She shivered as she forced herself to stand, keeping a wary eye on Dionne. The younger girl might not be able to risk throwing a spell at her, but there was no way to be sure. Dionne wasn’t in her right mind. Emily stayed in the shadows as she tried to find a way to dismantle the circle safely, knowing it might already be too late. The girls were starting to look drained, as if the spell had absorbed their magic and was starting to claim their lives. Emily shuddered. She needed to cancel the spell and discharge the power safely, before Dionne could use it to summon Pendle. And yet, it really didn’t look like a summoning rite.
“We call on you, Greatest of the Great,” Dionne said. Her eyes were glowing brightly now, her hair fanning out behind her. “We call on you...”
Emily shook her head as she studied the runes. Either she was missing something or... the rite wasn’t going to work. It simply couldn’t. The power had nowhere to go, which meant... sooner or later, the witches were going to lose control and blow themselves into the next world. They might as well have tried to trap a tempest in a teapot. Emily wondered, absurdly, if they were actually trying to make a battery without any solid idea of how they actually worked. She’d used a battery to crush Jens. Perhaps she’d given Dionne the idea...
No, she told herself. This isn’t your fault.
Her heart stopped, just for a second, as Dionne looked at her without quite seeing her. The girl’s face was blank. There was no longer anyone at home. Emily cursed under her breath as she tried to figure out how to discharge the runes, but... the raw power was just too strong. Breaking the circle would only cause an explosion. She wasn’t even sure she dared try to yank the girls out of the circle. It might save one of the witches at the cost of condemning the others to certain death.
Dionne reached into her cloak and produced a long, silver knife. Emily stared in horror. A necromancer would use a stone knife, confident it wouldn’t explode in his hand. A silver blade would explode, or worse... Emily wasn’t sure what would be worse. Silver couldn’t channel more than trace amounts of power. Dionne was going to kill herself and her friends as well as her tutor. And Emily, too...
Understanding clicked. The rite was never meant to succeed. It was meant to go wrong.
Emily threw herself forward, jumping over the runes and into the circle. Raw power buffeted her, the rite trying to latch onto and drain her magic. Emily gritted her teeth, silently grateful she’d expended so much power over the day. There was little for the rite to grab. It battered against her mind, trying to force her to submit and surrender. No wonder the witches were no longer aware of what they were doing, unable to realize they’d been turned into living batteries for the spell. They’d offered themselves to the rite willingly, unaware they were offering everything they had. And now it was too late. They could no longer withdraw their consent.
Dionne brought the knife down. Emily slammed into her, a shock running through her hands as she shoved the knife to one side. The blade stabbed into the ground and broke. Dionne stared at the remains of her knife, as if she was having problems understanding what had happened and why. Emily grabbed hold of her... and screamed as the power crackled through her. Bright light burned around her, the girls glowing as they reached the end of their lives. They’d offered their power willingly, and now the rite was killing them. Their eyes were glowing, too. Emily felt as though she were caught in a storm. The power was burning her.
She heard Dionne say something, an instant before she attacked. Emily staggered under the impact, the power disorienting her so badly she couldn’t even see the younger girl. Lightning boiled around her, sparks of power burning her skin without doing any real damage... Dionne raised a hand, starting a spell, only to have the spellwork explode in her palm. There was too much raw magic in the air for formal magic to be used. Dionne stumbled, awareness coming back into her eyes as she cradled her hand. Emily hoped the burns wouldn’t be permanent. There might be too much raw magic in the wound for them to be healed.
Get Dionne out of the circle, her mind yammered. Quickly...
Emily picked Dionne up, ignoring a sound that had to be a scream of pain, and threw her into the darkness. The witch seemed to vanish as the light got brighter. Emily had no time to wonder if she’d somehow teleported away. The power crashed into her mind as the rite reached a crescendo. Dionne had been the center, the caster, but now... now the rite was offering the power to her. Emily staggered under the deluge, afraid to try to channel it and yet afraid of the consequences if she refused. The power was starting to spark out of control... as if it hadn’t been out of control from the moment the rite had begun. It was going to explode. It was going to...
Don’t panic, Emily told herself. Concentrate.
She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the terrible light as she shaped spellwork with her mind. It wasn’t like casting a spell, not a real spell. It was like trying to build the spell outside her mind, something an order of magnitude more complicated. Dionne hadn’t known what she was doing... no, Simon had deliberately pushed her into suicide. She hadn’t even known to lay the groundwork properly. Emily thought, with a flicker of amusement, that it was time for remedial lessons. She’d been too ignorant to realize just how much she didn’t know.
The power grew stronger. It was all she could do to hold it still without having it ravage her mind. She knew, now, why necromancers went crazy. It was impossible to hold the power completely in check. It sparked against her mind, sending flashes of pain crashing through her awareness. She was used to discomfort, but this... it was hard to focus. And yet, she had no choice. Lightning crashed through her mind, her hair trying to stand on end as she directed the power up and away. It was going to play merry hell with the weather - she’d been warned not to try to manipulate the elements - but she had no choice. She couldn’t quickly create a pocket dimension in hopes of storing the magic...
