4:30 PM, The Reliquary, Carmelite Convent, Chester England

Rose was rearranging books on the dusty shelves. She was endeavoring to create more space to bring books up from the cellar and to also catalogue and curate what the library held.

There was no organization that she could determine, and when asked, Sister Madeline’s response was

“I opened a crate I checked the book was on the list, I put it on a shelf until the shelves were full when the shelves were full, I put the crates downstairs!”

Rose was developing a new system for arranging the tomes. She had yet to find the original inventory of books and they had been shelved as they came out of the crates in any order.

She was attempting to arrange the books firstly by language. She planned to then put them in alphabetical order within that grouping.

Along the way, she would find a gem of a book and stop to read a few pages.

She was looking at a beautifully crafted manuscript in French. She could puzzle out the odd word here and there but was unsure of the context as French was still on her list of languages to acquire. The colorful pictures and grandly written first letters of a page were pleasing to look at.

She heard the door open and turned expecting the old librarian to shuffle in. To her surprise it was the Mother Superior herself who entered.

“Ah there you are Rose, how are you my child?”

Rose hurried over and curtsied before kissing the Mother Superior’s ring. “I am quite well Mother”

“I am pleased to hear that, I understand that you have been attending the children that have been taken ill recently?”

“Yes Mother, but whatever ails them does not appear to be contagious.”

“That is good to know, but I seem to have missed you at prayer a number of times of late?”

“Forgive me Mother, I have been delinquent in that matter, but have said extra prayers at bedtime!”

“Well please try to make your visits to the children at times that do not interfere with your duties to God. I would not like to have to command you to the precincts of the convent for a period.”

“Yes Mother, I will try to do better.” Rose bowed her head.

The Mother Superior sighed she was unsure that Rose had the true calling but knew she was trying hard. She also knew that Rose had missed prayers because she was in the Reliquary more often than not.

“Tell me child, what are you doing in here all day?”

“I am just trying to get some organization to the books and determine if we can arrange for the additional books to have proper storage.”

“I am unaware of any unshelved books! Are you saying Sister Madeline is shirking her Librarian duties?” demanded the Mother Superior.

“Oh, No Mother! It’s just that the reliquary lacks the shelf space to hold all of the volumes and they are better crated than loose. However, there are scores of books still in crates in the cellar. I believe with proper rearranging and perhaps new shelving built, it should be possible to get all the books available,” said Rose.

“Would not this be a better conversation to have with Sister Madeline?” suggested Sister Maria.

It wouldn’t be much of a conversation and Sister Madeline would never ask the Mother Superior for funds to have a carpenter build shelves, so this was Rose’s chance to broach the topic.

“I will discuss it with Sister Madeline, we have touched on it briefly, but…..” she trailed off.

“Yes child?” Sister Maria waited patiently.

“Forgive me Mother if I speak out of turn, but were you aware that Sister Madeline was unhappy in her work?”

“We must all strive at the tasks given us, our happiness is secondary,” replied Sister Maria.

“I understand Mother, but she claims she was a fine cook before she came with you to England.”

The Mother Superior paused before responding. “Sister Madeline was from a different chapter house to myself. When I asked for someone to be responsible for the kitchen her name was not put forward. I see now that maybe I have been in error here. Thank you, my child, for bringing this to my attention.”

"My child, Sister Madeline has spoken with me of your activities in here. No, not the tidying but that you have spent quite a bit of your time seeming to read these books," the Mother Superior gestured to the shelves around them.

Rose bit her lip then replied.

“I wanted to know more about the relic, it started with reading the book about St Ostric and has grown from there,” admitted Rose.

The Mother Superior made her way over to the glass case with the relic inside and the book resting in front of the case. Her arthritis was clearly causing her pain, so her steps were slow and hobbled. She gently flipped open the book to the point where the ribbon marker was placed.

“You can read this?” The older nun exclaimed with surprise. How did you learn the Latin that this is written in? “I don’t recollect Latin being in your strong suit when you came here!”

Rose paused before answering; this could be a touchy subject. She thought about lying but then sought a path illuminated by the truth.

“I can, Mother,” she said quietly. “Once I was assigned to help Sister Madeline in the Reliquary, it just seemed right that I learn to read the books here, so I taught myself.” said Rose, not a lie but she didn’t need to divulge who her tutor was unless directly asked.

