Tommy took a deep breath, glancing over to the others. Only Net seemed to notice them, but he stayed quiet. ‘It means that he has abused his power, too much to be trusted with. So the council would remove his magic.’ There was a deep fear that made his eyes too dark. ‘Forget being captured or tortured by angels, having Marks removed, or even being killed by a demon. This’—he looked her straight in the eye—‘this is the worst thing that could ever happen to a warlock. It’s not done often, just enough to keep us all in line. I witnessed it once, when I was younger, because… well, they wanted me to see. That warlock? He almost bled out, then he went insane. He killed himself two weeks later.’
‘How could he have bled out?’ Hella said, her eyes wide.
‘They cut his magic out,’ Tommy said, disgusted.
‘That’s a pretty violent justice system. We have to see Harrow,’ Hella whispered.
Tommy swallowed hard and nodded. ‘I won’t let them do that to him. Though, really, I don’t think I could actually stop them.’
Hella and Tommy snuck out of the house, managing to escape with a simple ‘need some fresh air’ excuse to Grace and Net, who barely seemed to notice. Hella grabbed her jacket and they burst out into the cool mid-morning air. Summer had bowed its head in surrender to Autumn. The trees that lined the suburban streets had turned auburn and crisp, leaves littering the ground.
Without meaning to, Hella held a hand up to her throat and halted in the middle of the street. Tommy kept running for a few steps before he realised, stopped, and walked back. Though she was healed now, Hella could still feel where Harrow’s hand had wrapped around her throat, the chill of his skin and the black depths of his eyes—that would be forever burned into her retinas. Then how he had tried to freeze her. She had felt the hypothermia block oxygen to her brain, felt her organs shutting down.
He had almost murdered her.
‘Hella, what is it?’ Tommy said.
For a moment, she closed her eyes. ‘If Piper had not shown up when she did, Harrow would have killed me. He tried. Twice.’ Anger boiled in her chest. After everything she had gone through, to be murdered for a well-intentioned mistake…
‘Like you said, it wasn’t his fault.’ Tommy put a hand on her arm. ‘Come on, we have to get to him before they decide to put him on trial. I don’t know how quickly these things move. We should hurry.’
‘And what are we going to do when we get there?’ Hella remained still. ‘Free a homicidal warlock? What if he tries to kill me again?’
Tommy looked genuinely at a loss. ‘I… Maybe we should bring Piper?’
‘So that she can, what, magically keep him in check all the time?’ Hella pressed, then shook her head. ‘No, the best thing we can do is get Harrow’s soul back, prove that he wasn’t in his… right mind, I guess, at the time, and the charges should be dropped.’
‘I wouldn’t know where to begin. We warlocks really don’t know much about witchy magic.’
‘I might have an idea,’ Hella said. ‘We have to go back. The only person who might know about this is in that basement.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hella
Hella and Tommy crept back into the house. Tommy moved to go toward the basement, but Hella pulled him back. ‘First, I have to get a few things. Come with me, I might need your help.’ Hella ascended the stairs up to her bedroom. She hadn’t ever brought a boy up here before, she realised, as she opened the door. A part of her felt bad that it happened to be Tommy. It should be Harrow.
Her room looked as it always had. Her tall bookshelf, stacked with novels, her slightly-messy white-painted desk, her wardrobe, bed and side table. At least the bed was made, she thought. She got down on her hands and knees and started pulling out old toys from a container under her bed: a Tamagotchi, a Gameboy, some old kids’ books, a stuffed bear and a few colouring-in books. ‘Do little Cambions like stuff like this?’
Tommy looked to be stifling a grin. ‘I had no idea you were such a nerd.’
‘Hey, I am not a nerd. I’m a bookworm, there’s a difference.’ She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘What’s the difference?’ he asked, trying to figure out the Tamagotchi. ‘How is this still alive?’
Hella paused. ‘There just is. Here, help me carry these, would you?’
Tommy was piled high with toys. ‘I think they will like these,’ he said seriously. ‘It’s very kind of you to share your things, Hella.’
