Witchslapped in Westerham

by Dionne Lister

  Too many questions, and no answers. It was time to consult the grimoire. Maybe there was at least one answer in there. If I could find out what was wrong with Angelica, I could help her, and I could avoid calling Beren, who would report back to Witchface.

  Right. I was going to figure this out one problem at a time, and when I had all the answers, she’d better watch out. Tyrants had no place in this world, and I’d get rid of her if it was the last thing I did.

  I stayed up reading until 3:00 a.m. I finally had to stop because I couldn’t see properly through my watering eyes, care of all the yawning. After such a mammoth effort, I slept until ten. When I got up, I dressed, then went down to Angelica’s room to see if she was okay. Her distrust of me wasn’t enough to keep me away. I really had no idea what Witchface had done to her and how sick she might get.

  I knocked on her door but received no answer. I rapped a second time, but still nothing. Was she even in there? She could have felt better and gone to work.

  I opened the door and peered in. She was in bed, asleep. “Angelica?” My voice was quiet, timid. It felt weird being in her bedroom while she was asleep, and I hated waking people. Also, I didn’t want to frighten her. Even if she recognised me, she was sure to be surprised at seeing someone in her room, and she might zap me with a spell.

  But I needn’t have worried—she didn’t stir. I forced myself to speak in a normal voice. “Angelica, are you okay?” Her silence didn’t bode well. I slowly moved three steps forward. “Hello, it’s me.” Her eyes remained closed. A dog barked next door, and I jumped, my heart hammering. I placed my hand on my chest and shook my head. Idiot, Lily. She’s not dead. She’s just asleep. If that was the truth, why wasn’t she moving?

  I stared at the sheet covering her chest and stomach, straining to see the telltale movement, however small, that would indicate she was breathing. I bit my lip and forced myself to close the remaining distance to her bedside. I was sure I saw the tiniest lift, then fall. To be sure, I placed my palm in front of her mouth. Thank God. She was alive. Talk about overreacting. Of course she was alive, but why wasn’t she waking up?

  I placed my hand on her forehead. It was hot, way hotter than it should be, and she didn’t so much as turn her head or open her eyes at my touch. Stuff Witchface; I needed to call Beren.

  I travelled my phone to my hand and dialled. Would he even answer it, knowing it was me?

  Nope. It went to message bank. “Hi. You’ve reached Beren DuPree. Please leave a message.” Beep.

  “Hi, Beren, it’s me, the most-hated witch ever. I’m calling because Angelica is sick… very sick, and she needs your help. She’s at her house in bed with a terrible fever, and she won’t wake up. Please help.” Beep. Wow, that was only just enough time to say everything I needed to. He may not want to answer my call, but hopefully, he would come when he realised what the problem was. Unless…. What if Dana had put the idea into everyone’s head that Angelica being sick wasn’t an issue and that she’d get better without intervention?

  “Argh!” This was beyond frustrating. Did James know much about healing? I grabbed my notebook and wrote to him. Angelica is really sick. Tried calling Beren. Got no response. Can you help? I sent the note with the spell I learned two days ago, directly to James’s pocket.

  About five minutes later, a note appeared in my shorts pocket. I might be able to help, but I’m in the middle of something that I can’t leave. I’ll drop by tonight.

  Damn. There was no one else I could ask.

  My phone dinged with a message, and I started. Had Beren replied? I looked at the screen, which showed a number I didn’t recognise.

  Oh, how sweet. You’re worried about Angelica. I’m sure she’ll be fine. We all get sick sometimes. Beren won’t be coming to help. He understands she’s just exhausted and will return to work in a few days. How are Millicent and the baby doing, petal? Anyway, must toddle off. Tomorrow is going to bring exciting things. Very exciting. Toodles. She ended it with a crying-laughing emoji.

  “Grrrr.” I clenched my jaw and rubbed my arm where goosebumps had formed. Well, that proved she was spying on my phone, although I’d pretty much known she was. I just hadn’t thought contacting Beren to help someone else was disallowed. And what would tomorrow bring? That was the part that really worried me.

