedroom.

There’s a single bed with an old sheet crumpled on it and blood on the mattress. The woman crawls slowly towards it and reaches up. Her hands fist the sheet, and she lets out another wail of pure pain.

I take a step closer, afraid of what I may see when I get nearer.

She grunts and pants as she gets herself on her knees and grips the bed.

She takes a few deep breaths and then screams.

When I reach the bed, I stop. My mouth falls open as I see her.

Sweat is pouring down her face. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

‘Mum?’ I whisper, looking at the young woman before me.

A woman who I know only from my memories and nightmares.

The woman who tortured me as a small child with pain in the hopes that she would spark my magic into life.

The woman who tried to drown me in the bathtub.

She looks down and rests her hands between her legs, and with a final scream, she gasps in relief.

From under her nightdress, I hear the first cry of a new born baby.

She trembles as she peers down. Even now, there’s no love on that woman’s face.

She fucking sneers at me as she sees my face for the first time, peeking out from under her nightdress.

Her child made for no other reason than to have magic.

She puts me, still wailing and trembling, on the floor, hidden under her night dress.

She closes her eyes and just stays there, slowly breathing.

I can’t cope with the sound of me crying, brand new, cold and scared!

Not at all.

I think of Callie, and I just can’t understand how a mother can bear to hear such suffering.

I reach down to lift the baby from the floor. Foolish, as I can touch nothing here. I’m just looking, forced into this moment through magic.

‘Pick her up!’ I yell.

My mother ignores me.

Both of me.

‘PICK HER UP!!’

As I go to strike her, the image shifts.

The world around me fades into smoke and reforms into another.

Darkness. There’s not a single beam of natural light to be seen.

Hundreds of candles flicker all around me, casting an eerie orange glow.

I’m in the middle of a cavern. The roof reaches high and is lost to sight. Jagged rocks protrude from every surface and in the very centre…

‘The final Bloodstone,’ I gasp.

It’s clear and broken from when I completed it all those years ago.

There’s a hideous screech in my head, like nails on a chalkboard and metal scraping against metal. The vision shifts and distorts, switching between the empty space to something else.

Something dark.

Now, bodies lie on the floor, spread out evenly in a very particular pattern, surrounding the Bloodstone column.

Another shift, and their bodies are carved up. Their chests are open. Their bellies are gaping holes. Blood pools around them.

In the centre is a hooded figure. In his hand is a scythe dripping with blood.

He stands at a long table, atop which is a mixture of bloody organs.

He’s chanting, speaking ancient words.

There’s a groan. I look down, and to my horror, I see that the man lying at my feet, gutted and bleeding, is still alive.

They all are.

As the man chants, the blood seeping from the seven victims on the floor begins to move, flowing with purpose.

It forms a seven-pointed star. At the very centre is the Bloodstone.

As the blood reaches it, the Bloodstone slowly starts to change. From the ground up, it becomes that familiar deep red swirling with black. But this time, it’s like thick tar, oozing on the outside and dripping to the floor.

It hisses like acid and scorches the ground.

I lift my gaze, horrified at the vision I’m being shown.

And as I do, I come face to face with the darkened shadow beneath the hood of the killer.

He pulls back his hand, and with a forceful thrust, he buries the scythe deep in my belly.

I feel it. I feel every inch of its steel tearing its way through my body.

I feel his hot breath land on my skin and the warmth of my blood as it spills down my legs. He withdraws the blade and sinks his hand inside me before plucking out something and clasping it in his blood-drenched fist.

I grab his wrist. My hand looks burnt. My fingers are blackened and scarred.

I watch him return to the table.

And I fall to the floor, and I die.