TODAY WE GIVE A WARM WELCOME BACK TO OUR GUEST AUTHOR, ANTHONY ABERFORD, WHO IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM HIS NOVEL, 'THE SPIRAL PATH' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
EXCERPT
Romilda grabbed Meghana’s shoulder and eased the door open, guiding her to a place at the back. Inside, there were six standing figures in long dark robes, cowls pulled down to cover their faces, illuminated only by the light of the candles they held in front of them. As the chanting stopped, they sat down on a random selection of wooden kitchen chairs. Romilda walked into the circle and announced Meghana as one of the Craft who was attending, as summoned.
Meghana was surprised when a deep, resonant voice said from deep within a cowl: “Sit, Sister Romilda. Welcome, Meghana. My name is Olwyn. Do you know why you have been summoned?”
Meghana stammered and spluttered.
“Errr… not really. I guess you want to know more about the events of two years ago. The book and the gateway and all that?”
She looked at Romilda for some support, but she had lifted the hood of her cape and, like the others, her head was bowed, concealing her face. At the front of the hall, in the direction they were facing, Meghana noticed a high, paneled screen, of the sort used to divide rooms. The screen was in shadow, and the area behind it seemed to be in total darkness. Nevertheless, Meghana had the distinct impression that she was being watched from behind it.
Olwyn’s deep voice echoed around the barn.
“We want to know on whose instructions you were acting. We know the circumstances; you have told Sister Romilda. We study these occurrences closely and are aware that in your… group, there are neither the skills nor the inclination to execute such an event without assistance.”
Olwyn swayed back and forth, her eyes shut, her head held high. Her voice grew louder and more forceful. In a tone that resonated with ancient wisdom, the witch uttered a command that seemed to emanate from deep within her chest.
"By the threads of fate,” she pronounced, “I compel you to reveal your knowledge of who thwarted the opening of the gate at Alderwick Hall. The truth is a slippery spirit but, by my command, it shall not elude my grasp!!"
Meghana felt a subtle pressure on her consciousness. It was as if unseen hands were probing her thoughts, squeezing her skull to force out the answers. Then, the grip seemed to shift to a place behind her eyes. The pressure mounted until a kaleidoscope of visions danced before her mind’s eye, urging her to speak. She felt the room start to spin. Her hands went to her head and she slumped forward over her knees.
“Stop it, stop it! I don’t know… They worked it out – Aunt Lily, Adalene and Christina and the others… Lizzie and her friends… they worked it out. No one else, I promise.”
The sharp, probing pain in her head was building and becoming intolerable. She feared she was going to vomit.
“Stop it! Stop it, please!” she cried.
There was a muttering around the barn, as Olwyn and the small group of witches conferred in whispers. The pain eased and the nausea passed. Somehow, the room seemed lighter, as if a baleful presence had receded from it. She saw Romilda throw back her cowl, glance towards the screen and give a wolfish grin.
“Well, it seems you’re telling the truth. So, all that remains for you to do now is to bring Adalene and Christina to us, along with… who is it, Lizzie? They must have the answers we seek.”
Meghana was horrified. “I can’t do that! They wouldn’t come. They don’t trust me as it is.”
Romilda crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side. She glanced at the screen again. Olwyn removed her cowl and revealed herself as a portly middle-aged woman with a whiskery chin and thin, colourless hair. She approached Meghana and pushed her hairy face up close.
“We could always compel them,” she said.
She too glanced at the screen. By now, Meghana was sure that there was somebody hidden out of sight behind there, someone to whom the others all deferred. Romilda jumped to attention, as if she had just received some urgent call to action.
“There’s one more thing I need to know. What’s happening in the Cumbrian Hills? We’re getting reports of disturbances.”
“The Cumbrian Hills? You mean, the Lake District?”
“No, the hills along the ancient Yordale Magic Stream. The Yorkshire Dales!”
“Oh, there. I don’t know. Adalene – she does meditation at the centre – she’s there with her trip, and there’ve been some problems, and Christina’s gone out to help. But, other than that…” she looked into the gimlet eyes of Romilda and Olwyn “…I’ve no idea. It’s the truth.”
Romilda sneered at her.
“Please, we’re not stupid. Are they looking for another gate? Do they have any reason to think there might be one?”
“No, no, I told you this at the centre; it’s the last thing we want to get involved in.”
“Maybe. But you’re involved, regardless of what you want.” said Olwyn.
The witch spun on her heels. “All this is most unsatisfactory. I don’t appreciate ungrateful pupils. Now, Meghana Chopra, time for your first ceremony.
Olwyn dropped her voice an octave, so that she sounded like an operatic baritone and said: "We welcome you, Meghana Chopra, one of the followers of the Craft, into the embrace of our coven. Today, you embark on a journey of magic, wisdom, and self-discovery. May you find harmony with the forces that surround us, and within yourself."
Romilda had gone to stand at a table behind Olwyn. She now stepped forward and shook a sheaf of herbs, which had been plunged into a bucket of blessed water, over Meghana. The soaking took Meghana by surprise.
“Aaaah, what’s that?”
Olwyn glared at Romilda and whispered: “Do it gently!” She continued with the ceremony. "As you step onto the path of the Craft, let this water cleanse you of doubt and impurities. May you be pure in heart and spirit."
