Mate revealed

Move over Monty

Burning. That’s what the frigid air is doing to Ester’s lungs. The air smudged in front of her as she breathed out. The moon is scribbled above her, silhouetting the trees. Adrenaline and fear are snaking through her veins. Dread is tangled around her gut.

She’s running.

No, she’s sprinting.

Fatigue clamouring up her limbs from the ground up. Her muscles pleading for her to stop.

Branches and twigs snap as she rushes. Why isn’t she wearing shoes?

Movements are echoed behind her.

Don’t look back, she chants to herself, don’t look back – you’re almost there.

Closer still. Her lungs are on fire. Muscles ablaze.

They’re gaining on her.

“Leave. Me. Alone!” Her scream tore between her breaths. The sound distorted as it bounces off the trees.

The hairs on the back on her neck were on edge.

“No. I can never do that…”

It wasn’t said aloud. That’s what was most frightening. The words swarmed inside her head. Vibrating through her skull. She shook her head frantically, like trying to shake free from a wasp on her ear.

Her foot gave way. Too fast to scream, her head collided with a tree. Her hand too late to protect her.

A scream ripped through the bedroom – Ester sat upright. The comforting scene of her bedroom lay before her.

Her breath was the only sound to litter the room’s stillness. Not mist, no darkness, no voice.

With a shaking hand Ester reached into her bedside table to quickly take two tables.

“Just a dream,” she murmured to herself, “a dream.”

Was it?

Ester stilled. Her heart lurched. She squeezed her eyes closed pointlessly. Not again.

“It’s not real, it’s just in my head.”

Ester’s hands fisted at her sides. She could feel, it, inside her head shifting, readying a reply.

The quiet voice whispered - I am you Ester.

“Not real… in my head…” Her voice shook like a web in wind.

I’m real, and I’m only just waking up….

“Shut up shut up shut up! SHUT. UP!”

Crack. Bang.

Ester’s head snapped toward the sound. The mirror opposite her. Her face was now splintered into three parts by fractures running across it’s surface.

She frowned. s**t. Not her, definitely not her.

Ester took one more tablet – she knew she shouldn’t, she knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t stop her heart thrumming against her ribcage, or the tremor in her fingertips.

With the light on, Ester sunk back into her pillows and willed for sleep to overtake her. She thought desperately of everything – anything – to take her mind off her dream, the voice, voices, and the mirror.

And yes, eventually her mind wandered into the forest again, this time in daylight, her feet clad in trainers, earphones in, her ponytail swinging as she jogged.

* * *

As the sun cracked open, Ester threw aside her curtains. She had important plans for the day. But as soon as she locked up and went for her trusty steed, she stopped dead.

Ester text: Stevie, why is there a new bike outside my door?! Where has Monty gone? Is this a hostage situation? Ester x

Before Ester was a very new, very shiny looking black bike. A helmet was hanging off the handlebars. And inside the basket at the front, a little hardback book.

Frowning, Ester pulled it towards her, ‘The Official and Ultimate Cyclists Guide to Road Safety.’ She read and raised an eyebrow. Much to her dismay. “Well that’s going to be a coaster”.

Ester griped when she discovered that yes, this bike was excellent, comfortable and much easier to use – plus there was no continuous squeaking. How dare he buy her such a perfect bike?!

She pulled up to the library and leant her bike against the railings. She was going to have to get him to take it back, she couldn’t allow him to buy her such an expensive gift.

“Nice bike!” One guy walking passed yelled at her. She tried to smile in reply, but it soured and made her look murderous.

The library was the oldest and largest building Ester had come across in Lightwood so far. Dark brick, high arched windows.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the library the smell of literature unfurled around her. Her eyes travelled across the walls coated and insulated with volumes upon volumes.

“Can I help you dear?” A small voice asked from behind the help desk. She was a miniature lady, hair like white candy floss, and pink lipstick, slightly smudged against her front tooth.

