by Van Badham
‘But what about Lingerie Ashley?’ asked Fran, sounding disappointed.
I spoke carefully. ‘Ashley may be a bit of a weirdo, but she’s my friend.’
‘I thought you hated her,’ said Kylie. ‘You had a hissy fit about her the other day.’
‘I was just working her out,’ I said.
There was an awkward pause. Kylie and Fran were looking at me. ‘Do you – want a cup of tea, or something?’ I asked.
They brightened. ‘What have you got?’ asked Fran.
‘Everything,’ I said. ‘You want relaxing, inspiring, cleansing … ?’
‘Have you got something that will make Steve and I get back together?’ Kylie asked.
I realised that I probably did, but the ethics of using it were not compelling.
‘I can do some rooibos with rose petals,’ I told her. ‘It smells nice, but the rest is up to you.’
‘Can we go into the garden?’ asked Kylie when I was at the tea canisters.
‘Sure,’ I said, hearing the glass doors slide.
When I came outside with three cups of steaming tea on a tray, I noticed that Fran and Kylie had taken their shoes off and were walking around the lawn barefoot.
‘This is amazing,’ said Fran. ‘Your mother really does have a magic touch with plants. Is that how you knew how to do that thing with the lavender?’
‘That was amazing,’ piped Kylie. ‘What was the song you were singing?’
‘Finnish folk song,’ I said. I wished the girls weren’t talking so loudly. Part of my brain imagined Finders with sonic listening equipment standing in burnt-out houses, eavesdropping for titbits like this.
‘I thought the grass would make my feet smell nice,’ Kylie said, pointing to her abandoned shoes. ‘Hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all.’
I handed them their cups and we drank tea more or less silently. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know how to avoid their inevitable curiosity about my room. Fran’s and Nikki’s rooms paraded their identities with photos and posters and makeup and clothes. I didn’t want them to see my old magazines, my naked walls and the garbage bags of old clothes I’d lied about and still hadn’t actually thrown away.
As I drank the sweet tea I thought of Brody. Even without a spell, the tea I’d mixed had agency. I thought of his room, his white walls and hospital-style bed, and wondered what he was doing now.
‘I miss Steve,’ said Kylie, sipping tea.
‘He’ll be right by Friday,’ I said, patting her shoulder. ‘It’s only been a day.’
‘At least you got to kiss Brody Meine,’ Fran said. ‘He may be a freak, but he’s a freak a lot of other girls would like to get a piece of.’
She winked at me. I blushed, and looked out over the garden.
There was something wrong.
Something had changed.
My heart was beating hard again. From where I was sitting, I looked over the vegetable patch. I looked towards the rosemary bushes, and the lemon and crab-apple trees, and the jasmine vine. I looked at the lawn. The herbs were where they should be, the view to the ocean hadn’t changed. There was something out of place and I didn’t know what it was. I stood up, paced around the grass.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Fran.
‘Something I don’t remember …’ I muttered. I looked at the fence – and the gate that led to the driveway. Everything was where it had been but something was different, some shadow was where it hadn’t been before, and it—
I looked up.
In my mother’s garden grew a tall grey tree that had definitely not been here last week. It had flat leaves and smooth bark. Pinkish-grey buds grew on it in clusters.
‘What kind of tree is that?’ asked Fran, seeing me fascinated by its heavy branches. ‘Is it introduced?’
‘It sure is,’ I said, my mind whispering its name to me. ‘It’s a European Ashley. Ash-tree. Sorry, Ashley Ventwood on the brain.’
She had, after all, turned herself into this strange, grey tree in my backyard.
On a high branch sounded the dark caw of a weak and sickly crow.
28
‘I guess you guys have things to do with your afternoon,’ I said, draining my tea.
‘Something wrong?’ asked Fran, glancing at the tree.
‘Just that you’ve got a long drive home,’ I said. ‘And we’ve had a big couple of days – you know. I don’t know how I got through school today, and I’m freaking out about assignments and things.’
‘I thought they weren’t counting your assessments until next year,’ Kylie said.
