by Cari Thomas
‘Let’s not pretend like we’re trying to service anyone but ourselves,’ said Anna. ‘And what about Connaughty?’
‘But how do we know they won’t come after us? We could lose everything,’ said Rowan.
‘You mean lose our new so-called friends and – what? Getting noticed by boys? Is this really why we formed a coven and practised our magic so hard, so we could find dates to the GODDAMN SUMMER BALL? Don’t you see, we wanted to change the rules, but we’re playing by the same rules as everyone else!’
‘Calm down,’ said Effie. ‘Where is all this anger coming from?’
Anna spun round to her. ‘Stop pretending that everything’s fine, Effie. You know this spell is fucked up—’
‘Is it the spell that’s fucked up, or your magic?’ Effie began to circle Anna, wielding her words like a knife. ‘I mean, it’s your magic that’s shown signs of darkness. We’ve all seen the curse sign, more than once. Then there’s your family: your father killing your mother; your aunt making you give up magic, fearing it’s too dangerous. Everything you don’t understand about your mother’s death – that she may have been cursed too …’ Effie bared her secrets, just like that, as if they were nothing. ‘The flies, the rot, the rumours becoming real. How do we know it’s not all come from you? That you haven’t infected the spell? You’re the only one whose magic is, well, rotten. I think we all remember the seven circles in static …’
She twisted the knife and Anna could do nothing to remove it, because she was right. The shame of it flooded through her.
‘Effie, shut up, this isn’t helping,’ said Attis, his voice gruff.
‘Attis, you’ve been keeping these secrets of hers too. It’s not fair. We’re a coven, we’re meant to be honest with one another. She’s trying to blame us all for something that’s her fault.’
Anna found her voice. ‘If it is me – my magic – then I’m sorry. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t put a stop to this. Let’s destroy that video and cast a spell to end the rumours. There must be a way.’
‘Fine,’ Effie relented. ‘I’ll get rid of the video, but we don’t have time to worry about ending spells, we’ve got new ones to cast. It’ll fade.’
‘No.’ Anna wanted to reach out and shake her. ‘We have to end this before it gets worse. Darcey’s not going to stop raving about us—’
‘So?’ Effie yelled, her eyes unyielding now. ‘No one cares what Darcey says. The only one I hear raving is you; I thought it was your aunt who was crazy but I’m not so sure any more. This spell is your mess, you clean it up.’
‘I need your help.’ Anna shouted back, looking to Rowan and Manda desperately. ‘Come on, who’s with me?’
‘If any of you agree to this, you’re out of the coven,’ Effie challenged. ‘Out.’
‘I’m leaving if you don’t help me,’ Anna threatened.
‘Perhaps that’s for the best,’ said Effie, suddenly gentle. ‘Your magic should probably be kept at a safe distance.’
Anna felt herself floating then, untethered. She reached for her Knotted Cord and twisted it around her fingers. ‘Rowan? Manda?’ she pleaded. ‘This is wrong. Come with me.’
Manda looked away. Rowan looked between Anna and Effie, dithering.
‘You’ll lose everything, Rowan,’ said Effie. ‘You want them to start up that game again? The Beast? And for what, to put Darcey back on her throne? To do magic with someone who’s been keeping secrets from you?’
‘This is madness. No one is leaving the coven.’ Attis stepped between them.
‘She is.’
‘I am.’
‘Go on then,’ Effie dared. ‘Attis, you stay here.’
Anna looked at him and then turned around and left. She fled down the yellow brick corridor, wiping angry tears from her eyes. No one followed her.
ESCAPE
In silence and secrets we are bound.
Tenet Eight, The Book of the Binders
Anna took a deep breath and wrote her name down on the Performance Assembly sign-up sheet: Anna Everdell – piano recital.
Even writing it made her feel sick with nerves – she didn’t know if she’d be able to go through with it when the time came, but she had to. There was no choice any more.
