‘WE must return to the cathedral tonight,’ declared Aunt Butters, as we walked quickly back to the Bishop’s Palace. ‘There is no time to be lost. I shall perform the ritual at midnight.’ She plucked a tendril of ivy from a nearby wall and twisted it round her wand.
I was still trying to process my encounter with St Swithun and did not reply. There was so much to take in and, though I understood almost none of it, I couldn’t help thinking that I had no choice but to accept this new, very strange, reality.
By the time we were shown into the Bishop’s library, and Aunty B had explained our encounter with St Swithun and then outlined her plan to cast a spell in the crypt, I’d given up trying to make sense of the situation. Instead, I hoped Bishop Stiles might yet explain things to me.
Vain hope.
He wasn’t happy with Aunty B’s plan.
‘I agree that Swithun has confirmed there is a curse, but that is all, Amelia. We still don’t know who is cursed, or why, or what may happen if you cast your spell.’ Bishop Stiles made a pleading gesture. ‘Give me a little more time. Please.’
‘The moon is at the full tonight, Woody. All the signs are good. It cannot wait––’
He interrupted. ‘Hear me out, Amelia. How can you know that casting your spell won’t make things worse? There is vast power in the Phantral Realm. What if you lose control of the gate? What if there are unknown forces there? You said Swithun spoke of some person “summoning them hither”. What if he means some evil being of whom we know nothing? I cannot allow you to take that risk.’
But Aunty B merely waved a dismissive hand. ‘Life is a risk, Woody, and I have always been a risk-taker.’
‘That’s all very well, Amelia, but I see no reason why you should put yourself in harm’s way.’
‘“Harm’s way”?’ I jumped at that. ‘What harm?’
‘Nothing, Cassie dear.’ Aunty B drew a gleaming crystal from her handbag and affixed it to the tip of her wand. ‘Don’t worry.’
But for once I agreed with the Bishop. ‘It sounds dangerous, Aunty B, and you can’t even be sure this, ah, spell of yours will work’
She looked mulish. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I believe it would be far more dangerous not to act. I’ve mastered Courslin Kerber’s incantation for releasing the dead and I have a powerful talisman given to me by the old Sangoma woman, which will protect me. Most importantly, I have my wand.’ She held it up. ‘It is ancient and has been crafted from yew for the dead, holly for the sword and shield, and rowan to compel the hearer. I have complete confidence in its power. Besides, I’m certain that nothing bad is going to happen.’
‘What if you’re wrong, Amelia?’ demanded the Bishop.
‘We cannot stand by and do nothing, Woody. Think of those poor souls – some of them barred from the Celestial Realm for who knows how long.’
‘I am thinking of them, but I’m also thinking of you. The ritual you’re planning is dangerous – it will require immense power to open the Phantral Gate, even for a few minutes. What if—?’
‘There’s no more time, Woody.’ My heart skipped a beat at the urgency in Aunty B’s voice. ‘You’ll just have to trust me.’
The Bishop sighed in defeat. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘I will allow you to try and see what you can do, only… only, you must know that I cannot assist you in this pagan ritual.’ He looked mournful. ‘My calling will not permit it.’
‘That’s all right, Woody.’ Aunt Butters patted his back. ‘Ensure the cathedral lights are all turned off before midnight and you’ll have done your bit.’
He nodded glumly and Aunty B and I left him to his sherry.
THE full moon was rising when we left Queen’s Solar and headed for the cathedral. I still hadn’t come to grips with the bizarre reality that I, Cassandra Austin, a very ordinary person with a very ordinary life, was about to help my eccentric great-aunt perform – and I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking this – a magic spell to open a mysterious supernatural gate so that a horde of unhappy ghosts could pass on to the next world.
It was true, however, and by the time we reached the cathedral, I was sweating.
Inside it was cool and dim. Aunt Butters lit two tall white candles and handed me one. Perhaps she felt my racing pulse, for she reached up and gently touched my cheek. ‘You don’t have to come with me, you know.’
