The evening after a birthday feast lingered like a halfremembered dream. Emily Clarke and her husband James had just left The Riverside, a bustling eatery on the Thames where his friends, colleagues and distant relatives had gathered to mark his birthday. The night had been a triumph of laughter and clinking glasses, even though many of the faces were strangers to Emily; James had insisted they were worth meeting, so there must have been a reason.
Emily was never one to question Jamess choices. She slipped around arguments like a ghost past a flickering lamppost, preferring the quiet of agreement to the noise of dispute. It was easier to go along than to prove a point.
Emily, have you seen the keys? Can you pull them out for me? James asked.
She fumbled through her leather handbag, fingers brushing the familiar straps. A sudden sting made her drop the bag onto the floor.
What happened? James asked, his voice a soft echo in the hallway.
I just grazed something, she whispered, wincing.
The inside of that bag is practically a maze, so its no surprise you get tangled.
Emily did not argue. She lifted the bag, coaxed the keys free, and they slipped into the lock of their flat. The sting faded into a dull ache as fatigue settled in her limbs. All she could think of was a hot shower and a soft bed. The next morning she awoke to a throbbing hand, her finger swollen and crimson. The memory of the previous nights pain rose like a tide, and curiosity prompted her to rummage through the handbag once more. At the very bottom, nestled among receipts and a crumpled ticket, lay a large, rusted needle.
What on earth? she muttered, bewildered at its presence. She tossed the needle into the kitchen waste bin, fetched a firstaid kit, and dressed the wound. By noon a fever began to climb, the room feeling as if it were wrapped in a heavy blanket.
She called James, voice trembling.
James, Im not sure what to do. I think I caught something nasty yesterday. Ive got a fever, my head aches, my whole body feels hot. Imagine I found a big, rusted needle in my bag and its what scratched me.
Maybe you should see a doctor. It could be tetanus or an infection.
Dont exaggerate. Ive bandaged it, Ill be fine.
But hour after hour her condition worsened. She barely made it through the workday before flagging down a black cab and hurrying home, the thought of the bus network feeling like a marathon she could not endure. She collapsed onto the sofa and drifted into sleep.
In the dream a spectre appeared: her grandmother Mabel, who had died when Emily was a child. How she knew it was Mabel, she could not explain, but the certainty was as solid as stone. Mabel was tiny and hunched, the sort of figure that might frighten a stranger, yet her eyes shone with purpose.
Mabel led Emily across a moonlit field, pointing out herbs that grew in the damp earth. Make a brew and drink it, she whispered, to cleanse your body. There is a presence that wishes you harm, but to fight it you must survive. Time is short.
Emily awoke in a cold sweat, convinced she had slumbered for hours, though the clock on the mantel read only a few minutes had passed. A sudden bang at the front door announced Jamess return. She slid off the sofa, padded to the hall, and when he saw her, he held his breath.
Whats happened? Look at yourself in the mirror.
Emily stared at her reflection. Yesterday she had seen a bright, smiling face; now her hair hung in tangled streams, dark circles circled her eyes, her skin was ashen, and her gaze was empty.
What is this?
She recalled the dream and told James, I saw my grandmother, she told me what to do
Emily, get dressed, were going to the hospital.
No, my grandmother said the doctors wont help.
A fierce argument erupted. James branded her mad, his voice cracking with fear. For the first time they truly fought, and James, desperate, seized her wrist, trying to pull her out of the flat.
You wont go willingly, Ill force you.
Emily flailed, lost her balance, and struck her head on a cupboard corner. James, enraged, grabbed his bag, slammed the door and stormed out. Emily managed only a brief message to her boss, claiming illness and a need to stay home for a few days.
James returned after midnight, apologising, but Emilys reply was simple: Take me to the village where my grandmother lived tomorrow.
The next morning Emily resembled a living corpse more than a woman. James pleaded, Emily, dont be foolish, we need to go to the hospital. I cant lose you.
She insisted they travel to the hamlet in the Cotswolds, a place she remembered only by name, a place abandoned since her parents sold the old cottage after Mabels death. She slept through the journey, the world a blur of rolling hills. As the thatched roofs came into view, she woke and whispered to James, Were here.
She stepped out of the car, collapsed onto the soft grass, feeling the earth pulse beneath her. She gathered the herbs Mabel had shown her, and James brewed a potion according to her instructions. Emily sipped it in small draughts, each swallow easing the ache.
She barely made it to the bathroom before noticing the water in the basin turned a deep, inky black. Far from frightening her, it echoed Mabels words: Darkness comes out.
That night Mabel appeared again, smiling, then spoke in a voice that seemed both distant and close.
The rusted needle cast a spell on you. My brew will give you strength, but only briefly. You must find the one who placed it and return his evil. I cannot see who it was, but it is linked to your husband. Had you not thrown the needle away, I could have told you more.
She gave a strange instruction: Buy a packet of needles, and over the largest say, Spirits of the night, hear me! Help reveal the truth. Help me find my enemy Slip that needle into your husbands bag. The one who cursed you will prick themselves on it. Then we will learn their name and can rebuke them.
Mabels figure dissolved like mist.
Emily woke still feeling weak, yet certain she would recover with her grandmothers aid. James decided to stay home, caring for her, surprised when Emily asked to pop out to the shop alone.
Emily, you cant be out on your feet yet. Ill go with you.
James, make a soup, Im ravenous after this illness.
Emily followed Mabels dream instructions. That evening the enchanted needle lay in Jamess bag. Before sleep, he asked, Are you sure you can manage alone? Should I stay by your side?
Ill be fine, she replied.
She felt better, though a shadow of malice lingered. The third days brew acted like an antidote; the evil seemed to thin under its influence. She waited impatiently for James to return from work, greeting him at the door.
How was your day? she asked.
Fine, why do you ask?
She thought the ordeal was ending, but James added, Imagine this: today Evelyn from the adjacent department wanted to help me and reached for the keys to my office, hands full. She stuck her hand into the bag and pricked herself with a needle. How did a needle get in my bag? She glared at me as if Id killed her with a stare.
What about this Evelyn?
Emily, youre the only one that matters to me. Youre the only one I love.
Was she at the restaurant for your birthday?
Yes, shes a good friend, nothing more.
Emily felt the pieces click into place; the old needles journey into her bag made sense. James moved to the kitchen where dinner waited. Later that night Mabel showed Emily how to return the evil to Evelyn, explaining that Evelyn had tried to remove a rival to take her place beside James. If she failed, she would resort to magic again; she would stop at nothing.
Emily obeyed Mabels counsel. Soon James reported that Evelyn had taken sick leave, claiming her condition was beyond doctors help. Emily begged him to drive her on a weekend to the village cemetery she hadnt visited since Mabels funeral. She bought a bouquet, slipped on gloves, and, after a laborious search, found Mabels grave. Beside it lay a photograph on the headstoneher grandmother, the one who visited her in dreams, the one who saved her from death. Emily tidied the grave, placed the flowers in a jar of water, sat on the bench and whispered:
Grandmother, forgive me for not coming sooner. I thought a yearly visit was enough. I was wrong. Ill be here more often. If it werent for you, I might not be here at all.
She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulders, as if Mabels hands rested there. She turned, but only a soft breeze brushed her cheek.
