Hella heard nothing. Her vision blurred, a loud ringing in her ears. She saw the flame engulf the map. She hoped the spell was working. She tried to sit up, putting a hand to the back of her head. It came away sticky and dripping with blood. Hella tried to stand, then fell to the side as the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet, horizontal somehow. Harrow’s piercing blue eyes never left hers.
‘Hella!’ He seemed to call, but no sound came out.
Hella tried to stand up again, slowly trying to find her feet, but stumbled. The ground seemed to tremble beneath her, the soft carpet warping under her hands. She imagined that being drunk felt similar. Half-walking, half-crawling, she made her way over to Tommy to see if he was okay. Sian was sitting up, dazed but okay. She crawled over to Tommy too. He sat, swaying, blinking through pain undoubtedly coursing through his head. There was deep-green blood all down the left side of his head, coating his ear, from a deep gash in his forehead. He saw Hella, opened his mouth to say something, then crumpled to the ground. Sian moved to try to catch him, but apparently her balance was off too. She slipped, turning her head, confused.
Hella crawled over to the coffee table. Help, she wanted to say. Help, Tommy and Sian are hurt. On her hands and knees, she got to Remy and Harrow, the carpet dragging on her sore palm from Sian’s cut. Her guardian’s eyes were balls of blue fire, and she was still chanting.
The fire floated through the map, tracing blue lines through streets and suburbs. In the air, there glowed wayward streaks of blue flame, red at the edges. Hella opened her mouth, as the blue fire washed over Harrow. He screamed. Hella could hear no sound, but she saw his face twist in agony, the blood flowing from his arm seemed to pool. He was losing too much blood.
‘No!’ she tried to yell. Again, no sound seemed to escape her lips. She might be concussed. The ground swayed under her hands. Hella pushed over the table, sending the map, bloody potion, and fire roiling through the room in her effort to get to Harrow. Sound came back in patches, like a badly tuned radio.
‘Harrow!’ she screamed, this time hearing her own voice, loud and panicked. A flash of purple temporarily blinded her, the light coming from her amulet. As she reached out for Harrow, the light followed her hand, gliding over the young warlock. He was laying on the ground, on his back, his arm bloody, covered in soot and ash.
Hella raced over to him, her world still patchy with sound, moving unsteadily. She felt as if she were being battered on all sides, gravity changing and sound crunching through her ears, the pain from her head blinding. Hella could feel the wet blood on the back of her neck.
‘Harrow,’ she said. His eyes were closed. She shook him, hard. ‘Harrow!’ she screamed down at him. Hella stared up at her guardian, who looked shaken. She was the only one unharmed. ‘What did you do to him?’ Hella shoved Remy aside, away from them.
The old witch opened her mouth, then closed it. ‘The spell was working,’ she murmured. ‘I could feel Amara.’
Tommy staggered to his feet once again, stumbling over to Harrow, his eyes swirled, his head swaying. Sian seemed to be trying to collect her senses too.
Hella looked down at Harrow, his face pale-blue. ‘We need Amara to heal him.’ Hella’s eyes stung with tears and ash. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, she thought.
Remy came over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘Hella, dear. Did you see anything in the crystal? Did you see Amara, Meele, or Tessa?’ She held the crystal close to Hella’s face.
‘No!’ Hella said, swiping at the crystal, sending the ball to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘I think we needed that.’
Remy’s eyes darkened. ‘You stupid girl, look what you’ve done! We needed that. We need Meele, or this world will drown in its own blood!’ she screamed down at Hella.
His balance regained, Tommy shuffled closer to Hella. ‘Don’t yell at her like that. This is your fault. Look what you’ve done.’ He looked down at Harrow, his fellow warlock.
Sian clambered slowly over, still disorientated. ‘Remy, you’ve put us all in danger,’ she snapped, blinking rapidly.
Hella shook her head suddenly. ‘This isn’t happening,’ she said to herself, face dripping with tears. ‘This isn’t happening.’ She leaned over Harrow. ‘No,’ she said sternly. ‘You’re fine. Just like when I stabbed you, you were fine.’ Hella put her hands over Harrow’s heart. ‘Come on! You’re fine!’ She yelled as a wave of purple light burst out of her amulet, bathing the entire room in its glow. Purple sparks danced over her skin, shining in her hair. Even her fingernails turned purple.