It was so like her to think more of me than herself, and for one blissful moment I let myself absorb her touch. It reminded me of all the times I’d felt unloved or overlooked by my parents and she’d held me and soothed my fears and just plain loved me as they never had. In return I loved her deeply, which was why I would conquer my fears and go with her down into the darkness.
‘As if I’d let you do this without me, Aunty B.’
‘All right, then.’ She opened the door to the crypt and disappeared down the steps into the gloom.
Trying not to think about small dark spaces, I forced myself to follow.
At the bottom of the steps I found myself on a long wooden dais that provided a viewing platform for visitors. It had a metal railing along one side and a stone archway at the far end that led into the crypt. I held up my candle and watched the shadows dance on the vaulted stone ceiling. To the right and left more stone archways led to the crypt’s nether regions.
But it was the water that made me tremble. A dark pool completely hid the crypt floor and made the air feel dank and unhealthy. Even worse, it had almost risen to the platform. I turned to Aunt Butters, determined to make her promise that she wouldn’t go near it, but she spoke first.
‘Now Cassie, you must do exactly as I say.’ She locked eyes with me and there was a look on her face I’d never seen before.
‘Okay.’
‘No matter what happens, you must not interfere.’
This was hard, but I nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘Or enter the sacred space once I have begun the ritual.’
I wasn’t sure I could commit to that, so I looked up at the ceiling. ‘Mmm.’
But Aunty B wasn’t having it. She cupped my cheek, making me look at her. ‘Promise me.’ Her gravity startled me. ‘You must make me a binding promise, Cassie – one you will not break. You must promise to do as I say, or I must ask you to leave.’
There was a long silence. My mouth was horribly dry, and tears prickled the back of my eyelids. I swallowed hard. ‘I promise.’
Aunt Butters sighed. ‘All right then.’
She set to work at once: laying the black and white stones on the platform to form two circles – one inside the other – with the holly and witch hazel in the middle. When she finished, she held her candle out over the water.
It was deep and dark and still.
Aunt Butters did not hesitate. Drawing her wand from her skirt she held her candle high, walked to the far end of the platform and passed through the archway into the water. Her voice echoed back to me. ‘Cold.’
Panic shot through me. ‘It’s too deep—’
‘I’m all right.’ She turned, passed through a second archway and entered the crypt.
Her candle flame flickered brightly and I jumped. ‘Th–there’s s–someone there,’ I stuttered, for the candlelight had lit a figure standing waist deep in the water.
‘Nothing to worry about.’ Aunty B sounded remarkably calm. ‘It’s just Anthony Gormley’s Sound II – a wonderful sculpture.’
‘It looks exactly like a man.’ My trembling hand set the candle-flame sputtering.
‘That’s because Gormley cast it from his own body.’ Aunt Butters moved slowly through the water, which was nearly up to her armpits. My heart thumped harder and I longed to leap over the railing and drag her out of there. I leaned forward as if to lessen the distance between us, but as promised I stayed on the platform and did nothing but watch.
Aunty B reached the statue, placed her candle into the figure’s high cupped hands and looked about her. ‘Good. All four elements and a strong ghostly presence. It couldn’t be better.’ I longed to disagree, but she held up her hand. ‘Silence, please, as I prepare.’ She bowed her head.
It was the longest five minutes of my life. I tried to relax, to focus on the glimmering candlelight reflected in the water and listen to the god-awful silence, but all I could think was, what if she drowns? What if it all goes wrong? What if she needs help? I tried to remember my first aid training and was still working out what to do if Aunty B had a heart attack, when she lifted her head and chanted:
‘Power of the elements, I call on water
Son of Kronos, Gaia’s daughter
Give me power to restore
To Phantral Realm and Phantral door
That which has been lost or broken
Hear me now, receive my token.’
She raised the wand and drew a large circle in the air. Pulling a pin from her hair, she pricked her finger and allowed her blood to fall into the water. Then, picking up the flickering candle, she moved to the stone wall and pressed against it. Instantly, the waters began to roil and churn. Pointing the wand towards a shallow niche in the wall, she intoned:
‘Power of the elements, I call on air
Come ride the winds from here to there
Open now the Phantral Gate
Unseal it ere it grows too late
Unbind these spirits, let them be
Released to rest eternally.’
