Maya's Aura: The Crystal Witch Page 2

  "Well," Molly began, "There were five in the inner circle. The one that died of a heart attack after the Sabbat. The two that had epiphanies over her dead body, and made confessions to the police, the one that committed suicide by hemlock yesterday, and the one that they think has fled to the continent to escape arrest."

  Their spoons were spoons frozen in time and space. Fiona gasped. "The TV news said nothing about a suicide or a fleeing to Europe."

  Maya was surreptitiously trying to use a paper napkin to wipe what she thought had been butter off her tongue and lips. Some kind of margarine. Yuk. She didn't look up. She was sure that if they saw her eyes they would know that it had been her, or at least her aura, that had killed the Magus and done something to the minds of the others.

  She took a deep breath and told herself that she was being silly. Her new friend that wasn't here. Angelica, the Goth woman, who was right now asleep in Maya's motel room, was the only one of her new friends that had been there to watch the killing. I mean the heart attack. Deny, deny, deny. She must live the denial. The Magus died of a massive coronary. It had nothing to do with Maya projecting her aura through her strange finger ring.

  She looked down at her hand and at the ring. It was the reason she was in England. It was a family heirloom and she had come to search for its history, its provenance, and its source. She had already found out that it was a very special ring. Jacob, her pet historian, had found out that it was a signet ring bearing the crest of Saint Margaret of Scotland. She was the Queen of Scotland during the reign of William the Conqueror, and also the sister of Edgar Aetheling who had been king for about a week before William.

  If that didn't make it special enough, then though it was a queens' ring it was not made of gold. Instead this ring was made of iron. And not just any iron, but bog iron. The iron ore carried in the crystals that formed in the peat bogs of northern Europe. It was rust resistant so it had revolutionized Viking ships, because they could make them with strong iron nails and fittings. She stopped thinking about the ring so she could listen.

  "There's five more witches locked up charged with cruelty to animals, and five more wearing those bracelets that mean you can't leave your house." Molly looked at the very subdued Maya. "Don't be polite, love. There's plenty more stew. Eat up, eat up. You are nothing but skin and bones. Positively anorexic." Molly stirred the stew and picked out some choice bits on the ladle and poured them into Maya's bowl. "There, have more of the kidney."

  Maya listened to more blah, blah, blah about ale recipes, and blah, blah, blah, gossip about people she didn't know, and sounded like she didn't want to know. There were many covens around Cambridge but the one causing all the trouble had been one of the Christian ones. You know. The kind that try to shock the church by worshipping Satan in place of Jesus and hanging crosses upside down.

  Once everyone else was sitting back patting their tummies and smiling, she asked "So who owns that land, you know, that dry island where the Sabbat was held?" The Sabbat was a witches festival, and Maya had been taken to it by Beatrice, Fiona, and Angelica. It was a bit weird, and very dark, but she had some fun at the market booths, and had actually stood on an ancient island that may have been the site of the village where her ancestors came from.

  "Oooh, don't rightly know," said Molly, "I think it's common. Yes it must be common because every year they have an organized march along the access tracks to make sure the owners of the surrounding fields can't shut the paths. Maud would know. Why don't you ask Maud?"

  "Uh, umm, I have to go to class tomorrow, and catch up. I've missed a week," said Fiona immediately.

  "Yeah, me too," added Beatrice turning, well, the color of the bottle of cherry syrup on the shelf behind her.

  "I'll ask Angelica," said Maya. "Just in case, could you draw me a map? I have a rent-a-car at the motel."

  Beatrice was so relieved not to have to drive to Maud's cottage. Fiona was so relieved not to have to visit Maud, that she used her career training to draw Maya a map of how to get there. As she drew it on the back of a paper place mat, she explained. "See, you go down that same Ely highway that led to the Sabbat, but instead of turning across the fields on the dirt road, you continue on paralleling the River Cam until just before it joins the River Great Ouse."

  "Ooze, so it's a muddy river?" asked Maya.

