The pretty witch Page 7

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT was the second thunderstorm in two days and Isobel felt that she was being unfairly tried as she listened to it rage outside. It had even passed through her mind, in a wild moment, that Lucifer had arranged for it to be so bad just so that he could laugh at her fear, then quickly dismissed the idea as not only idiotic but dangerously fanciful. The tiny cottage shook with the fury of it as every crashing roll of thunder followed lightning flashes that ripped the sky into jagged pieces, reflected a million times in the rain that hissed and splashed through the leaves outside her windows. It was much worse than the one had been last night, she was convinced of it, although last night she had been at the house with Nigel and Mrs. Grayson for company and better able to contain her fear. If only this one had come earlier she would not have been alone, but now it was almost midnight and the folk at Kanderby House would almost certainly be in bed. Only an abject coward like herself would have been afraid to go to bed and instead sit curled up as small as possible on the high-backed settee, her head buried in the pile of cushions, shaking like a leaf. It was difficult to hear anything above the fury of the storm, even if she had not had her ears covered, but some faint insistent sound pierced even her defences and blew, high and thin, on the blustering wind. Isobel raised her head and listened, only to bury it again when a deafening crash followed sharply on a vivid slash of white light ^almosirimmediately overhead. ' 87 A sullen rumbling respite followed and she lifted her head again, listening, sure now that she recognized the sound - a faint thin wail like a baby crying almost. 'Oh, poor little thing!' Compassion replaced fear for the moment and she hurried to the front door and opened it, crying out when another mighty flash heralded a roll of thunder that shook the earth. Cold soaking rain slapped into her face as if it had been thrown from a bucket and soaked her through even in the few seconds she stood there. It was impossible to see anything for the blinding downpour, but she shook her head, trying to clear her eyes and see the animal whose plight had called her out. There was nothing - only the wind howling in the unrelieved darkness, split yet again by another flash of lightning as she struggled with the door, banged back by the wind. ''Isobel!' Theory made her pause, unsure even if she had heard it, but before she could locate it, a tall, dark shape came at her out of the darkness and ran into the hall, slamming the door shut and dripping wetly on to the light tiles as he turned to face her. 'Lucifer!' She stared at him, raindrops still clinging to her face and hair, her eyes wide and only half believing what they saw. He had a raincoat flung carelessly over his shoulders and his hair flopped wetly over his brow, the dark face streaming with water which he impatiently brushed away with a hand. Black eyes looked at her curiously for a moment before he grinned, and there was something so reassuring about the grin that she instinctively responded to it. 'I expected to see you with your head under the covers,' he told her, and she started nervously at another almighty crash overhead. 'I have been,' she admitted, her voice sounding hor88 ribly unsteady as she tried to ignore the noise outside. 'But you were at the door,' he told her, and his eyes sparkled wickedly. 'You didn't anticipate my coming, did you?' 'No, no, of course I didn't. How could I?' He shrugged, still smiling. 'Oh, I thought you might have joined the ranks of the all-knowing.' 'Well, I haven't.' He dropped his wet raincoat over a chair in the tiny hall and Isobel led the way into the sitting-room. Then am I out of order asking why you were out on the doorstep getting wet, instead of in here where it's dry?' She turned as'she reached the settee where she had been sitting and frowned, remembering the faint plainfive sound that had drawn her from her hiding place to face the storm. T - I thought I heard something out there. A - a cry or something, like a cat mewing.' 'And your dear little soft heart made you brave the storm to rescue it.' She suspected sarcasm, but another crash of thunder startled her into wide-eyed fear and she put her hands to her mouth to stem the instinctive cry that threatened. There - there was something out there,' she told him, swallowing hard. 