“Impressive if a little implausible, I assume you had help? Yes? No don’t tell me who it was, it had to be someone outside the convent and I prefer not to know!” She shook her head,

“Sister Rose I am unsure what will become of you, either the first female pope or…..

Anyway, it is clear you have a talent for languages a skill that will come in handy in a library of religious books. How is your French?”

“That will be next. I can understand some of the words, but not the context. Half of these books are closed to me without it,” Rose said downheartedly, then continued, “Mother I have to ask a question about the relic of Saint Ostric.”

The old woman returned to her chair and dropped her weight into it before speaking, “Then ask.”

“Have there been any miracles or visions associated with it?”

“If you have read the works recounting Saint Ostric’s purging of this area and helping the King return to his faith, then you know as much as I do.” The Mother Superior knew more of the tale from a set of journals passed from one Mother Superior to the next. They had come with her form France, but Rose did not need to know this, they were kept in her office not the reliquary. They contained knowledge that she and the other nuns did not need.

“I meant associated with those of us here in the convent, or the convent in France?”

“No, the object has been quite unremarkable,” the Mother Superior responded.

“How did it come about that our order was able to return to England?” asked Rose.

“I do not know the details of how, only that I was asked by Mother Superior Beatrice the head of our order and Cardinal Hubert to undertake this mission with the others chosen for the task and return the relic to its rightful place. To me it was a symbol of bringing the true faith back to this country,” said the Mother Superior

“Isn’t it curious though? The importance placed on the return of the relic, and more so, that it be accompanied by a Catholic order with the offer to reestablish itself here? For many years now centuries in fact, the English establishment has made it as uncomfortable as possible for those of us who continue to practice as Roman Catholics.” said Rose.

“Rose, you look for mysteries where there are none! There are simple answers to these questions. God wished the return of the true faith and we are chosen to carry that message. Someone in England is our ally and wished the return of the sacred object as a symbol of God’s divine power to bring good to all. Our order will now have the pleasure of building our numbers here, of expanding the faith, of that you are an example, oui? Providence has enabled your journey to sisterhood by requiring the relic to return with our order and as a consequence of that return you now live as part of the blessed order of the Carmelites with their teachings and the example of Saint Ostric to guide you,” the Mother Superior explained in a kindly manner.

Rose was quiet for a moment then asked, “Has no one has ever come forward as our benefactor or requested that the relic be placed within the Cathedral of Saint John?”

“Child, I pray each night that we are an example to the Monarchy by which they may return to the one true faith, but on this we must tread lightly. On the day my prayers are answered, and old holy sites returned to the church, that will be a miracle. For now, I see our mission here as to be living examples to the community of our charity and contemplation. I am satisfied our order was invited back to help you and the other faithful to practice your faith in the light of day,” the Mother Superior uttered these words as if pronouncing a benediction.

Cautiously Rose asked the next of her questions, knowing it might provoke an unwanted response.

“Do you know any more about the time of St Ostric and tales of local witches and the pagans?”

“You ask me? You were the one born and raised in this area, I should think that you would be fully aware of any ungodliness residing here,” the Mother Superior responded with alacrity. “One hears rumors and whispers in any community of evil beings who do harm to others, but witches? No thankfully we have condemned the practices of the Inquisition to the past.”

“What I really meant Mother was, Saint Ostric, he was a defender of the faith; the story is he saved King Aethelred from the spell of a local witch. What if the evil he fought had not been destroyed? What if it was now stirring and was trying and succeeding in hurting or even killing people?”

Rose watched as the emotions played across the Mother Superior’s face. First amusement, then concern, then the look she used when she wanted to cow the nuns and novices.

“Rose, it heals my heart to know that you have been inspired by Saint Ostric and are committed to such an effort to better this place with your work in the library and your interactions in the town.”

“You, Judith and Katherine, will play an important role in bridging the gap between the community and the convent, focus on that, not of saints battling witches. I know the village does not openly welcome us, we are Catholic, and more importantly we are French. “

“The wars are not that long ago! The people see us as outsiders and your older sisters feel out of place; cut off from all that was known and comfortable. That is why they appear closed off to you. Listen to an old nun! It is a challenge to your faith when you have been set in your ways to have to deal with such a drastic change. To be sent to a new country, away from your friends and family, to be amongst strangers who have been enemies.”

She sighed and looked down then up at Rose.

“That is why the frogs croak,” lamented the old French nun.

