The Magic In The Stones
By Andy Morris
Usually, the bright glow from the petrol station illuminated the lonely country lane that snaked its way through the Mendip Hills to the little village of Mid Haven. Aside from the village, the petrol station and the ancient stone circle up on the hillside; there was nothing else for miles around amongst the patchwork of farmers’ fields, untamed woodland and expansive moorland. After dark, the lights from the forecourt stood out like a beacon in the untouched wilderness; a bright shining star in the blackness of the rural landscape.
Tonight, however, the welcoming light was dimmed; smothered by a thick fog that had rolled down from the hills. It had descended so quickly and felt so dense that Amber marvelled that it was almost supernatural in nature. It was an ancient fog, both cold and haunting. It radiated an eerie silence that penetrated the village petrol station and its lone employee. To Amber, the fog was a manifestation of the Goddess; one side of the Wiccan dual deity and in the stillness outside she was able to commune directly to the Earth Mother. The outside world outside had vanished and she welcomed this new magical realm.
Awed by the phenomenon Amber had crept outside earlier to immerse herself in the fogbank, rejoicing in the stillness of the night. It had been midnight and she wanted to be outside to celebrate the summer solstice – the longest day. It had been so quiet that she could almost hear voices in the mists but her intuition told her that the voices were just her imagination. Back then there hadn’t been anyone else about but there was someone out there now: A phantom figure was approaching the shop through the surreal haze.
Amber watched from behind the counter with an odd sense of unease as the ghostly shadow stalked closer. Tall and willowy, the straw-like spectre flowed across the forecourt shrouded by the breath of the night. Amber’s intuition warned her that something wasn’t right. At first, it was just a feeling on the edge of her consciousness but she couldn’t ignore it. She slowly closed the book she was reading and got to her feet. The orange glow of a cigarette swayed in the air and flared as the visitor took another drag. He shouldn’t be smoking that out there near the pumps! Then he flicked the smouldering cigarette away into the corner of the forecourt and continued towards the door. That was when Amber realised she hadn’t locked it after she’d gone out earlier. A shard of panic sliced through her but it was too late. Her muscles tensed, ready to run to the door but there was no point now.
Damn!She cursed to herself as the visitor pushed opened the door and crept inside. He sneaked past the magazines, throwing furtive glances all around. His shoulders, Amber observed, were like a coat hanger where his old leather jacket hung off them. Underneath the jacket, he wore a dirty grey shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his emaciated chest revealing a torso that was well defined, more by lack of muscle than by sculptured exercise. His lank blonde hair hung down below his shoulders, framing his thin pale weathered face. In the light, he reminded Amber of that pop star her parents used to like – Iggy Pop - if Iggy Pop survived solely on a diet of Red Bull. The way he peered around the store gave Amber the impression he was confused or possibly disorientated. His face was creased in concentration as if he grappled with some mathematical problem in his head. He stood perfectly still, not moving for over a minute and Amber began to feel more than a little troubled by his presence.
She mentally recited a blessing chant she’d learned from her mother to help dispel negativity:Peace and love surround me and nothing but love will emerge from within me.
She concentrated on her environment to her relax. Behind her, the digital clock flicked its red neon numbers to show it was now five AM – two hours left before she finished her shift. In the background, the monotonous tone of the freezers hummed quietly. Their sound lending to the sterile ambience that always gathered in the store during the early hours.
At last the Iggy Pop look-a-like started browsing around the shop, apparently satisfied with whatever had been troubling him earlier.
Amber rubbed her eyes and tried to look busy. She considered going back to the book she had been reading; ‘Physiotherapy for Cardiac and Respiratory Conditions’. Her assignment wasn’t due for another week, which was good because as she turned the pages, the words quickly blurred into one. Once she passed her course she’d be a fully qualified physiotherapist and she could finally move out of Mid Haven and into the big wide world. She sighed and looked outside at the foggy night.