'I couldn't leave it out there, whatever it was, not in this.' 'Did you see anything?' 'No, you must have frightened it away, I suppose.' He grinned at her. 'In other words it'd rather face the storm than me, is that it?' 'I didn't mean that at all, and you know it,' she told him. The poor little creature must have been terrified with all that noise and you coming unexpectedly out of the darkness, so it just ran, I suppose.' In the brief fol- lowing lull, she eyed him curiously. 'What - what I don't understand is what you were doing out there.' 89 'Coming home.' Isobel blinked uncertainly. 'Coming home?' He nodded, enjoying her curiosity. 'Coming home from Vanessa's.' 'Oh, I see.' He sat down, uninvited, on the settee, his long legs crossed one over the other, perfectly at ease and smiling as he read his own story into the mounded cushions at one end. 'You don't, you know.' He grinned up at her, annoyingly at ease while she was so uneasy. Tour brain's running in all the wrong directions.' Isobel frowned. 'I only drew the conclusion you intended I should,' she retorted. 'I don't really care where you've been.' 'Oh, you're a good little girl,' he jibed, and Isobeij flushed. 'I'm not a good little girl, I'm just not inquisitive, that's all.' She looked at him, meeting his eyes and recognizing that welcome reassurance still there. Then she smiled and made a moue of reproach. 'AH right, I aw inquisitive,' she told him. 'If you haven't been to see Vanessa for the - the obvious reason, why have you been?' He looked as-if he wondered what her reaction was going to be, his eyes curious. 'I've been to a meeting.' Isobel blinked at the unexpectedness of it. 'Oh.' 'Oh.' He mocked her surprise and laughed. 'Or to be more precise, I've been to a gathering of fellow spirits.' The Elgin Circle,' she said, understanding at last. He nodded, casting an eye at the storm raging outside. *We seem to have upset the weather, don't we?' he asked blandly. 'You ' She looked at him uncertainly, the storm seeming louder and even more frightening suddenly, remembering her own hastily dismissed fancies earlier. 'It wasn't raining when we started,' he informed her 90 solemnly, 'and now look at it - real witching weather. Mind you,' he added with apparent seriousness, 'you'd get pretty wet riding your broomstick in this, wouldn't you?' 'Oh, Lucifer, don't!' She sat down next to him on the settee, unable to do anything about the involuntary shudder that ran through her, or the way her hands trembled. 'I I hate this weather because it makes - makes such a fool of me, you don't have to try and do the same.' 'I'm sorry, bella mia.' He covered her trembling hands with his own, a gesture that did nothing to help still them, his eyes showing regret for having added to her fears. 'I shouldn't tease you when you're so frightened.' 'I - I know I'm silly about storms, but I can't help it, and I do try not to make too much of it when I'm not alone.' 'Well, you're not alone now,' he consoled her, his hands still holding hers, strong and reassuring. Tf you'd do something for me,' he added with a smile, 'I'd be grateful, will you?' She nodded. 'Of course, if I can.' He ran a hand through his wet hair and pulled a face. Tf I could have a towel for my head, it's pretty wet. Have you got one handy?' 'Oh yes, of course, I'll get one. I'm sorry, I should have thought of it myself.' She fetched a towel from the bathroom, glad of something to occupy her mind, but hurried back to him as fast as she could, because the storm seemed so much worse when she was upstairs. Thanks.' He rubbed his black head vigorously and the resultant tousle made him look reassuringly normal when he grinned at her a moment later. 'If I'd had any sense I'd have driven straight round here instead of walkingwouldn't I?' -6' T - I suppose so.' She jumped nervously when another 91 crash cracked and rumbled overhead. To be honest she had scarcely realized what he said, but just the fact that he was there at all helped enormously. She glanced out of the blind, streaming window and shivered. 'I say every time that I won't be frightened,' she told him. That I won't let it turn me into a shivering coward, but it always does.' He discarded the towel and combed his thick mop of hair into casual order. 'I can see,' he said. 'YOU really are scared stiff, aren't you?' She nodded miserably, her hands tightly clasped together on her lap. "I'm always scared stiff and I hate myself for it, but there's nothing makes any difference.' 'Nothing?' h