Remy’s blue eyes still held her anger, but there was something else there now too. Lust. For power.
With a yell, Harrow sat upright, his slit eyes wide and panicked. ‘What the…?’ His tail darted out, looking for someone to stab. He was shaking.
Hella tackled him in a hug. ‘I knew it. I told you were fine.’ She mumbled against his shoulder.
Tommy’s face was slack with shock. Harrow mumbled something into Hella’s hair.
She leaned back. ‘What?’
‘Did you just heal me? That’s fancy.’ He looked shaken, but impressed.
‘After Remy tried to kill you.’ Hella looked daggers at her guardian. ‘We will not be doing that spell again,’ she growled, a hand protectively on Harrow’s shoulder.
‘The spell,’ Harrow said. ‘Did it work?’
‘Not exactly,’ Hella replied. ‘Are you okay?’
Harrow thought for a moment, then checked his arm. His wound was gone. ‘Yeah, actually. I mean, I think so. What did you do to me?’ He smiled.
‘Well, I healed you. I guess witches can heal after all.’ Hella sighed with relief.
Remy shook her head, her bandana askew. ‘Child, witches cannot heal. Not like that.’ She glanced over at Sian. Remy bent down to Harrow. ‘Are you really okay?’ she asked, more intrigued than concerned.
Harrow shuffled back from her. ‘I’m fine. No thanks to you, apparently.’
Remy shook her head. ‘I had no idea that would happen, Harrow. I’m sorry.’ She looked over at Tommy. ‘You… there was a gash on your head.’ Remy trailed a finger over her own forehead, a mirror of where Tommy’s injury had been. His fingers slid up to where he had hit his head. There was no wound.
‘I’m fine now,’ he said. ‘Though, I don’t know how.’ He leaned forward. ‘Hella, are you okay? I saw the back of your head, you were bleeding.’ He brushed his fingers gently over the base of her neck. ‘You’re fine too.’ He looked up to Remy. ‘How did this happen? Was this part of your spell?’
Sian was looking more like her usually-composed self, too. Though she looked angry now.
Hella looked at Harrow, making sure he was okay. She wanted to kiss him, but there were too many people in the room. Instead, she put a hand on his.
Remy frowned. ‘No, this wasn’t me. I don’t possess that power. But you do,’ she said to Hella.
Harrow smiled up at her. ‘I guess that prophecy was right after all. You’re the promised witch, Hella. You’re the most powerful witch this world has ever seen.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Hella
Hella lay exhausted on the couch in the training room of the Witches’ Wares bookstore. That was by far the most magic she had ever used, and the effort was extremely draining. Remy had suggested she sit, but it was only when Tommy picked her up and gently set her on the couch that Hella started to relax. Nervously, she watched Harrow. Had she really healed him, when witches aren’t supposed to have that ability? In all the chaos, Salem had run into a corner cupboard and hid out of sight. Now, he sat fondly above her head, his tail gently swishing. It reminded her of Harrow’s tail—not that she would tell him that.
The warlock she had kissed that day sat on the floor by the broken table, exactly where he’d fallen into the depths of Remy’s blue fire. He hadn’t moved. Hella slipped in and out of co
nsciousness. Tommy sat on the arm of the couch by Hella’s feet, almost protectively, as Remy took her leave into the main room. Then they heard the bell chime. Evidently, Remy had reattached it. She’d left the store. Hella finally closed her eyes, the image of Harrow’s face creased in concern the last thing she saw.
Hella slept for over an hour before someone shook her shoulder. She flinched, startled as the events of the day rolled through her mind. The blue fire seared into her memory. ‘Harrow?’ she asked, sitting up. Instead, she found her mother’s hand on her arm, her dark green eyes peering into her own. ‘Mum, what are you doing here?’ Hella tried to sit up, disturbing Salem who meowed.
Her mum smiled, petting him. ‘I see your familiar has accompanied you.’ She nodded at the cat in approval.
‘Mum, what’s going on?’
‘Remy called me. I saw that you left this morning. I read your note. Are you okay?’
