Getting Help

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

 Hilary didn’t know where to start. The kitchen was crammed with people as Paul, Bracken and Lord Peregrine pored over a pile of new notebooks on the table, and Samgan, well, he looked like he was running a fever. “Oh, Samgan,” she sighed. She pushed a mug of peppermint tea closer to him. “I have no authority over you, I can’t rule you, and I don’t want to rule you. We have not known each other long.” She tried to frame her feelings. “That you brought these up from the cellar, it makes you a hero. I can’t help but admire your courage and strength.” She pushed herself up from the chair and started pacing. “The notebooks are invaluable. They’ll make all the difference with the stones and the cellar.” She paused, standing across the table from Samgan, wringing her hands as she noticed the unhealthy flush creeping over his face. “But I care about you. I’m so grateful for the result, but I’m so worried about you!” She went back to pacing. “I can’t bear to think about what might have gone wrong, that you could have been hurt, and in ways that can’t be fixed by peppermint tea.”

“You must not diminish his achievement,” Lord Peregrine said sternly. “I felt the weight of that presence there. Samgan was a hero.”

“Of course he was!” Hilary threw up her hands. “And it makes things so much better for us. It’s given us the keys to solving this. But he’s not well, and he could have been hurt!”

“You would care for me?” Samgan said, his voice rusty.

“Yes!” Hilary cried. “Why wouldn’t I?” She shook her head for a moment. “I don’t have the right to insist on things, as I am not your ruler, but I would strongly request that you rest for at least the next week.”

“But I need to serve you!” Samgan said.

“You have just done an amazing, wonderful, fantastic, heroic…” Hilary turned to Bracken. “Explain it to him.”

Bracken looked blank. “I has no explanation,” she said.

“You gave me milk this morning,” Samgan said. “And food. Those are my wages.”

“I should be throwing a parade of thanks!” Hilary said. “And then, if I had any authority, I’d insist that you rested and healed up for the next week at the very minimum. You’re running a fever again, and if you keep getting these attacks, it could damage you permanently.”

“You are being praised,” Bracken said. “But I understand about the wages.”

“Don’t start!” Hilary said. She sat back in her chair and her mouth crumpled. “What if it had gone wrong? What if we’d lost you?” She scrubbed a tear away.

Paul gently patted her hand before turning to Samgan. “I think the better way to explain is to look at how things could work in the past.” He looked over at Hilary before turning back to the feverish pooka. “How it feels, I suppose, is that you and Bracken are members of Hilary’s household. You work for her and the household, but you’re more than workers. You get your food, and milk, and clothes and such, but that’s part of being a member of the household. As part of the household, you work when you can, but you’re looked after when you’re sick.”

Hilary nodded, still wiping at tears. “You, and Bracken as well, have an importance. I feel…” Her voice broke.

“All good lords have a responsibility to those of their household,” Lord Peregrine said quietly. “There is duty on both sides.”

“I’m no lord,” Hilary said briskly, brushing away the last of her tears. “But it’s as good a way as any to explain what’s going on here.” She looked at Paul. “And I have no idea where you and Tom fit in.”

Paul chuckled. “I guess we’re paying guests, but I think we’re part of the household as well, aren’t we? I’ve seen how you fuss over Tom.”

“He needs someone around who can look after him, especially after all the problems with his family,” Hilary said.

“That is why I found it imperative to act,” Samgan said softly. “You care without reserve, even to such as I.”

“No! You are worth care!” Hilary said. “But back to the point in hand. I’m going to…” she hesitated. “I don’t want to order you around. I think that’s happened far too much to you. But I would like to strongly ask that you drink up your peppermint tea, get a good meal inside you, then go back to bed and get some rest. You’re still weak from that dreadful imprisonment.”

Samgan slowly smiled. “I will do as you ask, without any feeling of coercion,” he said. “But soon I will be strong again, and I will ensure that the garden will flourish.”

***

After lunch, Hilary, Paul, and Lord Peregrine headed to the library to sort through the new notebooks. “I’m worried that it could have killed him,” Hilary said. “But you have to admit, these notebooks are what we need.”

Paul nodded. “The oldest ones contain the rituals that set up the newer stones and some of the defences in the cellar. I’ve just skimmed the surface, but the original defences weren’t anything special.”

“I’ve been looking at the newer notebooks,” Hilary said. “Annie took advantage of the extra power and added in some layers of defence in the cellar. It’s like she fitted it out for a last stand.”

Lord Peregrine thought for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said. “But there’s a comfortable place to sit, water, air, and even a bathroom. She could easily stock it with food, that is, if she felt that she was likely to be attacked.”

“I think that she spent too long down there,” Hilary said. “Whatever’s in those defences, it’s not good.” She looked anxiously between the two men. “It may not have started as something sentient, but I think it’s getting there.”

“What do you mean?” Lord Peregrine asked.

“I don’t like to use the word demon,” Hilary whispered. “But I think that it’s gone beyond any type of nature spirit.” She looked at Lord Peregrine. “A nature spirit wouldn’t affect you, not like that thing in the cellar, and I’m sure that I felt purpose in the second visit. When we moved the hanging, I think that we woke something up.”

“That is not a comforting thought,” Lord Peregrine said after a moment.

“It could be worse,” Paul said. “I’m not sure that we can take whatever’s in the cellar on without half of the Council at our backs. That doesn’t mean that we have to give in. I think if we pull power away by moving the stones, then we’ve got as good a chance as anyone of getting rid of whatever it is.”