It had taken on a tangible, almost solid appearance, with the main road totally hidden now. The lights on the fog-shrouded forecourt just reflected back the hazy grey soup so that all she could see were the two nearest pumps and blotches of dirty yellow light hanging in the air. Even if a passing car did need some petrol she suspected they would probably miss the garage altogether. She wished a car would pull in though and then at least she wouldn’t be alone with this customer anymore. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
“I didn’t know…” Amber heard the other say quietly as if talking to some unseen companion. Then he peered over at her with an expression of mild surprise as if he’d only just noticed there was someone else was in the store with him. A vacant smile brightened his gloomy features and he tentatively wished her a good morning. His husky tone slurred the words as if he’d either had a stroke or he was very drunk. Amber suspected the latter, eyeing the almost empty bottle of Jim Beam clutched in his hand. He slowly turned towards her and approached the counter. His steps were uneven and it was taking obvious effort to move in a straight line. What if he was dangerous? Amber wished again that she’d locked the door earlier. She glanced out of the window again but it was unlikely any other customers would come on a night like this.
At first, she thought Iggy Pop was staring at her breasts, but then realised he was looking at the rose quartz pendant hanging around her neck. Rose quartz crystals are good for protection. Amber’s grandmother had taught her all about crystal magic when she was younger. She had chosen this particular necklace this morning and she hadn’t really considered why she’d chosen it at the time. But now she suspected the reason her intuition had guided her towards it: Did she needed its protective energies tonight against some potential assailant?
Amber noticed that the man’s swagger was impeded by a limp as he continued his drunken parade down towards the checkout. He was favouring his right leg over his left as if he had a muscle cramp. Amber recalled from her revision that excess alcohol use was a common cause of cramp.
He was muttering to himself again “… I didn’t believe it was real…” Amber caught a few words but couldn’t make much sense of his ramblings. Maybe he was unwell, Amber wondered. Had something happened to him while he was out in the fog?
“Can I help?” she asked politely, forcing a smile.
It was several long self-conscious seconds before he replied. “I think… I think I need to get… food…” he began. “Been partying… Somewhere… Up at that stone circle near the woods," he tried to elaborate and pointed vaguely out of the window with his bottle of whiskey, unsure of exactly which direction he had come from. Amber knew he meant Old Meg’s Circle; an ancient stone circle just outside the village.
“They say there’s magic in those stones, you know!” his eyes widened as he repeated the tourist slogan with a disrespectful chuckle that Amber didn’t like.
“We’re camping out there; me and my mate but I need… something”. A glazed look came over him again as if he were on some inner journey going back into his distant memories. Then his deeply lined face brightened momentarily as an idea sparked in his head. “Are you still selling drink?” he looked around hopefully at the chilled drinks cabinets lining the opposite wall.
“We can’t sell alcohol before 12 pm" Amber replied evenly. He stared at her blankly for a few more moments as if her words didn’t quite sink in and Amber wondered if he had even heard her at all. Then his frown hardened from one of confusion to one of slight irritation. His oily stare intensified and Amber felt herself beginning to squirm under his intimate gaze.
“You’ve been up at the stone’s?” she had to ask to break his unpleasant spell. She often liked to go up to Old Meg’s Circle at dawn to welcome in the new day. She didn’t like tourists talking flippantly about the stones though. Not to mention; it was considered bad luck to go there on the solstice.
Old Meg’s Circle had stood out on the moors for centuries. No one knew when the stones were put there or how or why but there were many stories that tried to explain their origin. Of all the myths, Amber’s favourite one was of the witch known as Old Meg.
Old Meg had been out tending to her sheep out on moors one day when a king and his men came riding by. The king demanded she hands over one of her sheep as a tax for using his land. The witch refused so the king struck her down and took all of her animals. As she lay there in the mud she uttered a curse onto the king and his men. So as punishment the king ordered his men to kill her at dawn. Then as the first rays of sun began to touch the hillside the men surrounded her in a circle and drew their swords. But before they could murder her the men all turned into stone right where they were standing.
“Paracetamol?” Iggy Pop’s sharp voice barked over her internal dialogue.
“Erm, it’s here” Amber pointed hesitantly at the display next to the chewing gum on the counter in front of her. Iggy Pop snatched up two packets. He slowly turned his head to the left and right and then tilted backwards in the way people do when they try to ease stiffness in their neck.
