Chapter Eighty
Hella
Blue eyes swam in her vision. Harrow. She was dazed, but his screams brought her back into focus. He’d had a hand on the line of the pentagram as she had sent out a blast of magic. She reached for him now, but Piper held her hand firmly.
Harrow cradled his hand for a moment, his eyes rolling, then he passed out, inside the pentagram. Carefully, with one hand in Piper’s, Hella reached out to Harrow but froze as white lights blinded her and she remembered where she had been.
The angels rose with her as she got to her feet. Golden halos and bright white wings glared at her from every angle. Net was cornered by demons, until Malachai slashed his feather, slicing through until he got to Net. For a moment, after what Nerretti had done to Malachai, she worried what he would do once he carved his path clear. But the old brothers embraced.
Immego and Jacqueline fought demons in the adjoining room, but froze when they saw the angels. Hella couldn’t be sure, looking around the chaotic room, but she thought some evil look of lust passed over each of their faces as their gaze landed on the angels. Hella concentrated her dwindling energy on the pentagram. If she were tired, how was Piper feeling? She glanced up at her mother to find lines under eyes where they had not been before. Fatigue gripped her, too.
They had to make a final effort to rid the demons. Now that the angels were here—she glanced around, pleased to find that they really were helping, slashing through demons and carving out gaps in the oncoming hoard. Hella gazed at the angels, watching them fight; it was sort of beautiful, their divine nature unfolding, white wings lit up the night, their halos rings of golden heavenly fire. This is what they were meant to do. What they were really created for.
Hella gripped Piper’s hand and looked down at Harrow. Despite the danger, he had been there for her. He must have seen her fall when she’d accidentally astralled out and ran to her. She wanted to collapse beside him. But that was not an option. Hella glanced around the store. What a place for last battles, she thought suddenly. It was here that they had expelled the angels, and now she was slicing through thousands of demons. Hella sincerely hoped there were no other battles on the horizon.
Energy fading fast, she glanced around the store desperately. She couldn’t take much more energy from Piper—if she passed out, the spell would break. Hella’s eyes fell on several amethyst crystals, luckily the store was full of them. Using her telekinesis, she pulled every purple stone toward her and absorbed the magic they held. The stones connected to her, their energy fanning the fires of her magic. It gave her a good boost; the pentagram shone with a wall of blazing purple fire, crackling loudly. She wished Net were in here with them, so that she could keep him safe, but now that Malachai was out there, she was pretty sure he would protect her friend.
A part of Hella’s mind stretched and twisted with worry and disbelief; she had just exposed magic to the world, where humans had lived ignorantly in the shadows for the stars knew how long. They were exposed now, and with that she was sure came a lot of problems and danger. Humans were known for hating and hunting that which they did not understand, and Hella hoped her display would not have that effect.
If everything had gone right, they were all in the tunnel by now, and, connected to this spell and the pentagram, Hella had given Tommy a crystal she had blessed to keep the demons away from the entrance. Thousands of people would escape the death and destruction that these demons were so bent on bringing down upon them. She was sure Azazel had been vanquished at Immego’s hands, but his kin just kept on coming.
Hella fought for breath, her lungs burning. A quick glance up at Piper and she knew her mother was fighting the same way. Her eyes drooped for a moment, then snapped wide open, desperately trying to keep herself awake. Hella’s gaze was drawn back to Harrow, still limp on the ground. Even if he couldn’t help her fight, she needed him.
‘Harrow!’ she yelled, praying to the stars that he was okay. That she hadn’t killed him.
After an agonisingly long moment, he stirred.
‘Harrow, be careful how you move. Don’t touch the wall of the pentagram.’ She should have told him that before, but he was never supposed to be here, in the thick of the fighting. Hella had wanted him with Tommy. Safe. Harrow sat up gingerly, carefully looking around before he moved. ‘Are you okay?’ she called to him over the roar of the flames.
He turned to her and she gasped. His left hand was entirely burned, veins of purple fire stretching over his arm. He winced, but nodded and slowly got to his feet. He was by her side within seconds, carefully standing away from the edge of the pentagram.
