The Devil's Rise

Chapter 7 - Off Without A Hitch

Emily didn't look the best when she had finished bleeding the fox. Her hands were stained red, and the clothes Matthew had lent her were ruined.

She had collected the blood in a big Tupperware tub she had found in Lan's cupboard. And this plastic box for storing food was perhaps the thing Emily was most impressed by in the modern world.

'It's just perfect! I can store any number of things in one of these! It's much more convenient than jars, that's for sure,'

She had left Matthew leaning against a tree on the edge of the Devil's rise. He was somehow still asleep, which was a testament to the strength of Emily's spell, despite her restrictions.

After checking he was alright, she brought the tub to the pentagram in the centre of the ring of trees and stepped inside.

Standing as still as a statue, Emily went over the rituals one more time. If she messed up a single word, a single phrase, anything could happen.

Over the years, she had heard many horror stories about faulty awakenings. Everything from blindness to growing feathers was possible if a witch wasn't careful.

The centre of the Devil's Rise was utterly silent. The wind did not blow past the ring of trees and...

Drip... Drip... Drip...

"What was that?" Emily muttered, straining her ears.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

She wouldn't have heard the sound if she hadn't been listening closely, but there it was again. A constant, monotonous drip of water.

Emily frowned and stepped out of the pentagram, walking towards the sound.

At the far side of the ring of trees, on the very edge of the circular mound, was a bucket full of water. Above the bucket, a constant stream rickled along a bowed branch of a tree, dropping in individual droplets that rippled on the surface of the bucket.

Seeing this, Emily frowned. 'Who would put a bucket here,' She wondered, glancing around the area. She noticed a particular spot near the bucket where the grass was burnt and had a strange sense of deja-vu. 'Have I been here before?'

But Emily had been to the Devil's Rise a hundred times at least, and this was nothing strange.

Since the noise was distracting, she took the bucket and moved it out of the way. After she was done, Emily walked back to the pentagram and started the ritual.

Everything was laid out before her in an orderly fashion.

The tub of blood, which she opened and sprinkled generously across the pentagram.

Then there was her script, which she had brushed up on the previous night. Emily knew it off by heart, but she had brought it along all the same.

Finally, a matchbox, which she picked up and used to light the candles.

All in all, awakening didn't have the most complex ingredients, but that made sense. How was someone who wasn't a witch supposed to attempt a truly difficult ritual?

As she began to read from her script in a language long forgotten, the sky above the Devil's Rise darkened imperceptibly.

Gradually, a dark cloud formed directly over the pentagram, blocking the sun. It started to rain in a faint drizzle, tiny raindrops splashing down on the dry grass. However, the water could not penetrate the pentagram, and the candles remained lit. Besides Aesthetics, this was their purpose. If the candles went out for any reason at all, then she had messed up the pentagram and would need to start again... if that was still an option.