“I don’t believe it. You were bluffing!” Victory shone on Mrs. Howser’s face.
“Not in the slightest. I’m merely looking out for your protégée. Poor Melody here looks like she’ll fall over the next time she sneezes.”
“She’s perfectly hearty,” Mrs. Howser said.
Old Col wrapped her fingers and thumb all the way around Melody’s upper arm. “She’s starving! You dare accuse me of not looking after Ondine’s magical interests. In turn, you’re not looking after Melody’s health and welfare. If you’d studied under me, dear girl, I could guarantee you four meals a day. First and second dinner.”
“It always did come down to food with you,” Mrs. Howser said. She clicked her fingers. “Melody, we’re leaving.”
There could be no stronger indication of the hold Mrs. Howser had on Melody than the way her fingers wrapped tightly around the girl’s upper arm to draw her away.
If they didn’t break the hold soon, Ondine knew by the tightness in her belly that Melody would grow physically weaker and Mrs. Howser would grow magically stronger.
Which added up to things going very, very badly for Duchess Anathea and Brugel.
Chapter Twelve
With no idea what to do next, other than follow her great-auntie’s lead, Ondine joined the queues at morning tea. Standing in line, she and Hamish piled sweet biscuits on their plates and waited for their turn at the urns brimming with tea, coffee, hot chocolate and an overly optimistic pot of chicory. [231]
“What d’ye mean we’re not meeting with Anathea?”
“Hush, Hamish,” Old Col hissed between her teeth.
“I can’t believe you were bluffing,” Ondine said.
Old Col glared at her.
Ondine didn’t like being glared at.
“Keep your voices down,” Col said, “The walls have ears.” [232]
“Just asking,” Ondine said, looking over to the wall to make sure there were no body parts stuck to them.
“Don’t worry, everything is well in hand,” Old Col said.
The queue moved slowly. Eventually it was Ondine and Hamish’s turn. The tea and coffee urns were empty by this point, so they drained the last of the hot chocolate into their cups.
A collective groan sounded behind them.
“Sorry.” Ondine looked at the untouched pot of chicory and then to her three-quarter-cup of hot chocolate. “Here.” She gave her cup to the witch in line behind her.
“Yer a good lass,” Hamish said, offering her a sip from his cup.
“They should just make two pots of coffee, then everyone would be happy,” she said as they took a seat. [233]
Everyone else at CovenCon was taking a mental break at morning tea, catching up with friends or furiously networking. No such luck for Ondine and Hamish, as they spotted Mrs. Howser walking off somewhere, with Melody in tow.
This small event would not have been so noticeable if not for the fact that at the exact same moment, a waiter wheeled out a trolley with two fresh urns of coffee.
Witches swarmed for the caffeine hit. Except for Mrs. Howser.
It could be entirely possible for Mrs. Howser not to like coffee. But that didn’t sit right with Ondine. The woman was strange, but she wasn’t that strange.
“Where do you think she’s off to?” Ondine asked Hamish.
“I have a feeling we’re aboot tae find oot!” he answered back with a cheeky grin.
As they stood up, they saw Lord Vincent walking off in the same direction. A flash of blue caught Ondine’s attention and she saw Lord Vincent still had that blue stain on his hand. The one she and Hamish had given him the night he’d tried to burgle their restaurant.
“Ye dinnae think they’re in cahoots?”
“I have no idea,” Ondine said, not knowing what cahoots meant, but knowing it couldn’t be good.
Following at a safe distance, they came to a set of glass doors leading to the outside swimming pool.
Unless both Mrs. Howser and Lord Vincent were certifiably bonkers, it was a safe bet they weren’t taking a dip at this time of year.
Through the glass, they made out the shape of Mrs. Howser standing near the potted palms that had withered and grown manky in the cold weather. Melody was close by, her witch’s cloak wrapped tightly around her as she leaned against a lamppost.
They also saw the shape of Lord Vincent. Three sets of footsteps in the snow. Even if they found a place to hide out there by the pool, their footsteps would give them away.