It had been a few weeks since she’d left the coven and it had been surprisingly easy to sink back into it, into being a nobody: going to school, keeping her head down, speaking to no one, having no one to speak to. In other ways it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. She’d never had friends before and so she’d never experienced the all-encompassing pain of losing them.
She’d thought Attis might try to talk to her – to say sorry for backing down so quickly – but it seemed he was too much of a coward for that too. She barely saw him anyway and Rowan and Manda avoided her. Effie didn’t spare her that dignity, she simply carried on as always and acted as if Anna were not there at all. With Darcey, Anna had chosen to be a nobody, but Effie forced her to become one.
She heard about them through rumour only now. Manda and Karim had supposedly slept together. She didn’t know if it was true. She discovered Rowan had been asked by David aka trumpet-boy to the ball. Anna smiled when she heard until she remembered she couldn’t ask Rowan about it. Effie and Attis were going together, of course. For a few days she’d been whispered about too; the abrupt end to her friendship with Effie had been of some interest, but then, not belonging to her orbit any more, Anna was quickly forgotten.
Fortunately school was winding down, with only coursework to get through. Anna gravitated between the library to work and the music room to play – taking it all out on the piano in the only way she knew how. When it all became too much she put the rest into her Knotted Cord. She didn’t have time to indulge her anger, to wallow in her sadness, to bleed and to ache – she had too much to do. She had to end the rumour spell. Corinne had been suspended, Olivia was off school again for an upcoming procedure and Darcey was … Anna didn’t want to know but could vividly imagine.
She’d taken herself off to the Library when Aunt was at work. She’d got lost in its corridors once more, trying to find something that might be useful, half expecting to stumble across Pesachya again, but he did not surface from the papery depths. She returned home with books up to her chin. She ended up discarding all but one. The lengthy rituals, the potions, the binding spells – it was all impossible on her own, but a single spell buried in one of the books gave her the seed of an idea. She didn’t know if it would work. She had to try.
When the day of the performance came round she could feel herself crumbling.
I’m ready, I’m ready. I can do this.
She walked quickly to school before her legs could carry her anywhere else, repeating the mantra to herself. You have to be ready. There isn’t a choice.
It was busy behind the scenes of the school stage. The other performers rushed around her: the school choir, a trio of violinists, a band testing vocals, checking instruments, while she sat alone, trying to work out how to stop her hands shaking. What in the name of the Goddess am I doing?
The spell idea she’d found in the Library had dealt with the language of song – how a piece of music could be a spell. There had been nothing specific but it had suggested a witch could compose her own musical spell – ‘infused with Hira and delivered with magic’ – for whatever purpose was required. Anna had no real clue how to achieve this but she had to try. The Performance Assembly was the one time where the entire school would be together – the Boys’ and the Girls’ Schools combined.
She’d composed the spell with Attis’s music book. As she played she’d imagined the rumours dying in the air, clean winds sweeping away the flies, mouths sealed, phones silenced. The song wrote itself across the pages; the musical staves – threads, the notes – little knots of silence. Everyone’s going to laugh at me – the Nobody – who does she think she is …
‘You’re on last,’ a prefect with a clipboard told her. ‘The piano is alr
eady on stage. Where’s your sheet music? Do you need someone to turn the pages for you?’
‘No. I don’t have any sheet music.’
‘Whatever. Just don’t mess up.’
Headmaster Connaughty was on stage already, introducing the assembly. I’m not going to remember the song. What if the spell doesn’t work? Or worse … Anna couldn’t think about that now. She had to try something.
The performances began. Anna could hear the violins going off with slight discord, a note wrong here, the rhythm out of time there. Loud clapping. Whispering. There were a lot of people out there. She imagined Effie in the audience, Rowan, Manda, Attis – the look on their faces when she stepped out to play. She didn’t want Attis thinking she was doing this for him. It was in spite of him.
When her name was called she just stared at the prefect.
‘Oh Christ, you’re not going to bail on me, are you? I knew I shouldn’t have let you play. Anna the Nobody.’