“Must have slept funny last night” the other murmured to himself and Amber couldn’t help noticing the tension now edging his voice. The faraway look returned to his gaze as if he were trying to remember something else, some detail that was important to him. “Where is godforsaken place anyway?" but before Amber had a chance to answer he interrupted her again.
“…Hang on”. He dropped the tablets and whiskey on the counter and limped precariously towards the far end of the store again, sighing and wheezing with every step. Every few feet he would stop and look around as if he were lost and trying to get his baring’s. Then he would mutter angrily to himself and continue plodding around the aisles. His confusion was fermenting into hostility and Amber didn’t need her intuition to tell her she needed to get someone to help her.
She carefully took out her mobile phone and swiped it on under the counter so he wouldn’t see what she was doing. Quickly and quietly sent a text to her cousin Corwin who also lived in the village: Get over to the garage and bring your van!Corwin was like a big brother to her and she knew he worried about her doing night shifts by herself. He’d come round in a few minutes and then at least she wouldn’t be alone any more.
The sudden crash of something falling to the floor sent Amber flinching back against the cigarette kiosk. She was surprised at how nervy she'd become.
“It’s your fault” Iggy Pop spat causing Amber to flinch. She wasn’t sure if he was addressing her or not, but either way, she had to get him out of the shop, quickly. Something was happening to him and there was nothing she could do until Corwin arrived. She checked her phone quickly but he hadn’t replied.
Outside the oppressive fogbank swirled ever closer, tightening its ethereal embrace around the little shop and Amber wondered if Corwin would even make it in this weather. The pumps closest to the shop were almost hidden now as visibility outside had reduced to just a few feet. Any car pulling into the forecourt would be unable to see inside the shop from the pumps. She shuddered because it was entirely possible that her unbalanced customer was thinking the same thing. But then she remembered the PA system that the staff used to talk to customers at the pumps.
They usually used it to tell customers to put the nozzle back onto the pump properly or to put their phones away. Amber risked a quick glance in Iggy Pop's direction and, satisfied he wasn't looking back at her, she switched on the microphone. Now everything that she said in the store would be broadcast through the speakers on the forecourt outside. With any luck, Iggy Pop wouldn't notice and anyone passing would hear what was happening. That is, she reminded herself; ifsomeone passed by.
She sat down and sent another anxious text to Corwin: Where are you?
Iggy Pop was clumping towards her again; limping around the corner from the chocolates and biscuits. His wheezing was becoming harsher with each step he took. He was rubbing the back of his neck still and the way he was throwing his accusing glares in her direction made Amber feel he was actually blaming her for his discomfort. If so, then what did he plan to do about it?
There was no time to speculate as he reared up at the counter again, his arms filled with packets of biscuits, crisps, a bottle of coke and a Cornish pasty. He didn’t say a word as he unceremoniously dumped the items on the counter. He looked at his purchases and then at Amber as if to say; what are you waiting for, put them through the till!
A tense suffocating atmosphere had filled the shop. It was as if an invisible fog had flowed into the store when Iggy pop had opened the door and it was slowly choking her. Amber took a calming breath and began her internal chanting again; sensing things could escalate at any moment.
Peace and love surround me and nothing but love will emerge from within me.
The counter was less than a meter wide and it was the only thing that stood between them. It wasn’t much of a barricade. She got to her feet on shaky legs and made a point of looking behind her at the security monitor next to the clock. It showed the interior of the shop with both herself and Iggy Pop clearly visible. Her heart was hammering in her chest. In her mind’s eye she saw the other reach into his ripped jacket and take out a sharp rusty knife, intending to slash at her neck; severing her artery and spraying blood over the counter, the window and the monitor. She mentally shook her head to banish the images. But the man before her had such a negative aura about it that she couldn’t stop it from clouding her own. She knew what was coming and she was all alone. Corwin wouldn’t get here in time and her crystal wouldn’t offer any protection either.
Outside, the smothering fog seemed to be pressing up against the windows as if it were trying to get inside.
Where was Corwin?
She picked up the bottle of coke and scanned it through the till chanting more urgently to try and centre herself once more.
