Page 2 of The Witch and His Crow

Mother simply shook her head, more tears falling. ‘You will forever be my brave boy, Hector.’

It was funny how, even at six, I sensed the goodbye lingering beneath her words.

‘I don’t want to play. Please don’t make me.’ I jutted my chin in defiance, unable to form another word. Deep in my belly, the beast stirred. Only when my mother laid a hand on it, stifling the feeling, did it simmer down.

‘You must.’ Her breath was perfumed with the sour bite of something I was too young to place.

It took little for mother to pull free of my power. I could barely hold a colouring pencil from a table for a few seconds without tiring, so forcing her to stay with me was years from being a possibility.

She leaned in a pressed a kiss to my forehead, her cool exhale disturbing the same curly hair my father had. Except mine was a dirty sand colour, just like my mother’s. My mother who slowly drew back, cheeks red and wet with tears.

‘I love you, Hector. To the moon and back.’

I swallowed, forcing the vicious lump that rose in my throat. ‘Then stay. If you love me, you’ll hide with me. Me, you, and daddy.’

‘Caym, I call on thee,’ Mother called out, her voice oozing the command I was not used to hearing. In response, a groan echoed at my back, the sound of a waking beast. If I looked behind me I knew what I would find. The gaping mouth of darkness as mother opened her favourite hiding place—a place she had always made me run to during ourgames. Games I would one day realise the sick reality behind. She was never playing with me, but preparing me for this very moment.

‘Close your eyes,’ Mother commanded. A creeping yawn sounded behind me. Deep in the cold belly of the fireplace, where stacks of wood and old cinders would be, was now nothing but shadow. Waiting arms, ready to embrace me, when all I wanted was the warm hold of my parents.

But I did as she asked, not because I wanted to, but because she willed it. Her power was strong. Before my eyes shut, I saw her gaze shift towards the shadows at my back. I couldn’t see who she spoke to, but I knew her next command wasn’t for me.

‘Protect him. Keep my son from them. All of them. Our allies and our foes.’

‘Who are you talking to, mummy?’ I asked, unable to look at the swell of darkness behind me. I was scared, but I wasn’t sure why. ‘What key?’

‘Shield my child with your life.’ She didn’t reply, not to me at least. ‘Swear it.’

‘I swear to it,’ came a voice I’d never heard before. It was rasped and hoarse, like grating of stones or the shattering of glass. There was nothing pleasant about it. The darkness had always been a silent entity, it shouldn’t have a voice. Except now, the shadows at my back spoke.

Mother was wide eyed as she gave another command to the dark. ‘Bahmet must never be freed again. This ends tonight.’

‘I shall guard the key. As you request.’

I peered behind me and saw beady black eyes of a monster. Before I could jolt away from it, pinching my eyes closed and pretending nothing waited at my back, the voice came again. Not only did it sound from behind me, it also echoedwithinme.

‘Who is Bah.’ I asked, but mother slapped her hand over my mouth, stopping me from finishing.

‘Never speak his name,’ my mother hissed, furious and panicked. That alone had me swallowing the name to the pits of my stomach. She withdrew her hand, as if she realised what she’d done and regretted it. ‘It is important you make this promise to me, Hector. You will never speak it. Names have power, you must remember that.’

‘Please, I don’t like this game. Mummy, I’m scared.’

She drew me in, laid her chin atop my head and sobbed. I felt her fingers draw strange symbols on the back of my head, and suddenly I forgot what she’d shouted at me about. That name slipped out of my mind, losing all meaning, until it was nothing but letters swimming pointlessly in the dark of my mind.

‘I wish I could tell you that the world is safe, but I will not lie to you.’ Mother said as she finally drew me back. But she didn’tlook at me, but at the monster behind me. The intensity of her stare, part furious and another part sorrowful, frightened me more than any of her strange words. ‘Stay away from them. Our allies and enemies are all but the same.’

Not but a second later, she pushed me into the waiting shadows. In my mind, mother spoke about Salem. He was my enemy, only a six-year-old and still he lived to upset me. I had an image of my school bully stomping up to our front door, ready to zap me with his Gift.

But it was not Salem who was coming for us. It was someone far worse. Someone who didn’t just want to steal my Lego blocks, but burn everything I loved to the ground.

Without my sight, I couldn’t determine what touched me in the dark. A cool, soft brush of what felt like feathers, as though a bird encased me within its wings, drawing me back into my hiding place. It was comforting—welcome almost, but I struggled against it until I knew my attempt was futile, my mother’s fingers slipping away until there was nothing left but feather and darkness.

I couldn’t see past the wall of dark. Not even my sense of smell worked here. But what I was left with was my hearing. It was stronger than it had been before. So much that I heard every minute detail.

Footsteps, many of them. Wood cracked. Thunder rumbled. My father shouted something but his voice was cut off. The sound that followed was like gurgling water filling his throat, spluttering out and splashing against the ground. One day I would understand the sound blood made when it choked a person, but in that moment, it was water because I was a child and didn’t understand such violence.

I would, in time.

My mind painted an image in response to the noise that followed. More footsteps, furniture breaking, plates shattering,glass cracking. Feathers filled my mouth so I couldn’t cry out. No matter how hard I bit down on them, trying everything to break free and help, the hold tightened as the darkness swelled and thickened.

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