In another display of loyalty, Harrow held her hand. ‘Take my energy if you need it. I’m here for you.’ He was still only a human, still covered in bandages from the ceremony, and now the burns from the magic. The amethysts all lay about her, dull and used up. There was nothing else she could draw power from.
Hella took his hand. Warlock or not, she was his, and he was hers.
‘The ice to my fire,’ she said with a grateful smile. Hella used Harrow’s own aura, his energy, to fuel her magic. She only hoped she wouldn’t take too much. The wall around the pentagram crackled. The demons paused, unsure. Hella exploded it, sending magical shards of sharp fire through hundreds of demons and they shrieked into the night.
Malachai turned, intrigued, and rose a dark eyebrow. ‘That’s different,’ he said, raising his feather again and slashing it down on a nearby demon. Hella noticed his wings were spread and Net was safely behind them. Malachai was keeping him safe.
But some of the other angels had fallen, devoured by the mass of demons. Piper, connected to Hella and now Harrow, was more awake now, refreshed with a little bolt of energy. Hella breathed a sigh of relief when she could see out the door and into the night: the end of the mass of demons. They were so close. As the last of them surged forward, into the brightness of the purple and white fire, Hella’s exhaustion gripped her again. Her amulet glowed brightly, flickering blue, and she smiled. Elliot and Grace—and the Cambion kids, she hoped—were out of the tunnel. They were safe.
Hella burst through the rest of the demons.
As the mass of darkness ended and the final demons were obliterated, Hella sagged to the ground, not daring to let go of either hand, so Piper and Harrow sunk down with her. She sat in a circle of purple crystals, watching as the wall of the pentagram faded and stuttered out. Piper disengaged from her daughter and put a hand on her back.
Her eyes were slipping shut. ‘Well done, my Hella.’ She smiled, then sagged to the floor. Hella reached out for her, but Harrow caught her.
‘She’s okay. She’s just exhausted.’ Harrow leant against Hella. ‘I know how she feels,’ he murmured.
When it seemed like the battle was over, and they had won, Hella vaguely took stock of the remains of the once-again ruined Witches’ Wares bookstore. It was a complete and total ruin, but the emotional cost of that had lessened over time. She knew how to put it back to rights. There were no angels left, Hella realised, when Net yelled out.
‘No, you bastard, leave him alone!’ Nerretti was shouting, and then there was a grunt, as if he’d been struck. Hella looked around, but her gaze was blurred. She looked down at Harrow, but he had passed out against her shoulder. She opened her mouth to call for Net, but couldn’t. Her eyes slid shut, her fatigue finally winning. It pulled her under, as though deep into the ocean.
Hella woke to Net punching Immego in the face, the warlock shoving Net back, hard, into a pile of broken glass, and Jacqueline and Immego hauling Malachai, unconscious, away. Net swore colourfully as he got carefully to his feet.
Hella, Harrow and Piper were all still blearily in the pentagram, their energy drained. Net was all cut up; he’d landed badly in the glass and was pulling pieces of it out of his hands when Hella noticed that the back of his shirt was ripped, undoubtedly in the battle. She moved to get to her feet when the light caught something that a
rrested her. Net’s back was to her as he tried to get to his feet, cradling silver-bloody hands, when she saw the long white scars on his back. Scars, she realised, from where his wings used to be. From where they had burned off, and she had healed him. Or, she thought she had. Her throat wanted to close up. ‘Net,’ she said, through the pain, ‘are you okay?’
He turned to her. His hands, up his arms and sporadically over his legs were shards of glass sticking out of him. ‘They took Mal,’ he said. ‘That warlock that wants people for their Marks. They took him. What better way to make demon-killing weapons than with an angel?’
Hella got Harrow and Piper to their feet. Again, the store was ruined, but this time Hella barely noticed. Her focus was on making sure they were all alive. Thankfully, they were. Nerretti was shaken. Hella sat him down and tried to carefully pull out the pieces of glass. Harrow, no doubt trying to return the favour, got a first aid kit, and sat close by Net for support, as the former angel had done for him.