Peace and love surround me and nothing but love will emerge from withinme.
Maybe it was the way the light reflected off the brooding fogbank outside but as Iggy Pop was getting out his wallet Amber noticed just how old and grey he actually looked up close. He had the appearance of an eighty-year-old as he fumbled with a twenty-pound note, which slipped through his arthritic fingers and fluttered to the floor. He sighed, almost pitifully as he bent to retrieved it. Then, just as he was straightening up again he froze.
“Ah!” His back had tensed in a sudden spasm. Amber watched him cautiously as he angrily reached around to his lumber area; still bent double. His rasping breath came out in short rattling bursts. From assessing the way he had been walking, Amber had guessed what was wrong with his postural musculature. She had seen his symptoms before in the village.
It could easily be a rouse though: Frail or not, he could be faking the injury; trying to lure her out from behind the safety of the counter so he could attack her? But she couldn’t just leave him. But what if he was dangerous? Should she risk it? If not, what was she supposed to do? Call an ambulance? That would be a waste of time. Regardless, Amber concluded, she was a healer. And with grim certainty, she knew what she had to do.
Iggy Pop was mumbling again. “… I’m sorry… please, just make it stop”. Amber picked up some words from his lunatic ramblings but the rest was too jumbled and incoherent to understand.
“I can help” she explained stepping out from behind the protection of the counter. “Come with me and we’ll get you sorted out”. She was doing her best to sound like a fully qualified physiotherapist and not just a student.
She could make an icepack from something in the freezer section if she had to, but first, she had to get him outside and sitting down. Under the window on the forecourt, there was a garden bench on display next to the barbeques and sacks of charcoal. He could rest there.
She took Iggy Pop by the hand and elbow and walked with him out of the store and back into the smoky haze outside. He remained hunched over but for the moment at least he complied with her directions.
Outside, everything was still hidden beyond the veil of grey and their footsteps echoed eerily in the silent fog. It was so quiet now, it was as if the night itself was holding its breath and listening to them.
The wooden garden bench was barely visible in the thick swirling vapour. Her patient was finding it more difficult to walk now, taking slow unsteady footsteps, which confirmed Amber’s suspicions about his condition beyond any shadow of a doubt. The mist whispered about her as she finally helped him onto the seat. He sat down heavily and groaned to himself. His hand reached into his pocket and seemed to fumble for something: A weapon perhaps?
“Wait here; I’ll be back in a second” Amber instructed and ran into the store without looking back. She quickly locked the doors behind her and got out her phone out to call Corwin. She watched Iggy Pop as the drifting grey fog lapped curiously around him before drawing him in. He was sitting still, looking out into the roiling haze as it slowly enveloped him. She saw his hand was still resting in his pocket, trying to get whatever was in there. As long as he didn’t try to come in again she would be okay.
It had just turned five-thirty when Amber heard the sound of Corwin’s van grumble onto the forecourt. She flew to the window and saw the pale lights pushing through the stirring gloom.
“Bright blessing” Amber hurried outside to greet her bespectacled cousin with the archaeologist’s-style beard. She gave him a warm hug
“You took your time” she chided.
“I came as quickly as I could in these conditions, Amber. Is everything still OK?” he inquired cautiously looking around the forecourt. “Where’s the passenger?”
Amber gestured towards the bench where he was sat.
She went to check on him while Corwin opened the back of the van. Iggy Pop didn’t respond to her and when she waved her hand in front of his eyes he didn’t blink. He looked even greyer in the dull light out here than he had done earlier. Amber reached out to touch his hand. It felt cold and hard: As cold and hard as stone in fact.
“It’s definitely happened then?” Corwin called over, wheeling an upright trolley from his van.
“Yes, Old Meg has touched him” replied Amber backing away from once-human, totally lifeless statue that was perched on the bench. “He must have been insidethe stone circle at midnight and fell victim to her curse”.
“Oh dear. He’s not from the village, is he? Do you think anyone will miss him?” Corwin asked as he levered the large stone onto the trolley with well-practised ease.
"Nah," said Amber casually as she watched Corwin manoeuvre the stone into the back of his van. “People get lost on the moors all the time. He did have a friend up there as well, so you’d better keep an eye out for him to”.