Time for plan ‘D’. [234] “Let’s try approaching the pool from the other end,” Ondine said.
They wouldn’t have to walk through those doors and they wouldn’t be seen. On the other hand, they would have to go outside, and it was freezing.
“Aye, we’ll need our coats.”
“Good thinking.”
IN NICER WEATHER, THEY might snuggle together for fun, but as they crouched under the shrubbery next to the terraced wall beside the swimming pool, Ondine and Hamish huddled together out of a desperate need to stay warm. Which only strengthened Ondine’s belief that Mrs. Howser was truly horrid. At this time of year, a sensible woman – a nice woman – would have held her secret meetings indoors. It took every effort to not shiver and remain as quiet as possible to hear what Mrs. Howser was saying.
“ . . . considered, I might not need your help after all.” Which was Lord Vincent talking, not Mrs. Howser. It sounded to Ondine’s ears as if he were rejecting whatever she’d offered him.
Then Mrs. Howser spoke, dripping with such sarcasm it figuratively ran down the walls. “Sweet, yet stupid. Your grandfather tried that tactic as well. It didn’t do him a lick of good.”
“I assure you Birgit, it’s no tactic. What’s two years’ waiting in the long run?”
“Deluded as well. You think you can sit back and wait and it will simply come to you? That never got anyone anywhere. It won’t get you anything either, not while Anathea’s growing more popular by the day. If you want it, you have to grab it with both hands.”
Vincent didn’t sound convinced. “You’re empire building and you’re using me to do it.”
“I’m getting things done. You might like to try it some day.”
A pause in hostilities made Ondine wonder if one of them had walked off, but just as she thought about taking a peek through the shrubbery, she heard Vincent again. “You enjoy sharpening your teeth on the hand that feeds you, don’t you.”
“It gives me no pleasure. But I’ll give you this for free: Promises ring hollow if there is no follow through.”
“Promises? More like blackmail.”
“Oh dear. Now we’ve resorted to name-calling. Listen to me, you jumped up bludger, you owe me –”
“– I don’t owe you anything,” Vincent said, his voice stronger, angrier. “Whatever deal you had with my grandfather is long gone. Don’t think you can use me to collect.”
Listening to them reminded Ondine of two dogs fighting over the same bone. They were circling and bristling their fur. Any minute now the snarling and biting would begin. It made Ondine fret for Melody, who must still be somewhere near Mrs. Howser, but had added nothing to the conversation.
Perhaps she’d been smart enough to go back inside?
“You are so lazy. You really think you can sit back and . . . and . . . wait for someone to hand you the keys?” Mrs. Howser said. “You do that while Anathea gets the laws changed to favour her daughters over you. Do you honestly think by the time you’re twenty-one she’ll step aside and just . . . give it to you?”
A nasty pause took hold. Ondine furiously held in a sneeze.
It may have been freezing, but Vincent’s words carried plenty of heat. “Don’t speak to me like I’m naive.”
“Hah! Somebody needs to. Anathea’s got what she’s always wanted. No way will she let go of it. Have you seen how close she is to everyone that matters? Not just the First Minister but also half the Den
tate? Give it six more months and she’ll have charmed the other half. That’s why you have to move now, while things are unstable.”
“And in return, I’ll be utterly beholden to you. I’m nobody’s puppet, witch.”
Ondine could have sworn she heard Mrs. Howser growling before she spoke. “Do you think magic grows on trees? This is a lifetime’s work and I’ve yet to see a scrap of compensation. You owe me!”
“What?!”
“You heard me. If I hadn’t used my . . . talents, your father would never have been born, which means you wouldn’t be here either.”
That shocked Vincent into silence. Ondine and Hamish were shocked into silence too as they huddled together in mute worry. It sounded awful. It also reminded Ondine of the conversations she’d had with Anathea back at the Autumn Palace. About the age Anathea had reached by the time her baby brother, Duke Pavla was born. Anathea was Duchess Presumptive until Pavla came along. But . . . how did Mrs. Howser have anything to do with that?
After what felt like the longest pause, Vincent said, “What . . . did you . . . do?”