“Hello, yes please. I was wondering whether you had any archived news articles?”

“Town or state?”

“State”

“When from?”

“Oh, umm, around 1996 to 1998

She nodded “Far wall, on the left-hand side is microfilm 6, just below the local fiction section”.

“Thank you!”

“Helmet!” She called after Ester softly

Ester frowned “Pardon?”

“You’ve still got your helmet on dear”

“Oh” Ester’s cheeks heated, and her hands fumbled over her helmet.

The library was homely, desks sat in the middle, and rows on books were rooted either side. Only a number of bodies perched, or slouched, at the tables. One boy with his mouth wide, was asleep against what looked like War and Peace. Ester wondered how many words this room held, how many heroes and villains were trapped between it’s walls. How many of these books would never been opened again?

Turning the controls, Ester sat there for a few hours and the sun stretched across the library’s stone floor, readers flittered in and out. From school homecomings to escaped zoo animals, forest fires to town flooding’s – nothing that looked remotely relevant for what Ester had in mind.

Ester’s pocked vibrated.

Stevie: Sorry darlin, no idea what you’re on about. Fancy a burger?

A shiver travelled up Ester’s spine.

Ester: Seriously? This isn’t funny now. How much was it? I can pay you back! Ester

Stevie: I’m not kidding – I mean, I wish I had thought of getting you a new one, but nope – not me! What’re you doing now?

Ester: Just at the library – meet outside here for a burger in 30?

Stevie: See you in 30.

Ester frowned. Not Stevie? Stevie had to have bought her that bike. The alternatives were just too obscure or odd. What about Doctor Collins? Or Penny? Surely not that cute little old lady outside the hairdressers. And if it wasn’t any of them, who was it…?

As she stood, stretched, her eyes fell on the books before her.

Wyoming witches and Yellow Stone. Wicca and the northern covens.The Lightwood Lakes coven.The long-lost art of Silver Fern craft.

Witches? In Lightwood Lakes?

The last title was written in silver along the spine and had a little star at each end. The cover was blood red. Ester wasn’t sure why she reached out, but as she pulled it from the shelves, dust slid down from the cover and danced in the ribbons of light between the shelves. A sliver of excitement trickled through Ester.

Stevie was waiting outside admiring the bike.

“I’ve got to say, she puts Monty to shame.”

“Oh stop, he is definitely called Pegasus”

He tipped his head, and snorts “Even has a better name than Monty” He began wheeling Pegasus across the road.

“You sure you didn’t buy it for me?”

“Hmm, let me think?” He drummed his fingers on his chin, feigning confusion “Uh, no. Sorry, not me, I think I’d remember if I spent $400 on a bike.”

Ester’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went from the bike to Stevie and back again.

“I know – these things cost a bomb! Anyway, we’re here. Best burgers in town” He presented the diner with jazz hands. It was every piece the American dream diner. Big retro neon right shouting ‘Jo’s Diner’.

* * *

After ordering they sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. Ester watched patrons hustle in and waddle out. Mother’s with bubbly children, elderly couples with newspapers, guys on their own, scrolling away on their phones.

Before biting into his burger, Stevie asked “So what were you doing at the library? Looking for a new job, because Aunt Collins is going to be a nightmare?”

“No...” She didn’t meet his eyes, and instead pushed some fries around her plate. “My mum’s from around here, somewhere.” She watched as his features became confused. “I’m adopted” She declared “My biological family were from this state, or at least she was.”

“So… you were searching for her?”

She nodded “In the archives. Just a silly thought. I totally failed. I have no idea what I’m search for”

“Is that why you moved over here?”

Ester nodded once more.

Not the only reason though…

Her hand gripped the table. Her mind grappled to think of a new topic. Anything but this one. This one was headed somewhere dark and suffocating and she couldn’t look into it right now. “Hey, look what I got at the library” She shuffled around in her rucksack before presenting him with the two volumes. “I feel pretty let down that you never told me you guys had witches!”