  "No, and if you reach the bridge over the river you have gone too far. So don't take the turn off to any of the villages, and don't turn into the holiday camp. Instead of turning right to the holiday camp, there is a driveway on the left. That is Maud’s. Don't get your wheels off the gravel else you will sink to the axles, and the tow trucks will charge you double because it's a salt marsh, and that means they have to wash off their equipment afterwards."

  "That sounds like a story," chuckled Fodder as he stood to go and pour them some of his ale.

  "Don't ask," interrupted Beatrice, going puce. "Just don't ask."

  "I'll phone her answering machine and tell her to expect you. She doesn't like drop-ins," added Fiona passing the map to Maya.

  "I never liked those bitches," said Molly, all thoughtful. "I mean witches, you know, in the black coven. Never did. Didn't like them in my pub. Bad business. I mean, most of my clients consider themselves of-the-craft. The black coven's actions will set the movement back a hundred years, you see if it doesn't. We'll all be tarred by the same brush."

  "There'll be more than tarring," Fodder said, "if any of those children's family get their hands on the culprits. We'll be back four hundred years and barbequing witches."

  "Aye, you're right Fodder," agreed Molly. "When the bloody Roman church came to this land, they burned any women who didn't know their place. Yes, that stopped only about three hundred years ago, and even then they would ship them off to Australia to be burned." At the mention of the Roman church, Fodder had spat on the ground and then stepped on the spit.

  "Australia wasn't invented four hundred years ago," piped in Fiona. "I think you mean that state in the USA where all the Puritans fled to."

  "Massachusetts," Maya offered.

  "Yeah, the other place famous for burning witches." said Fiona. "Three hundred years is about right. Right after the Dutch protestants invaded us to overthrow of our last Papist king, they forced the new protestant king to enact our Bill of Rights. Under the Bill of Rights they could no longer burn women suspected of being witches, but they could still transport them to places that didn't have a Bill of Rights."

  "So when did the Roman church come here?" asked Maya. Everyone stared at her like she was stupid.

  "With William the Conqueror, love," said Fodder spitting another curse to the floor, "The effin' Normans. 1066 and all that. Before him witches were called healers and seers, and were a force of good in the villages. His priests tried to put a stop to all that by burning a lot of them. It was the only way they could stop them. Burn the witches and the knowledge dies with them. Nothin' was written down, y'see."

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  MAYA'S AURA - The Crystal Witch by Skye Smith

  Chapter 2 - Badger Hollow

  They had another ale at the pub, and then the girls made a quick stop at the first freeway gas bar with a convenience store so that Maya could buy some yoghurt to settle her stomach that was grumbling about the steak and kidney stew. It was still shy of eleven at night when Beatrice dropped her at the motel.

  She crept into her room so as not to wake her new Goth-cum-witch friend Angelica. She needn't have bothered. Angelica was in a very deep sleep. The sound sleep of the suddenly relieved. Maya's boss in Windsor had pulled some strings with the police detectives that were investigating the misdeeds of the black coven and the death of its Magus. Neither Maya nor her friends would be a part of the investigation.

  Maya pulled the comforter/top sheet up over the Goth's tattoos and piercings so that only her spiky black hair showed on the pillow. She blew her a kiss and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After using her toot
hbrush to scrub the congealed stew grease out from between her teeth and off her tongue, Maya was happy to slip into her own bed and curl up and sleep.

  "Christ, oh Christ, bugger," was the dulcet tones of Angelica's voice that woke Maya. "Maya, wake up. You have to drive me to work. I forgot. I was supposed to open the shop today. Please wake up."

  Maya stirred enough to sit up, so Angelica ran around the room looking for her clothes, cursing.

  "I threw them away, remember?" Maya yawned. "I bought you more, they're in the Wal-Mart bag."

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you. One more screw-up at work and I'll be out on my ear." Angelica dove into the bag and drew out the pretty floral dress. "No, are you joking? Are you trying to end my life? I can't be seen in Cambridge wearing this."

  "Sorry, that's all they had that wasn't in winter colors."