‘We’ll find him, Net,’ Hella said, taking a shard out. She had never thought about it, but of course he still bled silver.
‘How?’ Net asked. ‘You tried to scry for him and failed. We have no idea where they are, and even if we did, who says we could get to them before they start carving Mal up?’ He winced as she took out more of the glass. Harrow passed her ointments and bandages.
Hella sighed. She didn’t have those answers. ‘We have to go,’ she said.
Net nodded and got to his feet. It reminded her that he used to be a warrior; setting aside his emotions to face the battle. The battle itself was over, of course, but there were still things to be done. ‘Lead the way,’ Net said to Hella.
They walked down to the tunnel entrance. Hella was the only one who could pick up the amethyst Tommy had left behind, so she did, and let the others in, dropping it back on the ground behind them. A short ways into the dark, damp tunnel was the portal Piper and her coven had made; an arduous spell, Hella knew, but it was necessary. Together, Piper, Net, Harrow and Hella stepped through. Hella didn’t like portalling; and, after a draining battle, her already weak stomach protested strongly. Hella glanced at them all and cast a Restoration Spell; they wouldn’t want to look so dishevelled.
As they emerged out the tunnel exit, Hella saw everyone waiting for them and was relieved that no one who had evacuated had been killed: by demon, collapsing tunnel, or frightening mob mentality. Her plan had really worked. All of Faerie and Warlock Houses were milling out and about, and there were hundreds of humans, too (even some outcasts mixed in. She saw a girl with pixie-cut hair being carried by a tanned young man, as if she were injured, but alive). In this little town of West End, right on the curve of the water, a dozen news vans were set up and reporters spilled out. Hella had pulled out her notebook. She was still wearing Amara’s leather pants and the striking red top.
One female reporter got to her first, in a fine navy-blue suit, her blonde hair was pinned up neatly. Sunrise sparkled on the water, all hues of gold and pink. No red in sight. ‘Miss Corvime, is it? Can you give us a statement? What happened here?’ The reporter looked around at the gathered crowd, many of them still vibrating with energy and left-over panic.
‘Well, let me tell you the whole story,’ Hella began. The rest of the reporters swam toward them, sticking their microphones in her face, but Hella didn’t mind. ‘My name is Hellora Corvime,’ she said slowly, peering into all their faces. ‘And I am a magical witch.’ Hella let her exhausted powers flare for a moment, purple fire dancing through her hair. They all exclaimed and pulled back for a moment, then clamoured even tighter.
‘Is that some sort of trick?’
‘Are you a club magician?’
They all asked their silly questions.
‘Was there an earthquake here overnight?’
‘Why are there so many people here?’ one reporter said. ‘Wait, does that guy have claws?’
Hella raised her hands for quiet. ‘If you listen, your questions will be answered.’ She promised. ‘But I have to start from the beginning.’ Nerretti stood just behind her. She could feel his presence, along with Piper, Amara, Tommy and Harrow. They formed a semi-circle in her wake.
‘What I’m about to tell you isn’t some folk tale or fairy story, it’s the truth,’ Hella said seriously. She held up her notebook. ‘I have recorded my experiences, but showing you is better. A long time ago, there were angels,’ she said, thinking of Net, ‘and they were misguided. They were supposed to hunt evil, but one day, they made a mistake. There are magical creatures: warlocks, faeries, vampires and werewolves, you see: and some of them can be bad. Angels mistook them for demons, and began hunting them.’
‘Are you making this up?’ the blonde reporter asked disdainfully.
‘No, I assure you, this is true. Tommy, Amara, if you would,’ Hella said, without glancing back. She knew full well that they had stepped forward and shimmered when the reporters all gasped, their eyes widening into terror. One warlock, one faerie.
‘It’s okay,’ Hella said. ‘That’s Tommy and Amara, he’s a warlock, she’s a faerie—they’re called Cambions. They’re the good guys. The angels were turned into bad guys,’ Hella went on, hoping she wasn’t insulting Net, ‘and I sent them away. Tonight, we were left to battle the demons. That attack in London? That was demons too. I’m sure most of you don’t believe me, but tonight I’ve saved many lives with the help of my friends.’ Hella gestured behind her. ‘I’m telling you this, because humans deserve to know the truth.’ She looked at the dozen reporters individually, feeling the weight of the rolling cameras on her. ‘Well, the truth is, there’s magic in this world and the best way for you to be protected from the bad parts is to be aware of them.’ Hella felt surprisingly calm for someone in her position.