‘If we’re going to steal Net, we should at least give the kids something to keep them busy while Grace is alone with them.’
‘Do you think your brother will turn out like his father?’ Tommy asked, looking at her over a pile of books.
Hella froze. ‘God, I hope not,’ she said, putting some more toys into a container. She added some variety of age-ranges for them. She thought about how Elliot had reacted downstairs, seated among them. She looked up at Tommy. ‘Do you think he will?’
Tommy considered. ‘I think humans are known for being violent toward what they do not understand.’
Hella let that sink in. ‘You’re right,’ she said, making a decision. ‘Let’s go.’ Together, they hauled everything down to the basement.
Grace had started collecting dishes to take upstairs and stopped on the steps when she saw them. ‘What’s all this?’
‘Have to keep this lot amused somehow.’ Hella smiled. ‘Kids, gather round.’
To her surprise, they all complied. ‘Now, these are what I used to play with when I was younger.’ She unpacked the haul onto the long table. ‘You’re going to be left here with Grace, and I need you all to be on your best behaviour. You’re welcome to play with any of these. Okay?’
She hadn’t learned all of their names yet, so she blinked in surprise when most of them called out, ‘Yes, Hella’ or ‘Thank you, Hella’. It made her smile.
‘Excellent. Net, we need your help at the store,’ Hella said.
Elliot had gathered up some dishes to help his mother and froze when Hella looked at him. ‘You’re coming too, El.’
‘What? Why?’ He sounded almost angry. As if he were in trouble.
‘Because I have things I want to show you.’ She bent down and took the dishes from him, looking him in the eye. ‘Some things have changed,’ Hella said vaguely—he did not know about her adoption—‘but I need you to understand what I really am.’ She pulled him into a hug, and he hugged her back.
‘Fine,’ he mumbled into her shoulder.
Grace was still on the steps, her eyes wide with surprise. She smiled at Hella and silently mouthed, Thank you.
Net pulled on a coat and smiled up at Grace. ‘Sorry to leave you with the dishes, Grace. Everything was delicious.’ His teal eyes shone when he looked at her.
Together, the four of them walked out the door. ‘Do you want to tell me what you two are up to?’ Net asked. Hella glanced at Tommy, then at Elliot.
‘You know about Harrow?’ Hella asked Net. ‘Well, we think the best way to help him, is to, y’know, get back what he lost. Tommy says he could be tried with the Imperium Ceremony otherwise.’
Net frowned. He eyed Elliot. ‘Why is the little human with us?’
That earned Net a piercing glare from Elliot.
‘He’s my brother,’ Hella said, stressing her words so that Net wouldn’t correct her. ‘I want him to understand our world more.’
Net cocked his head, sending messy blond hair into his eyes. ‘I see. Well, yes, I agree with you about Harrow. Also, to be honest, I thought the Imperium Ceremony was just a rumour. I didn’t realise you actually did it.’ He looked at Tommy. ‘That seems brutal.’
‘It’s not like I wrote the law,’ Tommy said. ‘And it is brutal. I don’t want it to happen to Harrow, so we have to find a way to fix it.’
‘Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?’ Elliot asked, glancing at each of them in turn.
Simultaneously, they all said, ‘No
.’
‘This understanding stuff is going really well, thanks for including me,’ Elliot said.
They walked past the park, and Hella had a thought. ‘Okay, how’s this? You know that Net used to be an angel? Well, he was actually a good angel. But one of the bad ones attacked me, right over there, by the swings.’
Elliot’s eyes widened. He was still short for a thirteen-year-old, but he had grown a little, she noticed. ‘You came home that next day,’ he said, remembering. ‘I asked if someone had tried to kill you, and Dad made me leave.’
‘Yes,’ Hella said. ‘The angel could have, but he was warning me—threatening me—not to help Cambions.’ Hella leant down to him then and held his hand. ‘I know magic can seem really scary, El. When I first found out I was a witch, when Remy told me, I didn’t believe her. I thought she was crazy. I came here and sat on these swings. James met up with me and took me back to the store. Not all magic is bad.’ She pointed to herself, then to Tommy and Net. ‘We, are all good.’ She smiled, hoping he understood.