The villagers of Mid Haven knew it was bad luck to cross Old Meg’s Circle on the solstice. But no matter how many times they were warned, Outsiders never believed them when they talked about the magic in the stones.
Tonight, however, the welcoming light was dimmed; smothered by a thick fog that had rolled down from the hills. It had descended so quickly and felt so dense that Amber marvelled that it was almost supernatural in nature. It was an ancient fog, both cold and haunting. It radiated an eerie silence that penetrated the village petrol station and its lone employee. To Amber, the fog was a manifestation of the Goddess; one side of the Wiccan dual deity and in the stillness outside she was able to commune directly to the Earth Mother. The outside world outside had vanished and she welcomed this new magical realm.
Awed by the phenomenon Amber had crept outside earlier to immerse herself in the fogbank, rejoicing in the stillness of the night. It had been midnight and she wanted to be outside to celebrate the summer solstice – the longest day. It had been so quiet that she could almost hear voices in the mists but her intuition told her that the voices were just her imagination. Back then there hadn’t been anyone else about but there was someone out there now: A phantom figure was approaching the shop through the surreal haze.
Amber watched from behind the counter with an odd sense of unease as the ghostly shadow stalked closer. Tall and willowy, the straw-like spectre flowed across the forecourt shrouded by the breath of the night. Amber’s intuition warned her that something wasn’t right. At first, it was just a feeling on the edge of her consciousness but she couldn’t ignore it. She slowly closed the book she was reading and got to her feet. The orange glow of a cigarette swayed in the air and flared as the visitor took another drag. He shouldn’t be smoking that out there near the pumps! Then he flicked the smouldering cigarette away into the corner of the forecourt and continued towards the door. That was when Amber realised she hadn’t locked it after she’d gone out earlier. A shard of panic sliced through her but it was too late. Her muscles tensed, ready to run to the door but there was no point now.
Damn!She cursed to herself as the visitor pushed opened the door and crept inside. He sneaked past the magazines, throwing furtive glances all around. His shoulders, Amber observed, were like a coat hanger where his old leather jacket hung off them. Underneath the jacket, he wore a dirty grey shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his emaciated chest revealing a torso that was well defined, more by lack of muscle than by sculptured exercise. His lank blonde hair hung down below his shoulders, framing his thin pale weathered face. In the light, he reminded Amber of that pop star her parents used to like – Iggy Pop - if Iggy Pop survived solely on a diet of Red Bull. The way he peered around the store gave Amber the impression he was confused or possibly disorientated. His face was creased in concentration as if he grappled with some mathematical problem in his head. He stood perfectly still, not moving for over a minute and Amber began to feel more than a little troubled by his presence.
She mentally recited a blessing chant she’d learned from her mother to help dispel negativity:Peace and love surround me and nothing but love will emerge from within me.
She concentrated on her environment to her relax. Behind her, the digital clock flicked its red neon numbers to show it was now five AM – two hours left before she finished her shift. In the background, the monotonous tone of the freezers hummed quietly. Their sound lending to the sterile ambience that always gathered in the store during the early hours.
At last the Iggy Pop look-a-like started browsing around the shop, apparently satisfied with whatever had been troubling him earlier.
Amber rubbed her eyes and tried to look busy. She considered going back to the book she had been reading; ‘Physiotherapy for Cardiac and Respiratory Conditions’. Her assignment wasn’t due for another week, which was good because as she turned the pages, the words quickly blurred into one. Once she passed her course she’d be a fully qualified physiotherapist and she could finally move out of Mid Haven and into the big wide world. She sighed and looked outside at the foggy night.