Rose’s eye grew wide and her hand went to her mouth.

The Mother Superior chuckled, “What? You think I do not know what you and your sisters in crime call the older nuns, or that I am blind to their behavior?”

She laughed, “I am Sister Maria de Carcassone, Mother Superior of the Carmelite Convent of Saint Teresa! It is my duty and pleasure to be Mother to you all and minister to the needs of each of you. That is my burden.” Sister Maria’s voice, strong while she declaimed, sank to a whisper.

Embarrassment and empathy engulfed Rose, “I am sorry Mother, I just never really thought about how hard it was for you and them or why they are unhappy.”

“Ah and someday you may be an old gruff nun set in her ways, but today you’re a young one with too much energy looking for your fight with evil. Rose, not all of us will have an epic battle like Saint Ostric. In my case, my battle was with myself.”

“When I was your age, I too joined a convent near my home village. I saw my friends getting married, having children and I began to regret my decision. The Mother Superior came to me and spoke in a similar manner to this. I don’t remember her exact words, but she told me that every nun ever ordained went through the same battle.”

“The cause was not the same for every nun, but the battle was the same. That was my battle to accept my part in God’s plan in spite of my personal desires and the envy I wrestled with. If that is what you are facing now, accept it as part of your path and know that it is a good experience for you to help others who face the daily battles of infirmity and grief.”

The Mother Superior stood and made her way to the door, she turned before leaving the room.

“The reason for the battle, the reason to fight it and more importantly how to win it, is between just you and God, my child, just the two of you!”

She made the sign of the cross, “God’s blessing on you my child”, then she was gone.

Rose listened to the shuffle of her feet receding down the hallway and sighed. For now, Rose’s personal struggle was in figuring out if accident and the children’s illness were caused by an evil force or if she was indeed slipping over the edge into insanity. The next time she talked with her superior she wanted to be able to definitively tell her that creatures of the devil lurked in the town, or that she required a stay at a sanatorium. Either way, she had to figure out if there was an active coven practicing witchcraft in Chester and tonight was a night that no witch worth her weight in bats wings could resist, it was the autumnal equinox.

* * *

10:30 PM, Potter’s End Chester, England

Rose had changed out of her habit into the simple home spun dress and warm shawl that was hers and not provided by the convent and slipped out of the abbey to embark on her night time exploration of Potters End. From what she had learnt and Mr. Cooper’s confirmation that seemed to be the most likely starting point in her quest.

Rose was determined to find the cause of the recent tragedies and following her investigations she was convinced the forces of evil were at the root of the trouble, forces not of the mortal realm but called from the beyond.

Tonight, the Autumnal Equinox, a night of power, when the Witches of Westfield, would, according to legend and the old wives tales, be dancing naked in the field and drinking the blood of children, cats and bats in order to call their foul master.

Looking back to the words of her mother, she realized that she had believed the fanciful tales told to frighten her into obedience, when chores needed completing and to stay near to home. Now she felt that there had been more than a grain of truth to the stories. With a start, she realized the one person she had not talked to about this was her mother. She made a note to herself to go talk to her about the stories in the morning.

She shivered as she made her way towards Potters End, the night was cool, the year was fading away, already leaves had begun to fall heralding the onset of winter. She almost considered going back to her cell and its warm bed, perhaps this was all just her vivid imagination?

She stopped, vacillating between going forward and returning. Was she seriously considering the tales of the witches, old crones and hags who stole babies to use in their rituals to be based on fact?

Every town and village in the land had the same tales. She had left the convent at night without permission. Rose had used the old apple tree in the corner of the walled garden which let her climb over the wall without too much issue. Getting back in meant climbing a cherry tree near the fish ponds. She had left behind her habit and dressed in clothes her mother had made for her to purposely sneak through wood and field in order to feed her obsession.

Logic and clear thinking would suggest she was losing her mind. What kept her from accepting this was a deep-felt conviction, a guiding sense of there being more to this than just vivid dreams. Rose had been allowed to feel this sensation, this feeling of knowing, since she had cut her finger on the skull and the waking vision, just about a year ago. It had resulted in an energy and drive that fueled her need to learn and was now powering some type of spiritual intuition. Why should she not be being guided by the spirit of Saint Ostric in this matter? As she thought this, the face of the monk she had seen in her vision seemed to appear in front of her. The monk gave her a knowing smile and a nod then faded away. She felt a satisfaction as her feet seemed to move of their own volition.