‘I would have thought angels would be the good guys,’ Elliot said.
‘We thought we were,’ Net said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He hung his head, as if in shame.
‘Evil never thinks it’s evil,’ Tommy put in. ‘It thinks it’s righteous.’
Elliot looked over to the tanbark where Hella had been attacked. ‘I’m sorry I attacked you that night. With your little sword.’
‘It’s called an athame, and it’s okay. I just need you to trust me, and know that I would never hurt you. Got it?’ Hella said.
Elliot nodded. ‘Can you show me all your powers?’
Hella couldn’t help but smile. ‘We don’t have time for that right now, but sometime, yeah. Let’s go.’ Hella put a hand on her little brother’s head. They arrived at the store, and Nerretti went straight to the books, hoping to find some answers to the one question they all had on their minds.
How the hell do you get a soul back once it’s lost?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Immego
Immego stole away from the party ‘of the century’ at Warlock House, tucking the duffel bag out of sight. It was surprisingly easy to move through the thronging crowds unnoticed. Then again, most people were fairly sloshed by now, and it was barely midday, the unhealthy bastards. The decorations and the entertainment were quite good though. That Nympha certainly knew her way around her water droplets.
The black duffel bag was heavier that he’d expected. He lugged it from inside the building, through the crowded hallway, and out to his car where he had parked it on the street opposite the building. He sighed dramatically, wishing Jacqueline would actually move her ass and help him from time to time, instead of expecting him to—literally—do all of the heavy lifting. Sexist of her, that was.
He shoved the bag into the trunk of the car and climbed into the front seat—and screamed like a little faerie. There was a black cat sitting in the front driver seat of his car, hissing and mewling at him, saliva flying. It growled at him. ‘Stray little beast, how did you get in there?’ Immego opened the door.
‘Oi, rude. Get out.’ Immego held the door open and glared at the cat. ‘I won’t ask again. That’s a nice metal-plated collar you have on there, I’d hate to have to strangle you with it. Move. I’m in a hurry.’
The cat growled, but jumped down and trotted away, slashing out at Immego’s ankle as he went. ‘Brave little bastard,’ he swore, climbing inside. He pulled out his phone and tapped out a text to his lazy-ass big-sister. I’ve got them. What a treat for you. We’re working tonight.
Jackie replied instantly. How many did you get?
A whole duffel bag full. I couldn’t carry them all. Set everything up. This is going to take a while. He wrote, then put his phone away. Here, at least, Jackie would come in handy.
Immego pulled out onto the main road and headed back to Camden Haven. It would be a shame to miss the party, he wished he could bring Jackie, she loved to dance, but it just wasn’t worth the risk. He revved the engine and sped home.
Immego pulled up to the side of Jacqueline’s house, though really it was like a mansion. The building was old, but the interior was modern. Jackie had been the cast-away granddaughter of a duchess. Though, when Jackie’s witchy-powers kicked in, she turned on the old bird. She had been living here ever since. It was a fantastic hide-out, and it could never be traced back to Immego.
He pulled up to the grand garden entrance, steering the car over smooth pavement. He got out, grabbed the duffel, and threw open the wide double doors. ‘I’m home!’ He called jovially. He followed the thick plumes of potion-smoke into her workstation, where she was bent over a large cauldron. Jackie’s long black hair was tied up in a braid which fell past her waist. She turned as he entered, her pale-bronze skin shining in the candlelight. ‘You got them? No one saw you?’
Immego slicked his hair back with a frown. ‘Of course not. I’m excellent, though that was risky. The whole council was there when I took these. I could’ve been caught.’
‘Oh, I don’t believe it. You’re a smooth criminal, little brother.’ Her long nails were black, tipped with silver. ‘Go and bring us some lunch while I set this up. With all of these, the melting will take a while.’
Immego frowned. ‘I hate it when you tell me what to do.’
