The Grand High Witch-2

  The Grand High Witch looked to her remaining followers. “Well! Now we know the way the cookie crumbles!” she said nastily. 

      Midliss and Marlos smiled weakly at each other. It was all too much for them.

      “Quite so, quite so,” Marlo said, he mopped the beads of sweat from his brow. The chill of the night had no impact on the perspiration coursing from his neck down his back: a cold sweat borne of sheer naked fear. He had just witnessed something he hoped never to see again. He had seen a person, a friend, callously run to ground by sly innuendoes. He had witnessed Jado slowly lose his mind with worry, lose all confidence in his fellow coven members knowing that things are not right; and not knowing from where the unsettled realization that you were being excluded from your own group came from. For weeks Jado had turned to Midliss seeking answers and at every turn she had betrayed him, only succeeding in confusing him more. He had watched Jado disintegrate under the pressure of never knowing who or where to point the finger of suspicion or accusation of disloyalty. Marlos had witnessed it all. And did nothing.

       The Grand High Witch continued. Her hat wobbled importantly over her long, crooked warty nose from which hung a large pendulous drip was waiting to be caught in an unsuspecting tissue. “Just like that other upstart who joined us a few months back. She turned nasty for no reason at all. Never would have thought it of her. Mad as hatters the two of them. Glad to see the back of them,”

        Marlo felt a wrench of nausea at the recent memory. “I thought she showed great talent,” he said. His thumbs twiddled around each other as his hands were clasped together. A reaction to the anxiety he now faced.

        “What do you make of it then?” The Grand High Witch said. Her eyes darting eagerly from one to the other. She was keen to make good use of the now vacant seat of power that had so effortlessly fallen into her lap. How fortunate she was to be there. All that was needed now was to take control. There was no denying the coven was now hers for the taking. She just had to convince these numbskulls to hand it over to her. “You, Midliss? What do you think?” She pounced.

        Midliss flustered and a red bloom flushed her cheeks. The Grand High Witch knew how favourably she stood with Midliss. At that moment, the knowing was not enough. She wanted to hear it. She wanted Midliss to anoint her ears with those words of adoration and affirm her power once and for all in front of them all. “It is a shame that Jado has left in these circumstances,”

        Thunder crept across the Grand High Witch’s face.

      Midliss added quickly. “But I think he should not have said all those horrible things to you, Grand High Witch,”

      The Grand High Witch smiled. Sympathy? It was a long time since she had evoked sympathy. A highly potent emotion, which when offered freely can be used to great disadvantage. “Right, right, right. Barking mad.” She said impatiently. “What of you, Marlo?”

     “I-I’m still trying to take it all in,” he replied timidly. He was fond of old Jado. It pained him to witness the manner in which Jado had been cornered and ousted. He swallowed hard. Maybe he was getting old but he found the ousting of witches and warlocks from covens no longer the pleasurable experience he once enjoyed. He was getting old. Too old to play this game.

         The Grand High Witch’s face fell in sorrow. “I understand the shock you all must be feeling.  I can only feel pity for the state of his mind. His mind is gone.” she moved in for the final damning words. “It is our duty to ensure he never returns as leader. For his own good, of course,” she placed her hands on the table in a business like fashion. This was after all unfinished business and she wanted all loose ends that lay between her and the leadership of the coven, tied up before they left that evening. She retrieved a mangled tissue from her sleeve and wiped her nose. Her sharp nose itched and it was not the evidence of her cold. It was the itchy nose of conflict. She was ready for it. “Without further ado, I suggest we close our Sabbath for this evening,” she said. “All this going on will turn the energies against us. We should meet again next week.”

       “Do you really think so?” Midliss said her voice rank in disappointment. 

      “Maybe Jado will calm down and return soon,” offered Marlo.

      The Grand High Witch fumed. She could not afford to upset either of them. Yet. “I fear he has gone. Gone for good. Now we must decide who will take up his mantle until we find a replacement. While we are waiting I do not mind standing in until such time a replacement is found. If everyone is in agreement?”

       “Oh! That’s very kind of you, Grand High Witch!” exclaimed Midliss with admiration.  Her smile dropped when she saw the empty seats around the altar. She wondered how so many people could be so disagreeable, so very judgemental of the Grand High Witch. She was seriously misunderstood by them all and many more. If they all gave her a second chance they would see how vulnerable the Grand High Witch was and how much she was in need of a really good friend. That good friend, Midliss hoped would be her.

       “I can advertise in Witch Weekley. Put the word out at the same time for mew members. It’s been a while but I still have some connections. Our numbers will be full in no time.” She saw their glazed faces. She was moving fast, too quickly for them. She added.  “If that’s alright by you?”

      “Oh yes,” said Midliss. “That would be wonderful,” her face alight with more admiration and hero worship.

       Marlo looked doubtful. “We are no longer a coven nor are we a twelve or any number but a three. What do we do while we wait for new members?”