  Angelica stared at her, checked the time on the bedside clock, and yelled, "Shit shit shit!" before pulling on the bright summery dress. Maya went over to her to clip off the tags with her tiny Swiss army knife, and to smooth it down over Angelica's curves. "You look nice. More than nice. Comb your hair and you will look pretty, like you did at the Strawberry Fair in that Medieval Babe outfit. Did you find the matching shoes?"

  Angelica pulled the see-through shoes out of the bag and stared. She sighed and put her feet into them and then walked towards the mirror beside the hall door. "Ahhhh. They twinkle blue and red and green lights. Ahh, my life is over in this town."

  "I thought they were cute," said Maya, dejected at the rejection.

  "Like it didn't dawn on you that I am a Goth? Like the tats weren't a dead giveaway, go figure."

  "Come on, I'll drive you," said Maya throwing on the same things she'd worn yesterday, to save time. She and Angelica now sort of matched. All bright and summery.

  With Angelica riding shotgun and showing her all the short cuts, they bypassed a lot of traffic and came to stop in front of a Drug Store (Chemist Shop in England, Maya reminded herself). Angelica rolled out of the car, misstepped on the high heels, saved herself and strutted to the front door of the shop. After messing with some keys she went in, flipped the sign on the door to 'open', and then waved to Maya and blew her a kiss. The footlights twinkled.

  Angelica had told her that this job was a practicum as part of her training to become a licensed pharmacist. What were the chances of any government licensing a raving butch Goth to dispense restricted drugs? Maya sighed at the perversity of life.

  Since she was up anyway, she decided to press on with Fiona's map and see if she could find this local wise woman called Maud. The one who may be able to tell her about ancient villages. After a greasy breakfast at a lorry driver's greasy cafe on the edge of town, she pressed on, watchful for road signs that popped into sight usually with too little warning to make the turn.

  There was police tape and sawhorses blocking the dirt road to the dry island where the Witches' Sabbath Faire had been held, but no sign of activity. She was fooled into taking a wrong turn into a village that she had been specifically been told not to take and thus had to back up (accompanied with a veritable concert of beeps and honks), to undo the turn. The turn to the holiday camp was much better signed than the highways department could have ever been responsible for. The camp looked like a very surreal place, like a gypsy camp turned trailer park with a big pub in the middle.

  Maud's driveway was to the left where it should have been, but it was so narrow that Maya had to pay attention and go slowly. After parking at the wide place where the driveway ended, she got out to stretch and take a deep breath of fresh country air. She almost choked on a smell familiar to all Northern Californians. Skunk cabbage. Looking around, she couldn't see any, and she was stretching out to see under some damp looking bushes when she was yelled at to, "Ge' ou' da way."

  Two young men who looked like inner city roughs, rushed up and pushed her over to get by. Brushing her legs off as she stood, she looked down at what seemed to be a jumbo sized skunk sniffing at her ankles. Slowly, oh so slowly, she pressed her hands together to raise her aura and thought only pleasant things. "Nice skunk, don't you know there are no skunks in England?" She changed her mind. Though it had white markings and smelled a bit skunky, it was not a skunk. It was way too big and fierce looking. More like an overgrown raccoon.

  The not-a-skunk finished his sniff of her feet and charged off after the two men. She wanted to take a big deep breath of relief, but of course she couldn't. Eau de Skunk still prevailed. The path that the men had erupted from was off to the left and as she followed it she could see a sunny clearing ahead with a cottage and some sheds. Between the higher land of the clearing and the end of the driveway where she stood, there was a damp depression all around, almost like a moat.

  Walking into the depression the skunky smell increased, and she looked down and there was momma and two babies. The babies were so cute. The mum had a set of very long teeth bared for action. A sensor light came on, and cause her took look to the side. The sensor lit up a sign on which was printed, "Badger hollow. Stand still and call for help, or back away very slowly."

  "Help," started out like a scream until she remembered the pigs at the farm next door to her mom's cabin in the mountains inland from Albion, California. A happy pig, like one eating turnip tops, makes a low grunting noise, which attracts other pigs. A high pig screech panics all the pigs. "Help" she called out in her deepest voice, while not daring to look down at mama badger.