‘Even so,’ I said. ‘Do you want to see my room before you go?’
‘What’s in it?’ asked Fran, setting her empty cup back on the tray.
‘Junk, mostly,’ I said. ‘Things have been so crazy since I got to Yarrindi, I haven’t put posters up or anything.’ I gave a weak smile. ‘I’m actually kinda embarrassed. Your room is so amazing, Fran. I just sleep in my mine.’
‘Wow,’ said Kylie, picking up the tray. ‘What do you do with your time? My room is my sanctuary.’
‘Oh, you know …’ I said. ‘This stuff with my nan up in Sydney, in hospital …’ I hoped that this was vague and sympathy-inducing enough to stop the discussion. ‘My dad’s going to be home soon and he’ll want to talk to me about how it’s going with her, and …’
‘You can show us next time,’ said Fran, shooting Kylie a look. ‘When it’s in an acceptable state.’ She smiled kindly.
‘Thanks, Fran,’ I said. ‘You’re a friend.’
‘Yeah – but don’t tell Belinda,’ said Kylie, carrying the tea tray inside. ‘Joke!’ she added over her shoulder.
29
I felt bad for shooing the girls out of the house but I knew that my day was nowhere close to being over. I walked them to the door, waved goodbye and stood in the doorway as I watched them get in the car. Only when I heard the engine start did I remember the bracelet, and my promise to Joel.
‘Fran, wait!’ I yelled, running towards the car.
She rolled down her window but kept the engine running. ‘What is it?’
‘Something for you,’ I said. ‘Just wait.’
I ran back into the house, yanked the little black pouch from my schoolbag and cantered back towards the car.
‘I was meant to give you this,’ I said, handing her the pouch.
‘What is it?’
‘The favour I owe Joel Morland.’
Fran grunted.
‘Look, I just agreed to give it to you,’ I said. ‘What you do with it is up to you.’
‘What is it?’ asked Kylie, leaning over.
Fran, curious, poured the contents into her hand and held up the bracelet.
‘It’s actually really pretty,’ I said.
‘Try it on, Fran,’ Kylie said.
‘I don’t want anything from Joel Morland,’ she said.
‘Then give it away,’ I said.
‘Do you want it?’ Fran said to Kylie.
‘Just try it on,’ urged Kylie. ‘It looks nice.’
With an exasperated sigh, Fran slid the bracelet onto her wrist. ‘How do I tighten this? Hang on …’ She pulled the small jasper beads at each end of the woven cord that knotted the clasp together.
The moment she did, a bright flare of blood-red magic burst around her hand. From the backyard, I heard the sick crow’s cry.
‘No!’ I screamed.
‘It is gorgeous, isn’t it?’ said Fran with an unnatural smile.
The red light burned in my eyes. ‘Fran!’
‘Thanks, Soph!’ she said, her teeth shining. She put her foot on the accelerator and sped away.
30
‘No … !’ I cried. The light from the red magic – Joel’s red magic – was still in my eyes as Fran’s little red car turned into Frankston and disappeared.
The door of the house was open, I was in the street without a key, or my phone, or any idea what to do. I stood staring
into the distance for maybe a whole minute while my brain tried to accept what had just happened. Awareness returned – I was in the middle of the street, and there were construction workers who could be Finders, who could be watching me. The door of the house could slam, and I’d be stuck here until Dad got home.
I ran back into the house, my mind racing through everything I knew – everything Nanna had taught me – about love spells, undoing love spells, unpicking a bind. My brain seared with the image of the cord and the crystals around Fran’s wrist. I was sick to my stomach. What hung off her wrist now was a manacle – a woven red manacle – and I didn’t want to imagine what it had bound her to doing.
I ripped my phone out of my bag and began dialling. There were more missed calls and messages from Lauren on it; I ignored them all and almost throttled my phone with the effort of getting Fran’s number from the address book and calling, calling as if my life – or hers – depended on it.
Fran’s phone was engaged.
Fran’s phone was engaged.
Fran’s phone was engaged.
