Winter Trials (Northern Witch #1), Page 2

  She got up and moved over to the doorway – on a shelf above it were a collection of small hardback books. Nanna ran her hand over the spines before finally selecting one. “Here, a taster for you. There shouldn’t be any consequences to practising this.”

  Mark took the offered book gingerly. He was half-expecting fireworks, shivers up his spine, or something witchy. Nothing.

  The little book had a faded dark-red cover, and when he flicked it open, he saw a fine-printed page, its margins covered in annotations.

  “Auras?” He asked, glancing at the title.

  “Aye, you can take it as extra homework. That book’s taught a lot of people and, whether or not you take up witchcraft, it is invaluable to recognise the auras of those around you.”

  Mark sighed and put the book into his rucksack. “Speaking of homework, I’ve a massive essay to write. Thanks for the cuppa, Nanna.”

  Chapter Three

  Mark sat on the school bus as it ambled down the still-dark country lanes, the snow-laden stone walls bobbing at various heights past the window. It was supposed to be sunny this morning, or so the weatherman said. All that meant to Mark, was the cloudless night translated into lots of ice. Not his favourite.

  Mark was taking advantage of the ride, reading the book on auras before he had to switch into school mode. It was pretty dense and dull stuff – only the personal comments scribbled in the borders made it more bearable than a school textbook. There were a lot of comments about clearing your mind, to increase your perception – not likely on a bus filled with school kids.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Mark looked up at the speaker and was surprised to see Damian standing there.

  “Yes - I mean, no.” Mark pulled his rucksack off the spare seat. “Sit down.”

  Mark glanced about the bus, there were a few spare seats next to other students, but Damian had decided to sit next to him! His internal cartwheels collapsed when he realised that he might be the only student Damian knew at the moment.

  “I thought your aunt drove you to school?” Mark asked.

  “She only made the effort for my first day. I think she wanted to make sure I actually attended school.” Damian glanced down at the book in Mark’s lap. “Reading anything good?”

  “No… um, sort of. It’s just a book my Nanna gave me.”

  “The same Nanna that has you all dancing naked round a fire?”

  Mark felt a wave of heat prickling up his neck. “I was hoping you didn’t hear all that.”

  “I heard enough.” Damian replied, smirking. “It was actually the most entertaining thing I heard all day.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a joke. Built on the misconceptions of the many.” Mark answered, before realising how much of an idiot he sounded. He bit the inside of his lip and looked out at the scene of glittering fields.

  “Huh.” Without a word, Damian plucked the little red hardback book out of his hands and flicked to the cover page. “Auras?”

  “Hey, give it back!” Mark argued. “I thought Londoners were allergic to conversing with strangers on buses.”

  “Maybe I’m embracing Northern customs. Besides, you’re not a stranger, we met yesterday. I even know your name.” Damian shrugged, but didn’t take his eyes off the writing. “So… auras?”

  “It’s nothing… it’s… OK, if I’m honest, what I’ve read of it is kinda cool. It’s about seeing past the image people project, and seeing the aura of their true selves. Maybe I could use you as my guinea pig – see whether you’re north or south!”

  Damian smiled, although this time it didn’t reach his cool blue eyes. He closed the book and handed it back to Mark. “I don’t think I’d make a very interesting subject.”

  The bus jerked as the brakes went on and everyone began to move, ready to file off. Were they at school already?

  Mark pulled his coat on and when he turned back, Damian had already gone. He swore silently and berated himself. He’d sounded like a freak, maybe he should stick to talking about the weather next time. If there was a next time; Damian was probably not going to make the mistake of sitting next to him again.

  Mark made his way off the bus, thinking of nothing more than getting through this blasted day. As soon as he stepped onto the icy pavement, his feet slipped from under him. Mark yelped as his backside hit the hard ground. He was aware of the laughter of others around him. This was definitely one of the worst starts to the day he’d had in a while.

  A gloved hand was offered, and Mark took it thankfully. Less than gracefully, he got to his feet. Mark froze when he saw his helper.