  I was supposed to stay in my room and not interfere in anything. Well, sorry, Witchface, but I didn’t do well with being ordered around.

  I left my phone on my bed and went and knocked on Olivia’s door. No answer. I opened it and looked in. She was gone, probably on the train to London to get some tea. I was on my own.

  Again.

  If I was going to deal with this, I needed coffee. I went down to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine Will had given me. It seemed like a lifetime ago but had only been a few months. I leaned back on the counter behind me and hugged myself. I missed him and his cranky self, dammit. The heated looks he used to give me were like nothing else I’d ever experienced, and when he smiled, I felt it all the way to my toes. Maybe she’d just gotten her hooks into him earlier than everyone else. He could have been her test subject—if she could get him to fawn over her again, taking control of everyone else would be a cinch.

  And yes, I saw it could just be wishful thinking on my part, but what if it wasn’t? And what would she do when she didn’t need everyone because she got her promotion? My eyes widened. What if she kept them as her slaves forever?

  Nausea wrapped firm hands around my throat and squeezed. I swallowed against it, but it didn’t help. There had to be a way to defeat her.

  The light on the machine came on, indicating it was ready to caffeinate. Oh, no. There were no beans left—the container was empty, and then I remembered I’d poured the last of them into the machine the other day. Crap. I was going to have to go out.

  I’d leave my phone at home, but what if Dana found out? Her first target would be Millicent. Hmm, an idea was forming. I went back upstairs and grabbed my notebook and pen. Need to go out and get coffee. If Dana finds out, she may hurt Millicent. I know me going out is against Dana’s rules, but I think we’re beyond that. And something big is happening tomorrow—she texted me. There’s no point obeying the law if she isn’t—we’ll never win. Your talent is the same as Dana’s. I know you don’t have anything to help hide the magic, but you’re married to Millicent. She trusts and loves you. Can you make her think she’s in pain or doesn’t feel well? Make her panic so you have to take her to the hospital or home? Just get her out of Dana’s way. Also, if Dana thinks Millicent is having real problems, she won’t bother with her. Let me know ASAP if you can do this. Maybe I can gather some other evidence while I’m out. I’ll take my camera. We’re running out of time.

  I magicked it to him and crossed my fingers. While I waited for his response, I checked on Angelica. She was still dead to the world, but not, ah, dead, dead, thank goodness. Her forehead still felt hot, although it was hard to tell whether it was actually hotter. I should take her temperature properly.

  I turned and looked at the door to her en suite. Going in there and searching her drawers was a terrible invasion of privacy, but this was an extenuating circumstance. Normal, unaffected-by-Dana Angelica would probably be okay with me looking. If I couldn’t find a thermometer, I’d pick one up while I was out.

  As I stepped over the threshold of the en suite, Angelica groaned. I spun around. Her face was contorted in what I could only assume was pain. What the hell was I supposed to do? I had no idea how to check her out with magic. Did she have a normal doctor she called or even another witch-type doctor like Beren? She settled, but her forehead stayed creased, as if she were still in a bit of pain or worried. Her subconscious probably tried to tell her what was going on.

  Should I search for another doctor’s number? If she had one, it would probably be saved in her phone, and I didn’t have access to that. Seriously, this was impossible. I turned back to the en suite, then towards Angelica, then
the en suite again. Taking her temperature wasn’t going to achieve much, although, if it were crazy high, I could call an ambulance. Fine. That was my plan, as pathetic as it was.

  I opened one drawer after the other, until I’d searched all four of them. Then I opened the cupboard doors and went through everything under the vanity sink. Nothing. I dropped to my bottom on the cold tile floor and hung my head. I didn’t do useless.

  One bum cheek warmed slightly. Huh? Oh, it must be a message from James! I stood and reached into my back pocket. The joyous sensation of paper against my fingertips made me smile. I snatched it out and opened it.

