Ariana Chambers - The Secret

‘And Bloodbark would creep around the woods at night-time, looking for campers to kill and possess.’ The dying flames from the fire cause shadows to dance on Stephen’s face, making it look as hollowed out as a skull.

Somewhere in the distance an owl hoots.

‘What was that?’ Izzy says. She looks really rattled.

‘It was Bloodbark,’ Stephen says with a grin. ‘That’s how you know when he’s coming – when you hear him howl.’

‘Shut up. It was just an owl,’ Vivien says, but she’s looking really uneasy now too.

‘The thing is,’ Stephen continues, oblivious, ‘you never know when Bloodbark’s going to strike because he looks just like a tree.’

The wind picks up again, causing all of the trees around the clearing to sway.

‘And you never know when his branches are going to reach out and grab you.’

We all sit in silence for a moment, listening to the trees swaying and creaking.

‘So, what does he do when he catches you?’ David asks.

‘He, like, sucks all your blood,’ Stephen says theatrically.

Holly lets out a loud sigh. ‘Boring!’

Stephen glares at her. ‘Why’s it boring?’

‘It’s been done already.’ Holly shakes her head, causing her curls to bounce wildly. ‘Er, hello? Dracula? It would be way better if he captured your spirit and trapped it inside a tree. Then the whole wood could be possessed by the trapped spirits of bitter, dead teenagers.’

I glare at her.

‘What?’ she mutters. ‘That’s a way better ending.’

‘Could someone else please tell a story?’ Eve says, staring into the dying embers of her fire.

‘I have one,’ Mr Matthews says.

I breathe a sigh of relief and prepare myself for a jolly tale about nature – or marking books.

‘It’s funny, actually,’ Mr Matthews says, sitting up straight. ‘It came to me earlier, when I was checking your fires. Which goes to show you just never know when inspiration might strike. Anyway, it’s the story of two rival groups of witches.’

I shoot a glance at Holly.

‘One group are good witches but the other – they’re pure evil.’

I glance across the clearing. Izzy, Stephen and Vivien are looking at each other and frowning.

‘Now these witches are in competition. They have to . . .’ Mr Matthews breaks off for a moment, as if deep in thought. ‘They have to find a bag.’

‘What kind of bag?’ Eve asks.

‘The bag that contains the five most powerful spells.’

I feel a weird unsettled feeling inside. His story is dangerously close to the story of the Silver and Blood Witches. Could Mr Matthews know about it? Could he have heard the folklore?

‘And these spells contain the secret to everlasting life,’ he continues.

‘How many of these witches are there?’ I ask casually.

‘Oh, thousands,’ Mr Matthews replies. ‘In the land where my tale takes place, they are all witches – it’s just that some are good and some are evil.’

‘So it’s not set in the present day, then?’ Holly asks.

Mr Matthews laughs. ‘Of course not. It’s about witches! Anyway, where was I?’

As Mr Matthews continues his increasingly fantastical tale of the world of Witchvale, Holly and I exchange relieved glances. It had to just be a coincidence. The wind whips around the treetops and deep in the woods another owl hoots. I pull my blanket tight around me.

The next morning when we all gather to eat breakfast, it looks like a scene from a zombie apocalypse. I’m guessing from the dark circles and bags under everyone’s eyes that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep well last night. Thanks to our ‘bedtime stories’ I ended up having a nightmare about a tree demon that was trying to steal my guitar from me. ‘You’ll never, like, play it again,’ it yelled – in Stephen’s voice. ‘You’re doomed to live a life without music.’ I’d woken in a cold sweat and lay in my sleeping bag rigid as a corpse as I listened to the rustling and creaking from the woods. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved as when the first pale light of dawn started creeping inside the tent.

‘Well, on the positive side, we only have one more night to get through,’ Holly says, grimacing as she takes a mouthful of cold baked beans. ‘Eew!’

‘Yep. And one more day.’ I glance across at Izzy, Vivien and Stephen. They’re huddled together deep in conversation. I wonder if they’re plotting what tricks to play this time. I take a deep breath and think of Aunt Clara and how she’d hugged me when I left and whispered the Silver Witches’ incantation: Silver me, Silver you, Silver us, Silver true. I feel a shiver going up my spine. Yesterday Izzy and the others caught me off guard, but not today. Today I’ll be ready for them. I watch as Eve trudges over to Miss Black. She’s wearing the clothes she came in as her rucksack still hasn’t turned up. She says something to Miss Black and Miss Black blows her whistle to get us all to be quiet.

‘Do any of you girls have some spare clothes you could lend Eve, please?’

Izzy and Vivien immediately start giggling.

Miss Black glares at them. ‘Is something wrong, girls?’

Izzy shakes her head, her perfect ringlets bouncing. ‘No, miss.’

‘Well, what’s so funny?’

‘Nothing. It’s just that . . .’ She pauses and smiles sweetly. ‘I don’t think Eve would really suit any of my clothes.’

‘I don’t think they’d fit either,’ Vivien adds, looking at her thin legs stretched out on the ground in front of her.

Eve’s face flushes. Her usually neatly bobbed hair is all flat on one side from sleeping and she looks tired and drawn.

‘You can borrow something of mine,’ I call across.

‘Thank you, Nessa,’ Miss Black says.

‘Creep,’ Vivien mutters.

Izzy and Stephen just smirk.

Eve trudges back across the clearing. ‘Thanks,’ she murmurs, looking down at the ground.

I crawl over to our tent and pull a clean T-shirt and some clean underwear from my bag. Thankfully Aunt Clara insisted on me bringing spares of everything. ‘You never know when you might need it,’ she said. I bundle the clothes up and hand them to Eve.

‘Thanks,’ she mutters again and disappears off into her tent.

Miss Black blows her whistle again, causing Mr Matthews, who’s sitting next to her, to spill his cup of tea all over himself.

‘Right,’ Miss Black barks. ‘The shower block is open for those of you who want showers.’ The boys all laugh and shake their heads. ‘You have half an hour to get clean and then it’s time for our hike to the caves.’

Izzy and Vivien groan in stereo.

‘How far is it?’ Izzy asks, pouting.

‘It’s three K,’ Miss Black replies. ‘Barely any distance at all.’

Izzy arches her thin eyebrows. ‘Three kilometres is miles!’

‘It’s one point eight miles,’ Miss Black retorts, getting to her feet and brushing the twigs and leaves from her tracksuit. ‘As I said, barely any distance at all.’ She puts her hands on her hips. ‘Now, when we get to the caves we’re going to split into two groups. Half of you will be with me and half of you will be with Mr Matthews.’

Mr Matthews nods his head eagerly. Much as I like him, I’m kind of hoping I’m in Miss Black’s group. Mr Matthews is so scatty I can’t imagine it would take much for him to get lost.

‘It’s very important that you all stay together in your allocated groups while we explore the caves,’ Miss Black continues. ‘The floors are likely to be very slippery and uneven. So no running and no fooling around. Do you understand?’ She glares at us and we all nod meekly – apart from Stephen who sighs, like he’s the world’s greatest action hero, and Izzy and Vivien who exchange sly smirks. My heart sinks. Surely they wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull one of their stunts inside the caves? But then I think back to what they did in Aunt Clara’s kitchen and how they nearly set fire to the entire building. Of course they’d be stupid enough. I look at Holly to see if she’s thinking the same and her grim expression confirms it.