e took her hands again as another crash sent shivers of fear all over her. 'Having someone here helps, doesn't it?' He smiled at her wide-eyed look and squeezed her fingers tightly. 'It's only like the 1812 Overture. Listen to it - the drums and cymbals crashing and the electrician working overtime on the lighting effects.' She shook her head. 'Oh well,' he added, 'I suppose it appeals to my exaggerated sense of the dramatic.' 'I - I think it's because it's so-so wild and uncontrollable that it frightens me so much.' He laughed, his eyes unbelievably gentle as he looked at her. 'Oh, piccolo., must you have everything and everybody controlled and - and restrained? Isn't it rather dull?' 'No, no, I don't think so at all,' Isobel denied, wishing her own emotions were under more control at the moment. Her heart was hammering wildly at her ribs and the pulse in her temple throbbed with more than fear of the storm. 'I like things and people I can understand.' The black eyes studied her face for a moment, then he shook his head. 'YOU disappoint me, cara mia. Don't you ever feel like doing something less - less safe? Chal92 lenging something you've never faced before, like this storm, for instance?' 'No - no, I don't.' She raised her eyes again and looked at him, almost appealingly. 'And you despise me for it, don't you?' He shook his head, smiling, one hand reaching to touch her cheek gently. 'I shouldn't be here if I did,' he told her softly, and Isobel blinked uncertainly, deaf for the first time to the noise outside, as she absorbed his full meaning. 'YOU ' It was too difficult to put into words, the realization that came to her suddenly, and she could only look at him wide-eyed, comprehending at last. 'I was parking the car,' he told her, making light of it, 'and I suddenly thought to myself, poor little Isobel, all alone and the heavens opening up over her head, so here I am.' 'YOU came because - because you thought I'd be afraid?' 'I knew you'd be afraid,' he corrected her with a grin. " 'And I knew it was unlikely that Nigel would be here to hold your hand, so I thought I'd stand in for him.' 'It - it was very kind of you, Lucifer, thank you.' His smile teased her out of her solemn mood. 'Oh, I'm always kind to children and animals.' 'I'm not ' 'I know, I know.' A raised hand stemmed her protest. 'But you did need company didn't you?' 'Yes, yes, I did, and I'm very grateful to you for realizing it.' 'Oh well, I suppose poor old Nigel couldn't really be expected to splosh his way over here in all -that plaster, could he?' 'No, of course not.' She wished she knew how much of the rapid, anxious beating of her heart was due to her fear 93 of the storm and how much to the knowledge that he had come to her because he knew she would be afraid and alone. 'For one thing,' she added, almost without thinking, 'he doesn't know I'm such a coward about storms.' 'He doesn't know?' She shook her head, disliking the expression she glimpsed in his eyes. Well, well, well.' 'I don't advertise the fact,' she said.-'I don't really know why I told you.' 'Perhaps because confession is good for the soul,' he suggested lightly, 'and you look upon me as your fatherconfessor.' Isobel laughed shortly, looking at him from under her eyelashes. 'I thought you drew the line at anything suggestive of a father figure,' she said. 'I said father-confessor,' he pointed out with a grin. There's a difference. The latter aren't always old men.' They're not members of a - a heathen club either," Isobel retorted, 'so you're not suitable for either role.' 'How about big brother?' he suggested. Then you can share me with Nigel.' He laughed softly before she could reply. 'Not that you inspire brotherly feelings in any redblooded man,' he added. 'Even with rain on your nose, you're beautiful.* She brushed the offending- spot with a hand, just in case it existed. 'I wouldn't know what to do with a brother,' she told him. 'I've never had one.' 'An only child?' He made a sympathetic face. "Poor little kid, no wonder you look so soulful!' 'I'm not a poor little kid, Lucifer, and don't be so blessed condescending11 'All right, all right' He held up his hands defensively. "But if I'm going to baby-sit for half the night, I expect the usual perks for the job. Where do you keep your coffee?''You're not baby-sitting,' Isobel objected. 'And I could . 94 have coped perfectly well on my own -1 did last night.' An arched brow challenged her. 'Do you want me to go?' he asked, and she looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. 