  An old woman came to the door of the cottage and yelled out, "Brandy, leave her alone. I was expecting her." The badger slunk away into the bushes with her tail down and with two cuties scrambling after her. "Don't mind her. She's just doing her job. She's one of my many guard badgers."

  "Guard badgers?" was what Maya said first to Maud, rather than saying hello or even introducing herself.

  "Well, of course. Guard dogs are expensive to buy, train, and feed, and get you sued when they bite someone. Nobody messes with a badger, and they are easily trained, and best of all, they fend for themselves."

  "But the smell."

  "You don't notice it after a while. Besides, most of the year there is a strong sea breeze that blows it away."

  Maya wrinkled her nose and followed Maud into the cottage. After the introduction formalities, including the pouring of tea, Maud finally asked her why she was here.

  "Molly at the Speckled Hen, and my friend Beatrice sent me here. They said you would know who owns the dry island where the Witches' Sabbath was held last Sunday."

  "It is a common," Maud answered in a wondering voice. She was maybe sixty but looked older in her farmer togs and Wellingtons. "I believe that way back when the village was abandoned it was signed over as meadow to the local lord but with a covenant that he could use it for grazing only, and that it remained common."

  "So what does that mean, common? Like, ordinary?"

  "Actually," Maud peered over her glasses at her, "the term was shortened from 'in common'. It is from the same era as 'in common' law and 'in common' language. Why did Beatrice send you to ask me this? Her father is a professor who specializes in common law at Cambridge. Never mind, tell me the latest gossip from Molly."

  Maya centered herself and her aura by praying and then searched her memory and repeated Molly's words almost word for word, including the things she did not understand. As her monologue was drifting to an end, Maud reached out and took Maya's left hand in hers so that she could look at the ring. She snorted, and then without asking permission reached between Maya's cleavage and drew out Britta's crystal.

  "Don't lie to me, child, with some cock and bull story about land ownership," Maud spat in an angry tone. "You are a treasure hunter, or worse, an archaeologist. How else would you come by these relics? What's the truth? Is the University pressing to start a dig on the island again? We've told them before, it is a holy place. We'll fight them all the way."

  "Umm, no, I'm not, honestly. No, really. My ancestors came from some fen village
north of Cambridge before the land was all drained. They ended up in like, New England. They brought these with them. Honest. I'm just trying to find their village. I was hoping the Sabbat island was it. That would be so easy. Ocham's Razor, and I would be finished."

  Maud was slow to respond because she was taken aback by this young girl knowing about the Razor. "Before I say more, I must know for sure. Do you mind if I look into my crystal ball?"

  "Uh, no, why should I mind?" She was encouraged that this local witch had just mentioned something that she could relate to from Harry Potter. "Do you have to tap it with a magic wand?"

  "What nonsense they do teach in America these days," The seer woman said as she led her guest to a daybed at the end of the room. "You tie your hair up and bare your shoulders and neck, and then lie facing the wall." As she said it Maud was tying up her own hair.

  Maya sat on the bed preparing herself and watched the old woman uncover a glistening orb from underneath a silk scarf and bring it back to the bed. But it wasn't a crystal ball at all. It was a crystal skull, like, like, like the ones she had seen in an Indiana Jones movie. Didn't they come from Mexican pyramids?

  "That's not a crystal ball," she swayed away as far as she could from the skull face.

  "In everything but carved shape it is. The bloody Roman church," Maud spat a curse to the floor and stepped on it. "destroyed all the real crystal balls in Europe centuries ago. The ones you see nowadays are all fake, just glass or plastic. I borrowed this from the museum in Cambridge. It's from Mexico, carved from a real crystal ball."

  "Like, are you sure it is real?"

  "Oh yes," Maud replied with pride, "It is so priceless that the museum displays a replica to foil thieves."

  "While you hide the real one under a silk scarf?"

  "I don't have to worry about thieves, or police for that matter. I have guard badgers. Didn't you see those two louts from the holiday camp run by you?" Maud asked. "They were just the latest assholes that thought this old lady would be an easy mark. Not bloody likely."