I shrieked into my hand, panic raging. I phoned Kylie as quickly as I could.
‘Kyles,’ I blurted as she picked up. ‘Kyles – you’ve got to get that bracelet off Fran.’
‘More chance of ripping an arm off Fran,’ she said in a happy voice. ‘Why do you want her to take it off?’
‘I don’t think Joel meant me to give it to her,’ I rambled. ‘She should take it off so I can give it back to him.’
‘The bag has her name embroidered on it,’ laughed Kylie. ‘There isn’t another Fran Joel’s in love with, is there?’
‘I think it’s a mistake. I think he’s spent too much money on it and he’ll regret it. It’s just a better idea if she takes it off—’
Kylie was talking out of the side of the phone to someone else; in my panic I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
‘Listen to me!’ I cried. ‘Kylie, you have to listen to me!’
Kylie’s attention returned to our call. ‘Soph, you’re talking rubbish,’ she said. Behind her, somewhere, there was a loud noise.
‘Kylie, that bracelet is a very bad idea!’
‘Dude, she’s on the phone to him now. Whatever he spent, I think he’ll think it’s worth it if Fran Kelly is returning his calls.’
‘Please,’ I begged, ‘there’s something bad on it. There’s bad energy—’
‘You’ve been freaked out by those stories we were telling about Marlina in the car. It’s like when we all went nuts with the Tell-All.’
‘She’s got to take that bracelet off!’
‘No chance,’ Kylie’s voice was smiling. ‘She absolutely loves it.’
‘Then take it off her – any way you can manage.’
‘Soph, she’s dropped me home and sped off.’
‘Is she heading straight home?’
‘Actually,’ said Kylie, ‘I think she’s going somewhere to meet Joel.’
The phone fell out of my hand. The battery clattered out of it as it smashed against the floor.
31
Joel lived on Boronia. Grabbing my keys, I ran out to my front doorstep again, and stood there, waiting to see Fran’s Corolla dart back to our street. I decided that if I saw it I would throw myself in front of it to try to provoke some kind of confrontation with Fran.
My brain had recipes to unpick love spells, but the method Joel had used to bind Fran was object-specific. If he’d used candle magic, or a trance, to bend Fran’s mind towards him, then it would have been as easy as me forcing my Will to tear the electric bind. With white candles and a photo of them together, I could have burned the connection with no loss of energy to myself.
The spell he’d wrought, though, was tied up in the bracelet. I recalled the detail of the woven band and could have slapped myself for not realising what I’d seen. This was knot magic – the coloured woven strands created an impenetrable grid of energy, a simplified round-the-wrist form of the mesh that covered Brody. The bracelet was lock-loaded to activate on contact with its target, which was why I hadn’t felt the magic on it. Something concentrated and powerful had been channelled into it, strand over woven strand, creating a wiring system for the red jaspers to broadcast their love-and-sex magic vibrations into Fran. Handing the bracelet to her was like handing her a knife to stick into her own heart.
Despite myself, I started to choke out tears. The only way to break the spell was to break the bracelet. The bracelet was on Fran, and I didn’t know where she was. I stood on the doorstep of my home for at least twenty minutes, watching each end of the street for a Corolla that did not arrive.
If they were meeting, it was not within visible distance of my house.
Grabbing my own stone for strength, I walked back inside. My brain actually hurt as I replayed the entire sequence of events with Joel, and Fran, and the evil, evil bracelet I’d handed to her.
The pressing question was whether Joel himself knew magic, or had gotten help. Sitting at the dining room table, in front of the box of Marlina’s instruments, I tried to stay as calm as possible as I searched for a stone – any kind of stone – that might help me clear my head.
I took everything out of the box. It was a good kit for a startup witch. In addition to the ceremonial knife (an athame), the crystal ball, the wand and the goblet, the chopping board and the flowerpot with the sand, there was a white-handled knife (a boline), a box of coloured candles, a collection of polished stones in a plastic bag, some unlabelled zip-loc bags of herbs, charcoal disks, a mirror, scissors, matches and a lighter, string, a clock – a black cloth – a bundle of twigs … and several spools of coloured cord.