It had taken on a tangible, almost solid appearance, with the main road totally hidden now. The lights on the fog-shrouded forecourt just reflected back the hazy grey soup so that all she could see were the two nearest pumps and blotches of dirty yellow light hanging in the air. Even if a passing car did need some petrol she suspected they would probably miss the garage altogether. She wished a car would pull in though and then at least she wouldn’t be alone with this customer anymore. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
“I didn’t know…” Amber heard the other say quietly as if talking to some unseen companion. Then he peered over at her with an expression of mild surprise as if he’d only just noticed there was someone else was in the store with him. A vacant smile brightened his gloomy features and he tentatively wished her a good morning. His husky tone slurred the words as if he’d either had a stroke or he was very drunk. Amber suspected the latter, eyeing the almost empty bottle of Jim Beam clutched in his hand. He slowly turned towards her and approached the counter. His steps were uneven and it was taking obvious effort to move in a straight line. What if he was dangerous? Amber wished again that she’d locked the door earlier. She glanced out of the window again but it was unlikely any other customers would come on a night like this.
At first, she thought Iggy Pop was staring at her breasts, but then realised he was looking at the rose quartz pendant hanging around her neck. Rose quartz crystals are good for protection. Amber’s grandmother had taught her all about crystal magic when she was younger. She had chosen this particular necklace this morning and she hadn’t really considered why she’d chosen it at the time. But now she suspected the reason her intuition had guided her towards it: Did she needed its protective energies tonight against some potential assailant?
Amber noticed that the man’s swagger was impeded by a limp as he continued his drunken parade down towards the checkout. He was favouring his right leg over his left as if he had a muscle cramp. Amber recalled from her revision that excess alcohol use was a common cause of cramp.
He was muttering to himself again “… I didn’t believe it was real…” Amber caught a few words but couldn’t make much sense of his ramblings. Maybe he was unwell, Amber wondered. Had something happened to him while he was out in the fog?
“Can I help?” she asked politely, forcing a smile.
It was several long self-conscious seconds before he replied. “I think… I think I need to get… food…” he began. “Been partying… Somewhere… Up at that stone circle near the woods," he tried to elaborate and pointed vaguely out of the window with his bottle of whiskey, unsure of exactly which direction he had come from. Amber knew he meant Old Meg’s Circle; an ancient stone circle just outside the village.
“They say there’s magic in those stones, you know!” his eyes widened as he repeated the tourist slogan with a disrespectful chuckle that Amber didn’t like.
“We’re camping out there; me and my mate but I need… something”. A glazed look came over him again as if he were on some inner journey going back into his distant memories. Then his deeply lined face brightened momentarily as an idea sparked in his head. “Are you still selling drink?” he looked around hopefully at the chilled drinks cabinets lining the opposite wall.
“We can’t sell alcohol before 12 pm" Amber replied evenly. He stared at her blankly for a few more moments as if her words didn’t quite sink in and Amber wondered if he had even heard her at all. Then his frown hardened from one of confusion to one of slight irritation. His oily stare intensified and Amber felt herself beginning to squirm under his intimate gaze.
“You’ve been up at the stone’s?” she had to ask to break his unpleasant spell. She often liked to go up to Old Meg’s Circle at dawn to welcome in the new day. She didn’t like tourists talking flippantly about the stones though. Not to mention; it was considered bad luck to go there on the solstice.
Old Meg’s Circle had stood out on the moors for centuries. No one knew when the stones were put there or how or why but there were many stories that tried to explain their origin. Of all the myths, Amber’s favourite one was of the witch known as Old Meg.
Old Meg had been out tending to her sheep out on moors one day when a king and his men came riding by. The king demanded she hands over one of her sheep as a tax for using his land. The witch refused so the king struck her down and took all of her animals. As she lay there in the mud she uttered a curse onto the king and his men. So as punishment the king ordered his men to kill her at dawn. Then as the first rays of sun began to touch the hillside the men surrounded her in a circle and drew their swords. But before they could murder her the men all turned into stone right where they were standing.
“Paracetamol?” Iggy Pop’s sharp voice barked over her internal dialogue.
“Erm, it’s here” Amber pointed hesitantly at the display next to the chewing gum on the counter in front of her. Iggy Pop snatched up two packets. He slowly turned his head to the left and right and then tilted backwards in the way people do when they try to ease stiffness in their neck.
“Must have slept funny last night” the other murmured to himself and Amber couldn’t help noticing the tension now edging his voice. The faraway look returned to his gaze as if he were trying to remember something else, some detail that was important to him. “Where is godforsaken place anyway?" but before Amber had a chance to answer he interrupted her again.