Romilda then stepped up with a small vial of oils, which Olwyn smeared onto her thumb. She briskly rubbed some onto Meghana’s forehead and palms and then started to reach for a button on her blouse. Alarmed, Meghana clutched it and stepped back.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Olwyn brandished her freshly oiled thumb. “I’ve got to anoint you on the breast.”
“No, you’re not!”
“It’s the ceremony!” hissed Romilda.
“Well, I’ll do it myself,” said Meghana.
Olwyn glanced at the screen for guidance.
“I’ve got to do it because I’m the priestess in this ceremony. You’re just a trainee and not competent to act yet.”
Megana prised open a space between two of her buttons to reveal an oval of brown skin. “Stick it on there, if you must.”
Olwyn stuck her thumb through the gap in the blouse, huffed and said: "With this sacred oil, we mark you as one attuned to the ancient energies. May it empower you and open the channels of your intuition and magic. Meghana Chopra, do you solemnly swear to uphold the principles of our coven, to respect the balance of nature, and to use your powers for the greater good?"
“I do.” Meghana huffed.
Romilda muttered at her over Olwyn’s shoulder.
“You’ve got to say, with love and dedication. Say, ‘I do, with love and dedication!’”
“I do, with love and dedication.”
"As Meghana Chopra takes her place among us,” Olwyn then said, “let the energies of this sacred space resonate within her. May she walk the path of the Craft with honour, compassion and a deep connection to the mysteries of the universe – there, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?"
Meghana shook her head. “Can I go now?”
Romilda looked at Olwyn, who shrugged. Romilda took off her robe and carefully folded it, putting it into an old, ill-fitting chest of drawers.
“Okay, Meg, drop the gown. I suppose I’ll have to wash it now. Follow me.”
She took a high-powered torch from a shelf and ushered Meghana out into the night, to walk her back to the car.
“So far, you’ve been a big disappointment to us,” Romilda snapped over her shoulder. “You’ll have to do better next time.”
Meghana stopped in her tracks. “Next time?”
“Yes, dear, next time! What do you think this is? Covens are for life – you should be proud! You’re now officially a trainee Hardcastle witch. Many girls would give their eye teeth for such an opportunity. Don’t worry, I’ll help prepare you for the ceremonies. But we’ve got some work to do first; I can tell you that. And you’d better bring us more information next time, or there’ll be trouble. I can feel it!”
Romilda started disappearing fast down the path. Meghana scurried after her, hurrying towards the torchlight.
“But I don’t want to be in a… coven, or whatever it is. I can’t always be trotting off into the woods at midnight!”
“Well, it’s not so bad in the winter, dusk is in the late afternoon. The girls say it can interfere with the school pick-up, but that won’t bother you. Anyway, you should be honoured; you’ll be our first Asian lady witch. We made a pact at last year’s summer sabbat to be more inclusive in our recruitment. So, bringing you on board’s a big tick for us.”
Meghana was starting to feel desperate.
“But I don’t really want to be recruited! I’m a daakini and I’ve got enough going on already. I work and I’m a mother!”
“Oh, bit late for that now. We’re all busy people, but there’s always room for one more thing. Anyway, you wouldn’t want to make me look silly in front of my friends by playing up, would you? I wouldn’t like that. No, not at all. I’m very bad at rejection – I was told that at the building society.”
Romilda watched her get into her car and then gestured for Meg to lower the window. She rested her hands on the roof and pushed her long thin face into the car, causing Meghana to pull back in her seat.
“If I were you, I’d work a lot harder on finding what’s happening on that Dales trip. We’ve got intelligence that says there’re some very strange goings on and we need to know exactly what they are. This could be your big chance to impress and it’d make me incredibly pleased, which is always a good thing. So, eyes and ears, eh?”
With that, Romilda rapped the car roof in farewell and disappeared into the night.
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AUTHOR BIO
I am a former corporate and banking lawyer and, in 2005, founded a leading Yorkshire craft brewery. I moved to Malta in 2015 and became enthralled by its culture, history and turbulent politics, from the migrant crisis to the murder of the journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia. In the southern Mediterranean, nothing is ever what it seems – a rich backdrop for my anti-hero, Inspector George Zammit, the principal character in my six-book crime and adventure series, published from 2022 onwards. by Hobeck Books
In April 2026, I changed genres and published The Conservatory, a cosy mystery set in the Yorkshire Dales, featuring the enigmatic Aunt Lily and her friends as they confront a mysterious series of events that challenged everything they believe in. The Spiral Path is the second book in the series, where Aunt Lily and the friends find their adversaries remain alive and well and capable of great mischief. Book three in the Aunt Lily series, The Eye of Time, is due out in spring 2027.
I am married with two sons and grandchildren. I am a keen cook, traveller and cyclist. I live mainly in Malta, but keep a house in Yorkshire.
Twitter: @AJAberford
FB: AJ Aberford
Insta: @ajaberford
Threads: ajaberford
TikTok: @ajaberford109
Bsky: @ajaberford.bsky.social
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COMING SOON: ON Sunday 1st November, we are delighted to welcome back our guest author, Elizabeth Greene, who is sharing
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