I held in my hand a spool of red cord and I almost wrapped it around my neck and choked myself with it.
Marlina knew cord magic.
And, thanks to me setting him down outside Nikki’s house yesterday, Joel Morland knew Marlina.
32
Think, Sophie.
Think.
I went into the kitchen and made myself a blend of clarity tea from my mother’s supply. Liquorice, lemon verbena, peppermint, ginger, cardamom and coriander went into a blending strainer and my tastebuds mutinied at the mere smell of it. I let it brew and forced it down, feeling a green-beige magic bloom between my ears like the suds in washing-up liquid. It had the same effect too – as soon as the cup was drained, I looked over all the rocks and herbs and candles and cords on the table and my clean brain knew that to use them they’d have to be cleansed properly. Before I did that, though, I had to work out what to do about Joel.
Text me when she’s got it, okay? he’d said about the bracelet. He’d know by now that I had handed it over – Fran was no doubt standing in front of him with a deranged smile and a glowing red wrist. I’d been set up but, calmly reviewing what had happened, there was no evidence to suggest that Joel knew anything about the Circle at Nikki’s, the spells or my involvement with them. I’d intimated the girls were on drugs – even if Joel knew more about magic than I wanted him to, he didn’t necessarily know anything at all about me. All he could do was locate me at the scene; it was possible he thought of me as no more than a dumb puppet, the new girl at school who didn’t know he was an obsessive nutjob, and hence the one person he could use to get close to Fran.
Obsessive nutjob.
I clutched my pendant and thought hard. Joel had been infatuated with Fran for years. If he knew magic, surely he would have used it earlier. I knew spells that could coat a chair she sat in with a potency that would have her leap into his lap before Maths was finished. He could have cast Mum’s look-at-me spell and shot ribbons out of his eyes before the Year 10 formal. Even with my convenient dumb-bunny, new-girl lack of smarts, I wasn’t so instrumental to the process of snaring Fran that he’d waited all these years for me to come along just to give her a bracelet.
I thought harder. The bracelet wasn’t hobby magic, it was the work of a skilled magician. I recalled the intricacy of its woven st
rands, while my eyes fell again on Marlina’s spool of red cord. I had to conclude the bracelet had been given to Joel, sometime yesterday or this morning, by someone with the magical knowledge to make the love spell work – and the obvious point of contact was Marlina.
Marlina and her boyfriend, Joel had said on the phone, they seem like good people.
The question wasn’t whether Joel had sold us out to Nikki’s sister – that was clearly a done deal. The question was the price he had paid.
What did he tell them?
What did he know?
I had to gamble that, as yet, Joel didn’t really know anything about me – I based this on the fact that my arms were still in their sockets and my skin hadn’t been branded. Selling Nikki out to Marlina for her bad-girl activities, however, wouldn’t have cost Joel any sleep.
Nikki with a long-sleeved T-shirt under her school shirt. Nikki not going to Ryan’s.
I picked up my phone and wrote Joel a text: Yo, handed over the package an hour ago – Fran LOVED it. Where did you get it?? XX Soph.
If he thought I was a puppet, it was sensible to stay one. If all their information was about Nikki, it might distract them from looking for me.
One thing was for sure: I had massively underestimated the danger I was in. It was one thing to play cat and mouse with Jeules in the corridor, it was another to mess with an organisation that could turn Fran into Joel Morland’s love zombie with, literally, a flick of the wrist.
The realisation hit hard: Finders were zealots, but that didn’t make them stupid. It made them the kind of threat that could strip the terrifying Ashley Ventwood of her powers and make her run away. Not that – I looked through the glass doors of the dining room onto the ash tree sprouting in our garden – she’d run far. It would be sensible for me to get out of town too; I just had to survive until Saturday – I’d keep my promise to Brody to be at Gretchen’s party, and the next day I’d be in Dad’s car, heading up to Sydney to Mum and Nanna, and maybe I’d stay there longer than the weekend, until the Finders went away and I could come back to Yarrindi in safety.