      “Good point,” the Grand High Witch said. “I suppose we could set up a weekly practise. Continue with our Sabbath meetings but we could use the time to hone our spells and magic. Until more join. We could boost the energies of the altar in preparation of resumption of our full numbers. Who knows? We might accumulate so much energy that we could carry on as normal,”

        Midliss and Marlo nodded.    

      The following weeks saw the Grand High Witch in tremendous form. She relished setting up her own coven. She paraded through the meetings which had suddenly moved from a democracy to a dictatorship with the grace of a blindfolded bull in a china shop. She was unstoppable. She cast spells each week and showed off her talents to great effect. She ordered the meetings, she ordered their lives in the same way. She dazzled them with her abilities as a coven leader. She became their shining star. They could see no one but her, obey no one but her, hide their feelings from no one but her and totally submit to no one but her. They could not have seen it coming nor did they realize the depths to which they had sunk; so obvious to the world outside the group. They shunned and were shunned by all those who disagreed with the Grand High Witch. Their numbers were many more than Midliss and Marlo knew or cared to realize.

       As time went by new members joined although they all left. Often without a word, just simply vanishing. Never to be seen. Their departures always observed with an acid remark by the Grand High Witch, denying all knowledge as to the cause of their leaving and declaring them all mad. Midliss and Marlo never questioned, and questioned the sanity of those who questioned the Grand High Witch. 

     On rare occasions a couple of those who left the group under that invisible cloud had seen the Grand High Witch out of the corner of their eye only for her to disappear when they looked more closely. For such a conniving, grasping, controlling creature the Grand High Witch loathed face to face disputes and avoided them with the enthusiasm of an arachnophobe  who avoided spiders. Theses disaffected had the pleasure of never speaking with her again on any terms.

     It was about six months later and the coven settled into a cosy weekly homage to the Grand High Witch. She revelled in it. She loved it. As each week passed her power and control over them grew. They became compliant to her ways as she introduced them to the darker arts of their Craft. She took from them all sense of will and self to that of complete obedience, complete obedience to her alone.  A craven, evil witch who sought to have nothing more than power. Power over them, over the Ether, over the coven, over the world. She cast spells of concealment. Concealment of her own dark ways. She knew they were dark and would not be tolerated by them had they the sense to see it. Her spells wove a thin yet strong web around them until they were willingly seduced by the Grand High Witch, plummeting them into the abyss alongside her.

      They enjoyed a hugely successful few months. Their weekly Sabbaths were considered the most exciting and extravagant among the covens. Many looked on with admiration and longing although few approached to join. The reputation of the Grand High Witch had well moved beyond the coven and while the other witches admired and respected her, they also feared her. Those outside could see the terrible things happening within and dared not venture too close for fear of being caught up in some diabolical caper. Also many had heard of how Jado and others had been forced to leave. So no matter how much advertising and spreading the word this coven remained as a Three. Or as they were known the Poisoned Three. For indeed all who came in contact with them, had their world poisoned by them. Yet neither Midliss nor Marlo had the eyes to see it.

       Christmas was drawing near. The nights were dark dotted with frosty sparkling stars, the magic of the ancients filled the air. To all but the likes of the Grand High Witch, it was a beautiful time. She hated it. All that good will and joy to all. Yeuch! She was even seen to gag at the mention of Christmas.

      The Grand High Witch wrapped her holey cardigan over her shoulders and shivered. The icy wind whistled through the cracked wooden window frames and from under the door. What a year! she thought as she hummed happily to herself. The grey net curtains rustled stickily. On the table at her side was a notepad on which she was planning the year ahead. So much to do, and so little time to finish it. She was old, even ancient by standards. And all her life she had lived in the shadows; in the shadows of evil; in the shadows of others. Too long had she waited. Too long had she lingered around her dreams instead of breathing life into them. This was her time to shine.

             This night. This was the night.

      The wormy grandfather clock struck the hour. She stirred the bubbling green gloop in the cauldron. She sprinkled in some powder and stirred some more. It was ready. She took out a bowl and spoon from the cupboard, the ladled the gloop into the bowl and retreated to the rocking chair. Pea soup. Nothing like it on a cold winter’s night.

       Jamieson, her black cat and loyal familiar, curled by the dying fire. He was a lean creature with black clumpy fir, a crooked bottle brush tail, a tear in his ear. His knowing yellow eyes twinkled from beneath his half closed lids. He too sensed it. This eve of Christmas held not only the expectations of the following day but also the sense that magic was around. Magic unconnected with Christmas. He sleepily hissed, baring his teeth while the hackles on his back rose.

       “There, there, Jamieson,” The Grand High Witch said. She stretched down a long crooked finger and scratched his bony head with her long grey nail. 

       The door to her hovel blew open. The roaring storm from without entered. A blast of cold air met her old lungs and she gasped.

       The Grand High Witch leapt to her feet. Filling the doorway was a grey almost transparent apparition.

       “LETT ME IN!” the spectre boomed in his horrible deathly voice. His rags flowed as though through water, his awful face wrapped in bandages that held its jaws closed.

       The Grand High Witch froze. 

       It was Jado.

The Grand High Witch©️Lorraine Poulter 2016