  “You?”

  “I could have just pointed and laughed like the others.” Damian replied, shrinking away. “Sorry if I seem to be stalking you – I’m not, by the way. I just… I don’t know many people yet and-“

  “No! That’s… sorry I was being rude.” Mark interrupted. It was odd to witness babbling from someone else. He found it strangely endearing from Damian; although Mark imagined his own babbling was considered annoying. “I only thought that with me being weird on the bus, you would’ve scarpered.”

  “You weren’t weird.” Damian responded, then amended his statement, “OK, you weren’t that weird.”

  Mark gave a crooked smile and started to walk towards school.

  “So what’s it all about?” Damian asked. “The aura and the ritual stuff?”

  Mark glanced over his shoulder, but saw nobody near; although it was hardly a secret. “My Nanna’s a witch.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

  “And what about you?” Damian asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you a witch, too?” He shrugged. “You were reading a book about auras on the school bus.”

  “I guess I’m a witch-in-training.” Mark replied hesitantly. “It turns out Nanna was waiting until I was sixteen to see if I wanted to learn about witchcraft.”

  “And do you? Want to be a witch and everything?”

  “I dunno, I guess so. I mean, I won’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, and a bit more knowledge can’t hurt.” Mark looked over at Damian. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

  “S’alright. It’s good to have someone to talk to.” Damian replied. “My aunt tiptoes around me at home, afraid I’m going to break if she says the wrong thing. So she tends to say nothing at all.”

  “Yeah.” Mark replied, feeling awkward broaching such a terrible topic. “I heard about your parents, I’m sorry.”

  Damian sighed. “Everyone’s so sorry. Can we not talk about it?”

  “Sure.” Mark replied quickly. He felt relieved that Damian had closed the topic, then immediately felt guilty for it.

  He looked up and saw Harry and Sarah waiting for him outside History class. They both looked surprised at the company Mark kept.

  “Hi Damian.” Sarah greeted. “Are you in History with us?”

  “Hi… Sarah, isn’t it?” Damian looked down at the bubbly girl. “No, I’m taking Geography GCSE instead.”

  “That’s down the corridor, last door on the left.” Harry said, gesturing that way.

  “OK, guess I’ll see you all later.”

  “Yeah, you should join us at dinner.” Mark said, wanting to take advantage of being on friendly terms. “I mean, if you don’t have any other plans.

  “That sounds cool.” The bell rang and Damian gave an awkward half-wave, and made his way to Geography.

  Mark turned to see the questioning faces of his two friends, but he wasn’t in any rush to give answers. “Shall we get to class?”

  “Since when are you the swot?” Harry retorted, but filed into the History classroom.

  Chapter Four

  That afternoon, as his RE teacher droned on, Mark’s thoughts turned to the book Nanna had given him. To practise reading auras he needed a clear
mind, and people to watch. Luckily, he had both at this point; Mark rarely paid attention in RE. His teacher, Mr Burns, seemed content with his students being present while he lectured on, participation was hardly necessary.

  Mark was struck by the irony of wanting to practise witchcraft in the middle of Religious Education, but he wasn’t hurting anyone.

  He focussed on the girl in front of him, feeling a little frustrated that he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Mark sat back in his chair, mentally running through the instructions. That in itself seemed to steady his thoughts and move them away from his primary level of awareness. Taking a deep breath, he looked again.

  Mark almost jolted out of his relaxed state as he realised that he could see a brown haze emanating from the girl. It was as substantial as fog, and seemed to drift and fade. The aura pulsed again into being, following the girl as she fidgeted in her seat.

  Mark coughed to hide his victorious smile, then brought himself to his usual level of awareness. He glanced up at the front of the classroom, afraid his teacher would have noticed; but no, Mr Burns was still rattling on about the topic du jour.

  Keen to see if he could do it again, Mark steadied his breathing and allowed his focus to shift. It came easier this time, and soon he could see the brown aura around 'Little-Miss-Fidget' in front of him.

