Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr

by Holly Bell

  ‘How right you are. We cannot possibly fail!’

  By the time they arrived, the sky was a livid yellow and purplish charcoal, the wind moving the rack towards the Moor.

  ‘Don’t worry if you can’t eat much before the show,’ Hogarth said jauntily.

  ‘Sorry, Uncle Mike, it isn’t that I don’t like it …’

  ‘We can warm it up afterwards.’

  That cheered Amanda.

  ‘That’s what the inspector said.’

  ‘And he’s a good judge of risky situations,’ remarked Mike.

  Amanda periodically checked the time. Hogarth put a comforting hand on her arm.

  ‘We must wait till everyone is abed. We don’t want to be seen about our business.’

  The sun set by degrees and the hour drew close.

  Once Amanda began getting ready in the spare room, while Trelawney used Hogarth’s chamber next door, her nerves began to abate, and her sense of level purpose grew.

  Inevitably she received another visit from her grandparents.

  ‘Really not your style, dear,’ commented Granny, in her guise of fashion police. Tempest, from the bed, would have agreed with this statement had it not been uttered by Granny, whose opinions he dismissed as a matter of one of the very few principles he possessed.

  ‘I like the coat, bian,’ countered Grandpa encouragingly.

  ‘But the skirt,’ exclaimed Senara. ‘And dear me, is that supposed to be a blouse? I know what Coco would say.’

  ‘Cocoa?’ queried Amanda.

  ‘Chanel, dear.’

  ‘Well, anyway, it’s costume, Granny,’ Amanda responded patiently.

  ‘Hm. Well. Try to not to kill either of your parents while you’re there, dear, regardless of the temptation, which has no doubt been felt by many.’

  ‘Yes, Granny.’

  ‘It could be extremely inconvenient if you were never born.’

  ‘You’re going to be fine, bian. Just remember ….’

  ‘Yes, Grandpa, “a witch does not strike out”.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  Hogarth came in to see Thomas.

  ‘Good work, lad.’ He could see his friend was troubled. ‘What is it? Tell me.’

  Trelawney looked him in the eye. ‘This was always your intention, wasn’t it, Mike? From the beginning of telling Lucy’s story. That Miss Cadabra should do what she is about to do, risking her life.’

  ‘It was my hope.’

  ‘So somehow Lucy — Elodie — could be absolved and you could be together? It all seems … well, dare I say…?’

  ‘Machiavellian?’ Hogarth asked gently.

  Thomas raised his hands, palm up, not wanting to say any words of actual accusation.

  ‘You underestimate your Miss Cadabra, Thomas. Young for her years, naïve, blind to some things she may be, but Amanda Cadabra is nobody’s puppet. Yes, of course, I want the truth for Lucy, but there is far more than this at stake. If objects of magical power are in the hands of those who might remain of the witch-clans, the danger to many could be imminent.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you just ask Miss Cadabra to go back to the night of the fire, in the first place, for that reason?’

  ‘Because I didn't know what taken from Growan House, or by whom, until you both pursued your investigations, Thomas. I didn’t start this. Lucy was the one who told Amanda it was time for me to tell her story. And some part of Lucy knows why they felt it was time. That must mean something. But don’t blame Lucy.’

  Trelawney was silent, putting on his black shoes.

  ‘Mike ... do you believe stories have a power of their own?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Is it the story that has brought us to this point?’

  ‘Perhaps. You can blame it on the story if it makes you feel better.’ Hogarth saw his friend was still perturbed. ‘Thomas, if you think that I have manipulated Amanda, then I can only ask you to forgive me. It was not my intention. Amanda is strong. She has free will. But you must also remember that her experience as a little child connects her deeply to Lucy, in a way that neither of us can fully understand.’

  ‘True ... then whether this mission was intended for her or not, Miss Cadabra intends to carry it out. And I can only do my part.’ Hogarth helped him into his long coat. Trelawney’s face softened. ‘I don’t blame you. You’re right. It is her decision.’

  Hogarth clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Bring her back, Thomas. Bring her back safe.’

  ‘I shall do my level best, Mike.’

  Amanda came out into the hall when she heard Hogarth and Trelawney had emerged.

  ‘You look very ....’ Hogarth began.

  ‘Don’t say it. Granny always discouraged me from wearing black. She always said, “nothing says witch like going about all in black like the Adams family!”

  ‘Too true. Ready?’ asked Mike.

  ‘Ready,’ Amanda responded.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter 44

  Into the Fire

  It was muggy. Amanda and Trelawney wriggled out of their coats on the way to Hogarth’s car.

  ‘Amanda,’ directed Mike, ‘sit in the back with Tempest, and stay down. We don’t want you to be seen. Thomas and I riding around at all hours is a reasonably familiar sight.’

  The land was quiet, save for the rumble of thunder muted by distance. Kali night or not, it was moonless under the thick boiling rack of cloud that blocked out every star.