It was one of her old names. It made her feel stronger.
‘I’m ready.’ She pulled herself off the floor. Her entire body was shaking now, her mouth dry as a desert. She stood in the wings while she was introduced.
She stepped out. The lights were bright, but not bright enough – she could still make out the faces of pupils and teachers before her. She sat down at the piano. The silence, as they waited for her to do something, was the loudest silence of her life. She put her hands on the keys and they trembled. Suddenly her perfectly orchestrated plan crumbled – What if the spell spreads the darkness of my magic? Curses everyone? She couldn’t remember the first note of the song. She didn’t want to remember it.
She put one hand in her pocket, feeling the old fears in her Knotted Cord. She looked into the wings and saw the prefect mouthing something at her.
I have to do something. I have to try …
She put her hands back on the piano. She couldn’t feel any magic or even remotely remember what magic felt like, but she thought of the rumours – Olivia’s face falling apart, Corinne’s suspension, Headmaster Connaughty’s hands on Darcey, Darcey’s accusations—
She began.
A simple series of notes, exposed and raw, trembling under her fingers, drawing together the silence of the room, gaining ground and pace: a melody floating like a white, silent sail through the dark seas of the crowd, rippling minor chords that spoke of anguish, remorse, forgetting.
The magic came to her then, quietly, unfurling in the spaces between each note. She threaded it into the music and found the song was different to the one she’d practised. What was coming out of her was new, painful to the touch, as if her fingers were leaving their usual bloodstains on the keys: she was locked in a dark cupboard; watching a picture of her mother curling in the flames of a fire; falling asleep, one hand in Effie’s; Attis was reaching out to touch her neck; breaking up pianos in his forge, white keys scattered like bones; there was a small white key she wanted but could not have; a door that was locked, forever.
The song reached its crescendo, melody crashing, notes binding together, pulling tight, tighter – a moment of pause – the quietest of endings, a gentle warning, repeating over and over: stitch up, stitch back, stitch up, stitch back.
Anna stopped playing.
She was met with a wall of silence. No applause, no murmuring, not even a whisper. It was broken by a small sob, then whimpering sounds, a nose blowing. She stood up and looked over the crowd. The faces looking back at her were distraught. She could see teachers along the front row crying, tears rolling down their cheeks, dabbing eyes with sleeves.
Has it worked? Or have I broken the entire school?
One of the teachers dropped a head into her hands, shuddering.
A lone beat of applause from somewhere in the crowd. Attis. Others joining in and then they were clapping. It was not great applause by any measure. It was slow and startled and wary. Anna removed herself from the stage as quickly as she could. The prefect with the clipboard was sitting weeping in the wings. She wound her way through the backstage area and out of the door.
What have I done?
Anna ran through the corridors. Students were beginning to filter out of assembly but no one was speaking, not even a whisper. What is that sound? Anna realized it wasn’t a sound but a lack of one – dead flies littered the ground but not a single live one buzzed. She put her head down and made her way through the deafening silence to the library.
She’d been hiding out for a few hours when a low voice behind her spoke. ‘I thought I might find you here.’ For a moment she thought it was Attis, but the voice was too quiet, too finely composed. She turned around to find Peter. Since she’d been shunned by her friends, she’d been talking to Peter a little more – walking back from class with him. She was sure he was just taking pity on her. He was smiling at her now, a dazed look on his face.
She gave him a worried smile.
‘Anna, this morning – your performance, that was incredible. Everybody is – I don’t know what … stunned. I didn’t even know you played the piano.’
‘Do you feel … OK?’
‘I feel fine.’ He laughed, sitting down beside her, running a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t think you get it. You’re incredible. I’ve seen what Effie’ – he said the name gratingly – ‘has done to you. Discarding you like that.’
‘She didn’t discard—’
‘It’s for the best. You’re so much better than her. She’s trash. You’re an angel in comparison.’
