Abby the Witch by Odette C. Bell

the actual
time?'
    Pembrake
shrugged his broad shoulders, the rough woollen shirt stretching
awkwardly. 'I'm not sure, around midday?'
    No it wasn't,
her internal witchly clock assured her. Abby took a sharp breath
and patted the sweat away from her brow, trying to concentrate
completely on her feeling of unease. 'Are you sure?'
    Pembrake's
eyes had fixed on her face, and he uncrossed his arms gently.
'Maybe you should lie down, you look a little unwell.'
    'No, I don't
want to lie down,' Abby was surprised at her own frustration; she
sounded like a petulant child rebelling against her bedtime.
'Something is very wrong here.' She turned back to the tapestry on
the wall, 'nothing about this house fits. That woman said she'd
never even heard of the Royal Blue-'
    A stiff,
twisted misery crept into Pembrake's expression, and it fuelled her
tirade.
    'Where is the
ship? Where are the crew? Where are all the Guards and officers?
When that naval vessel went down last year, the whole of
Bridgestock was teeming with Guards for weeks, searching up and
down the coast for wreckage and survivors – but when I look out
that window I can't see a thing! I don't recognise the view at
all.' Abby stopped suddenly and took a deep breath. 'Something's
wrong, can't you see that?'
    A shot of
anger flared in Pembrake's eyes and he glared at Abby. 'Of course I
can see it. I've lost my ship, my crew, my
Captain, everything.' His voice was bitter and sharp.
    'S-sorry.'
    'Look, Abby,
that's your name, isn't it?' She nodded, and he continued, 'I
understand what you're saying, I really do. I grew up in
Bridgestock, this should be home, but I've walked through this
house and I've walked along the cliff and I have no idea what's
going on.' Pembrake rested a hand on the old warped glass of the
window. 'Everything is familiar, except not….'
    'I know.' Abby
was glad of his words of recognition and understanding. She may not
have grown up in Bridgestock, but she was its witch, and from the
moment she'd arrived she'd been attuned to it. Now it was like
someone had fiddled with the dial and she'd lost transmission.
    'This house…'
Pembrake's voice took on a distant quality as he looked around at
the dated furnishings. And the cliff, I swear there were more
houses set along the path to it… now it seems practically
undeveloped. It's almost as if we've travelled back in time,
everything seems so.…'
    Oh god. Abby
couldn't make out the rest of his words as a loud buzzing filled
her mind.
    '-are you
okay? Abby?' Somehow he had crossed the room and was standing
before her, face thick with concern, 'Abby?'
    Travelled back
in time. They couldn't possibly have… but that storm had been
powerful, so immensely chaotic.
    'Hey, Abby?'
he shook her shoulders gently.
    She blinked at
him, staring numbly up at his face. 'You're right; I think we've
travelled back in time.'
    The words had
broken forth before she could stop them. After all, suggesting that
you'd travelled back in time wasn't something people usually did.
But Abby could feel it now, she could feel her internal clock
resetting – adjusting to a different time at a different pace.
    This was
insane, this was totally insane and she could see Pembrake regard
her with a look of shocked disbelief.
    'What?' His
face blanched. 'Don't be stupid-'
    The curtains
parted behind them and the woman poked her head in, smiling
mischievously when she saw Pembrake's hands on Abby's shoulders.
'Oh you two must have had such a fright, I thought you'd like some
time alone – and I wasn't wrong, was I?'
    Pembrake
seemed to follow the old woman's meaning quicker than Abby, and
took a discrete step backwards. 'No, we're not-'
    'Now then,
Alfred's gone to get old Mr Pinkeye from the harbour – knows all
the ships that comes and goes does Mr Pinkeye. If your Royal
Blue docked like you said, they'll soon have it found. Now why
don't you two come and have a spot of soup, I've been dying to hear
your story.'
    Abby looked at
Pembrake;