  Hogarth parked a safe distance away from the remains of Growan House, and got out with them. Quietly, he led the way, as Kyt had done for Amanda that day, to a place about halfway between the two remaining mansions. To the west, Flamgoyne, where Pasco lay asleep, and to the east, Cardiubarn Hall, standing empty and equally eyeless.

  Mike felt a stone beneath his feet and stopped.

  ‘Here,’ he whispered to Amanda. ‘This is the boundary, at the edge of what was Dowrkampyers’ property. I’ll be here when you return. The light be with you.’

  Amanda looked at him. She had never heard him use that blessing before. She swallowed. This must be bad, she thought. Tempest’s eyes were a-glitter. The game was afoot.

  She turned to Trelawney.

  ‘Please, wait here while I cast the spell.’

  He nodded and, with Tempest at her ankles, Amanda moved a few paces forward to within the boundary wall. She took out her Pocket-wand, held it to her heart and pronounced the charm, addressing Lady Time:

  ‘Hiaedama Tidterm, Hiaedama Tidterm, Ime besidgi wou. Agertyn thaon portow, hond agiftia gonus fripsfar faeryn ento than aer deygas.’

  Amanda waited for the jolt in her vision. Nothing. Maybe the spell needed more time. A minute passed. Nothing. Amanda took a deep breath and repeated the enchantment …

  Nothing. She glanced back at Hogarth and Trelawney, then forward again, hoping the change she was expecting would become apparent.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Trelawney whispered to Hogarth.

  ‘The spell isn’t taking.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Maybe because she’s trying to break into her own timeline.’

  Amanda thought feverishly. Granny and Grandpa had said something about this happening and what to do … Oh, what was it? At once she heard Grandpa’s voice in her head .... ‘By the power of —’

  ‘Ah,’ she breathed. ‘I know! “By the power of three, I call upon thee. My cause is just, my heart is true. As it is cast, so let it be.”’ With that, Amanda repeated the spell for the third time. At once, the air before her pulsed. What was far seemed close, and what was near at hand, distant. Concentric rings formed, expanding and contracting, until the portal was large enough to admit her. She looked back and nodded to Trelawney.

  ‘Phew,’ he whispered and moved forward to join Amanda. Hogarth got to her first.

  ‘If it gets too dangerous, at any point, get out. Your life is more important than the information, understand?’

  ‘
Yes, Uncle Mike.’

  ‘Sure you want to do this?’

  ‘Yes. For Lucy.’

  Amanda looked at Trelawney.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘For Lucy.’

  She led the way through, followed by Tempest. Trelawney entered last, and the portal closed. Amanda turned to him.

  ‘Wait here, please.’

  ‘Twenty minutes,’ he replied.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Twenty minutes, then I’m coming to get you.’

  ‘I can’t .... Fine,’ she agreed unwillingly.

  She could see her objective, straight ahead.

  Amanda kept low as she approached the house, its top engulfed in flames. Sure enough, fighting was in progress around the front. She crept round to the right, the east side of the building, and flattened herself against the wall. Tempest had disappeared, but there was no time to look around for him. Amanda peeped in. Just as Lucy had reported, there was fighting deeper in the house toward the kitchen. Amanda slipped in and round to the right and behind a long coat, just in time to see Lucy rounding the first landing. Lucy looked around hastily then raised a hand, presumably to beckon the children down.

  Through the banister spindles, Amanda saw him. Mordren, Lord Dowrkampyer, a stocky man in brocade robes, with an impressive grey beard, stepped forth, wand in hand. His eyes were so bright with malice that she could see him even from this distance. He was distracted by flames breaking through the corner of the ceiling and then ....

  It happened too fast. Suddenly, a woman in long black garb entered through the side door opposite, with drawn wand, and looked up the stairs, past Lucy, at Mordren. It could only have been Agacine Flamgoyne. She emanated rage and triumph at finding the jewel in the Dowrkampyer crown so close and unawares. Amanda saw her lips move in a spell. She could feel the energy gathering. Agacine’s wrist cocked back, ready to cast.

  At that moment there was a movement to Amanda’s left. A young man with floppy flaxen hair forestalled the Flamgoyne witch with a flick of his wand. There was a hiss and sizzle as the spell hit her and Agacine fell.

  There was Dowrkampyer’s voice:

  ‘Stop! School’s out!’

  His arm was raised. Amanda saw Lucy look round and see the wand in the hand of the fallen Agacine Flamgoyne, seize it and aim. There was a white-hot explosion near the top of the stairs, as the atoms of Mordren Dowrkampyer were blasted into the fabric of his mansion.

  Flaxen-haired’s triumph was short-lived, as a spell whisked through the air from the front entrance, flooring the young man, inches from Amanda’s feet. Lucy and the children fled out of the front door, and the young man attempted to rise. It must have been just a stun because the brown-haired caster hurried forward to finish the job with a fatal spell. But he was soon obscured, as the fight from outside now moved through the splintered door through which Amanda had entered.

  The battle seemed to fill the hall. Now passing right before Amanda who shrunk back behind the coats as much as she could. She shut her eyes as it passed to her left, then back again towards the front entrance. Amanda dared to squint out between the coats. Looking towards the kitchen, it was clear they had been fighting over a door that was now smashed and barred by a body.

