Читать книгу The Secret - Ariana Chambers - Страница 5

There was a time when I really looked forward to school trips. When the worst thing I had to worry about was whether one of the boys would be sick on the coach from one too many speed bumps or way too many sweets. But that was before. Before I moved to Fairhollow, my mum’s home town, and before my life was turned upside down and inside out with the revelation that I am a witch.

Yes, you read that correctly. And no, I don’t fly about on a broomstick or turn people into frogs or eat my dinner from a cauldron. But it turns out that a few families in Fairhollow still carry some kind of witch gene, and mine happens to be one of them. Having the witch gene means you are born with some kind of witch power – like invisibility or being able to harness energy or move through walls. My power is being an empath, which means I can tell how other people are feeling – and sometimes what they’re thinking. This is not as cool as it might sound. Now everything in my life – including school trips – comes laden with issues. Like how I’m going to deal with the other witch kids at my school who’ve chosen to embrace the dark side.

‘I heard that a girl got murdered in Mad Bess Woods,’ Izzy says loudly from the back of the coach.

‘Yeah,’ Izzy’s sulky-faced sidekick, Vivien, chimes in, equally loudly. ‘That’s how the woods got their name. Apparently she was lured to her death by the ghost of a Victorian orphan girl called Bess. Who was mad.’

Next to me, my friend and fellow good witch, Holly, gives a dramatic sigh. ‘If they’re going to make up stories, they could at least use a little imagination. Lamest plot ever.’

I can’t help laughing. Holly is the biggest bookworm I’ve ever known. I bet if doctors looked inside her brain, in the interests of medical science or something, her memory would look just like a library, with shelves and shelves of the books she’s read all stored away inside.

‘That’s right,’ Stephen’s voice booms down the coach. ‘They, like, found her body hanging from one of the trees and she was, like, all dead and stuff.’

Stephen is Izzy’s other sidekick. All brawn and no brains. And until recently, no eyebrows, thanks to an ‘accident’ Holly orchestrated with a Bunsen burner.

I feel a sudden shiver coming from the right of me and I glance across the aisle at Eve. As usual, she’s sitting by herself, and staring grimly through her huge glasses at the back of the seat in front of her. She’s bolt upright and her face is as white as a sheet. I think about leaning across and asking if she’s all right but something stops me. Eve always seems so unapproachable, so self-contained. Instead of saying anything I take a deep breath, relax my body and focus on Eve. I’m going to use my empath abilities to try to pick up how she’s feeling. I picture unlocking a huge wooden door in my mind and imagine Eve walking through it. A wave of fear rushes in. It’s so intense I have to slam the door shut again. My body fills with concern that’s all mine.

‘So . . . should be a fun trip,’ I say, leaning across the aisle to Eve.

Eve gives the world’s smallest nod and continues staring at the seat back.

‘What was that, Nessa?’ Izzy calls to me down the coach.

I get a sinking feeling. Ever since things came to a head between us in Aunt Clara’s kitchen, and Holly and I showed them how strong our powers were, Izzy and the other Blood Witches have been really wary of us. It’s been months since she’s talked to me.

‘Isn’t it nice how all the odd ones out end up coming together on a school trip?’ Izzy continues. I turn to look at her. She’s all blonde curls and dimples and sweet smile. Sickly-sweet smile. If only people knew how evil she could be.

‘Yeah, really nice,’ Vivien echoes, her thin lips pinched together, sour to Izzy’s sweet.

I glance at Holly and she mirrors my frown.

‘Just like a flock of sheep,’ Izzy says with a giggle.

‘Why’s she being like this?’ I mutter to Holly. ‘Why’s she being so brave all of a sudden?’

‘I don’t know. But if she doesn’t shut up I’m going to stuff this in her mouth!’ Holly pulls a huge hardback book from her bag. ‘The Complete Lord of the Rings,’ she adds. ‘Eight hundred and seventy-nine pages.’

I laugh. ‘Yep, that should do it!’

‘You’d better watch yourself in the woods, girls,’ Izzy calls. ‘Ghosts love haunting loners like you.’

I glance at Eve. She’s still staring straight ahead but her hands are now balled into tight fists in her lap. Then a horrible thought occurs to me and I turn back to Holly.

‘Do you think Izzy’s being like this because she knows we’re going to be miles away from Aunt Clara? Do you think she thinks we’ll be weaker without her?’

Holly’s face falls. ‘I bet that’s it. I bet they think they’ve got the upper hand now there’s three of them and two of us.’

