‘Oh yeah?’
‘Something about the world ending in fire or ice,’ Harrow mused.
‘Well, not this time,’ Hella said. They paused and embraced each other. Harrow ran his hand up her back and she looked him over carefully. It had only been a couple of days, but his bandages were thinner. He was healing. His hands still cramped sometimes from the wounds, but she would heal that, too.
They rounded the corner together, baggage in tow, when Hella saw a man outside Witches’ Wares. He was tall with blond hair, a slim frame and wearing glasses. He approached them, his hand held out. Harrow automatically bulked up and stepped in front of her.
‘Can I help you?’ Harrow asked, his voice sharp.
‘I… oh, yes. Are you Hella Corvime?’ the man asked, peering around Harrow. He had a nervousness about him that made Hella think he wasn’t a threat. People had been showing up to the store since the interview to interrogate her.
‘I am,’ she admitted. ‘Who’re you?’
‘Oh, well, I was a friend of Remy Stealthing’s,’ he said a little sadly. ‘I just wanted to come and meet you. She was very proud of you, you know,’ he said, finally dropping his hand. He glanced at Harrow’s protective stance. ‘And you must be a, uh, a warlock? Right?’
Hella could see that hurt flash across Harrow’s features. He wasn’t, not anymore. But she would fix it. Hella could see the strain in his shoulders. ‘Why do you care?’ Harrow asked.
‘Oh, well, just um, it’s interesting. Magic.’ He waved his hands dramatically as if to say, Magic! It’s real!
Hella offered him a smile. ‘I know it’s overwhelming, but we are the good guys.’
‘Oh, I know you are,’ the man said.
Hella tapped Harrow out of the way and stepped forward. She held out her hand. ‘And you’re human, aren’t you? What’s your name?’
‘Actually, I’m a witch too. My name is Oric. It’s nice to finally meet you, Hella.’ Oric helped them with their bags and accompanied them into the store. Net gave them all a friendly wave.
‘Hella, might I speak with you alone for just a moment? It’s about Remy, you see,’ Oric said.
Harrow opened his mouth to argue, but Hella waved him off. He went and put their bags in their new room as Net helped him. ‘Sure,’ Hella said. ‘What is it?’
As soon as the others were gone, the man who had out the front seemed kind and nervous changed: his posture stiffened, and he removed his glasses. ‘I’m afraid this has all gotten very out of hand, Hella.’ His voice was different now: firm, annoyed. ‘You can’t reveal magic to the world. I won’t let you.’ From his fingers shot a spattering of light and sparks as he wrapped her up in a whirlwind of magic that made her shudder and cough. She was frozen rigid (though without the side effects of her internal organs freezing this time). Hella gazed up at this odd stranger. What was he talking about?
‘Who are you?’ she managed to breathe.
‘I’m so sorry, Hellora. This isn’t how I wanted to meet you, not what I wanted at all.’ He swept her up into his arms, her body moulding to his grip. ‘Hella, I’m your father.’
Hella opened her mouth, to scream for Harrow or Net, but he blinked at her, his eyes blazing, and her jaw clamped tightly shut. She tried to use her powers, but nothing worked.
‘Oh, Hella. That won’t work. I’m more powerful than you. Where do you think your gifts came from, your mother? Please,’ Oric scoffed, then smiled down at her. Harrow was in their new room, and Net had left to give them privacy. They were alone. Oric lifted her into his arms and carried her out the door quietly. ‘It’s nice out here. The sunshine, the birds. We should go for a walk together later. I’d like to get to know my daughter.’ Hella made the sound of a strangled scream, but he ignored her as he gazed pleasantly into the sunlight.
Epilogue, Part Two
Piper
About eighteen years ago, Piper Harlem was at the height of her power. She had recently moved to West End, Townsville, and opened The Shadow. Business was booming, and her coven grew stronger every day. She was happy. And yet, she did not realise that something was lacking.
‘Oh, go on,’ Zoe teased her. ‘Go and have some fun. Every witch needs to find her balance between work and play, and you’re in this shop far too much, young lady.’
Piper scoffed, brushing her short red hair out of her face. ‘Oh, come on, I went out a few weeks ago.’ She picked up book after book, piling them high in her arms. ‘Zo, I just want to sit and read for a couple of hours. In my opinion, that is fun.’
Zoe followed her through the store. ‘Oh, pish posh, Pipes, you need to go outside. Meet some other people. Interact with the world. You’re eighteen years old. Go be with people.’
Piper slumped into an armchair and stuck her nose in a book. ‘There are lots of people in this book,’ she said absently.
‘Honestly, girl, did your parents never teach you how to make friends?’ Zoe fluttered around her, making tea.
‘You know they didn’t,’ Piper said, her voice hard.
‘I’m sorry.’ Zoe paused, a pot of tea in her hand. ‘That was so silly of me.’
‘It’s fine, Zoe. I have you. That’s all I need.’ Piper returned her gaze to the book.