Maybe this was another of his miracles; he seemed to know what she had been thinking. The Mirror of Angels was a tool the Saint had used to show Aethelred the true nature of the witch who beguiled him and now she had created a similar mirror.

Wasn’t this the essence of spiritual guidance? God set you on a path and you discovered what you were supposed to do. The more you stayed with God’s plan the easier it was to see how to put the puzzle together. The writings of Kelly and Dee had been put in front of her by two separate sources. Acting on the information in those writings she was then able to replicate the method of scrying the occultists had discussed and used.

The story of Saint Ostric and the Mirror of Angels she proudly thought to herself as she made her way through the woods was where it all started.

Maybe it’s not what I was to learn from the nuns but the relic being there that drew me to the Order?

Her thoughts scattered as the sound of metal on stone brought her out of her reverie. She paused to listen then crept forward to the deeper darkness under the grove of trees. She rested a hand on the bark of the tree as she slowly made her way around it, trying not to make any noise. Just ahead of her on the edge of the clearing, two women were working a rough-hewn stone. It was too far away to see clearly what they were shaping, but the clink, clink of iron on iron and stone echoed with every mallet strike.

From behind the tree Rose watched the two women working in the glow of oil lamps; just average women, no cabal of naked crones dancing around a fire. The sounds of their work ceased and the two commenced chanting, whilst the one holding the chisel put it down and picked up a flask and poured fluid over the rock. It was impossible to tell what the fluid was in the dark, but it poured slowly and thickly, and was black in the lamplight.

Rose’s mind immediately turned to it being blood. For several moments, Rose watched in amazement; these witches were not the least bit secretive. The duo worked by lamplight, banging away with a hammer. Any one from the town who wasn’t deaf, or blind could find these two. She quietly edged her way round the tree to get closer for a better look.

She heard the snap of a branch and turned in alarm to see two forms in dark cloaks, looming behind her. Before she could move, the closest shape grabbed her arm.

* * *

10:30 PM, Potter’s End

Rose was held in a grip of steel, she tried to pull away in vain. Her efforts caused the hood of her captor to fall back revealing the face of a woman only a few years older than herself. She felt sure she knew her, but the name escaped her in her fright.

She was pulled forward as the woman spoke. “You will come with me,” she insisted.

The women working on the stones paused their activities as they noticed Rose and her captors. Rose was pulled into the area of lamp light and forced to sit on the ground. The circle of lamplight revealed that there was more than one stone that the women had been working on.

Around them was a collection of stones, carved with runes and swirling markings into each face of the rock. What Rose had feared was blood, in the light of the lamps was shown to be a deep blue dye. The two women stood and faced Rose and her captor who roughly pulled the bag from Rose’s shoulder and handed it to the woman holding the chisel.

She tucked the chisel under her arm and began going through Rose’s bag. She pulled out some candles then found her mirror. She held it up and spoke,

“You have the sight?”

She put the items back and stepped forward.

The woman grabbed Rose’s chin squeezing her face and stared intently into her eyes as if she was examining the back of her skull.

“She’s one of the Carmelites,” announced the witch holding the mallet, “Caldwell’s child, Rose.”

Rose strained to move her head; she had recognized the voice, “Mrs. Weber?” Rose said as the woman released her grip on her chin, “is that you?”

She was sure the voice belonged to was Mrs. Weber, the mother of her childhood friends. How could such a kind woman be capable of the recent acts?

The woman stood in front of her demanded, “What are you doing out here girl?”

“I could ask the same, what witchcraft do you work?” challenged Rose.

She held up the mirror in front of Rose. "Candles and a mirror, smells of witchcraft Christian!” the woman had a point.

“We practice the craft it’s true, but only that of the white way.” Rose recognized another voice as the fourth woman walked round in front of her and pushed back her hood, Rose gasped, before her was the wife of the Sheriff, Mrs. Alderton.

The woman in front of her pushed back her hood and Rose felt a moment of confusion, it was the Widow Culpepper, a wealthy property owner, with a significant sheep flock held on several tenancies around the town as well as the mill her father worked amongst other properties. Her face was familiar to Rose from those occasions when she would come to the granary to discuss the work of the mill with her father.

Mrs. Culpepper looked the mirror over again before returning it to the bag and dropping it at her feet.