  Hi, Lily. You know I don’t like breaking the law, but I’ll admit, I don’t have any other solutions. I’ll take Millicent somewhere to eat for lunch, and I’ll convince her she’s not well, and she should go to her parents’. I’ve been doing some investigating of my own. I’ve checked out twelve of the places people had visited the day they turned violent. All of the shops or cafés get their tea supplies from the same place. I haven’t dug any deeper yet because Drake has me on a different case. I’ve only tested samples from one of the places, and it had traces of magic, like the one you got from the cafeteria. I’m not sure at this point what you can help with, but maybe go and take some photos of W & W Tea Supplies. Their address is Block 4 Vestry Trading Estate Vestry Road, Sevenoaks J.

  Okay, that could work. I magicked my notebook and pen to myself and wrote a note to confirm where I was going and that I was leaving my phone at home. After sending it to James, I checked Angelica as I went through her room—no change. I wanted to tell her I was going to help, that it would all be okay, but if Angelica somehow got better in the next hour and told Dana, I’d draw attention to myself.

  I shut her door quietly as I left, not that the noise would bother her. I frowned. I’d only ever known her as capable, and quite scary, to be honest. Seeing her incapacitated unsettled me. It had taken me a while to adjust to my new witchy reality, and much of my world was built on the foundations of Angelica’s strength and wisdom, her ability to keep things ordered and safe. But Dana was eroding that foundation faster than a tsunami.

  I took a deep breath and went up to my room. I grabbed my knapsack and chucked in my notebook and pen, camera, wallet, cardigan, and umbrella—stupid English weather. It wasn’t raining now, but who knew when it would decide to? It often rained on and off several times a day, even if the morning had started sunny. The English weather was reliably unreliable.

  When I stepped outside and shut the front door, I shivered. The day was warm, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five degrees, but the risk I was taking by leaving the house was something I couldn’t ignore. My gaze darted around. Was she watching somehow? If she was, she probably wouldn't think anything of me going to Costa, but later, when I jumped on the bus and went to W & W Tea Supplies, she’d realise. I had to cross my fingers, toes, arms, and anything else I could think of that she had no way of tracking me except my phone.

  As I hurried up the lane, the sweet smell of freshly cut grass did its best to remind me of summer days when I was a kid, when Dad would mow the lawn, and James and I would run in front of him, pretending to be scared of the “monster” trying to eat us. Then, when the mowing was done, he’d turn the sprinkler on, and we’d run around under it for hours.

  The heaviness of tears pulsed behind my eyes. I’d only just begun to rebuild a life with friends who had become family. There was no way in hell Dana was going to take it away.

  My footfalls came with increased purpose as I strode up the slight rise towards the high street. At the top of the rise, I turned left. Cars whizzed past, but not as many as usual, and I could count the pedestrians on one hand. In fact, uniformed army personnel outnumbered civilians three to one. The recent violence had laid waste to the retail heart of Westerham and made it look like a war zone, minus the rubble and tanks. My mouth dropped open. Oh, hang on, there was a small tank blocking the side road next to the village green.

  Who had done this, and why? Dana may want to solve this herself and take all the credit, but she was unlikely to be the perpetrator, even though she could do it. While I fumed about Dana and fighting her, the real perpetrator was free to get away with it until the PIB got its act together. Hopefully I could discover something this afternoon that would bring us closer to catching the person responsible. And wouldn’t that be nice, if I could surprise Dana with the criminal and ruin her chances for a promotion. If James and I did manage to crack the case, I’d make sure the credit went to Angelica. How, I had no idea, but we’d think of a way.

  Costa smelled as delicious as ever, but the happy chattering British accents that normally filled the place had given way to the low intermittent hum of only two tables of two people each. I had the pick of seats today and no queue. The teenager behind the register smiled at me. “What can I get for you?”

  “I’d like a skim milk cappuccino and double-chocolate muffin, thanks.” I hadn’t treated myself to muffin decadence for at least a week, and I needed cheering up. I was not going to feel guilty for eating a week’s worth of calories in one meal today.

  I handed him exact change and stood to the side to await my order. I wondered if Olivia had found her tea yet and if London was still calm. I’d forgotten to check on the news this morning. But I had a feeling it would only be a matter of time before the violence spread to London and beyond.