Hella was pulled into a soft hug. Looking over her mother’s shoulder, she scanned the room. It was just her. No father. Or brother. The warlock boys and Sian were gone too. ‘Mum, where are the others? Is Harrow okay? Where’s Tommy, and Remy, Sian?’
‘Sian gave Remy quite the reprimand, as head of her coven, for dangerous use of magic. Harrow, I think his name is, the dark-haired boy, he demanded to stay here for you. He’s in the main room.’ She raised a delicate red eyebrow at that. ‘And, the other warlock left. Tommy? He had to go back to his House to report what was going on. Sian left, and Remy’s been quiet for a while. There was a lot of tension between her and Harrow.’ It sounded like a question.
‘She nearly killed him during the spell, mum. Remy used him as a connection since Amara healed Harrow, to find her, and Meele, and… another faerie. She’s part of my coven. Someone’s sister, I think. But it all backfired. And then I… accidentally healed everyone.’ Hella frowned at the memory.
‘I heard. That’s incredible, Hella.’ Her mum smiled, proud.
‘What about dad, and Elliot? How did they take my leaving?’ Hella asked.
‘They’ll come around, Hella. They’re your family.’ Her mum waved it off, but there was a strain to her voice, as if she wasn’t sure about her words.
Hella pictured the look of fear and betrayal on Harrow’s face as Remy’s fire had engulfed him, the pain that shocked him. Hella thought she might feel the same way about her father, and her brother, who had held her own athame to her. Hella shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘They’re not.’
Harrow re-entered the room, and Tommy returned, as if they could feel that Hella willed it.
‘Family accepts you for who you are,’ Hella said. Her mum looked for a moment as if she might argue. But she watched as Harrow came to sit on the ground by Hella’s feet, and as Tommy moved to sit next to the fire, by Hella’s head. They moved silently, but in unison. They both appeared in their warlock forms, as if ready to defend her.
‘You know what, Hella? You’re absolutely right.’ Her mum dropped a kiss to Hella’s forehead, then went and knelt by Tommy. She whispered something to him, a hand on his shoulder. Then did the same to Harrow. She looked at his forearm—healed now—where Remy had cut him, shook her head, then patted Harrow gently. ‘You have loyalty with these two,’ she said to Hella with a smile. ‘Let me know if you need anything, honey.’ She smiled and left the store. Both warlock boys seemed to relax a little.
‘My mum is good to me,’ Hella explained. ‘It’s my father, and especially my brother, who don’t trust me. Now that I’m a witch.’
Harrow looked up at her. ‘Hella,’ he said fondly, ‘you’ve always been a witch.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Hella
In the training room, Hella sat in the two-seater alcove by the window looking out onto the street, her feet up on the small seat. She watched as summer rain fell hard against the pavement, tapping against the window like a friendly visitor. She had gathered the strength to conjure a latte, but it lay untouched on the round coffee table beside her.
Now that the spell to find their friends was done and failed, Hella felt deflated. Nothing good came of magic, it would seem. Just hate and failure. Hella had let her friends be taken away by some government agency she had never heard of. She wondered if they had erased James and Alexa’s memories of magic, taken their memories entirely, or simply killed them. The thought was like ice in her veins. It would be her fault.
‘You’re shaking,’ said a voice from the doorway.
Hella didn’t look up. She hadn’t noticed she was shaking. She didn’t much care. ‘What do you want, Tommy?’ Her voice came out harsher than she intended.
She could hear that he was taken aback. ‘Have I done something?’
Hella shook her head sadly. ‘Not you in particular, no. But this’—she nodded out into the street—‘your world. It’s… it’s changed everything. My friends are…’ She searched for the best option. ‘Missing, and my father and brother can’t stand me because I have magic. This place, this magic, it isn’t me. I don’t want to be a part of it.’
Images of Harrow, slashed and bleeding, then on fire—by Remy’s hand—whirled through her mind. All the horrors magic had brought her so far. Her friends being hauled out the door, Harrow choked by the angel’s flaming halo. The utter horror on Alexa’s face through this very window, the hatred in her little brother’s eyes. The disdain on her father’s face. Setting James on fire. The fear that came whenever her magic bubbled out of her, wondering if she was about to hurt someone. Like she’d stabbed Harrow. And the angel had stabbed her.