“…Hang on”. He dropped the tablets and whiskey on the counter and limped precariously towards the far end of the store again, sighing and wheezing with every step. Every few feet he would stop and look around as if he were lost and trying to get his baring’s. Then he would mutter angrily to himself and continue plodding around the aisles. His confusion was fermenting into hostility and Amber didn’t need her intuition to tell her she needed to get someone to help her.
She carefully took out her mobile phone and swiped it on under the counter so he wouldn’t see what she was doing. Quickly and quietly sent a text to her cousin Corwin who also lived in the village: Get over to the garage and bring your van!Corwin was like a big brother to her and she knew he worried about her doing night shifts by herself. He’d come round in a few minutes and then at least she wouldn’t be alone any more.
The sudden crash of something falling to the floor sent Amber flinching back against the cigarette kiosk. She was surprised at how nervy she'd become.
“It’s your fault” Iggy Pop spat causing Amber to flinch. She wasn’t sure if he was addressing her or not, but either way, she had to get him out of the shop, quickly. Something was happening to him and there was nothing she could do until Corwin arrived. She checked her phone quickly but he hadn’t replied.
Outside the oppressive fogbank swirled ever closer, tightening its ethereal embrace around the little shop and Amber wondered if Corwin would even make it in this weather. The pumps closest to the shop were almost hidden now as visibility outside had reduced to just a few feet. Any car pulling into the forecourt would be unable to see inside the shop from the pumps. She shuddered because it was entirely possible that her unbalanced customer was thinking the same thing. But then she remembered the PA system that the staff used to talk to customers at the pumps.
They usually used it to tell customers to put the nozzle back onto the pump properly or to put their phones away. Amber risked a quick glance in Iggy Pop's direction and, satisfied he wasn't looking back at her, she switched on the microphone. Now everything that she said in the store would be broadcast through the speakers on the forecourt outside. With any luck, Iggy Pop wouldn't notice and anyone passing would hear what was happening. That is, she reminded herself; ifsomeone passed by.
She sat down and sent another anxious text to Corwin: Where are you?
Iggy Pop was clumping towards her again; limping around the corner from the chocolates and biscuits. His wheezing was becoming harsher with each step he took. He was rubbing the back of his neck still and the way he was throwing his accusing glares in her direction made Amber feel he was actually blaming her for his discomfort. If so, then what did he plan to do about it?
There was no time to speculate as he reared up at the counter again, his arms filled with packets of biscuits, crisps, a bottle of coke and a Cornish pasty. He didn’t say a word as he unceremoniously dumped the items on the counter. He looked at his purchases and then at Amber as if to say; what are you waiting for, put them through the till!
A tense suffocating atmosphere had filled the shop. It was as if an invisible fog had flowed into the store when Iggy pop had opened the door and it was slowly choking her. Amber took a calming breath and began her internal chanting again; sensing things could escalate at any moment.
Peace and love surround me and nothing but love will emerge from within me.
The counter was less than a meter wide and it was the only thing that stood between them. It wasn’t much of a barricade. She got to her feet on shaky legs and made a point of looking behind her at the security monitor next to the clock. It showed the interior of the shop with both herself and Iggy Pop clearly visible. Her heart was hammering in her chest. In her mind’s eye she saw the other reach into his ripped jacket and take out a sharp rusty knife, intending to slash at her neck; severing her artery and spraying blood over the counter, the window and the monitor. She mentally shook her head to banish the images. But the man before her had such a negative aura about it that she couldn’t stop it from clouding her own. She knew what was coming and she was all alone. Corwin wouldn’t get here in time and her crystal wouldn’t offer any protection either.
Outside, the smothering fog seemed to be pressing up against the windows as if it were trying to get inside.
Where was Corwin?
She picked up the bottle of coke and scanned it through the till chanting more urgently to try and centre herself once more.
Peace and love surround me and nothing but love will emerge from withinme.
Maybe it was the way the light reflected off the brooding fogbank outside but as Iggy Pop was getting out his wallet Amber noticed just how old and grey he actually looked up close. He had the appearance of an eighty-year-old as he fumbled with a twenty-pound note, which slipped through his arthritic fingers and fluttered to the floor. He sighed, almost pitifully as he bent to retrieved it. Then, just as he was straightening up again he froze.