“There is a great deal of power moving through those stones,” Lord Peregrine said. “If we alter the placement and get it wrong, then the disruption could be dangerous.” He looked between Hilary and Paul. “I mean, it could be fatal to those near to the disruption and bring out ghosts, waken old and unpredictable nature spirits, and even attract lesser demons.” He tapped the notebooks in front of him. “We have to be cautious.”

“Annie made some notes,” Hilary said. “I think that she was trying to raise the power further. It didn’t help. I think it may have affected her more than she realised.” She opened one of the notebooks. “The problem is, she was using ritual magic.”

Paul nodded. “That’s how the original stones were added,” he added. “It was one of the older witches that had the cottage, Elspeth Botton, that took up ritual magic as well the natural stuff that most witches use.”

Hilary nodded. “Elspeth was here for nearly forty years. She took the cottage on early, and she just kept going until the 1950s. I think that she moved the stones in the early 1940s.”

“I was sleeping then, as was Cabus,” Lord Peregrine said. “It was troubled times.”

“It was during WWII,” Paul said. “Most of the men were away, no-one was paying attention to a cottage on a hill, and all Elspeth had to do was shift a few things around in the right order.” He pulled over one of the notebooks. “She didn’t put in all the details, just the general outline to remind herself.” He sighed. “It’s beyond me.”

***

It was quiet in the library. Hilary had left to catch up with her work and Lord Peregrine had decided to check on the Village Stores until it was a good time to contact Cabus, so Paul was left alone with the notebooks. He shook his head. It was such a mess, and it couldn’t come at a worse time. He wasn’t as attuned as Hilary, but Paul could feel the ebb and flow of the magical seasons, and the waters, the power, was running higher in the run up to the Winter Solstice. Once that had passed, the tides would ebb until they started building up to Imbolc, the old Candlemas at the beginning of February.

For a moment his shoulders slumped, then he picked up a pen, dragged a pad of paper towards him and started to sort through the notebooks. Getting them in date order would at least be a start. He picked up the first notebook and squinted at the handwriting. It probably said January, but with the way that the ink had faded, all he could manage was an educated guess.

The electric heater that Hilary had brought in hummed gently in the background as Paul worked his way steadily along the books. Then he paused and turned towards the door, his head tilted as he listened for sounds of Hilary. The sounds of a conference call whispered through the still of the house and Paul relaxed a little and stood up. Without hesitating, he strode over to the hidden door, swung the bookcase aside and, without hesitation, marched down the steps to the cellar. He didn’t pause but walked over to the ritual room, opened the door and switched on the light.

The room was unchanged from Samgan’s visit. There were no notebooks left on the shelf, but pens and pencils had been knocked onto the floor and lay scattered under the shelves. The drapes still hung a little loose, covering the text but there was a hint of power still leaking from behind them. The shadows in the far corner were still a little darker than you would expect, and there was a hint of movement in them. And the small bottle of salt that Samgan had knocked over in his flight from the room was still spilled across the circle etched on the floor.

Paul nodded to himself, then searched along the shelves before picking up a large tub of fine-grained kitchen salt. He grimaced and set the tub carefully down on the shelf before striding over to the workbench and picking up gloves. He looked around as he slid the gloves on and picked up a large wooden scoop. He almost snarled as he opened the tub, and nearly dropped it as he dug out a large scoop. Almost wincing, he scattered the salt over the circle, concentrating on an arc near the door. Again and again he scooped salt over that segment of the circle, his face wrinkled in distaste, before finally sliding the salt back in place and dropping the gloves and scoop on the floor with an air of relief. Then he marched out of the room and up the steps, meticulously closing the door before sinking back into his chair. His head sagged down.

After a moment, Paul shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He pushed himself up from the table and wandered over to the library door. Hilary was finishing a conference call in her small office and Paul paused and knocked as he heard her sign off. “I hope I’m not disturbing,” he said.

Hilary shook her head. “I’ve finally got off the call with that idiot,” she grumbled. “It takes the first ten minutes to sort out the camera and volume before we can start anything else – and that’s every time. I swear I’m going to lose my mind with him.” She grinned up at Paul. “But he pays very well.” She frowned. “Are you alright?”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t know if Samgan brought in some sort of sniffle or something, but I just nodded off when I was working in the library.” He smiled apologetically. “I think that I’ll skip dinner and head to bed. I think an early night will do me some good.”

Hilary stood and put a hand on his forehead. “Sorry, don’t mind me,” she said. “You don’t feel like you’re running a temperature, but you don’t look yourself.”

Paul held up a hand. “You are not to start fussing over me,” he said. “I know what you’re like, but you’ve had enough on your plate with Samgan, and I just need a bit of rest. I just didn’t want you to waste a meal if I was skipping dinner.”

Hilary looked at him narrowly. “I’d rather do a little bit of fussing now and head off a fever than neglect you and then have my hands full later if you get ill.”

“I’m a grown man!” Paul said. “I’m used to looking after myself.”

“Not under this roof,” Hilary said. “You go and get into bed. I’ll bring up a tray with a flask of tea, a flask of soup, and a hot water bottle. Don’t argue!”

Paul smiled. “I wouldn’t dare. Are you sure?”

“I’m quite sure,” Hilary said. “Now hurry up and get to bed – you’re looking very pale.” She scurried past him to the kitchen.

For a moment Paul sagged against the doorframe as a wave of weariness ran over him, then he slowly trudged up the stairs to his bed.