“We are not followers of the black path, we are of the white. You would probably think of us as Druids, though those of the black are called that too. We have served our people with both prophecy and protection for many centuries; from a time before your Christ walked the earth.”

“We hold to the eightfold wheel of the year and the three truisms of our people, your people from ages past to now, wisdom, creativity and love. At the end not so different to your Christ eh?”

Rose considered the woman’s statement before responding, “You are not followers of Marbas, or the Morrighan?”

All of the women gasped, whether in fear or anger Rose wasn’t sure.

“What do you know of these names?” demanded Mrs. Culpepper stepping forward and raising the chisel as if to strike.

Rose held her ground despite her fear and was please that her voice was strong as she spoke.

“I know only what I have read, that Saint Ostric banished a demon in female guise, who had been summoned by means of witchcraft, and that banishment released the Christian King from a greater evil, the master of that demon who would control the king and so control the land.” Rose countered.

“Well, at least you have part of the tale correct.” Mrs. Culpepper lowered her arm.

“Your Saint Ostric may have been instrumental in defeating the beast from the lower depths that you have named Marbas, but it was and still is, we who have kept the monster in its slumber all these years,” replied Mrs. Culpepper.

“Really?” Rose smiled, “So the myths are all true? There was a demon, and it was banished, and now you’re here…..?” she trailed off.

“Why do you smile so!” demanded the unknown woman on her left.

“Does it make you happy to know that our land is plagued with a fell beast,” spat the woman who had grabbed Rose in the woods.

“No, No, forgive me, I smile at this news because I thought during the last few days that I was surely going insane and my future was to be a life in Bedlam!” She paused.

“Let me explain, I have had strange dreams all my life and lately I have had what I must call visions. I think that within those visions I may have seen Saint Ostric but also the dreams have shown me the Morrighan.” She sighed.

“You asked me if I have the sight, I don’t know exactly what you mean by that, but you are right, I have used this mirror and within it I have seen strange creatures, little grey beast – men, I thought of them as imps. I have seen them in the mirror at the temple of Minerva and at the Cathedral,” Rose explained.

Excitement and joy bubbled within her, to finally have the supernatural events she had experienced validated. She watched the faces of the four women as her news sunk in. Her words had clearly shocked them.

“Come here girl” Mrs. Culpepper crouched down by the rock on which she had been working. “This is a petro glyph, a stone of warding,”

Rose knelt on one knee to get a closer look. Mrs. Culpepper grasped Rose’s right wrist and pulled her hand to the face of the stone. Her hand made a wet slap as it was pushed into the liquid that covered it.

Mrs. Culpepper looked up at the other women who had gathered around them and nodded at them, clearly something of import, some test, had been passed when she touched the stone.

She could feel some of the strange spiral carving under her hand through the cold liquid.

Mrs. Culpepper continued, “Those things you saw are the minions of your Marbas, you were right to call them imps for that is what they are, imps working to free their master. They are stealing our stones, Rose, breaking the wards by removing the stones from their places. They know that our network of petroglyphs restrains their Master and prevents his return to the plane of man. The stones do more; they power the link for generations of women who have summoned the Morrighan when it was needed,”

Mrs. Culpepper kept her hold on her wrist as she stared into Rose’s eyes.

“They have destroyed the stones they have found, and the restraint weakens! Marbas stirs from his long slumber. This is not the first time it has happened, but they have found more stones than before, I fear they have help from this realm.”

The elation Rose had been feeling vanished she looked from one woman to the next, their obvious fear and concern and her happy feeling was lost.

“I am so sorry Mrs. Culpepper, ladies,” Rose acknowledged the other women. “I came here tonight expecting to find the Witches of Westfield summoning a demon, hoping I was insane and that I was imagining all of this. Now you confirm that what I have seen in my dreams since I was little is true that the earth will open up and release a great evil and this is Marbas that St Ostric slew,” said Rose quietly.

Mrs. Culpepper spoke as she released Rose and stood up,

“This land and the practices of our faith are far older than Christianity; and it is this sisterhood here on this estate and in the town, who have been protecting us all down through all those years.”

“Careful what you share with her, she is beholden to the Church,” the small woman whom Rose did not know cautioned.