“Ah!” His back had tensed in a sudden spasm. Amber watched him cautiously as he angrily reached around to his lumber area; still bent double. His rasping breath came out in short rattling bursts. From assessing the way he had been walking, Amber had guessed what was wrong with his postural musculature. She had seen his symptoms before in the village.
It could easily be a rouse though: Frail or not, he could be faking the injury; trying to lure her out from behind the safety of the counter so he could attack her? But she couldn’t just leave him. But what if he was dangerous? Should she risk it? If not, what was she supposed to do? Call an ambulance? That would be a waste of time. Regardless, Amber concluded, she was a healer. And with grim certainty, she knew what she had to do.
Iggy Pop was mumbling again. “… I’m sorry… please, just make it stop”. Amber picked up some words from his lunatic ramblings but the rest was too jumbled and incoherent to understand.
“I can help” she explained stepping out from behind the protection of the counter. “Come with me and we’ll get you sorted out”. She was doing her best to sound like a fully qualified physiotherapist and not just a student.
She could make an icepack from something in the freezer section if she had to, but first, she had to get him outside and sitting down. Under the window on the forecourt, there was a garden bench on display next to the barbeques and sacks of charcoal. He could rest there.
She took Iggy Pop by the hand and elbow and walked with him out of the store and back into the smoky haze outside. He remained hunched over but for the moment at least he complied with her directions.
Outside, everything was still hidden beyond the veil of grey and their footsteps echoed eerily in the silent fog. It was so quiet now, it was as if the night itself was holding its breath and listening to them.
The wooden garden bench was barely visible in the thick swirling vapour. Her patient was finding it more difficult to walk now, taking slow unsteady footsteps, which confirmed Amber’s suspicions about his condition beyond any shadow of a doubt. The mist whispered about her as she finally helped him onto the seat. He sat down heavily and groaned to himself. His hand reached into his pocket and seemed to fumble for something: A weapon perhaps?
“Wait here; I’ll be back in a second” Amber instructed and ran into the store without looking back. She quickly locked the doors behind her and got out her phone out to call Corwin. She watched Iggy Pop as the drifting grey fog lapped curiously around him before drawing him in. He was sitting still, looking out into the roiling haze as it slowly enveloped him. She saw his hand was still resting in his pocket, trying to get whatever was in there. As long as he didn’t try to come in again she would be okay.
It had just turned five-thirty when Amber heard the sound of Corwin’s van grumble onto the forecourt. She flew to the window and saw the pale lights pushing through the stirring gloom.
“Bright blessing” Amber hurried outside to greet her bespectacled cousin with the archaeologist’s-style beard. She gave him a warm hug
“You took your time” she chided.
“I came as quickly as I could in these conditions, Amber. Is everything still OK?” he inquired cautiously looking around the forecourt. “Where’s the passenger?”
Amber gestured towards the bench where he was sat.
She went to check on him while Corwin opened the back of the van. Iggy Pop didn’t respond to her and when she waved her hand in front of his eyes he didn’t blink. He looked even greyer in the dull light out here than he had done earlier. Amber reached out to touch his hand. It felt cold and hard: As cold and hard as stone in fact.
“It’s definitely happened then?” Corwin called over, wheeling an upright trolley from his van.
“Yes, Old Meg has touched him” replied Amber backing away from once-human, totally lifeless statue that was perched on the bench. “He must have been insidethe stone circle at midnight and fell victim to her curse”.
“Oh dear. He’s not from the village, is he? Do you think anyone will miss him?” Corwin asked as he levered the large stone onto the trolley with well-practised ease.
"Nah," said Amber casually as she watched Corwin manoeuvre the stone into the back of his van. “People get lost on the moors all the time. He did have a friend up there as well, so you’d better keep an eye out for him to”.
The villagers of Mid Haven knew it was bad luck to cross Old Meg’s Circle on the solstice. But no matter how many times they were warned, Outsiders never believed them when they talked about the magic in the stones.