'Good, then get me some coffee. And incidentally,' he added as she turned to go into the kitchen, 'you weren't on your own last night. It was all over by the time you came flitting back to your little nest.' 'How do you ' T saw you,' he told her. There was quite a bright moon after all the kerfuffle was over and I spotted you as I got out of my car. As a matter of fact I nearly passed out on the spot, seeing you drifting through the shrubbery at that time of night - and me slightly the worse for wear.' 'I didn't see you.' 'YOU could have, I wasn't hiding, but I expect you were anxious to get home.' He looked up at her, his eyes taunting. 'You looked all fair and fairy-like in the moonlight,' he added whimsically. 'So much so, in fact, that I, had an almost irresistible urge to hail you with "III met by moonlight, proud Titania", only I thought you wouldn't appreciate it at that late hour.' 'I wouldn't have,' Isobel agreed. 'Don't you like Shakespeare?' 'Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, but not to the extent of playing Titania to your Oberon at eleven o'clock at night.' 'Aaah! And I thought A Midsummer Night's Dream was rather appropriate too.' 'In August?' She got to her feet, smiling at her small victory. 'YOU little Philistine!' he called after her. 'I'll make us both some coffee,' she told him as she disappeared into the kitchen, 'it's no use trying to sleep 95 while this goes on.' She was forced to admit, however, that although the storm still raged outside she had never felt less afraid of one in her life and she thanked her stars for Lucifer's impulsive action and his consequent distraction, even if he-was mostly teasing her. 'Can I help?' he offered, and she laughed. *No, thanks, I can manage on my own.' Don't you want me to hold your hand when the big bangs come?' She ignored the jibe and switched on the kitchen light, taking things from cupboards almost automatically, taking out cups and saucers, sugar and coffee. She put the kettle on to boil and got a. tray from beside the dresser. It was when she straightened up with the tray in her hand that she saw the small, silent movement beside the table. Nothing really tangible, but a tiny dark shadow that, a second later, she was not even sure she'd seen, but she stood stiff and wary for a second or two. Then several things happened at once. A long jagged flash split the black sky in two and an enormous crash of thunder set the spoons rattling in the saucers, at the same time a small black shape fled swiftly from beneath a chair and across the kitchen floor. Isobel's scream almost outdid the storm and she dropped the tray with a resounding crash on the tiled floor. It was only a split second later that Lucifer came striding across the kitchen and barely more before she was tight in his arms, her heart hammering wildly as she clung to him. 'It's all right, carissimo, it's all right.' The soft, deep voice was comfortingly close against her ear and a soothing hand held her head against his chest, shutting out everything but hi& warmth and strength. How long she- stayed like that, she had no idea, but the storm seemed suddenly to have receded and it was almost reluctantly that she. raised her head and looked at him. 96 'I'm - I'm sorry,' she said meekly. The black eyes teased her, his arms still around her, but a little less tightly. 'I told you you should have let me hold your hand,' he said. 'YOU see what happens when you're stubborn?' 'YOU were the one who said I should face up to a challenge,' she reminded him, suddenly and inexplicably lightheaded. 'And there was something - something moved down by the chair there.' "Something moved down by the chair,' he echoed, and laughed. 'YOU have a sense of the dramatic too, bella mia.9 She felt oddly fluttery and wary as she looked up at him. 'Must you use Italian words?' she asked shortly, and he pulled her head back against his chest for a moment. 'Only when I get carried away,* he told her softly. 'I speak as much Italian as English, you know, and I don't see why you should object to my using both.* 'I'm sorry.' She raised her head again, looking slightly shamefaced at her outburst. 'But I did see something, Lucifer, I swear I did.' 'So you did,' he agreed, and smiled at her puzzled frown. He walked over to the door into the sitting-room and snapped his fingers. 'Here! Gome here!' Isobel watched him curiously as he bent and retrieved something just out of her view.