  A young woman placed my order on the bench. “Thanks.” I grabbed it and took one of the vacant window seats. It was unheard of to have this much choice. There were days when it was so crowded—usually on the weekend when it was raining—that you had to get a takeaway order.

  The first bite of muffin melted in my mouth, coating my tongue. “Mmmm.” God, that was good. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, chocolatey yumminess. You too, cappuccino.” I looked up. One of the other occupied tables happened to be two tables away from me, and one of the thirty-something-year-old women was staring at me, her expression mildly alarmed. I smiled and shrugged. I was getting acquainted with my brunch. Nothing weird about that.

  She turned away and whispered something to her friend. I think I liked this place better when it was crowded. No one would have noticed my private conversation to my coffee and muffin with all that noise.

  As I ate, army personnel wandered up and down the high street, occasionally stopping to debrief each other—okay, so they were probably just chatting, but they looked so official doing it. I giggled as I thought about how they’d be at home. Did their kids have to do lots of push-ups? “Tommy, I told you to tidy your room. Drop and give me twenty!” I would have been the push-up queen. I hadn’t had a tidy room until becoming a witch and being able to zap stuff into the cupboard.

  Soon enough, I’d finished, and it was time to figure out how to get to Sevenoaks. There was a bus that went, but I had no idea how close it would get me to my actual destination. Although I didn’t mind a bit of a walk if it came to that. I went to the green and waited at the bus stop with my Connected Kent and Medway card out and ready. I didn’t catch public transport often, but when I did, there was nothing worse than someone getting on the bus and taking five minutes to find their card. I mean, you know you’re catching the bus. How hard was it to be prepared?

  I read the bus timetable. My bus should be here within the next five minutes. Public transport in the UK was way better than Sydney’s. We had to wait ages for buses and trains, and they didn’t always go where you needed them to.

  The bus arrived, and I hopped on. Again, it was easy to find a seat. It was good that most people were staying home, but it did feel eerie, almost post-apocalyptic. If this continued, businesses would shut down for good. You could last only so long without income. I slumped back into my seat and stared out the window. I hoped Westerham could go back to how it was soon, but how many relationships would be permanently damaged? We wouldn’t know the true toll for weeks. Another incentive to shut this crap down ASAP.

  The further we got from
Westerham, the more people were about, although it wasn’t a lot more. The contamination had affected all of Kent, from what I’d seen on the news.

  It took around seventeen minutes to get to Sevenoaks Railway Station. I had to change buses. It only took a few minutes of travelling north to reach Bat and Ball Railway station, and from there I had to walk. I’d asked the bus driver how long the walk was—around twenty minutes. I was glad the weather had decided to be unpredictably predictable. Because I didn’t have my phone, I pulled up the Westerham map in my mind, using the river of golden power. Being a witch made life so much easier. If only there were more public toilets set up around the place, I could have travelled there the easy way, but then I wouldn’t get to act like a tourist and watch the countryside go by.

  Sweat slicked my forehead, but finally, there it was, the sign for Vedry Road. Large warehouses lined it—both modern metal buildings and older brick ones. It wasn’t the prettiest of areas. Cars were parked along the street, and there was very little vegetation. I would probably look a bit suspicious taking photos—it wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. My phone would have been subtler, but for obvious reasons, I had to leave it behind. I mumbled the no-notice spell. When I was done, I said, “Ta-da.” I didn’t celebrate nearly as much as I should when my spells went right. It was a miracle I’d managed not to kill myself yet, and I really should take time to appreciate it.

  There was the industrial estate, one of the silver metal type ones—single-storey buildings that were taller than their older brick counterparts. I grabbed my camera out of my bag, put the lens cap in my pocket, and turned the camera on. The hairs on my nape stood on end as I walked into the main driveway that serviced the complex. I knew I was unnoticeable by non-witches, but whoever was doing this was a witch, and no-notice spells didn’t work on them. I didn’t want to exhaust myself, but being amateurish about this now was sloppy of me. I cast a return-to-sender spell, just in case. It might drain me, drawing power for so many spells at the same time, but I wouldn’t be here long.