‘I’m no angel and Effie isn’t trash, she’s – complicated.’ Anna sighed. ‘We’re just too different.’
‘I like you different.’ He lowered his head to catch her eyes. ‘You’re different from all the other girls here. I’m just sorry I hadn’t noticed it sooner.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Anna laughed, trying to hide from the intensity in his eyes. ‘I don’t think anyone noticed me.’
‘Well, the world is a better place now you’re in it.’
She wanted to reach out then, to hold him and to have him make everything better, but no – he thinks I’m an angel, but I’m not: I’m as cursed as hell.
A few days later she found the roses taped to her locker. A tag read: ‘Everdell. There’s no one else I’d rather go to the ball with than you. I hope you feel the same. Peter x’.
Anna pulled them free and leant against her locker, hardly believing that through all of the chaos of the year, the most unlikely thing had happened. Peter liked her. The boy she’d had a crush on for years actually liked her, when no one else did. The flowers were just beginning to open. She’d always promised to herself, to Aunt, to keep her heart at a safe distance from any threats of emotion – but she’d broken a lot of promises, and this one couldn’t hurt. Peter wasn’t caught up in the world of magic, he was normal, steady, decent; someone she could depend on.
Anna smelt the flowers and soaked up the wonderful quiet of the corridor. She was beginning to believe that her spell had worked – the flies had gone, the rumours had begun to peter out and Darcey hadn’t posted about them in some time. She hadn’t come to school either; she was apparently taking some time off. To recover? Anna hoped it would be possible and a worse part of her hoped she’d never return.
In class, she spent the whole time catching Peter’s eye. Afterwards he came up to her: ‘So did you like the roses?’
‘I loved them.’
‘And?’
She’d been set on avoiding the ball – it would be too painful to see them all there together, but looking into Peter’s hopeful eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no to him. She didn’t want to.
‘Yes.’
They laughed and then he moved closer and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘They reminded me of you. Red.’ He pulled at a lock of her hair. ‘Delicate, beautiful …’
She felt herself blushing and switched off to his words, instead looking into the steady calm of his eyes. Peter taking the Nobody to the ball! It migh
t have been the most absurd rumour of them all.
Rowan found her leaning on the wall behind the common room the next day. She approached tentatively. ‘Is it true, then? Peter asked you to the ball?’
‘Yes,’ Anna replied warily.
Rowan’s smile grew wider. ‘I knew it! I knew he would! I’d hoped for it. You’ve liked him for so long, you deserve it and—’ She stopped herself. ‘I’ll talk forever if you let me go on.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Anna, realizing how much she’d missed the sound of Rowan’s voice.
‘You don’t hate me?’
‘I don’t hate you.’
‘I’ve been too ashamed, I—’ Rowan’s smile wobbled. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry too.’
‘I do not accept your apology.’
‘OK …’
‘No, wait, I mean, because you don’t need to apologize. You were right. You were so right, those rumours – they were nasty but they weren’t meant to come true. When they started to … I didn’t want to admit to myself what was happening. I’d got so caught up with everything. I’d never been popular and suddenly people wanted to talk to me, to hear what I had to say and – I know, I know, it was Effie’s attention they really wanted but it still felt good and I don’t know … I lost it. Couldn’t see the wood for the trees, the flowers for the bee stings, the—’
‘I get it, Rowan.’ Anna smiled.
‘And what you did with the piano, I swear by my Hira that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I was a blubbering mess, genuinely, tears, snot, dribble – the unholy trinity. Did Attis tell you we put gag root herb in all the school food?’
‘No, I haven’t spoken to him.’
‘It banishes gossip. We wanted to make sure the spell was definitely over, but I don’t think we needed to after what you did. It’s been so quiet, hasn’t it? And Darcey, she’s disappeared. You were right about her too; we should have been more careful. I know people think she’s lost it but even so, that footage and her spouting off about satanic cults and the like, it was not a good idea, especially right now.’