She rubbed her elbow at the memory of the tug of love.
Taking in the atmospherics of this centuries-old castle helped distract Ondine from less pleasant things. The solid stone walls – now sealed and polished and not at all dusty – were a lasting testament to the way Brugelers used to build their castles. ‘Build’ is probably not the right verb. ‘Excavate’ is more accurate; as they used to begin on the top of a mountain, then dig away until the castle emerged. [224]
“No matter what she says, child, you are far better off with me,” Old Col said, interrupting Ondine’s deliberate ‘not thinking about Mrs Howser’ thoughts. “Now stay close. I don’t want her getting – heavens above, I can see her across the room. And she looks like she’s looking for you.”
Mrs Howser had come dressed for the occasion, in her ‘look at me’ luxurious purple hooded cloak with gold trim over a royal blue dress. Compared to the humble brown travelling cloaks the rest of the witches wore, nobody could miss her.
Before they could get a better look at Howser, Old Col pushed them sideways and dragged them through a nearby doorway, where they found themselves in an auditorium.
An empty auditorium, but one with the power to intimidate its hundreds of guests. Heavy velvet curtains draped behind the podium, while the walls were decorated with richly detailed tapestries.
“Quick, get under the lectern.” Old Col shoved Ondine in the back and pushed them towards the stage.
“But the curtains?” Ondine started. They’d be a much more comfortable place to hide.
“Too obvious,” Old Col said, shoving them closer to where she wanted them.
“We’ll nae fit in that unless ye turn our bones tae rubber,” Hamish said. “Ye nae gontae turn our bones tae rubber are ye?”
“Not in it, under it,” Old Col said. Another push in the back, a push down this time where they could see the crawl-space under the stage. Plenty of room. For a ferret maybe. But a grown lad and girl?
The complaint was on her lips, then Ondine shut right up. It was the perfect place for squishy canoodling. So she didn’t dare ask another question, such as why they had to hide from Mrs Howser when it had been Mrs Howser who had wanted to bring her to CovenCon in the first place.
“Now stay there and don’t make a sound. Birgit’s giving the keynote address and she cannot know you’re there.”
Ondine and Hamish wedged themselves into the small space. The only light came through the gaps in the floorboards above. Lying on dusty boards would have been uncomfortable enough, but they also had a spaghetti pile of cables and extension cords to contend with.
Gradually the auditorium filled with people who brought extra noise in with them.
“This is just like old times, eh lass?” Hamish kept his voice low as they crouched together under the stage. Ondine pressed her finger to her lips to indicate they should keep quiet. In return Hamish grinned at her. She couldn’t help grinning back, especially when he bussed the tip of his nose against hers. Her insides turned mooshy.
Footsteps clomped above them. The timber boards creaked. Conversation in the auditorium lowered to a murmur as people noticed Old Col reach the dais and tap her finger to the microphone. An echo rang out, then the whiney pitch of feedback as she said, “Dobra.” [225]
Not everybody hushed. Some were so caught up in themselves they forgot they’d paid good money to be here and kept gabbing on, their murmured words sounding like ‘watermelon and cantaloupe’ to Ondine’s ears.
Old Col cleared her throat. “Her Lordship Duchess Anathea, Madam First Minister Cebotari, Lord Vincent, distinguished guests, ladies . . . and I see we have some gentlemen. Dobra and welcome to the twentieth annual CovenCon!”
Frustration knotted Ondine’s tummy. Lord Vincent was out there too. Who gave him an invite? Desperate to find out, she found a gap in the boards and peeked through, looking for her nemesis. She didn’t have to look hard. There he was, sitting in the front row next to the First Minister. He was dressed in his usually elegant city clothing with a touch of witchy-ness about him, like a travelling cloak instead of his suit jacket, so that he would fit right in. [226]
Bad boy charm oozed from his every pore as he flicked his dark blonde hair off his forehead.
Tosser.
As much as Ondine tried to listen to her great aunt’s introduction while keeping an eye on Vincent, she found it hard to concentrate because nestling into Hamish proved so distracting.