Rose looked at her, then back to Mrs. Culpepper,

“I am beholden to the truth and goodness; it does not matter to me if it is called the Holy Roman Church, or Druidism or some other name for faith in humanity”

“Well said Rose,” Mrs. Weber offered her support. “I have known her all her life Mary,” she addressed the woman rose hadn’t known. “She is no enemy to us,”

Rose realized she did know the woman after all, it was the doctor’s wife, Mrs. Belkin! Were all the women of note in this part of town involved? Surely not, they were good women!

Mrs. Culpepper picked up a lantern, “Finish the stones”, she told the other women, then to Rose, “come with me and bring your bag.”

She led Rose to the far side of the grove of trees and beyond until they came to a stile over a low stone wall. She pointed to an upright stone on the right of the stile; Rose recognized the carvings on it.

“This wall is more than a boundary of my property. Within the ring of walls that surround this field, the ancient beast is trapped. For centuries, my sisterhood has worked diligently to keep this barrier empowered with the stones of wisdom. Outside of this ring there are stones in cardinal points in hidden locations, in a double circle of protection. A third ring lies beyond that. It is from the outer ring that the stones have been stolen.”

“But, if you have this beast contained within the walls, how does he contact and control these imps and others? Why are they taking the outer stones? Why not come here and break the inner circle?”

“Not all of the stones are to keep it contained, others are to deter and keep his agents out,”

Mrs. Culpepper shared as they made their way towards the middle of the field.

“The stones themselves are warded, and they make a circuit of magic you might say, that erects an unseen field of power. That power stops his agents and creatures like the imps from entering the circle. It uses the power of the earth to keep him contained.”

“The power of the earth?” Do you mean magnetism or gravity?

“It is not a power recognized by science and graced with study in universities. No, it is scorned and deemed the realm of fantasy. I am talking of ley lines; they criss-cross the land and even stretch on to the continent. We believe they actually cover the world in a network of power. “

“The cardinal stones here are erected on strong ley lines. The power they contain is gathered by the stones and where they cross is in the center of the inner circle.”

Rose felt her stockings and the bottom of her skirt growing wet from the damp grass. A dew was falling as the night wore on.

“Where is the center? I thought it was in the grove,” she gestured off into the darkness behind them.

Mrs. Culpepper didn’t answer immediately; rather she set the lantern down. They were in the middle of the field. Rose realized that here was an almost bare patch of ground, the grass short and withered, brown in comparison to the lush growth around it.

Mrs. Culpepper looked at Rose and nodded confirmation as Rose’s eyes widened in understanding then she quietly spoke.

“The grove is a sacred place, a place of power it has been touched by the gods long ago. That is why we must carve the stones there to charge them with that power.”

“Tell me, these creatures you observed, did you see them with your naked eye or with your witchcraft?”

Rose bristled at the description, but understood it was meant to irritate her.

“I used the mirror and candles. Concentrating on the mirror when it was at a certain angle I was able to see images under the surface of the mirror. Or so it seemed to me, it was like a dream but the mirror showed me events that had happened in the past.”

“Who taught you this?” demanded the other woman.

“No one, I puzzled it out for myself. From hints and clues in books and descriptions of the objects that the authors claimed to have used to see past events.”

“Huh”, grunted Mrs. Culpepper, “you mean those charlatans Dee and Kelley I suppose?”

Rose nodded than continued her explanation. “It is true that their books helped, but it was the story of St Ostric that led me to them and to the mirror.”

Again, she felt it important not to implicate Mr. Cooper in her exploration of the occult.

“Show me how you were able to see the creatures. I would know what you can see here at this point,” instructed the woman, gesturing at the ground.

Rose bit down on her anger. She did not abide the commanding tone of the woman. She was no performing monkey on a stage to act at her command. Yet she wanted to share what had been her secret; relieved to have someone who seemed to fully accept that what she had seen was real.

Rose knelt and removed the candles from the bag and set them up in a semi-circle, around her. As she lit the candles, Mrs. Culpepper doused her lamp so that the only illumination came from the candles.

With her light source set, Rose began to view the field in her mirror catching the candlelight as she turned it in a slow circle. She was beginning to understand, it was not about focusing on the surface of the mirror or the light, but letting her eye be drawn to the images deeper in the surface.

Mrs. Culpepper stepped back out of the light into the darkness around them. As she did so Rose saw it, a streak of energy erupting from the ground. Ruby red energy, crackling and streaking, from an invisible rift in the ground, up, up into the sky. The image was lost as she inadvertently moved the mirror a small amount.