  Mark tried to keep his concentration steady, as he moved his focus to someone else. It was harder than he thought and he struggled to maintain the link. As his eyes fell on Harry, a blue aura blossomed, as his best friend focussed on Sarah. If Mark had to guess, Harry’s thoughts were also firmly not on Religious Education. Mark was pretty sure blue was linked to, ah, affection.

  Mark tried to keep his smile to himself, and he shifted his focus again. Curiously, he looked towards Damian, who finally shared a class with them. The poor guy was sat up front, in the only spare seat in Mr Burns’ archaic seating plan.

  A white aura shimmered up from his skin, so beautiful that it mesmerised Mark. It was almost a relief, that his initial opinion of Damian was correct. It would have been embarrassing if he’d been fooled by a pretty face. It was... Mark’s breath caught as he saw a black stain on the edge of Damian’s white aura. It grew, and swallowed all the light, then receded as though it had never been there.

  Damian tensed in his seat on the front row, and annoyed, he looked behind him. Was it disappointment in his eyes when he saw Mark looking his way?

  Mark felt his tenuous hold on his calm state break away and the aura vanished from the new guy. It was supposed to be to be harmless, viewing the auras of those around him. So why did Mark suddenly feel guilty? That he’d witnessed something he shouldn’t have?

  The last bell rang; Damian jumped up and was the first out of class.

  Mark dejectedly grabbed his things and made his way outside. The bright and beautiful day had quickly become overcast; Mark sighed at the prospect of heavy snow. At least it would stop him slipping on the ice for a day or two.

  He made his way carefully to the west villages’ bus and clambered aboard without any major incident. He looked along the half-filled seats, and saw Damian sitting, his head against the cold window.

  “This seat taken?” Mark asked nervously.

  Damian shrugged; it wasn’t exactly a resounding plea to join him, but Mark took it as the permission he needed.

  The bus engine rumbled to life and it soon set off, carrying its noisy cargo away from Tealford High.

  Mark racked his brain for something to say, but every thought dried and crumbled. He didn’t need to perceive auras to see the wall that Damian had thrown up. Damian stared resolutely out of the window at the grey passing scene.

  The silence between them dragged on, as the rest of the bus continued to swell with the daily gossip that held the excited edge that came with heading home.

  Eventually Damian looked up at Mark. “Can I get by?” He asked dully.

  Mark felt a pang of disappointment as he got out of the way so Damian could get out of the window seat. Mark wasn’t the only person watching Damian leave the bus; most of the girls were distracted by the hot new guy walking past.

  *****

  The snow started to fall as Mark walked home from the bus stop. It was delicate and deceptively light, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the real snow.

  Mark went straight into his Nanna’s house, unable to shake his thoughts of today.

  “Ah, it’s yourself.” She greeted as he walked into her warm kitchen. Nanna moved to put the kettle onto the Aga.

  While she was putting together the tea tray, Mark hung up his wet coat and sat by the kitchen table. A large orange fur ball jumped onto his lap, and immediately started purring. Mark scratched Tigger’s favourite spot under his chin, then stroked his thick winter coat; the cat’s purrs vibrating through his hand.

  Nanna took one look at the cat on his lap and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “How did you-?”

  “Tigger only acts like that when you’re upset; or I’m taking him to the vets.” Nanna replied, setting the tea things on the table. “Spill.”

  “Traitor.” Mark said, poking Tigger’s well-covered ribs. The cat looked up innocently, then curled up on his lap. “It’s nothing… it’s… I tried the aura reading.”

  Mark broke off and pulled the little red book from his bag.

  “Oh? How did it go?” Nanna asked, looking very pleased at this big step.

  “Well, it wasn’t easy,” Mark remarked, grabbing a biscuit, “but I did it. It was oddly relaxing. I saw Harry’s – his was blue.”

  “Which pertains to love.” Nanna added.

  Mark nodded. “Yeah, he was looking at Sarah at the time, so that’s what I thought. Does that mean he loves her?”