Mrs. Howser made a scoffing noise and her hands gripped the railings with a rasp of dry skin on cold metal. It sent a flurry of snow falling below.
Ondine and Hamish smushed themselves further into the shrubbery to stay out of sight.
“I made sure your grandfather got what he wanted,” Mrs. Howser said. “He wanted a son more than he wanted his next breath.”
“Please tell me we’re not –”
“– Related? Don’t look so pale, boy. Trust me, I’m not your grandmother.” Mrs. Howser made a shuddering noise and said, “Perish the thought! Although your grandfather was rather charming in his day . . .”
Hamish’s eyebrows sat up so high they might fly away. Ondine felt her eyes grow wide. Her mouth dropped open, as if that would help her to hear better. [235]
Mrs. Howser said, “It wasn’t like that. It was the most difficult thing I’d ever done. I had to call on every power I possessed to make sure it worked. It wore me out, but I did it for Brugel. I did it for your grandfather and your father. And for all that work, he didn’t give me so much as the lint from his pockets. So whether you like it or not, you owe me, and I’m going to collect.”
A beat of silence.
The wind howled.
Vincent broke the tension. “Or you’ll stir up trouble I suppose?”
Mrs. Howser scoffed again. “I am giving you an incentive to help me.”
Vincent said, “It’s called blackmail and I don’t want anything more to do with you.”
At which point Mrs. Howser’s voice softened. Ondine missed the next bit of dialogue so she dropped her jaw all the way down to open her ears properly.
“ . . . It’s called showing your true nature. You will soon show yours, so let’s not mince words. You need me. I can help, for a fee.”
“Don’t touch me!”
Hello, Mrs. Howser must have gotten too close, Ondine figured.
“Get your hands off me. I don’t need anything from you.” Vincent sounded royally annoyed.
There were some footsteps, and a spray of snow flew over the terraces and landed on Ondine’s legs. Were they having a scuffle?
A door opened. One of them must have gone inside to the hotel. A chill spread through Ondine, and it wasn’t merely from the snow. The chill froze into fear as she and Hamish looked up to see that oleaginous, black shape ooze across the swimming pool, freezing the surface as it swayed and travelled over the water. Frozen thick enough for Mrs Howser to walk across, her heels cracking the ice but not breaking through.
Howser looked directly to where they were hiding. “You two are so predictable! Well? Don’t just sit there. Run along and tell Colette everything you heard. That’s what you’re meant to do, right?”
In mute shock, Ondine and Hamish looked at each other for a second, then scarpered off in a flurry of snow.
Chapter Thirteen
Their long spell outside had left them shell-shocked, numb from the cold and starving. They had the dual task of trying to find Old Col to tell her what they’d heard while also avoiding Mrs. Howser. As they walked inside, the delegates were moving into the banqueting hall for lunch. Lunchtime already? They had been outside a long time.
This part of the castle looked recently built, but decorated to look as old as the rest of the place. The textured plaster panelling almost looked real, if you squinted, and you ignored the repeating block pattern.
As rotten luck would have it, Old Col and Mrs. Howser were standing side-by-side in the lunch queue. No chance to talk to one, no chance to avoid the other.
Hunger ruled the moment, so Ondine and Hamish joined the line for hot food.
Mrs. Howser was in fine voice. “Dear me, moving CovenCon from Norange to here . . . You had to make it all about you, Letty.”
“We moved it because this is where the magic is. And if you call me Letty again I’ll call you Limpy,” Old Col said.
“I don’t walk with a limp!”
“Not yet.”
Hamish gave Ondine a worried look. The two old witches clearly had a lot of bad memories to hash out.
“Ondine!” On hearing her name, she turned to find Melody standing there. Or rather, leaning against the edge of a table. Somebody bumped her and she nearly went flying. Despite the food nearby, Melody didn’t have a plate in her hand. She barely looked strong enough to hold a plate, let alone pile it with food.
Ondine forgot her appetite for a moment. “Melody, it’s so good to see you.” The lie flowed too easily, considering how pallid her friend looked. Cracked lips, strings for muscles and sticks for bones. Hugging her felt like embracing a lamppost. “Come and sit down with us and have some lunch.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Melody said. “Can we . . . have a chat?”