It was silly to waste what precious time she’d have with Hamish by spying on Vincent. He wouldn’t be going anywhere.
She and Hamish snuck in a few kisses. Warm kisses that made things flip in her belly.
Kisses that turned her head and made her forget about everything else. Kisses that made her bones sigh. Kisses that made a wet shmack noise as their lips came apart.
Pure magic.
Above them, Col cleared her throat and clonked her substantial heel on the floorboard, reminding them they had an audience.
Oops, better behave then.
On the other hand, if they became loved-up, it would make Old Col’s wishes come true, which meant she’d be wishing thoughts along the lines of making Anathea as popular as possible.
They were kissing for Brugel!
Oh those kisses. Ondine could never get enough of them. Maybe it was the cramped space, maybe it was the rare moment of privacy, but she needed Hamish’s kisses more than she needed her next breath. Despite trying desperately to have a normal life with him (after all the mayhem they’d been through in the late Duke’s Palechia) they never had time to truly enjoy themselves and wallow in their love for each other. Deep down she knew this suited her parents just fine, but it only served to frustrate her all the more. One metaphorical foot was pressed hard on the accelerator while circumstances kept an anvil on the brake.
Emboldened, Ondine pressed herself into his strong body, her fingers playing with the short hairs at his neck. Their lips were made for each other, they fitted so perfectly. When he coaxed her lips open – not that she needed much coaxing – the touch of his tongue against hers sent firecrackers off in her belly. He felt so, so right. His hand moved in lazy strokes over her back and rounded the curve of her hip. New and wonderful sensations took hold. The smell of him, a mix of soap and his earthy skin felt glorious as her heart staggered behind her ribs and her breath came in soft gasps. Her senses were in a tailspin. What freedom! A naughty thought flitted through her head – no wonder Margi and Thomas got married!
Above them, Old Col coughed again and stomped the floor. The muffled sound of applause burrowed through the floorboards. Was that Col’s way of letting them know the magic was working? Should they keep kissing, just in case?
It took all her willpower to pull back from the kiss. She pressed her ear to Hamish’s chest in an effort to slow down. His erratic pulse thumped against her skin, proving he was just as intoxicated as she.
She made the universal ‘shush’ motion in sign language, then pointed to the boards above them. Heavy boots clomped over their heads, the long skirt of her cloak swished about.
“Thank you Miss Romano for that excellent and lengthy introduction.” The voice belonged to Birgit Howser at her sarcastic best.
Oh dear, Ondine thought. They should stop the lovefest while Mrs. Howser was so close. Who knew what she might be wishing at this moment?
“Dobra and welcome,” Mrs. Howser said with a wavering alto that reverberated through the speakers. “I’m so impressed to see so many people here after the last-minute change from Slaegal to Brugel. Our motto this year is Feel The Magic, and I’m sure you will.” [227]
Polite applause spread through the auditorium.
Ondine mentally tuned out. She returned her attentions to Hamish, lying beneath her. How sweet of him to rub her back. She closed her eyes and let his warm strokes soothe her. But not so much that she’d become distracted and start kissing him again. Oh all right, just one more kiss.
He delivered another of th
ose devastating smiles, which filled her with more mooshy feelings. Slowly his warm hand stopped rubbing her back and he pointed to his eye, pointed to his heart then pointed to her. The gesture made her feel so loved she could have melted into him. With her free hand, she returned the sign language, then buried her head into his chest, content to lie with him in a cocoon of love, listening to his heart beating.
Through a crack in the timbers above them, Ondine could see Mrs. Howser standing at the podium, bobbing her right heel up and down. Her heel didn’t make contact with the floor so it didn’t make a sound. It looked like a classic case of nerves. But then something blurred behind the woman. A strange, shadowy shape moved out of her, then back into her.
Blinking, Ondine turned to Hamish and his eyes the colour of mischief. Had he seen it? Were people playing with the lighting and making shadows appear behind Mrs. Howser’s back?
But, hang on. Shadows appeared on the ground, not in the air directly behind a person. This shadow was like a dark entity moving in and out of Mrs. Howser’s body.
