Spellweaver

by CJ Bridgeman

  She nodded. “I know,” she said softly, and then she looked at both of the twins in turn. “Thank you... both of you.”

  After promising that she would see them tomorrow, Felicity left the house. It was difficult to go back to her father’s flat and allow the two of them out of her sight after all that had happened, but there was something else that she needed to protect.

  Her father stood up to meet her when she arrived.

  “Have you been out all day?” he asked her as he stood up from the sofa. The television was blaring behind him.

  Felicity tensed, instantly on her guard. She was in no mood for an altercation like the one that had taken place after her misdemeanour in going to the Talk against his permission.

  “Yes,” she answered him. She couldn’t lie.

  “Oh.” Her father nodded. “Are you back for dinner?”

  It was then that Felicity noticed the scent of chicken filling the flat, and when she turned she saw the oven light illuminating the roasting meat. It both looked and smelt delicious.

  She instantly relaxed. “Yes,” she said, her voice filled with a relief her father couldn’t possibly imagine. “I’m back for dinner.”

  “I’m glad,” he replied, and then he smiled.

  As she looked at her father, Felicity briefly wondered whether or not he had any knowledge of her mother’s true identity, but then she remembered the things he had said and the way he had said them; there was no way he could have known. He wasn’t that good a pretender.

  His smile was an odd sight, one that Felicity was not used to. Her father was not a cheerful man; in fact, Felicity found it hard to decide exactly what kind of a man he was, emotionally speaking. He never seemed particularly happy, but on the other hand he didn’t seem to wallow in sorrow and misery. But the smile changed her opinion; for the first time, he seemed happy to see her, and not only that but he had admitted it, too.

  She returned the smile, if a little awkwardly, and then moved past him to her bedroom. When she closed the door, she realised that something else had changed. With her father’s smile had come the knowledge that she was home. Not just at her father’s flat, a place where she was living for the time being, but home, a place she belonged. She had family here, and friends that had been with her through the most difficult of times. Finally, she felt as though she belonged somewhere.

  She had hidden her mother’s journal in the gap beneath her floorboards, where her mother’s other belongings had lived until she moved them into the box her father had given her for Christmas. It wasn’t the safest place for it; she knew that now, after she had witnessed the kind of power that she was up against. Slowly and carefully, she pulled back the floorboard and removed the book.

  She felt her hands tingle as she did so; did that mean anything? Was the magic pulsing in her veins reacting to the book’s power, or was it just nerves? Did she feel anything at all? It had been so fleeting, it was entirely possible that she could have imagined it altogether.

  Her hands swept across the worn cover. She wondered briefly how many times her mother had sat in a similar position, huddled somewhere with her back arched over the book protectively, dragging her pen to form those intricate, swirling letters that Felicity had always admired so much. It was strange to think that words written down on a page could be so powerful, but then she had seen it for herself.

  The words looked different when she opened the cover and her eyes met the first page. She had been expecting to see the loops and squiggles of an incomprehensible, alien language that meant nothing to her; that was all she remembered from the last time she had attempted to read it. Oliver had had to recite the words to her. But now, even as she stared and concentrated, she found that certain parts of the writing were beginning to make sense to her. It didn’t happen all at once - so much of it was still completely out of her grasp - but looking at the page certainly didn’t give her the headache it had before.

  A rush of excitement flooded her veins, pulsing its way to her heart. It pleasantly surprised her, the way in which it incited such a positive feeling rather than the fear she had become so accustomed to. The thought of the powers she had and the things she had to face seemed so frightening - but now, as her eyes moved from word to word, absorbing them one by one, she felt a confidence and determination that she had never before experienced.

  Felicity gasped as the words on the page began to glow with a pale red light. It was beautiful; they began as a shining frame for each of the written letters before rising into the air in front of Felicity’s face. They danced and skipped as if filled with joy, and the sight both amazed and delighted her.

  And then the lights completed their parade and began to dim, fading into nothingness as quickly as they had emerged.

  The excitement died with the lights, leaving Felicity with nothing but an open book and a heart filled with a stunned realisation.