I feel sick as I remember everything Aunt Clara told us about the Blood and Silver Witches, and how in each generation they compete to complete their pente – or circle of five witches – first, so they won’t lose their powers. At the moment, in our generation, the Bloods already have three witches and us Silvers only have two. Whoever gets five witches first wins and the other witches lose their powers.

‘Yeah, well, if they try anything we’ll have to show them they’re wrong.’ I sit up straighter in my seat. In the months since Aunt Clara revealed that she was a Silver Witch too, she’s helped Holly and I hone our gifts. Teaching Holly how to harness her ability to control energy (and stop blowing up electrical appliances!) and showing me how to use my empath abilities by visualising a door in my mind to help me block other people’s feelings from flooding in.

At the front of the coach, Mr Matthews gets to his feet. As usual, his wiry white hair is springing from his head in every direction and his crumpled suit hangs loosely from his thin frame. He fiddles with the microphone in his hand and a screech of feedback rings around the coach, causing everyone to flinch. ‘Whoops-a-daisy,’ he sing-songs into the microphone and his voice bellows out through the speakers in the ceiling. I’m not exactly sure why the school decided to send Mr Matthews on this trip. Somehow I can’t see him hiking up a storm in the woods. Thankfully our super-sporty PE teacher, Miss Black, is with us too. Maybe Mr Matthews came because he fancied doing some marking in a more tranquil setting . . .

‘Exciting news, ladies and gents,’ Mr Matthews says, his mouth a little further from the microphone this time. ‘We will shortly be arriving in Mad Bess Woods – let the adventures begin! Oh dear . . .’ The coach rounds a sharp bend and Mr Matthews swings straight into the lap of Miss Black. ‘I do beg your pardon,’ he says, the microphone still on.

I look at Holly and shake my head. ‘Something tells me this is going to be the longest three days in history.’

‘Yep. Even longer than the weekend I spent with my parents in Berlin when I had nothing but German books to read.’

‘I didn’t know you could read German.’

Holly sighs. ‘I can’t.’

The coach starts making its way up a bumpy track into the woods. The sky was already overcast but now, surrounded by towering trees, it’s practically as dark as night. The trunks are gnarled and twisted – the kind that look at if they have faces carved into the bark. Tortured, howling faces. Apparently Mad Bess Woods is one of the oldest forests in the country. It got its name from Lady Elizabeth Thomas who lived in a nearby stately home hundreds of years ago. When her son died at the age of seven she went mad with grief and spent months roaming the woods crying. At least, that’s what it said on Wikipedia.

As the coach carries on up the track everyone starts fumbling in the overhead shelf for their coats and bags. Everyone apart from Eve, who’s now looking down into her lap, whispering something under her breath. I quickly visualise the door in my mind opening and feel overcome with a sense of gratitude. Eve isn’t feeling scared any more – she’s feeling relieved. But why?

Finally, the coach pulls into a large clearing. There’s a faded sign to our right that says WELCOME TO MAD BESS CAMPSITE. Or at least that’s what it should say, but most of the B in Bess is missing so it looks as if it says MADnESS CAMPSITE.

Holly looks at me and raises her eyebrows. ‘I hope that isn’t an omen!’

Mr Matthews gets back to his feet. ‘OK, everyone, let’s disembark with a little decorum. Will the people in the seats at the front leave first, please?’

But Izzy, Vivien and Stephen are already halfway down the aisle. As she reaches our seat Izzy stops and looks down at me. Her pale blonde curls fall in perfect ringlets around her face. Izzy looks really beautiful when you first glance at her but it doesn’t take long to see the hardness inside of her poking its way out through her jutting cheekbones and pointed chin.

‘Better be careful, freaks,’ she whispers. ‘Camping can be really dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing or what to look out for.’

Hatred starts twisting in the pit of my stomach like a swarming mass of snakes. Crap! Her feelings are breaking through my barrier. I picture the door in my mind but it’s wedged open.

Izzy sniggers. ‘This is going to be so much fun.’

I hear Vivien laughing behind her and the hatred starts snaking its way up into my throat, choking me from the inside. I look away from them, out of the window, and see a huge tree. It reminds me of my favourite old oak tree back in Fairhollow. I picture sitting beneath it, soaking up its strength and the hatred inside me starts to fade. I slam the door shut in my mind and get to my feet. I can’t let the Blood Witches win.

‘You don’t scare me,’ I hiss after Izzy. But she’s already stepping off the coach.