Spellweaver

by CJ Bridgeman

  Oliver stirred and groaned, startling all three of them simultaneously. Jamie took a step backwards. Felicity and Hollie stiffened. All of them watched as their captive intruder cricked his neck from side and side and opened his eyes.

  He didn’t see the trio straight away. His brow furrowed in confusion as he saw the concrete cellar floor, and then he realised that his hands were bound. He tugged fruitlessly at the ropes, clanging the knots noisily against the ageing pipes, and then he snapped his neck upwards and finally saw them. He focused on each of them in turn, and then he rolled his eyes and let out a malcontented sigh. He was more like an irritated student caught for breaking the no chewing gum rule than a captive attempted murderer.

  He raised his eyebrows impassively. “Untie me,” he ordered.

  The three friends exchanged nervous glances; none of them knew what to say. Felicity was surprised by his voice, as she was certain that she had heard him talk before but it didn’t sound quite as deep as she had expected it to be.

  Oliver’s tone became more sinister. “I said... untie me.”

  “No way!” Hollie exclaimed, suddenly unable to control herself. “You like, totally tried to kill me!”

  “Hollie...” Jamie said warningly.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Oliver said patronisingly. “I was trying to scare you.” He snorted. “Seems like it worked better than I thought.”

  Hollie averted her eyes.

  “Look,” Oliver said calmly. “This is crazy. Just untie me.”

  “Not until you tell us what’s going on,” Jamie said a little more bravely than he felt.

  Oliver laughed and shook his head innocently. “It was just a Christmas Day prank is all,” he said. “Can’t you guys take a joke?”

  Hollie and Jamie exchanged glances as if they were considering Oliver’s words. What they had seen that night was so unbelievable that they were beginning to question their own memories, just as Felicity had. There was no way to be certain that they had truly seen what they thought they had seen, and Oliver’s new explanation seemed just as plausible as anything else.

  But Felicity was not fooled, for she had seen things before. “That was no joke,” she said darkly, hanging back behind the twins. She was eager to put distance between herself and Oliver.

  Oliver’s feigned playfulness faded instantly, and he regarded Felicity with an expression of contempt that was impossible for Hollie and Jamie to miss.

  Jamie backed away from him. “What’s going on?” he asked warily. “Who are you? And why did you come here and attack my sister?”

  “Forget that,” Hollie piped up. “Just what was that flamey-fist thing all about?”

  Oliver smirked. “You’re all so stupid,” he said, and then he sighed. “I can’t believe I got caught by the likes of you.”

  “Hey,” Hollie protested.

  “That ‘flamey-fist thing’ was a spell, a spell designed to burn the flesh from your bones - not that you two would have any idea about that kind of power. You’re just children, so ignorant and blind that you can’t see what’s going on around you. Now, you are going to untie me, and if you don’t then I promise you’ll see exactly what I’m capable of.”

  He spoke so calmly and confidently that each of the friends half expected one another to do exactly as he asked, but none of them moved. They simply stared, lost and unsure, until after a few moments Oliver emitted another sigh and leaned back in the chair. It was then that the others realised he was completely helpless, and his bluffs lost all their power.

  Jamie turned to the girls. “He’s harmless. Why don’t you go and get some sleep?” he suggested. “It’s really late. I’ll stay down here and keep an eye on him.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Felicity ventured.

  “I don’t think he can hurt me,” Jamie said, glancing back at Oliver, who was watching them intently. “Go on. It’s alright.”

  Felicity and Hollie exchanged glances, and then Felicity nodded and the two girls left the cellar. Oliver kept his eyes on them the entire time. It was then and only then that Felicity realised something curious about one of the things that Oliver had said: not that the two of you would have any idea about that kind of power...

  The two of you, he had said. Not three.