When it happened again, Ondine felt sure it was no trick. Mrs. Howser had an independent shadow moving in and out of her. A moment more staring and the shadow moved to stand directly behind its master.
“. . . We call it many things, but the most common is ‘Dark Magic’,” Mrs. Howser told the crowd. “A name that has the power to frighten and make us wary. But if we look at it another way, with compassion and understanding, education and a fair amount of common sense, you’ll see there truly is nothing to worry about. I call it ‘Deep Magic’ as its origins are from deep within our history. Deep Magic is a part of us; it is part of who we are.”
She paused to take advantage of everyone’s attention.
“Deep Magic is the shadow to sunlight. It is part of our everyday lives.” [228]
Every time Mrs. Howser said the word ‘magic’ the shadowy shape ebbed and flowed from her body. Hamish held her tightly, indicating he’d seen it as well.
With the lights directed at the stage, and Mrs. Howser standing behind a lectern, the shadow was something only Ondine and Hamish could see.
The shadow that turned and twisted, then changed direction and came straight for the spot where Ondine and Hamish were hiding.
Chapter Eleven
Fear turned Ondine’s belly to lead. While Mrs. Howser extolled the virtues of ‘Deep Magic’, the oily shadow stretched and flowed out from her in an egg-whites-from-the-yolk kind of way. Then it folded and twisted into something low and menacing, making no sound as it sank to the floor. Ears straining, Ondine heard no gasps from the crowd; the audience could not see what was going on.
The shadow had to be using the lectern as a shield.
Ondine and Hamish froze together, hardly daring to breathe. Like a sniffer-dog picking up a scent, the dark shape moved as if seeking them out. It found a gap in the timber and oozed through, pouring itself into their cramped space.
Moments earlier, lust had made Ondine’s heart race. Now she felt the organ catapult against her ribs in terror as the shadow pulsed and leeched through the timber crack. At first a worm shape to get through the tiny space, the head of it spread out into something not quite human but entirely grotesque. It was featureless but it had rounded pits where its eyes might be. Coldness spread through Ondine as those pits turned directly at her. Hamish’s body rippled with tension as he held her tightly. Neither of them dared breathe. She couldn’t move a muscle from fear. The transparent oil-slick of darkness swayed hypnotically left and right. Tendrils moved outwards from the bulbous end, creating a Medusa head of tentacles only a hand-span from Ondine’s face.
The one thing that stopped her from screaming was the way Hamish held her. No sooner had that thought filtered through her brain than – boomph – he was gone and she rolled into the space where he used to be. Plumes of dust flew up her nose, but she didn’t dare cough for fear of being found out.
Wait, what? Where was Hamish?
He’d turned into a ferret!
Fine then, he could run off for help. Good man!
The black . . . thing . . . didn’t flinch. Its faceless head with dents where eyes should be and writhing tentacles for hair stayed focused on Ondine.
Just as she thought she couldn’t be any more grossed out, the tentacles grew like pea-sprouts, curling and wrapping around the floorboards and beams for support as the rest of its octopus-body poured through the crack. Through another gap in the boards, she caught a glimpse of Mrs. Howser. The shadow was still connected to her, leeching out of her, stretching like elastic but not breaking.
All the while Mrs. Howser kept on with her speech, her voice reassuring, calm, and considerate. “We cannot have day without night, light without shade or a summer without winter. This Deep Magic is not to be shunned or feared, it is to be embraced. It makes us whole.”
So believable.
So hypnotic.
Fresh panic shot through Ondine. Was Mrs. Howser mesmerising the entire gathering of witches?
Shambles. Where was Shambles? Had he run to get help? Run to warn everyone? Her ears strained for the sound of scurrying claws on timber. Instead, she heard something that sounded suspiciously like . . . eating?
What?
Turning her head, she saw Shambles chewing on wires.
Buzz-bzzt! Lights flickered. Sparks flew. Every hair on Shambles’s body bushed out in shock. He chomped down.