She drew an intricate shape with the wand. I held my breath, but nothing happened. Undaunted, Aunt Butters returned to the statue, put the candle in its hands and, holding the wand high above her head, declaimed:
‘Power of the elements, I call on earth
Who gives us life and gave us birth
I now beseech thee to unblock
The Phantral Gate, undo the lock
Unbar the door, turn the key,
That spirits may at last be free.’
For a second a faint yellow light glowed within the stone niche. Again Aunt Butters drew a shape with her wand and, in a voice unlike any I’d ever heard, cried:
‘Power of the elements, I call on fire
Burn and blaze and never tire
The Phantral Gate must heed thy call
To open up and free them all
I call all gods, both old and new,
Release these souls and let them through.’
She plunged the wand into the water. For a moment nothing happened and then, slowly, the pool began to split in two. Back and back the water swirled, as though pulled by invisible hands. Soon Aunt Butters was left standing wet and dripping on the bare stone floor, while on either side of her two enormous columns of water rose higher and higher until a pair of huge transparent waves curled along the vaulted ceiling to tower over her like two sides of a broken archway. I caught my breath as they hung in the air, looking as though at any moment they might come crashing down and engulf her.
It was a terrifying sight.
I tried desperately not to think of what would happen if they fell, but it was impossible. I forced myself to remain still, whispering fiercely under my breath, ‘Come on, come on.’
But Aunt Butters seemed untroubled. ‘The Phantral Gate is opening.’
Once more she raised the wand and pointed it at the niche. The niche began to glow, the stones around it disappeared, and suddenly all I could see was yellow light – great horizontal bands of it, waving and shimmering as though stirred by a breeze. Holding the wand aloft once more, Aunt Butters called:
‘Now open is the Phantral Gate
It summons those who stand and wait
Come ye spectres, spirits all
Hear me now, heed my call
Pass through, pass on, at last released
From Phantral Realm and into peace’
There was a sudden rush of wind, a great pealing of bells, and a shaft of light so bright that I threw my arms over my eyes. The air grew icy with a coldness that penetrated deep into my bones, while all around me I sensed movement – as though a vast crowd was surging past me. I was so frightened that I wondered my heart was beating at all. I didn’t want to see what was happening, but the cold was becoming unbearable and I knew I had to move or die. Swallowing my fear, I opened my eyes and peeped through my fingers.
All around me a great shadowy mass was pressing forward and passing through the bands of yellow light. I shifted my feet, trying to throw off the intense cold. The air seemed filled with a powerful sense of urgency as if the ghosts knew time was short. I had no idea how long it had been when the shimmering yellow bands suddenly began to darken. Orange light filled the crypt and the vast mass began to move faster, as though desperate to get out. The light flared with an almost blinding brightness and the cold began to dissipate, as all across the darkening orange bands shards of deep, burning red appeared. An overwhelming sense of malevolence filled the crypt – as though an angry power were growing within it. I yelled at the top of my lungs, ‘Aunty B, you have to get out of there!’
‘Not yet! Not yet! They need more time!’
But I could see her strength was failing. The wand shook, her candle was sputtering and... ‘Oh my God. The water.’ I pointed upwards with a trembling hand.
Above Aunt Butters, the two giant walls of water had begun to tilt forward. Huge drops splashed onto the floor and onto her bare head.
‘Please, Aunty B.’ Terror was spreading through me like a lethal poison, but still she pointed the wand at the niche and did not move.
The great walls of water began to tilt forward even as the light across the gate turned fiery red. The huge threatening bands merged, and then, slowly, menacingly, the enormous red mass began to swell inwards.
‘Aunty B!’ I screamed.
Forgetting my promise, I darted into the crypt and across the stone floor. I picked up Aunt Butters as though she weighed nothing and caught the wand as it dropped from her trembling hands. Then, as the great walls of water began to fall, I turned and ran.