Page 39 of The Snow Witch

‘I have never intentionally harmed anyone.’

‘But you have harmed people,’ pressed Nicholson. ‘Admit it, Witch. You have harmed people.’

‘I…’

‘Admit it!’

She could not win this day, not at all. If only she had the powers they accused her of. If only she had enough of them to free her from the grasp of these men. She was willing to try; hadn’t she conjured that demon from the poppet…

But what was the point? She stared around at the villagers: the people she had helped and healed and prayed for. The people she had grown up with, shared her world with.

She felt something inside her snap: the feral part of her that only Emory knew, the real Meg beneath the calm surface of the village healer was bubbling to the surface. If the villagers thought she was strange and different, measured only by the work she did, they would be appalled at the Meg who bathed naked in the Burn in the moonlight, and climbed trees to be closer to the stars. The Meg that was reflected in Emory, and the Meg he swore passionate, undying love for, was the real her, the soul and spirit of her. She could not breathe without Emory, without the landscape they lived in.

What was the point of it all if this was going to happen anyway?

‘You know as well as I do that there is no point in me admitting anything or denying anything.’ Meggie’s voice was low and dangerous as she looked at Nicholson. She might as well play the part they accused her off. There was no hope and she could not fight it. ‘If I speak another word, you will make of it what you want. If you try me and find me guilty, I will curse the ground you walk on, the air you breathe and you will never rest easily again. I shall haunt you throughout eternity. I will make you pay for my life and more.’ There was a thick layer of snow on the grass now, miles of white wherever she looked. ‘But yes.’ She glared at Charles, at his twisted, smug face, even as the men holding her tightened the grasp. ‘I have harmed people who deserved it. I will harm them again from beyond the grave. But I will not be alone.’ She might as well terrify the lot of them; she knew it was over for her. ‘I have legions who will help me,’ she hissed. ‘I will not rest until you are all gone. And I will exact revenge on every single one of you thousandfold.’

The crowd screamed in terror and yes, she was glad.

Yet her heart still cried out, hoping for one last miracle: Coventina, blessed Coventina. Goddess of snow, goddess of this place, please help me. Please help me… An image flitted through her mind of the people who had lived here before, who had worshipped at this Well, who had trod the very grass she was standing on. Had Coventina helped them? Would she help Meggie?

Or would Meggie have to face this alone, as she had faced everything else?

Or would Emory come, if she cast the net of her thoughts wide enough? She had to try…

Oh God, how would he live without her and without their child?

A strangled sob caught in her throat. Was this, then, the Universe’s revenge for what she had done? For taking the life of those unborn souls? She was not the only one who might die today. Coventina was the goddess of childbirth. Had she turned against her after all?

Or was it for using the dagger for evil?

‘Oh goddess, please, forgive me. I could not help it⁠—’

‘She is quite mad,’ yelled Charles. ‘Look at her face. Hear her words. If you are a true witch finder, you need to deal with her. She is mad and dangerous. She has just called on an unchristian idol, and is refusing to take responsibility for her actions. And then tell me the Devil himself did not speak to her!’

Nicholson nodded, his gaze fixed on Meggie’s. ‘I shall deal with her, sir,’ said Nicholson. ‘Fear not. The truth shall be revealed on this hillside. There will be no gaol for this witch, no time to reflect, no opportunity given for discussions with Godly men. This will end today. One way or another. Gentlemen…’ Nicholson nodded and more men walked towards Meggie as Nicholson took a few steps backwards, resting his hands on that brutal staff.

‘Thank God for that,’ said Charles. And Meggie saw him smile triumphantly as he glared at her, then turned and pushed his way back through the crowd. ‘You have my testimony!’ Charles shouted. ‘You all witnessed what she has done to me. Do with her what you will.’

With one last glare at her, he stalked off towards the horse, flinching as he settled himself in the saddle, then he kicked the horse and pounded off towards the village. Meggie’s gaze did not waver from him. He, too, would pay for today.

Somehow.

When she was dead.

25

NOW

Violet hadn’t made arrangements to go out with Ollie for dinner at all. It was the first thing she could think of as an excuse. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have dinner with Jake; more the fact that she wanted some time alone to process what had happened today. Those overwhelming feelings of evil and despair had really shaken her; couple that with the images of the Witch Trials, the original document with the costs on that Jake had pointed out and the pregnancy hormones, and she was a mess.

Oh and yes. She was keeping that news to herself as well, wasn’t she? The pregnancy. Poor Jake! He really deserved to know. But she still needed to wrap her head around it before she could even think about telling him.

Which made her feel awful and made her want to distance herself from him even more, just in case she blurted it out and he ran away screaming into the hills beyond Hadrian’s Wall.

And probably none of that explained away the visit to the cottage at Newbrough and what she had seen and heard there.

At least with Ollie, she could share that a bit more openly as something had clearly happened to him at Coventina’s Well. She could tell that by his face when they’d met in Hexham.