She took a deep breath realizing she had been holding it and turned the mirror back slowly. There it was, an angry force leaping skyward. Rose began to smell something burning, a musty and earthy wood scent, cloying and sweet verging on a smell of the incense used on special services at the convent.

Mrs. Culpepper was waving a small bunch of smoldering twigs through the air above Rose as she knelt.

“This is rowan, heather and foxglove; together they have power for those with the sight. Watch in your mirror Caldwell, tell me what you see!”

The smoke settled around Rose and she looked again into the mirror turning it slowly.

Through the smoke she again saw the red energy reaching to the sky, but now she could also see thick blue lines that met at the point from which the energy rose upwards. She could see other smaller thinner eruptions of red light from cracks that were spreading from the central circle.

“You see it don’t you?”

Rose smiled, “It is beautiful”

“Indeed, but it is also a deadly warning. You are witnessing the opening of a doorway into another realm; one that your church calls Hell. That is where Marbas is waiting to make his way back to this world and make it his own and all of us his playthings. It is a rift through the very fabric of reality, the blue are the ley lines that with the stones are holding the door shut. They hold for the moment, but with the outer stones being destroyed as fast as we can make them we may lose the battle.

The image disappeared as Rose lowered her scrying mirror. The weight of Mrs. Culpepper’s words sunk in.

“How long do we have before it is freed?”

“I do not know for sure, the imps may access the stones in the outer ring though it causes them pain and they can open a gap for others to approach the second circle. The protection and warding from the second circle is stronger and the stones larger, so they must be destroyed in situ, no easy task. The imps cannot touch them, so they need something more powerful or human aid to open the circle. But they only need to destroy one or two stones and open a path to the innermost circle and then….”

She sighed, “I have been part of the sisterhood protecting this land since I was your age. My mother did the same before that, and hers before her. We have never had such a coordinated attack or for such a long period. These creatures must be receiving aid from mortals.”

“You mentioned the Morrighan earlier; what are they to the minions of Marbas, this demon?”

“The Morrighan are the defenders of this land, they are anathema to Marbas and his kin they are an aspect of the Earth Mother.”

“She has gone by different names for many people. To the Greeks she was Gaia, to the Egyptians Isis, to the Celts, our ancestors she is Gwenhwyfar in all her beauty and ferocity.”

“There are three forms of the Morrighan, sisters who manifest their power through the Druidic sisterhood that I lead. Witches, we are not!”

“In Celtic and Irish legends, all three sisters were goddesses of death and war. Badb would take the form of a wolf and comb the battlefields, spreading confusion.

Her sister Macha, would also strike fear into the hearts of men. She would take on the aspect of a Raven of large size as she flew across the battlefield.

The third sister Nemain, caused warriors to act in panic and confusion, striking down anyone near them as she passed, and her scream rang out. It was in this role that she often appeared as a large grey horse with flaming mane and tail ready to rain down pain and fire on mortal men.”

Rose, as she listened to the older woman talk, felt for the first time in her life that she was right where she was supposed to be, and at the right time to be doing what she was destined to do.

“You have seen how the ground of this field is beginning to charge with aether fissures spreading from this point. As the power of the stone circles weakens, so this circle grows, and the fissures spread. My sisterhood must work diligently to preserve the stones.”

She paused, and Rose impulsively took her hand and squeezed it.

“I have faith in you Mrs. Culpepper, you will succeed I’m sure.”

Mrs. Culpepper squeezed back and smiled.

“Thank you my dear I hope you are right”

She thought for a moment then surprised Rose by saying.

“You must come to my house and we can discuss this in much more detail, I have a feeling that you coming here was meant to be, that you will be of great assistance to us.”

“Thank you, I would like to learn more, to understand, I have so many questions. If you wouldn’t mind, would you ask at the Convent if you could have me visit, perhaps you could say it’s in regard to the sick children? It would make for fewer questions of how I know you and why you would want to see me. I shouldn’t be out here tonight,” Rose finished sheepishly.

Mrs. Culpepper dropped the smoking twigs she held in her other hand and put her foot on them to make sure they went out. She rubbed her hand on her skirt to remove the ash.

“I had guessed by your attire that you were not here on church business. You should get back to the convent before you are missed. Say nothing of this to anyone. I will expect you at my home. I will prepare an invitation in the morning and a send carriage for you, we will dine together.”