Stevie grimace at the covers. “Oh, that… Some of these books are better left in the library”

“So you don’t believe in witches?” She raised her eyebrow at him with a grin.

“Do you?!”

“I don’t think so. I mean… No sorry, nope, not at all.”

“Why’d you get the books then?”

She shrugged, “Just curious I guess. I want to learn all about this place”

He smiled tightly, and looked through the window as he breathed “It’s a bit of a town obsession really, the whole witch thing. I’d avoid mentioning it to Dr Collins. Anyway” He stood, pushing his hands in his pockets “I need to skedaddle, you ok to take your new – I mean Pegasus, home?”

“Of course” She was already comically stuffing her head into the helmet”

“Oh, and good luck tomorrow” He patted her on the helmet and began walking away.

“Huh?”

“First day on the job? Monday – Doctor Collins…?”

“Oh yeah, tomorrow” Ester curses the days for slipping away from her. “See you”

Ester: Hi Penny – you ok? Got a bike – called Pegasus, I’ll send you a pic ASAP. Hope you’re ok. Miss you x

She took a left onto the main high street, and let the breeze tangle escaped bit of her hair.

Indulgently, Ester let her mind wander back to her mother for a moment. Would she even recognise her if she were to see her in the street? The diner? Would she recognise Ester? Would she feel anything towards this woman?

Sometimes, when she dwelled too long on the topic, she felt herself slowly becoming lost, like that leaf you might see out walking, swirling around a puddle by itself. Her adoptive parents had always been the ones to fish her out when she let herself go adrift, reaffirming her place in their family. They’d tell her how, sometimes, love was nurture not nature. That they knew her like no one else would. Now it was just Penny, trying to keep her safe and tethered.

Was coming here a mistake? Had Ester been stupid to leave the last person who loved her in another continent?

Ester was coming to the supermarket up ahead, when she spotted a familiar black four by four. It was outside Harty Finance Group again. She’d previously done a drive by – you know… just to know the area better.

She stopped her bike and dismounted, unclipping her helmet.

Two big guys in shades and suits leant against it, looking down at their phones. She hung her helmet from the handlebars. “Not him” she breathed.

Maybe if she just sat here for a few minutes, he might… The door to Harty Financial Group opened, and she strained on her tiptoes to see.

“Who’re we waiting for?” The words were whispered, but Ester jumped as if they’d been bellowed. His breath stirring the baby hairs by her ear.

Her face aflame, her heart pounding, she spun to face him.

And there he stood towering above her, just a metre away, varnished in the afternoon sunshine.

She took a step back, now unable to look at him. Her face felt hot, her palms clammy.

“Who’re we waiting for?” He asked again, taking a step forward. His voice deep and rich.

Skin tanned, hair midnight black, and falling just past his ears in lazy waves. His eyes were unwavering mahogany almonds, refusing to look away.

It was like he could see into her skull. His face was serious. Full lips unsmiling. He knew she was waiting for him, he had to, but he wasn’t amused, it was as if he wanted Ester to admit it to him.

Silence deafened. His eyes never left hers. Her mouth opened to respond. She wanted to say something witty, but all sense melted away.

Something within her shifted. It shifted. She could feel it stirring. Wanting out.

Not now, she inwardly chanted, please not now.

He took another step closer to her, just half a metre separated them.

Quietly he murmured; “Did that fall take it’s toll on you?” A hint of concern accidentally weaving into his words. She felt his breath on her face. Her heart couldn’t take much longer. Her eyes wandered over his broad shoulders and the tight sleeve of his suit jacket.

Suddenly she frowned “It was you, you bought me Pega- the bike!” His softening expression vanished.

He looked at his watch as if she were boring him. “I have to go. Goodbye…?”

“Ester”

“Ester” he repeated back to her. Her heart thrummed at the sound of her name on his lips, the way his mouth navigated the syllables and letters.

Just as he’d come, he vanished into his car, Ester watching his retreating back.

