A Death Displaced by Andrew Butcher

hole in the middle to support the stake, and each wide enough to tie the witch and pile wood and hay around the victim. Wooden platforms would have sufficed, but in their hate and paranoia they built thirty platforms of stone, maybe expecting an on-going witch crisis. Stone would endure. And had endured; right to this day. As far as Juliet could remember, it was the worst case of witch burnings recorded in the history of Britain, maybe even Europe.
    To try to get the appointment back on track, Juliet smiled and said, ‘Maybe we were taught wrong then. I’ll have to think more about it in my own time.’
    ‘You will.’ Tamara was frank in tone.
    ‘So, are you a Wiccan? Or … erm, a different type of … Pagan, is it? I don’t mean to be ignorant. I’m only asking out of curiosity.’
    ‘No, I’m not religious. There’s no magic in religion.’
    That’s a bit harsh, was Juliet’s initial thought, but she kind of agreed, not being religious herself.
    ‘Okay. But don’t Wiccans practice the sort of things you do?’ She didn’t want to say aloud the type of ‘things’ she meant.  
    ‘I’m a witch. Witches practice witchcraft; we use magic. Some witches follow a religion, or they are on spiritual journeys, or both, or whatever they want to tell you. I don’t agree with their ways. Magic shouldn’t be doused by all that nonsense.’ The medium came across ardent in her opinion. Her final sentence had an impatient tone to it, like the way a master annoyed at an apprentice who incessantly failed would sound, having to tell them what to do again and again .
    ‘Why do you call yourself a medium, or a psychic, or a clair ...?’ Juliet stopped, unable to recall the word.
    ‘A clairvoyant? They are some skills of mine that are listed on my website. Most people feel more comfortable calling me a medium rather than a witch.’
    ‘That’s understandable. I’m sorry to ask so many questions, but what is a Pagan then?’
    ‘Pagans follow an earth-based religion, like the people of the Wiccan faith for example, but there are many other Pagan religions besides Wicca.’
    ‘Okay, I think I’ve grasped it. Thank you for that.’ Juliet nodded to show her appreciation.
    ‘Now, tell me your story. Tell me why you’re here.’
    She started at the beginning, the incident in Amiton upper grounds when the car almost hit her, and then covered the impossible things she’d seen over the past few days. She told what happened in the kitchen, where she thought she heard something say ‘Help me.’
    As she shared the story, she tried to place Tamara’s age. Her face looked proud and smooth, the way she moved was sprightly, and her hair was a vivid orange colour; but she came across as someone in her late sixties. Juliet couldn’t tell what gave away her years, but something did. 
    Once the story was told, Tamara remained still for a while. She seemed to be in deep thought, her eyes aimed at her lap. Looking up sharply, she said, ‘I think I know what’s happening to you. Give me your hands please.’
    Juliet took off her gloves and placed them down. She stretched out her hands towards Tamara who took them slowly into her own. Tamara used one hand to scan over Juliet’s palms, as if trying to sense the heat they radiated.
    Thoughts were definitely going through the medium’s mind. She raised one hand to Juliet’s face, and with the same movements she scanned it as if her hand were a metal detector searching for treasure inside of Juliet’s head.
    ‘You’re different,’ said Tamara. ‘I don’t know what you are, but you’re different.’
    Juliet laughed, hard and loud. This was just too rich. ‘I’m not paying for you to put on a show. I thought you could help me.’ She moved back to her seat and put her gloves back on.
    ‘It’s not a show. No one like you has ever come to me before.’
    ‘What do you mean like me ?’ she asked, annoyed at being foolish enough to believe this woman could help.
    ‘What