‘Oh, Piper. I mean it. Your powers are fearsome. You need to exercise, to practice them.’ Zoe sat across from her and poured them each a cup of steaming tea.
Piper looked over her book at Zoe. The woman had formally adopted her a few years ago, when her parents had dumped her out of the house. Zoe had been more a parent to her than anyone. Piper quietly sipped her tea then picked nervously at her jeans. ‘I don’t want to go outside, Zoe. I’m scared.’
‘Why, honey?’ Zoe sipped her tea, her glasses on the end of her nose. It was a common sight, one Piper found reassuring.
‘You know why.’ Was all Piper was prepared to say. ‘Don’t make me go out again.’
Zoe sighed, setting her tea down. ‘Piper, you’re a young woman. You can’t hide in this shop forever, nor in those books, I might add. I know you’re scared of your powers, but the more you learn to use them, the more control you’ll have. If you wander into the world and face the challenges that life brings you, you will learn to grow and be stronger for it.’
‘What if I hurt someone?’ Piper tucked her red hair behind her ears.
Zoe pursed her lips. It proved that she worried about it too. ‘You won’t.’
Piper gently set her book down. ‘If I go out, will you stop pestering me?’ she asked shyly.
Zoe chuckled. ‘Oh, child. I’ll never stop pestering you, but I pester with love.’ It made Piper feel warm inside, like one of Zoe’s choc-chip cookies.
That afternoon, Piper strapped an athame to her belt and put on a warm jacket to head outside. She did not particularly like the outside as there were many people, countless stimuli, and, of course, there was always the distinct possibility she could be attacked by an angel or a demon. Inside good, outside bad.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Piper didn’t know where she was going, so she wandered around for a while until her feet took her to a thin beach by the Ross River, the water that crested West End. She liked the beach. Piper took off her boots and socks and carried them, letting her toes sink into the sand as she walked along the edge of the water. She didn’t know if this counted as an adventure as such, but she thought it did. She had been to this beach exactly three times so far. In terms of ‘outside’, it was nice. It was usually empty of people, which minimised the risk of hurting anyone.
But today was different. There was a man in the shallow of the water, his pants rolled up to his knees, splashing madly about, crying out in joy.
‘Outside people are crazy,’ Piper muttered. She was about to turn around and walk the other way, when the man splashed out of the water and caught up to her. Piper reached for her athame, but was surprised to see how handsome the man was. Around nineteen years old, his hai
r was blond and thick, his skin pale.
‘Hi, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but could you, um, tell me where I am, please?’
Piper blinked at him, one hand still on her blade. ‘What? You don’t know where you are?’
He blushed. ‘I’m afraid not, no.’
‘Well, this is the beach on Ross River in West End,’ Piper said.
‘And precisely where is West End?’ he asked.
‘Uh, in Australia,’ she said. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. I’m just…’ He held out his hand. ‘Sorry, so rude of me, who’re you?’
‘My name is Piper.’ His hands were warm from being out in the sun. ‘Were you dancing in the water just now?’
‘It felt nice,’ he admitted. Together, they sat down in the sand.
Piper took her hand from her athame. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Can you keep a secret?’ he asked mysteriously.
Since she was a witch, and he was a human, she smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘My brothers were keeping me prisoner, and I escaped.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Indeed.’ He looked out at the water. ‘It’s very beautiful here. I so rarely get to see the world. I’m afraid most of my time is spent reading books, but the world needs to be seen, don’t you think? Experienced first-hand.’
Piper gaped at him. ‘You never told me your name,’ she said. She found herself looking him over for wounds or evidence he had been bound. She saw none.
He took a moment to answer, his attention swept up in the view. ‘I’m not sure I should tell you,’ he said finally. ‘I wouldn’t want to endanger you, too.’
Piper ran her hand through her hair. It was getting long, past her chin now. ‘You can tell me.’
He looked at her then, his eyes dazzling. ‘My name is Oric.’
Piper smiled. This definitely counted as an adventure. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Oric. If you want to get away from your brothers, can I help you?’ Piper paused for a moment, considering. What would Zoe tell her to do? ‘Maybe I could come with you some place?’
Piper noticed that Oric had a black circular tattoo on his left arm, peeking out from under the line of his shirt. It looked like a dragon devouring its own tail. That’s cool, she thought, wondering what it meant.
Oric smiled at her, the sunlight turning his blond hair golden. ‘I would like that.’
The End of Book Two
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dionnara Dawson knew she wanted to be a writer at fourteen years old. She spent most of her formative years with her nose in a book (and getting in trouble for it!), and even walked around school while reading. As she grew, Dionnara read as much as possible, and took delight in studying English more than her college recommended (four units of English is perfectly normal, right?).
At twenty-one, she enrolled in a Bachelor of Writing and a Bachelor of Journalism at university—while working as a bartender—and met her affable boyfriend in one of her classes, who she now lives with in Australia.
Dionnara writes in local cafés, at her desk, and in her wingback armchair.
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