  Felicity and Hollie agreed in silence that they did not want to be on their own that night. Too much had happened. Hollie kept on stroking her face as if trying to erase the memory of the attack, and her entire demeanour seemed to have changed; though her bubbly, feisty nature did still make an appearance, such as when she had been questioning Oliver, for the most part she had become quiet and withdrawn. She walked up the stairs and along the landing in small, anxious steps, hunching her shoulders and keeping her eyes to the floor.

  Felicity was also troubled. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Oliver had said, and even though he appeared to be unable to do any magic whilst his hands were tied behind his back, she couldn’t feel safe and she was concerned about leaving Jamie down in the cellar with him.

  Magic. It seemed both ridiculous and crazy to be considering that such a thing existed, but then Felicity had twice seen Oliver do things that she could not explain. The thought of it made her stomach turn. She kept expecting to wake up and find that everything that had happened had been a dream.

  “Fliss?”

  Hollie’s voice penetrated the dark of the bedroom, catching Felicity by surprise. The two of them had been tucked up side by side in Hollie’s father’s bed for a while, and Felicity had thought her friend had fallen asleep.

  “Yeah?” she answered her.

  “Did you mean what you said before?” Hollie asked. “You know... about not having any friends at boarding school?”

  For a moment Felicity was confused, and then she suddenly remembered everything she had said earlier that night and was overcome with embarrassment, which was a stark change to the fear that had flooded her mind and heart. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

  She squirmed uncomfortably beneath the sheets. “Um... yeah,” she admitted. There was no point in lying; she had already admitted everything, much to her eternal shame. She swore she would never drink alcohol again.

  “It must have been really lonely,” Hollie said.

  Felicity didn’t reply.

  “Fliss?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You do know you’ve got friends now, don’t you?”

  A warm feeling surged through Felicity’s body like gentle waves brushing a sandy beach, starting in her stomach and drifting upwards until they reached her eyes. She could almost feel a happy tear emerge.

  Almost.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, I know.”

  8.

  Felicity awoke early the next morning. She hadn't slept well. Her wandering mind had far too much to think about, so every time she did manage to drift off, her eyes snapped open not long after. Hollie, on the other hand, appeared to have slept soundly, which seemed strange to Felicity when she considered all that her friend had been through.

  Friend. It still seemed strange to Felicity that she had friends. Although the three of them had been going to lessons together and seeing one another outside of school for the past three months, it was only Hollie’s words last night that confirmed it. It may have had something to do with their recently shared strange experiences - or perhaps it had been the alcohol.

  Felicity glanced at the bedside clock, which was blinking 6am in harsh, red lights. For a few minutes she just lay there, listening to the silence, but it wasn’t long before she could do so no longer. She had to get down to the cellar and make sure that Jamie was still alright. She hadn’t been keen on the idea of leaving him down there, but they seemed to have precious little options since they had ruled out involving anyone else. The whole experience had shaken the three of them and the last thing they wanted was to be labelled as insane.

  The cellar was quiet. Felicity descended the stone steps as quietly and gently as
she could, and was relieved to see Oliver still tied with his hands behind his back; she had half expected him to have escaped, which she was certain would have posed some kind of danger to them. Jamie was resting on the cellar floor. He had his eyes closed, but as soon as Felicity came in he opened them and jolted suddenly into a sitting position.

  "I wasn't asleep," he said quickly.

  "He was asleep."

  The two of them turned to face Oliver, who was wide awake and watching them with a thoroughly unimpressed expression.

  Jamie pulled a face. "I wasn't," he said defensively. He turned back to Felicity and gave her an apologetic look. "I was resting my eyes."

  "I just came down to tell you that I need to go back to the flat quickly," Felicity said. "My dad will kill me if he knows I didn't come in last night."

  Jamie nodded. "Where's Hollie?"

  "Still asleep. She's fine." Felicity glanced at Oliver, whose persistent stare was beginning to unnerve her. "I won't be long."

  She began to make her way back upstairs, but Oliver's voice made her stop.

  "I'll be waiting," he said darkly.