Emily dropped to her knees as she channeled the power up. Her body felt tired, too tired. Her eyes opened as the sky lit up, lightning darting through the clear night sky. She saw the girls lying on the ground, lying so still she feared they were dead, an instant before darkness returned. The stars started to vanish, one by one. In her dazed state, she feared she’d somehow put them out for good before she realized clouds were forming. She heard a rumble of thunder overhead. A moment later, raindrops started to spatter around her.
Incredible, she thought, numbly. Her head felt like a cracked eggshell. The pain was so great she was nearly sick. She told herself she hadn’t gone too far, she hadn’t crossed the line into utter madness, but how could she be sure? The rain grew worse, cold water soaking the remains of her dress and washing away the runes on the ground. What if...
She forced herself to think, considering the idea of doing something horrible. Really horrible, something she would have recoiled in horror if anyone else had done it. The idea still felt wrong, as if it were on the wrong side of a line she knew she wouldn’t cross. Or the right side, she supposed. It was all too easy to start making excuses for bad behavior, to talk yourself into thinking that whatever you wanted to do was right... she swallowed, hard, as she tasted bile. She still thought the idea was horrible. She supposed that was a good thing. Her morals were still hers.
Lightning flashed, high overhead. The rain grew even worse. Emily heard someone moan and breathed a sigh of relief, even as her head exploded with pain the moment she tried to reach for her magic. She supposed she should be glad she hadn’t blacked out this time, but still... she forced herself to sit up and stand. Her dress was sodden with water. She could feel water dripping down her back and legs and pooling on the ground. The cold sent shivers through her. She gritted her teeth as she looked around. The girls were alive, twitching as the rain drenched them. It was too dark to make out many details, but... they were alive.
Emily stumbled forwards and nearly tripped over Damia. The older woman was lying on the ground, staring at nothing. It was hard to be sure she was still alive. Emily checked her pulse - w
eak, but present - then gathered her strength and slapped Damia, hard. The tutor remained motionless. Her skin felt cold and clammy. Emily shuddered as she stepped over her and checked on the girls. They were awake and aware and sobbing helplessly.
“I need you to focus,” Emily said. Lightning flashed again, throwing their faces into sharp relief. “We can’t stay here.”
“I failed,” Dionne said. She lay on the ground, ignoring the water splashing around her. “I... I failed. I failed. I...”
Emily drew back her hand for a slap, then thought better of it. “Get up,” she said, instead. “We really can’t stay here.”
She looked around. She didn’t have the power to teleport herself, let alone the whole gang and their tutor. There was no way she could fly. She doubted they could get down the mountainside in the dark, not with the water turning the path to mud. They might be stuck in the Redoubt until morning, if help didn’t arrive... she gritted her teeth, feeling her stomach rumble as she helped Dionne to her feet. The younger girl looked broken. Emily guessed the rite had burned out the last of Simon’s commands. She wondered, grimly, what would happen to the girls now. They’d been suspended, but... it hadn’t all been their fault.
“Help me get everyone under cover,” she said, practically. There’d be time to worry about the future later. “Now.”
She had to struggle to pick up and half-carry, half-drag Damia into the corridor. Water dripped down the walls, splashing around their feet as they moved deeper into the ruined castle. The shadows seemed to move when she wasn’t looking, a grim reminder that the night didn’t belong to her. She ordered the girls to huddle together, silently grateful they were too drained and disoriented to argue. None of them seemed to have enough power left to cast a heating spell, let alone a drying spell. They’d have to dry out the old-fashioned way.
Which might teach them a lesson, Emily thought, as she carefully laid Damia on the ground and checked her pulse again. There was nothing else she could do for the older woman, not until morning. God alone knew what would happen to her, after everything. It’ll take years for everyone to come to terms with what happened.
She closed her eyes and drifted on the edge of sleep. She dreamed, or thought she dreamed. Faces, some of them oddly familiar, drifted in front of her. Others.... she thought she saw Brier, bending over her with worried eyes. But it was hard to be sure. She was dimly aware of voices, of people around her, yet... they seemed to fade when she looked at them too closely. They weren’t quite real.
“I’ve got you,” a quiet voice said. “Sleep.”
Help, Emily thought. She sensed, rather than saw, someone casting a healing spell. They sent help.
And she closed her eyes and fell into the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“WE HAVE GOT TO STOP MEETING like this,” a friendly voice said. “People will talk.”
Emily opened her eyes, wincing slightly at the glare. She was lying in an infirmary bed, Brier sitting next to her. She glanced from side to side, then forced herself to sit up. The other beds were oddly empty. There was no sign of the healers or anyone else. Her head felt odd, as if there were a gaping space where the headache should be. Brier passed her a glass of water, then indicated a breakfast tray. Emily sipped it and frowned. The last thing she remembered was...
She scowled. She wasn’t sure what it was.
“The headmistress wants to see you, after you’ve eaten your breakfast and had a shower,” Brier said. “I dare say she wants to talk to you before you talk to anyone else.”
“Does she?” Emily reached for the tray and started to eat. “What happened to the girls? And Damia?”
