Chapter 3 – Undercurrent

Samuel Gambrill was more than an old friend. Knowing what she was, he had become something else entirely—her protector. Now a sergeant in the local constabulary, he was one of the few in Easterwich who could accept the strange without blinking.

He’d stood up for Mabel since they were children, from playground taunts to teenage suspicion. He knew her family’s secrets, had come to terms with a talking cat, and often turned to Mabel when a case drifted beyond the reach of ordinary reason.

Today, it was the singing tree in Mrs Goodwin’s garden. It had started attracting too much attention, and the press had begun to circle. He needed Mabel to quiet it before it became a headline.

She still had feelings for Sam. Perhaps she always would. In the past, she had pushed him away, frightened of the dangers her world might bring to his. It was a decision she regretted, though one now dulled by the fact he had married someone else. He remained a close friend, steady and kind, but the ache never truly left her. In Mabel’s world, love often asked for sacrifices she wasn’t willing to make.

Yet today Sam had brought her something unexpected, a once-in-a-century chance to witness a singing tree.

Talking trees weren’t unusual, not to those who listened. Every native culture spoke of them. But singing trees were different. Rare. Enchanting. The kind of thing you waited a lifetime to see.

Mabel didn’t hesitate. She was going.

As they left the grocer’s shop, that subtle shift still lingered in the air. It was the same feeling she’d experienced at twilight near Rattlebag Cottage—a low stirring, as if every magical object and hidden presence buzzed with expectation. Something rode the wind. Not excitement, but a tension she couldn’t name. A sense that something darker was drawing near.

──✿──

Sam’s carriage awaited them outside. The horse nervously shifted, sensing the same charge in the air. Mabel stepped forward. With a calm presence and a soothing voice, she slowly and gently offered her hand, patiently waiting until the nervous mare’s breathing softened and she began to relax. She moved her hand to the horse’s neck, just behind its poll. With a firm, open palm, she began a slow, rhythmic rub. The mare sighed, leaning into her touch, its eyes soft and content. It was a silent connection, a moment of shared peace.

Mabel Shirley had long ago learned to iron problems out before they escalated. Sometimes, it was simply about connecting, sharing the burden, and moving on with mindfulness. Moments like this allowed her to flow with the ancient undercurrent, setting her up for the task ahead.

“Any chance you can calm this animal down, get him to shut up?” Sam’s voice broke the connection, but not the flow. She turned to see Malkin in the carriage with Sam.

“What has he been up to now?” Mabel replied.

“Rude jokes. Loud enough for passers-by to hear. They think it’s me.”

Mabel looked sternly at cat. Malkin unfazed, grinned back at her.

“You were supposed to be back by dawn. What happened?” she asked.

“The singing tree. Hop up—I’ll explain on the way.”

“I take it you felt its enchantment,” said Mabel, looking down at Malkin.

“Yes,” replied the cat. “Me, the entire animal population of the town, and a few locals who are… let’s say, open to suggestion. It was one hell of a party.”

“And what state has Mrs Goodwin been left in?” Mabel asked casually.

“Gone to stay with her daughter. The tree was bearable. The zoo in her garden—final straw.”

“Oh…” Mabel replied.

“As for the other problem, I paid it a visit. A very heavy vibe coming from that site. I only got so far before I had to pull back. The draw from that entity is overpowering. It remembered me. I got out before it pulled me in.”

In all the time she had known him, she had never sensed fear in his voice. But now, it was there—subtle, but undeniable. She sighed gently and gave him a knowing look. They rode in silence, until the sounds from Mrs Goodwin’s house broke the mood.

──✿──

“The vibe has changed since last night,” Malkin remarked. “It’s more sombre.”

True enough. The party atmosphere had vanished. The tone of the tree was more of a throb. The garden, full of creatures and a handful of humans, stood transfixed as the tree hummed away.

Sam had driven the carriage level with the garden. He was grateful the house was on the outskirts of town. Thank goodness, he thought. Fewer prying eyes.

They got down from the carriage and entered the garden. As they walked among the transfixed crowd, not one person reacted to their presence.

“What’s doing this?” Sam asked, turning to Mabel.

“Enchantment,” Mabel replied. “The tree’s song is resonance, a form of mind control. The result is a loss of agency. These people and creatures still feel their own thoughts and desires, but an overriding magical influence is guiding their actions.”

“They weren’t like this yesterday. What’s happened?” Sam frowned.

“The power of another, greater entity. The tree is also under its spell,” Malkin said softly.

“Dangerous?” Sam asked.

“Not at the moment,” Malkin replied. “But if this is what I think it is, we’re dealing with a siren’s song. An entrapment, so that souls can be collected.”

Sam looked around at the now motionless audience. “Can we release them before it arrives?”

“That’s where I come in,” said Mabel.

Sam turned to her. “But how?”

“The first power I realised as a Sister of the Woods—how to talk to nature. I’ll show you. Help me clear a space.”

Together, Mabel and Sam gently rearranged the audience to make room for her to stand. A cat moved here, a dog nudged there, a human carefully guided to an open spot.

With the space prepared, Mabel stood tall. She took a deep breath and raised her arms to shoulder height. Closing her eyes, a quiet hum began to rise from within her. It shifted and adjusted, searching for the frequency of the tree, until at last she found harmony.

She stayed with it for a minute or so, then gently raised the tone. The tree responded in kind.

The sound’s vibration filled the garden, enveloping everything in its warmth. Again she hummed, this time with a volume that belied her slender frame. Gentle waves radiated outwards, a vibrant greeting carried on the air.

As the sound subsided, a joyous reply swept through the garden. Every creature—animal, bird, and human—joined her in a chorus of loving kindness. For the longest time she stood at the centre of it all, sparkling in a shimmering light that danced across the crowd, touching all before her, as nature sang its praises in return.

As Mabel lowered her arms and the sound of her call faded, nature fell into silence.

There was a moment of pure peace that enveloped them all. As its effects began to wear off, the audience slowly left the garden. No fear, no panic — just nature resetting itself.

“You should do that more often,” said Malkin, opening his eyes.

“I may well do,” she replied.

Something had shifted within her — a quiet insight. A combination of what Felicity had told her the other day, and what the tree had just shared through its song. The realisation of the ‘Wood Wide Web’ — the hidden interconnection of roots, a covert intelligence network running beneath their feet. Not just here, but everywhere.

“Sam, I need to visit Brockthorn Abbey tomorrow. Will you accompany me?”

“Not sure what the Inspector will say. He may not let me go.”

“Don’t worry about him. It’s official business. I’ll have a word. Just so you know, take a look at this letter.”

She handed it to him, and as he unfolded the page, his brow furrowed.

“Mabel… where did you get this?”

From a mutual friend. One that insists this remains a secret.

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