  Outside, the sky was black and clear, yet it was impossible to see the stars in the constant orange glow of the city; that was one of the only things that Felicity missed about her previous residence. The light coming from the tall, iron street lamps made the snow glisten like the surface of a lake in the sunshine. The entire road was so still and silent that it seemed as though the rest of the world somehow knew that something was wrong and was holding its breath, awaiting the storm that would follow this uneasy calm. Felicity hugged her big coat around her and hurried back to the flat, eager to be out of the cold.

  Her father was asleep on the sofa when she got there. She could hear him before she saw him; his distinguishable snores indicated that he had drank a significant amount of alcohol the previous night. The television was still on and a number of empty beer bottles stood on the coffee table. With a shudder, Felicity was reminded of her own drinking antics and pictured herself lying sprawled on the sofa in her father's place, with her mouth wide open and her hair dishevelled and messy. She swore that would never be her and was reminded of her vow of sobriety.

  She crept past him to her bedroom and changed her clothes. She still felt tired and a bit unclean but it was refreshing to pull a cool, clean jumper over her head. Whilst she was running a brush through her long, red hair, she caught sight of her mother’s journal underneath her pillow. Without thinking, she grabbed it and shoved it in her bag.

  She left her father a note to let him know she had gone out and returned as quickly as she could to Jamie's house. When she opened the door, her nostrils filled with the delicious scent of frying bacon and she realised how hungry she was; the only thing the three friends had eaten the previous night was crisps. She found both Hollie and Jamie in the kitchen.

  Hollie smiled brightly at Felicity when she came in. "Happy Boxing Day!" she chirped. She was wearing an apron and stood beside the large cooker, happily turning over the sizzling bacon with a pair of kitchen tongs.

  Felicity frowned and sat next to Jamie at the kitchen table. “Aren’t you watching Oliver?” she said to him.

  “I came up to get some water,” he groaned.

  Felicity noticed that Jamie’s eyes looked red and were barely open. He sat slumped over the table, one hand wrapped loosely around a large glass of water. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “He’s hungover,” Hollie declared jovially as she cracked an egg into the saucepan. It hissed loudly as it met the steaming surface of the metal.

  Jamie winced. “Ugh, tell her to keep the noise down, will you?” he moaned.

  “But what about Oliver?”

  “He hasn’t said one word since you left,” Jamie said. “Anyway, he can’t go anywhere. I’ll go back down there in a minute. Just... give me a second...”

  Hollie came over to the kitchen table and began dishing out the breakfast she had cooked, humming to herself as she did so.

  “Why is she so... happy?” Felicity whispered to Jamie.

  Hollie overheard. “Why shouldn’t I be happy?” she asked.

  The answer was so obvious that Felicity found herself unable to reply. Instead, she flicked a glance towards the cellar door.

  “Oh, right,” Hollie said with a slight titter. “Well at first I was scared, I’ll admit, since we have this crazy person who thinks he can do magic tied up in the cellar, and of course I was worried that since he tried to kill me once he might try again, but then I thought: hey!” She whirled the spatula in her hands. “What’s the point in worrying about it? I could’ve been murdered yesterday, but I wasn’t. I’m still here, I’m still alive, the two of you are alive, the birds are singing - and I’ve made a fry up.”

  Jamie shook his head. “She’s gone insane.”

  He cried out and grimaced when his sister hit him over the head with the spatula.

  “Uh, Hollie?” Felicity queried as her friend continued to dish up breakfast.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why have you done four plates?”

  Hollie stopped, looked down at the plates on the kitchen table, and then she put one hand on her hip. “He might be our prisoner but he still has to eat,” she said defensively.

  “I told you,” Jamie said. “Absolutely mental.”

  But Felicity had noticed something else. “Have you... done something with your hair?”

  It was suddenly very obvious that Hollie had indeed done something with her hair, but her strangely timed personal grooming routine didn’t end there; she had had a shower, washed her hair, styled it into long, bouncy curls and put on so much makeup that it looked as though she was about to go to a Snap Night at the Talk.