All the reporters had gone quiet. If you’ve ever seen a silent, gob-smacked reporter, you’ll know how weird and eerie it is. It’s just unnatural. They were all frozen in shock, the same sort of horror and disbelief as a witness watching a car accident.
The blonde reporter cleared her throat, her pretty face perking back to life. ‘Are you telling me we were all nearly killed by demons?’
‘Yes,’ Hella said sheepishly. ‘But you weren’t!’
‘And why should we think you’re a good magical person?’ another reporter asked.
‘Because I am a good witch,’ Hella said pointedly. ‘And, because I just saved all your lives. Ask these people.’ She jerked her head to the crowd behind her who had come out of the tunnel.
The blonde reporter frowned, the cogs in her head seeming to whir overtime. It was a lot to process. ‘Hellora, is it?’ This reporter seemed more determined than the others, less afraid.
‘I prefer Hella,’ she said.
‘Well, then…’ she said, the other reporters looked to her for guidance, ‘we all owe you thanks, don’t we?’ She smiled uncertainly.
Hella chuckled, relieved. ‘You’re more than welcome. I need to get everyone home now.’
Another reporter, a man this time, stepped forward, shoving his microphone in her face. ‘Wait, you can’t just blurt out that magic is real and we all were just nearly killed by warlocks—’
‘Demons,’ Hella corrected significantly.
‘—and then disappear. What are we supposed to do with this information? Just go home?’
And that is precisely where Hella’s plan ended. She had not thought for a moment what would happen after the big reveal. ‘I…’ She froze, suddenly unsure.
Net stepped forward and cleared his throat. ‘What if there were a place set up where Hella could teach you about magic? Inform all you humans about everything?’
Hella’s mouth dropped open. ‘What, like Xavier’s school in X-Men?’ she said, on live television.
Harrow was at her elbow; the reference was lost on Net. ‘Yes,’ he said, to her and to everyone. ‘Except in this case, everyone who attends the school would be human. Ordinar
y.’ He smiled charmingly into the cameras. ‘How’s that?’
‘Are we going to be attacked by demons again?’ someone asked.
‘Are there still angels that are bad?’ another said.
‘Wait, so are warlocks good or bad? Do we kill them?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ Hella said, answering that question.
‘We really do need to teach them,’ Net murmured in her ear.
Hella looked out at the crowd. ‘This is important,’ she said, her voice clear. ‘Do not ever kill a Cambion or witch,’ she said.
‘I mean, unless they attack you,’ Tommy interjected. ‘It happens.’
‘Wait, so who are the good guys, and who are the bad guys?’ the blonde reporter asked, confused.
‘I think all of you should be in Hella’s first class,’ Harrow said, grinning.
When Net first suggested it, the school thing seemed like a joke, but Hella was looking over the crowd and watching them eye her friends with great suspicion. They could be in danger.
Hella cleared her throat. ‘Okay, listen up. I’ll do it. I’ll teach you all about the magical world.’
Most of the reporters nodded numbly, but one had wandered off into the crowd behind her and suddenly cried out. ‘Evil little child!’ the reporter yelled. He was towering over Tessa, her indigo wings flapping. Hella sympathised with the man as Hunter and Lola rounded on him.
‘This is why I need to teach you,’ Hella said, pointing at the man. ‘We are not opponents, we’re all allies here. We’re just different.’ Hella peered over and saw Tommy shoo the reporter away before Hunter and Lola sacrificed him.
‘The world holds many different kinds of people,’ Hella went on. ‘And it’s time we all knew and understood each other.’ Hella bowed away from the cameras.
‘Wait, Hella, just one more question, what’s that book there?’ the blonde reporter asked, pointing to her notebook.
Mist, Murder & Magic Page 39