Hamish gave a nod, indicating he’d get their food for them rather than lose their place in the line.
“Sure.” Ondine looked around for a quiet place to sit. They spied a table way over in the corner. From the look of Melody, she might not have the strength to walk that far. The chairs by the wall would have to do. It was so noisy nobody would overhear them at any rate.
Scratch that. Ondine could barely hear Melody either, her voice was so soft. “I’m worried about you,” Melody said.
Double-take time. Clasping her friend’s papery hand in hers, Ondine said, “I should be the one worrying about you. You’re fading away!”
At which time, Hamish presented Melody with a plate groaning with carbs. Pasta salad, potato salad and hot chips on the side. With a lemon wedge and pepper sachet.
Melody fell upon the plate. Mouth stuffed with chips, she said, “Mrs. Howser is taking an unnatural interest in you. Mmmph, this is delicious. She talks about you all the time. I don’t know what you’ve done to get her attention but she’s fixated. Thanks, more please.” She handed her empty plate to Hamish but kept talking. “She’s got me using magic night and day. So much of it is about finding out where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with, and where you go afterwards.”
Panic froze Ondine’s limbs.
“Is she not feeding you?” Hamish presented Melody with a second plate, which she ate with the same speed as the first.
“Oh yes, you should see the food bills. But it’s exhausting; she’s working me so hard I have nothing left in the tank.” Fat tears sploshed down Melody’s cheeks as she shovelled the food away. Her words came out in a rush. “I’m so sorry sometimes I wish I never had this gift. I just want to sleep.”
Ondine moved the second empty plate away and hugged her friend again. When they broke apart, Melody looked to the buffet. Some guests were piling their plates high; others were keeping to the salads and grilled chicken. “You can always tell the ones who really have magic. They have to eat like walruses because it takes so much out of you.”
“Aye, like in the pub, eh Ondi?” Hamish said, “Licking the plates clean
, so they are.”
“Oh dear, then it really is spreading,” Melody said.
“Or folks got tapeworm,” Hamish said.
Lucky Melody had nothing in her mouth, otherwise she would have spurted all over Hamish as she laughed. Ondine didn’t feel like laughing. She wanted to cry at the sight of her friend looking so poorly. And shiver at the thought of Mrs. Howser being so interested in her. And what was spreading? Magic? But everything she knew about magic said you were either born with it or not. You didn’t catch it.
“I don’t get it. Aunt Col says I have magic, but I’m not that hungry. Well, no more than usual in the middle of winter.” Meanwhile, others nearby ate like there was no tomorrow. “Jupiter’s moons, I just realised what this means!” Relief poured through Ondine like a geyser. “I can’t have magic if I’m not hungry all the time.”
Melody’s tired eyes lit up. “Oh but you do. You have loads of it. But you’re different because you’re a carrier, not a subject.”
“A what!?”
Melody kept her voice low, leaned in close and said, “Mrs. Howser put the spell on Hamish when he was living with her as Shambles, back at Psychic Summercamp. It was designed to start spreading as soon as he bonded with someone and became human again.”
Ondine and Hamish shot each other looks.
“You lived with Howser?” Ondine asked.
“I had tae,” Hamish said, getting defensive. “She took me in sharpish after the big dance when Old Col lost her temper.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Ondine shook her head with confusion. “I knew that. It’s just that it happened such a long time ago, I’d forgotten that I knew it.”
Melody rushed in, “Anyway, it’s not your fault, Ondi. It could have been anyone. You’re spreading magic, but you don’t have any signs of it yourself. Just like Black Sonja.” [236]
Ondine reeled in horror. “But she killed people!”
“OK, bad comparison. It’s a bit like that. You’re . . . oh, what did Mrs. Howser call you? A symptom . . . an asymptomatic carrier. You’ve got magic oozing out the yin-yang but you don’t feel a thing. In the meantime, everyone’s catching it from you.”
The Ondine Collection Page 45