  Mark already knew the answer, but he felt a little hurt. He was jealous – not that he had ever had those type of feelings for Harry; but rather that his best friend was being stolen away by something so consuming. He did his best to ignore how lonely it was to be a gay teenager.

  “I would imagine he does,” Nanna answered, “it’s always love and passion at sixteen.”

  Mark groaned. “OK, well there was another girl who had this brown aura.”

  Nanna frowned. “That usually means they are conflicted.”

  Mark nodded. “Yeah, that’s what the book said; and it fits, Michelle is usually causing trouble.”

  Nanna tapped her mug of tea as she stared at her grandson. “People are rarely bad for the sake of it. There’s usually something it stems from.”

  Mark thought back to Michelle, she was always fidgety and had more than her share of teenage angst. “The result is the same, she’s not a nice person.”

  “I want you to talk to her.”

  “What? But I-“

  Nanna held up a hand to silence him. “You have seen her aura, you have witnessed that something is distressing her. It is your duty to act on it. It may be that she will reject your friendship, but how would you feel if you did nothing and she did something extreme as a result of her problems?”

  Mark groaned and dropped his head on the table. “Fine, I’ll speak to her tomorrow.” Came the muffled reply.

  Mark sat up again, aware that his school jumper was now covered in orange cat hair.

  “There was a third guinea pig.” He said slowly, wanting to phrase it right. “This new guy, Damian. He had a white aura.

  “Really? Someone enlightened and open to the world around them.” Nanna replied with a curious smile.

  “Yeah, but then it changed. There was a black spot, it grew and then vanished. I couldn’t find anything about it in the book.”

  Nanna glanced down at the little red book, taking her time to answer.

  “Because it is not possible.” She finally said, her voice calm and quiet. “Two such opposing auras can’t co-exist. You must have imagined it; or you allowed the person he was sitting with to bleed i
nto his aura.”

  “No, I’m positive-“

  “Oh, so you’re an expert now? After your first success?” Nanna snapped. “Sorry Mark, you still have a lot to learn.”

  An awkward silence descended on the kitchen. Nanna looked up at her books above the door and suddenly smiled.

  “How about we do something a bit… more?” She got up and pulled down a tatty, leather-bound volume, and carefully opened it. “You can do your first real spell.”

  Nanna flicked through the pages, before finally settling on one. The old woman sighed, “Oh, this was one of the first spells I mastered.”

  Nanna set the heavy volume on the kitchen table.

  “’To sense a loved one’s peril’?” Mark leant in to read the title.

  “Yes, I used to use this one when your grandfather worked in the coal mine. I was always paranoid that something would happen, especially when I was pregnant with your Dad.” Nanna smiled at the memory of her pregnant-hormone-overreactions. “The spell connects you to a person for about twenty-four hours. It’s nothing invasive, you don’t get to read their minds or anything; you simply get a warning when they are in trouble.”

  “We already have that, Nanna. It’s called a mobile phone.” Mark answered, ducking as a tea towel got lobbed at his head.

  “Well it worked for me. I knew the moment your grandad got knocked off his bike, cycling home. I knew where he was, and that I had to get to him. He was in the hospital for a week, bless him, and that leg took months to heal.”

  “OK, OK, so I need…” Mark leant in to read the instructions. “Eye of newt and toe of frog…”

  “That has never been funny.” Nanna replied drily. “If you take up witchcraft, you’ll have a lifetime of the same jokes and bloody stereotypes.”

  Mark smiled and read for real. “I need fennel, thistle, and a protection stone.”

  Nanna pointed to the dried bundles hanging from the ceiling beams. “Help yourself.”

  Mark looked up at the dried herbs and plants, when he was a young lad, he’d help his Nanna doing regular cooking. He’d been fascinated by how she recognised the different plants, and he’d done his best to learn them. It also helped that his Nanna kept them alphabetically, so she could check her stock at a glance. He carefully removed a couple of sprigs and put them on the table.