Heat licked her body. She leant against the closest brick wall, allowing the cold to quietly seep into her boiling skin.

“Did that fall take it’s toll on you?” she mimicked to herself in a comical deep voice. She slung herself onto her bike once more and started home.

“Who’re WE waiting for?” She grumbled. “Hummph, the police to come and give that big stupid four by four a parking ticket, that’s who!”

By the time she arrived home, Ester had had a full blown argument with him, one sided, of course. She decided that after work tomorrow she’d find out who he was and confront him about the bike. It had to be him to gave her the bike. He practically made her fall over! Probably some local voodoo stuff with his big dark eyes, Ester thought.

Beautiful eyes, the voice sighed.

“Be quiet you” She muttered.

* * *

Night fell quickly like a stage curtain across the horizon. Stars were fixed into the roof of the sky. Ester found her mind escaping back to a pair of mahogany eyes and full lips saying her name. How long had he watched her strain for a better view of the accountants? Why would he have bought her a bike, if he had?

It must have been him. But if it was him, he’d have to know where she lived… A shiver ran up her spine, she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or pleasure.

Why was she feeling like this? Ester had never shown any interest in the other s*x, or anyone for that matter. Well, except for Joseph Painter at University. But she’d put an end to that almost as soon as it had begun. The only man she’d ever kissed.

And, blushing, with that thought came a flurry of imaginings of her lips on… On… she didn’t even know this man’s name!

Ester growled loudly and plucked the book up next to her on the garden table. Leafing through The long-lost art of Silver Fern craft, light from the kitchen window wrapped her in a warm glow.

She ran her fingers across the black and white photo stuck inside the cover. Their serious faces were like statues. The clothes told her she was looking at a group from maybe 100 years ago, although she was no expert. Some of the men wore cow boy hats, a young woman in the front wore her hair in a neat plait and wrapped around her head. The woman behind her stood in the centre, a hand protectively on the girl at her feet.

She looked to be in charge; fierce and commanding.

Across America, collections of witches poured out of Salem in the late 1600’s to escape possible persecution that many did not survive, witch or not. One of these such groups were to be soon named ‘The Silver Fern Coven', taking up residence on the Wyoming-Montana border.

The Silver Fern coven was led by Alma Silverfern (– her great granddaughter is pictured centre on the photo who herself also named Matriarch of the coven during her time).

Ester leafed through toward the back of the book and found what she was looking for.

Pamela Silverfern:- 1812 –1921.

What – she was 110 years old?

Beneath the title, the photo had been blown up and cropped just to show the women in the centre of the coven, her hand still protectively on the girl at her feet.

Pamela Silverfern was the Matriarch of the coven in one of it’s most turbulent times since the Salem witch hunt. As outlined below she had to defend her people from other threats, possibly other supernatural beings as hinted by local folk law stories.

In tiny letters below the image it read: Matriarch Pamela Silverferm and her daughter Tabitha Silvefern in 1908.

A crack rang out across the fringe of trees. Ester’s head snapped up, eyes searching the blackness.

He’s here… The voice breathed.

“Who?” Ester whispered back. She stood. Something, slowly, stalked toward her from the treeline.

Who we’ve been waiting for…

The moon was full and swollen above her, watching as she made her way to the bottom of the garden as she had the night before.

Nerves began hatching in her stomach once more.

As if made out of the darkness, piece by piece, sown together from the shadows, came a huge bear – no wolf.

It’s dark eyes were trained on Ester’s face. His fur was black like tar. Ester should’ve been screaming, she knew that, but she wasn’t in control anymore. Her arms where braced on the fence, whilst she hoisted herself over it.

Eventually the wolf stopped just ahead of her, it’s head held high. It must have been the size of a small car.

Ester’s legs shook, but she couldn’t stop them. Her heart was calm but her stomach churned.

Mere feet from his mouth, she stopped and stood staring at it.

Gradually it moved towards her…