“The girls are alive and well, mostly,” Brier said. “They suffered severe magic drain, as you probably know, and their hair turned white. Other than that, they’re physically fine. Mentally...”
Emily nodded, curtly. The girls would need time to recover from the whole affair, time to come to terms with everything that had happened... and, hopefully, make sure there weren’t any more surprises waiting for them. Simon could have buried all sorts of commands within their minds, commands that might resurface years after his death... she shuddered. There was no way Simon had been the intruder. He hadn’t even graduated at the time. Someone else had backed him; someone else had ordered him to send the girls to their doom. The more Emily thought about it, the more she was sure she was right. The rite had been designed to kill the casters.
“I saw something interesting in the castle,” she said. “It looked as if something clawed its way out of the castle.”
Brier raised her eyebrows. “Interesting,” she said. “Do you know for sure?”
“No,” Emily said. “But the damage does look a little odd.”
“Perhaps,” Brier said, mildly. “But it was quite some time ago. The ruins have been exposed to the elements for centuries.”
“Yes.” Emily had the odd feeling she was missing something, but it was hard to be sure. “What happened here? I mean... while they were performing the rite?”
“Nothing,” Brier said. “We had no idea anything was wrong until it was far too late.”
Emily cursed under her breath as she finished her tray and stumbled into the washroom. Her hair was still brown, thankfully, but her body was covered with fresh bruises. She muttered a spell to speed the healing process - her magic reserves had refreshed themselves - and then stepped into the shower and washed herself. The water woke her up. She grabbed a towel to dry herself, rather than using a spell, then changed into a new dress. Brier - or someone - must have ordered it for her. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it was close enough. She made a mental note to change later as she stepped out of the washroom. Brier nodded to her and indicated the door.
The school felt quiet as they made their way through the corridors. Brier explained, apologetically, that classes remained cancelled. The girls had been ordered to stay in their dorms until given permission to leave. Emily nodded in understanding. She was still, technically, suspended. She didn’t have classes... and besides, she had the feeling she wasn’t going to be staying much longer. She’d completed her mission. Void would call her back to her studies soon enough.
“There are a couple of people who want to speak to you, afterwards,” Brier said, as they reached the office. “I’ll bring them to the antechamber.”
Emily nodded as she knocked on the headmistress’s door and stepped inside. Duchene was sitting behind her desk, looking stiff and formal. The desk was covered in letters and parchments... Emily guessed concerned parents had been bombarding the headmistress with everything from polite inquiries to demands that the school reinstate the suspended students immediately. Her mother had never given much of a damn about her education, but she’d met a handful of kids whose parents had stormed into the school on the slightest pretext. Their children had found it embarrassing...
“Emily,” Duchene said. Her voice was flat. “Take a seat.”
No offer of a drink, Emily thought, as she sat. That’s not good news.
Duchene said nothing for a long moment, then scowled. “I received a missive this morning,” she said. “The conference will not be held here. They’re already searching for an alternate location.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Emily said. It wasn’t really a surprise. Laughter had been an odd choice even before the school’s reputation had started to go downhill. “I know you hoped it would be held here.”
“Yes.” Duchene frowned at her hands. “What happened? Precisely?”
Emily took a breath, then launched into the story. “Your intruder didn’t steal anything from you. Instead, she left something here. A charmed book keyed to a set of chat parchments, the spells so subtle as to be below your notice until they went active. Once they did... I think the students didn’t stand a chance. Their minds were... tinkered with, carefully, to ensure they would become monsters. My guess - I don’t know for sure - is that Damia was grabbed first. That might explain why she was so
resistant to the suggestion something was wrong in the school.”
She paused, then explained how she’d found the chat parchments, how she’d gone after Simon, how he’d killed himself... after telling her that the witches were already on their way to perform the rite. Duchene’s face paled as Emily described the brief fight in the woods, her capture and how close the trick had come to succeeding. Simon had come very close to completely destroying the school’s reputation.
“The rite was never meant to succeed,” she said. “They were so obsessed with summoning Pendle that they didn’t take the time to parse it out properly. I don’t believe they could question the rite. But it was designed to drain their magic, then trigger an explosion when they found themselves unable to channel or absorb the power. If Damia had been sacrificed, the resulting blast would have blown the casters to hell.”
“And so whoever was behind the affair successfully cost us the conference,” Duchene mused, sourly. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. The intruder had been and gone years before the end of the Necromantic War. There’d been no way for anyone to know they might need to derail a conference at Laughter. Unless... perhaps they’d used a demon to predict the future. Her eyes narrowed. There weren’t many people who knew how to summon demons and anyone who did should understand the dangers. “They might have had something else in mind.”
She scowled. She’d introduced chat parchments - or at least the concept of chat parchments - years ago. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen the concept turned into something else, something deadly... perhaps the intruder had intended to stealthily take over Laughter for her own purposes. Or... or what? The whole affair didn’t quite make sense. She was missing something. But what?
“We’ll consider it later,” Duchene said. She cleared her throat. “The girls will require time to recover. Under the circumstances, we’ve decided their suspensions will remain in effect, but - if they return - their actions will not be held against them.”
Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21) Page 37