'Here's your intruder,' he told her. The one you went out to rescue." He held a huge black cat in his arms, its silky fur glistening in the light, slanted amber eyes half-closed in ecstasy as strong fingers caressed its chin. 'I knew I heard a cat out there,' Isobel laughed, almost hysterically relieved. 'He must have come in while I had the door open.' 'She must have done,' he said. 'He or she,' Isobel remarked, 'it gave me the fright of T-PW-D 97 my life.' 'Don't tell me you're scared of cats too?' he said, and she shook her head. 'No, of course not.' 'Of course not,' he echoed, and grinned. 'For a moment I thought it might have been your familiar.' 'My - my familiar?' He nodded, still smiling, his dark eyes taunting her wariness. 'All witches have a familiar,' he informed her, 'and it's quite often a black cat. It's supposed to be her attendant spirit or demon, and this is the kind of night for them to be abroad, isn't it?' 'Must you?' Isobel complained. 'YOU know that witchcraft jargon makes me jittery, and I have enough to contend with without you making it worse.' 'Did you know that Isobel is a traditional name for witches?' he asked softly, and she looked at him for a moment uncomprehendingly. 'It's true,' he added when she looked like arguing. 'Elizabeth, Betty, Isobel, Bella, Luebella, they're all witches' names, didn't you know?' 'Of course I didn't know,' Isobel told him, eyeing the huge black cat with less favour now than she had done. 'And - and I'm not sure I believe you, anyway.' He laughed again and rubbed the cat's chin. 'I told you you were a little witch,' he said. 'A very pretty little witch.' T most certainly am not!' 'Oh, but you are,' he said softly, an expression in his eyes that she could not accurately interpret but which made her heart flutter restlessly against her ribs. 'A witch is capable of casting spells,' he went on, still in that same quiet, almost hypnotic voice, 'and you can cast the most wonderful spells, car a mia; I know.' 'Lucifer, stop it, please!' He smiled, his long fingers still caressing the cat. Tor a 98 non-believer,' he told her, 'you certainly get involved, don't you? I've told you there's nothing to be afraid of, once you know about it, so take my word for it.' 'I don't believe any of it,' Isobel assured him, hoping she sounded more convinced than she felt. 'It's a lot of rubbish.' 'Oh no, not rubbish,' he denied, 'but perfectly explainable when you know how. Pyewacket here, for instance, isn't really a bewitched cat, but you were almost ready to believe she was, weren't you?' 'Pyewacket?' The witch's cat,' he told her. 'Another traditional name, like Isobel. Really she's only a common or garden moggie, although she's rather a beauty.* 'She is a beauty,' Isobel agreed. "And black too,' he grinned, reminding her of the old superstition. 'Lucky.' Isobel extended a hand to stroke the sleek black head and the cat struck - viciously and swiftly, claws extended and the amber eyes squinting maliciously. Isobel snatched back her hand, putting it instinctively to her mouth as the scratches stung sharply. 'Not so lucky for me,' she retorted. 'Of all the ungrateful creatures!* 'Proving she's a female,' Lucifer declared with certainty. 'She's jealous and she let you know it, didn't you, Pye?' The cat contentedly lifted its chin and purred loudly, its amber-coloured eyes fixed wamingly on Isobel. 'Since the admiration is obviously mutual,' Isobel told him shortly, 'you'd better take her with you;* 'I don't want a cat,' he said, putting the animal down on the floor where it rubbed against his legs still purring. -'Anyway, it's got a good home of its own already.' Isobel looked at him curiously. 'It's Vanessa's,' he explained. 'Oh, I see.' 99 'Do you? I suppose you're now thinking that the cat scratched you on Vanessa's behalf, aren't you?' Her expression was sufficient confirmation, and he laughed, shaking his head slowly. 'In fact it's simply because she's used to me and not you, so she lashed out. Easy.' 'Oh, all right,' Isobel agreed. 'Anyway, I wish you'd take her with you when you go. I don't fancy having a vicious cat here all night.' 'I will,' he promised. 'In the meantime, let me see those scratches.' He took her hand in both his and looked at the bright red scores on the back of it. 'I'd better put something on those before you go funny.' 'I don't go funny,' she objected, 'and they're only surface scratches - don't fuss.' 'I'm not fussing, I'm using my common sense.' 'You're being bossy.' 'And you're be^ng sassy again,' he warned. 'One of these days I shall do something about it.' T wonder you don't put me to bed without any supper while you're about it,' Isobel retorted. 'I'm not a child, Lucifer, and I wish you'd stop treating me like one.' 'You bury your head like a baby when it thunders,' he taunted, and Isobel flushed indignantly. 'Oh, .you horrible brute! You didn't have to use.that against me; you know I'm ashamed of myself for being such a coward and you rub it in, it's not fair!' 'It serves you right for being cheeky! Now let me put something on those scratches. And for heaven's sake don't argue,' he added .impatiently. 'You are the stubbomest little wretch ever bom, I swear it.' She conceded him victory for the moment, and fetched disinfectant and cotton wool, watching as he gently bathed the scratches, keeping a wary eye on the cat as it watched the proceedings malevolently from the doorway. Sitting, some time later, drinking coffee with Lucifer in 100 her tiny sitting-room, she could not help wondering what Nigel would have said if he could have seen them, and decided he would in all probability have second thoughts about letting her work for Lucifer and also doubt her common sense where his brother was concerned.