‘This world is awful,’ she breathed, still staring out at the rain. She wondered if it could wash away this awful dream.
Tommy listened patiently in silence, then came to sit beside her by the window. ‘You know, as a warlock, I’ve never been treated very well. Not by my own kind, really, or humans, or angels. I’ll give you this, this world is challenging, yes, but there are good things, too. Things to be thankful for.’
Without looking at him, she asked derisively, ‘Like what?’
Tommy seemed to think for a moment. ‘Actually, I can’t think of anything.’ He laughed. Hella finally looked at him. He had shimmered. She watched as a stray piece of sunlight broke the clouds, filtering through the bay windows. It caught the green of his pale skin, his emerald scales, and the shining glow in his eyes.
Without thinking, she said, ‘I can.’ She smiled at him. Hella also thought of Harrow. It seemed to be a brutal world, but some of the people in it were undoubtedly good.
Tommy had been looking out the window. Now he looked at her, returning the smile. There was still a smear of dark green blood on the side of his face where he had been injured earlier. Hella felt a wash of relief that she had somehow been able to heal them all.
For a moment, through the rays of sunlight, Tommy seemed to stare at her.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s nothing, you just—‘, he stared at her a bit more. ‘Unless you’re wearing make-up, you don’t have freckles like your mother. Just odd, that’s all.’
Hella looked pointedly at his scales and claws. ‘I’m not wearing make-up. And you’re calling me odd?’ She tried to hide a smile. ‘Why are you here, Tommy?’
‘Here? Well, I live down the street, and—’
‘No, not that. I mean here. With Remy, and me. What are you doing here?’
He looked out the window again. In his warlock form, Hella thought his jawline was sharper, his profile more serious. He stared out into the empty street. ‘Did you know that warlocks go through puberty too, though not quite like humans? It’s a rather dangerous process, actually. By now, I should hope you have been warned, that if you use your magic too much, you endanger your life. If you use your magic beyond the levels of energy stored in your body, your magic will burn you up instead. Well, warlock puberty is just like that. You know that we carry demon blood in our bodies’—he gestured down at his Marks—‘clearly.
But not all warlocks choose to be good, Hella. When we’re going through the change, the demon blood takes over. I mean that literally. For a time, we’re darker. We have primal urges—to defend ourselves, to kill others, even. Warlocks must actively fight against those urges, to be good, and retain our humanity.’
He watched the information settle over her. After a moment, she nodded.
‘Well, when I was young,’ he went on, ‘on my twelfth birthday, in fact, I had just begun the change. Both of my parents were warlocks, too, and so had known my time was coming. What they could not have foreseen though, was how much it would affect me. It differs from warlock to warlock. Any emotional change would set me off and release my magic. You see, on that fateful day, my mother was in the kitchen. She loved to cook for me and my father, Jackson. Her name is Renee. She made me a beautiful cake, all strawberry of course, the best flavour.’
He laughed as Hella made a face.
‘So, she set out my cake, topped with twelve shining lit candles. And it was all lovely. Then she and my father began to argue, something small, no real thing, but it was enough. You have to understand, at this time, not using my powers was like holding a wave back with your hands. Impossible. Exhausting. Futile. Suddenly, the plants she kept in the house—Terra, of course—began to grow. Alarmingly so. The vines and branches reached out dangerously. Even a tree next to our house grew immensely, setting its roots and branches exploding through our walls, sending brick and mortar flying. Then the branches encircled my parents. I could not control this, you see, it was not my intention, and then I was so afraid.’
Hella’s attention was rapt, her eyes wide. ‘Then what?’ she whispered.
‘Then the branches sprouted so fast I could barely keep track of them. And several pierced through my parents’ skin.’ Hella’s eyes were full of sympathy. Tommy continued, ‘It was lucky that my mother called out to me, then. Over the loud roar of the growing earth, she told me, her voice steady, just to be calm, that it was within me to be able to control them, to save their lives. I willed the earth. My parents are still alive today, Hella. My mother taught me how to control it. That is something good in this world.’
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