An ear-cracking “Bang!” rang out.
“Aaaarrrrggghhh!” screamed Shambles in shock. He shot through the air, twisting and writhing, his furry body twice its normal size.
A new fear took hold of Ondine at the sight of the electrocuted, airborne ferret. One more twist, his body transformed back into Hamish in mid-air.
Landing squarely on Ondine, knocking the wind out of her.
The black shadow slurped out of sight, like liquid up a straw.
The lights went out. Ondine couldn’t see a thing.
“Have I hurt ye, lass?” Hamish asked.
Ondine shook her head. But in the dark, Hamish couldn’t see her, so she wheezed out a, “No”.
Screams and panic broke out in the auditorium.
“Just a power cut,” Mrs. Howser said, her voice no longer soothing and hypnotic. If anything, there was an edge of panic.
“Everyone relax,” they heard Auntie Col say. “Let’s make our way out in an orderly fashion. Try not to bump into anyone. Let your eyes adjust. Follow the green glow of the exit signs, that’s the way.”
Hamish rolled off Ondine in the darkness. She knew he didn’t have a scrap of clothing on. Any other time she might blush furiously, but she was too terrified of Mrs. Howser above them to think straight. A booted foot stomped down hard on the boards, showering them with dust and the odd spider. Torchlight shone through the cracks.
“You!” Mrs. Howser’s angry voice cut through. “I knew it!”
The auditorium lights came back on. Heat stole over Ondine’s face as she tried desperately not to ogle Hamish in his birthday suit. Grabbing his clothes, they snake-crawled out of their hiding spot and crouched down behind the back of the stage. As much as she wanted to gaze upon Hamish, she averted her eyes while he dressed.
“What do you think you were doing?” Mrs. Howser said, hands fisted on hips.
“Um . . .” Ondine’s mind turned blank. They were well and truly sprung. Also, the old witch must have seen him naked.
“We were checking the electrics,” Hamish said as he pulled his shirt over his head.
Brilliant! Ondine thought, then immediately wished she’d soaked up more of Hamish without his shirt on.
“We didnae realise the time. The place filled up so quickly, as it did. We didnae want to disrupt things so we just figured it was best to stay there until you were finished, so we did.”
“Sure you did.” Mrs. Howser didn’t sound like she believed them.
Oh would you look a
t that. Hamish had his shirt on inside out, so he had to take it off and put it back on the right way.
Take your time, no rush.
“There you are!” Old Col said too loudly as she approached. “You’re not still checking the wiring are you?”
“Give it up, Colette.” Mrs. Howser turned her full attention to Ondine. “This is what she has you doing? How is any of this helping develop your magic? You could be achieving so much with your life but she’s got you crawling under floorboards. Spying on me? I could have you arrested! [229]
Old Col brushed past Birgit. “You’ll have to bully them later. I came to let Ondine know Her Lordship Anathea requires an audience.” [230]
“She does not,” Mrs. Howser shot back. “You’re bluffing.”
“I assure you, she does. I’m sure Her Grace wouldn’t mind if you tagged along, Birgit, just to see what it’s like to be in the presence of greatness,” Old Col said.
“Melody!” Mrs. Howser turned her attention to the front row of seats. “Wake up!”
There Melody sat, her eyes more glazed than a doughnut.
“I said, ‘wake up’,” Mrs. Howser shouted.
In the snap of a finger, Melody came out of whatever trance she’d been in.
Had she been sitting there the whole time and they hadn’t noticed?
“Stop lazing about. Our Lord Duchess needs us.”
Mrs. Howser was going to gatecrash their meeting with Anathea? That couldn’t be good.
Col’s stricken look proceeded some hasty backtracking. “After lunch.”
“What?” Hamish said out loud, verbalising Ondine’s thought.
“Beg yours?” Mrs. Howser said.
“After lunch. If we meet before lunch, we’ll get all the wafty smells from the kitchens . . . er . . . wafting through, and driving us to distraction. Best we meet after lunch, when we’re all fighting fit and ready to face the afternoon.”
The Ondine Collection Page 44