Jackie smiled. ‘I know. But you don’t know how to do the creative stuff, that’s why you need me.’ She winked a thickly lashed eye at him. ‘And don’t you forget it.’
Immego sulked into the kitchen and made them both sandwiches and coffees. He was not just an errand-boy. He sliced up the tomatoes with a large knife, picturing how the Marks had been severed from their hosts. At times something like squeamishness still tugged at him—he would not like for someone to remove his Marks—but, he told himself, now that they were removed, what else would be done with them?
They might as well be put to good use.
He brought the food and drinks through on a tray and stared up at Jackie with wide eyes. He had never brought her such a haul before—the clearing out of a Captor’s Point was unheard of because, you know, usually there were angels in the way. Jackie glowed, enthralled in her work. She was bent over her largest cauldron which simmered with blue smoke. She even had other cauldrons set up: Immego had never seen her use more than one at a time before. There were six in total. He set the food down.
‘One of these days, you’re going to have to explain to me how this works,’ he said behind her.
Without turning to look at him, she simply said, ‘You wouldn’t understand my witchy ways, and it’s none of your business. You get me the Marks, and I bring the rest.’ She flicked a smile at him over her shoulder. Jackie then clicked her fingers, her hand glowing with jade-green fire, and plunged her hand into the boiling potion.
He’d seen her do this before. The first time, he had cried out in fear for her and she’d laughed at him. She’d touched his shoulder, ‘I’m fine,’ she’d said. ‘My magic protects me.’
Jacqueline pulled a Mark out of the cauldron, now spelled, set it into a weapons’ cast, and poured a fiery white-golden liquid upon the Mark. They watched as the Mark melted into the cast, forming one of the daggers Jackie’s molds had set. This Mark had been a set of great indigo wings. The white-golden light consumed the wings and tore them from their structure, melting them down to what almost looked like metal. Jackie closed the cast and let the magic do its work. It would take an hour or so to set.
The witch continued her work, pulling the other Marks from their potions and setting them into slightly different casts of varying sized weapons depending on the size of the Mark. A tail, for instance, would make a bigger weapon than a paw, or a set of fangs, which would most likely be melted into a short throwing knife.
Immego bit into his ham-salad sandwich and chewed for a moment. ‘How long will it take you to do all these?’ The black duffel bag was open, spilling Mark
s. There were at least another twenty in there. He took a sip of coffee. He always enjoyed watching Jackie work, there was something so special and methodical about the process, not the least of which was that they were pretty sure no one else had ever done this before. It brought a thrill of excitement.
Jackie turned after setting another Mark in a cast and pouring the molten liquid into it. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe a day or so. Why? Do you think you can go back for the rest? We can’t have enough of these.’
Immego paused. ‘Warlock House was crawling with people. I don’t know if I can get back in.’
Jackie’s dark eyes softened. ‘Are you worried someone will recognize you? They won’t. It’s been years. Besides, aren’t they all chaotically drunk by now?’
Immego shook his head. ‘No, it’s not that—and yes, they really are. But the Marks are locked in an evidence room. Or, they were earlier today. What if they’re moved? The party might be over by the time I get there. It’s a miracle the Sensus sentries didn’t sense my intentions when I walked in, they must have been too overloaded with everyone else there. Going back now is risky.’
Jackie seemed to consider. ‘I know it is, but you know how important these are. Not just for selling, we need them for protection. And when everyone realises what we’re making, and what our weapons can do—’ she broke off with a dramatic shrug. ‘You know we’ll be rich. No one else has these.’
Immego nodded. ‘I know, Jac, I know. But I can’t get caught.’
Jackie twisted her long dark hair between her fingers. ‘Then maybe you need help.’ Her eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘Maybe I should come with you.’
‘I don’t know,’ Immego said, chewing his food.
Jackie came and sat down with him. ‘Immego, you know we have to do this. It’s for the greater good.’ Her back was straight, her face impassive, but there was an earnestness in her eyes that made him nod. His sister was materialistic as a gold-digger—and the profit they stood to make usually glowed in her dark eyes—but that’s not why she was really doing this.
Mist, Murder & Magic Page 10