  She ran her fingers innocently through her blonde locks. “Well... yeah. I felt all disgusting.”

  Jamie glanced from Hollie to the two plates she held in her hands, and it was then that realisation dawned. “Oh no,” he said, ignoring his hangover and standing up quickly. “You still fancy him, don’t you?”

  Hollie was momentarily shocked at the accusation, but her melodramatic pretence was too easy to see through and it was clear that Jamie was right. She gave up the charade. “So what if I do?” she asked defiantly.

  Jamie smacked his forehead with his palm. “He tried to kill you!”

  “Yes, but he didn’t kill me, did he?” Hollie said. “Anyway, I thought he might - y’know - talk to someone if they showed him a little kindness.”

  “Not you.” Jamie snatched the plates from his sister and thrust one of them into the reluctant hands of Felicity. “Can you do it? I mean, I would, but this headache... I’ll go down there later, I promise, but can you just take him his breakfast?”

  Felicity’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t want to. At all. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

  Hollie folded her arms disappointedly. “Fine, fine. Whatever.”

  Jamie smiled gratefully at Felicity, ignoring the death stares his sister was sending his way, and then he slumped back at the kitchen table and began considering whether or not to eat the greasy breakfast in front of him. Plate in hand, Felicity took a breath and headed down to the cellar.

  Oliver was watching her from the moment she went in. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. It was such a penetrating stare that it made her shudder and she had to look away. She walked down the steps and placed the plate on the bench near to the pipe where Oliver was tied up, and then she hurriedly moved away.

  “You won’t be able to fool them forever, you know,” he said as she started to leave.

  Felicity stopped. The breath caught in her throat.

  Seeing that he had her attention, Oliver continued: “Don’t get me wrong; they’re stupid. But they’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

  Felicity turned around. “What are you talking about?”

  Oliver shrugged and sighed. “Alright, alright. Have it your way.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got much bigger
problems than me, anyway. So what’s for breakfast?”

  Still keeping one hand on the iron banister, as if it were some kind of safety harness, Felicity took a cautious step towards Oliver. She was afraid of him, that much was certain, but she also had questions, and she suspected that he would be able to answer them. She glanced at his hands, still tied reassuringly tight behind his back. Her fear gave in to her curiosity, as it had a strange habit of doing these days.

  “You can do magic,” she stated, though it was more of a question.

  “Of course I can,” Oliver replied, and then his eyes once again met hers. “Untie me and I’ll show you.”

  Felicity ignored that. “Tell me what you were doing in the alleyway,” she said. “That night back in September. When it all went dark and there was this...” She hesitated to even say it, it still felt so unbelievable and ridiculous. “Ball of light.”

  Oliver tilted his head to one side and regarded her with a slightly confused expression. “That was a spell of darkness,” he said quietly. “And a Sphere of Draining.”

  “A... Sphere of Draining,” Felicity said, partly to herself. It meant nothing to her. It made no sense. “What were you trying to do to me?”

  Oliver frowned as his confusion mounted. “Is... this some kind of trick?”

  She stared at him.

  After a long moment that seemed to last an age, his confusion disappeared and he leaned back in his chair. “Alright, I’ll play along,” he said. “The spell of darkness was meant to obscure your vision so you couldn’t get away, and the Sphere of Draining was meant to sap you of all your energy. And it would’ve worked, too, if those two idiots hadn’t turned up.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that, for she had no idea what he was talking about. Just looking at Oliver filled her with a desperate anxiety, let alone his strange words and threatening, hateful tone. She noticed the rhythm of her breathing increase and her body grow tense. She had a strong desire to flee the cellar as quickly as she could, but as much as she feared what this strange boy could do, she was also hungry for answers to her many questions. With sweating palms, she rummaged through her bag and withdrew her mother’s journal.