  It was like a revelation. As she had watched the dancing lights, the others hadn’t scared her. Oliver hadn’t scared her. Now her fear was slowly returning to her, but it was different now. Before, it had been the paralysing terror of knowing that she and her friends were probably overdue some kind of horrible, painful end and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. The helplessness only magnified how hopeless her situation was, however much power Mr Oakley insisted that she had

  Now, after witnessing those sparkling lights dance in front of her vision and experiencing the elation of finally understanding some of her mother’s words, she felt as though these people, creatures and powers from other worlds could try their hardest to harm her and those she loved, but would face vigorous resistance when they did. She would fight them with her last breath, because that was what she was meant to do.

  In that moment she knew the power that she had. She recognised it and accepted it in a way that she never thought she would. Once the pace of her heart began to slow and her breathing became under control, she said the words for the first time.

  “I’m the Spellweaver.”

  They came out as a whisper, for that was all she could manage.

  She thought of her mother.

  How hard had it been for her? Had she suffered the same fear and confusion upon being told of her responsibilities? What help had been given to her in that other world that Mr Oakley had told her about, the Deepworld?

  He had been there for her; that much was certain. He spoke as fondly about her mother as her father did. Felicity wanted to be angry about that but felt far too drained for such emotion. Instead, she found herself imagining what the Deepworld was like. She knew so little about it, but the name and the nature of those who resided there made it sound dark, miserable and dangerous. It didn’t sound like the kind of place that she wanted to visit, and even less so the kind of place that she ought to be calling home.

  It must have been difficult for her mother, Felicity thought as she closed the book and leaned back on her bedroom door with a long sigh. She had had so many secrets, things that she couldn’t even tell the father of her child. She wondered how her father would have taken the news that his girlfriend and daughter had mystical powers that were causing them to be hunted down by some magical maniacs, and then she felt an almost overwhelming urge to burst into the lounge and tell him everything.

  He wouldn’t believe her, of course. A part of her wanted the comfort of a parent, even one who was almost a stranger to her, but another part convinced her that telling him would be a mistake; such knowledge could put him in danger.

  It was this thought that prompted a realisation that would shape Felicity’s actions for the rest of her life.

  Just as she had endeavoured to keep her friends safe and just as the very thought of them coming to harm both angered and saddened her, she knew that her mother had been trying to do the same. Not just for her only daughter, but for her father, too.

  She remembered what he had said to her when she had asked him why the two of them had not stayed together. She hadn’t wanted him
, he said. She had taken their baby to the countryside to raise her in what she considered to be a better place and didn’t want her father to go along. He had thought that she had fallen out of love with him, if she had ever loved him to begin with, but that wasn’t the reason at all. It was because she had been trying to protect him.

  Felicity felt an intense sadness as she realised her father would never know how her mother truly felt. In truth, even Felicity didn’t know it for certain. But she understood the pain that her mother must have felt, because she had felt it too when she had left Hollie and Jamie behind to face the others alone. At least she had managed to keep hold of her friends - her father had lost her mother forever. Not only that, but he would spend the rest of his life thinking that it was because she didn’t love him any more.

  And then she had sacrificed the love of her daughter, Felicity. Her mother had lived with her secrets since before Felicity was born, and she was almost fifteen now. That was a long time to stay hidden. Felicity had often heard of the joys of having children and even contemplated having some of her own in the future, but that was when she had been young and foolish. Still, children seemed to be one of those special things in life. How had her mother managed to have a baby and keep it secret from everyone?

  But she had also kept secrets from the baby, even as she grew up and became a young woman. Felicity pictured the others in their endless assault and recalled the fear she had experienced as they attacked her magical shield. That was what her mother had been protecting her from. She had sacrificed that pure joy, the joy that comes with having children, that myth that Felicity had heard so much about, so that her daughter still stood a chance if the hunters finally caught up to her - which they had.

  Had her mother been able to trust anyone at all? It must have been so lonely - but then, Felicity knew how that felt, and now she would also share in her mother’s responsibilities.

  It was curious, she thought, that she had spent her entire life feeling as though she didn’t know her mother, and now she was closer to her than ever before.

  She barely even noticed the tear escape from her left eye, leaving a moist trail down her cheek.

  And then her attention was diverted, for her father was calling to her.

  Dinner was ready.