  However, now one figure detached from the fray at the front of the hall: a woman with long brown rippling hair. She moved back past Amanda, over to the ruined door and disappeared through it. Within 30 seconds, she was back up, holding a what could only be The Grimoire. She was creeping towards the kitchen.

  Amanda saw her chance. She fingered her wand. The woman had her back to Amanda. It would be so easy. The thoughts flashed through her mind, calculating. A simple stun spell, then seize the book and escape through the back of the house. Amanda had never used an attacking spell. She had learned them only to master the diffusing spells. Now, however, the words came to her mind, tempting, inviting, seductive. But a stun spell could kill if cast with the wrong degree of power. Amanda had no idea what that would be.

  She knew from the hair that the witch was either her mother, Skorna or her aunt, Lughesven. The latter was dispensable, if Amanda made a mistake with the spell. But. What if it was Skorna? Amanda would never be, never have been born. On the other hand, if she got it right, The Grimoire would be hers. That fateful spell would never be cast, she would never have asthma, she would have a life free from … And so what if she did get it wrong? The Cardiubarn flame kindled within her, flickering rage. Yes, this was her chance at revenge. Wasn’t it worth it? Whatever the cost? Look what they did to her without a moment’s hesitation. And this woman was part of it. Now it was time. Time for her to pay. Yes. Yes. Now. Do it. Now. Amanda Cadabra drew forth her wand.

  Just then, Perran’s words echoed in her head. She tried to push them away, but they would not be silenced. Over the war trumpet of the Cardiubarns, they sang in her ears like a charm ... A witch does not strike out. A witch does not strike out. Her hand trembled, the flame of ire died. Amanda lowered her wand as she watched the witch reach the back door.

  The building was now creaking, groaning, fracturing. The distorted masonry had caused the back door to stick. The woman fired a spell and stepped through the cavity, just before the lintel and wall above it collapsed, blocking the way. Whatever chance Amanda could have taken vanished, her fate was sealed. More immediately, any hope she had had of leaving by that exit was dashed.

  How do I get out? she wondered. How much time do I have before this whole place comes down?

  Fire and smoke were now billowing from the kitchen as well as the stairs, which were aflame almost to the ground floor. Worse than that, a stray burn-spell had set alight a coat near the door.

  The brown-haired man stood in the hall looking around for any targets. He was now facing directly towards Amanda. Had he detected her? She was sweating from the heat, swallowing repeatedly to hold in the cough that threatened to expose her.

  At that moment, from she knew not where, Tempest sprang forth, covering the distance to the stairs in an instant, soaring up and landing on the newel post ahead of the man. The familiar’s loud hiss got his attention. With a battle shriek, Tempest leapt, seeming to hang in the air for a split second before he landed onto the man’s face. Tempest, claws raking, fastened himself to the man’s shoulders.

  Flailing, the witch dropped his wand and tried to free himself from the feline ball of fury’s smothering, slicing grip.

  Amanda immediately took to her heels and ran out of the side door, into air thick with smoke. She hurried, bent double, coughing helpfully, her eyes streaming.

  Tempest jumped clear, as a foe outside, seeing through the door that the brown-haired man was distracted, fired a volley of spells, bringing him to the hall floor, clothes smouldering. If not dead, then likely soon to be.

  Sirens filled the Moor. Amanda looked back to see the attacking witches rushing to the doors, then dragging out the dead and wounded. Some came out carrying … she couldn’t see through her streaming eyes. There was no time for more.

  Amanda staggered out of the concealing smoke into the dark. Suddenly thunder ripped through the clouds and lighting flared, illuminating the ground, exposing her position. A cry went up. A wand-shot whistled past her ear. Amanda had been seen. She tried to run. Smoke choking, lungs closing, coughing, blinded by tears, air fizzing in her ears, she fell. Trelawney caught her as she heard his voice,

  ‘Twenty minutes are up.’ Amanda’s legs were collapsing under her. He knew she was about to lose consciousness. ‘Stay with me, Miss Cadabra, stay with me.’ He ducked, pulling her closer to the ground with him, as another shot flew past. Trelawney got her to the place where the portal had been. ‘You have to say the spell. Amanda. You have to get us back.’

  Rasping, she got the words out. He carried her through, Tempest stepping nimbly across the time-boundary, as the portal shrunk and disappeared.

  Her breath grating through her throat, knowing the blackout was coming, Amanda managed to whisper,

  ‘I k
now what happened. It wasn’t Lucy!’

  Chapter 45

  The Wand of Agacine Flamgoyne

  ‘Good grief,’ muttered Hogarth. ‘Let’s get her to the car.’

  On the back seat, Trelawney held Amanda as he patted her pockets until he found her inhaler. The spray into the back of her throat brought her round. They opened all of the windows and Hogarth drove off. Tempest snuggled close to Amanda’s leg, and in the fresh air, she began to recover.

  Once back at Hogarth’s, Trelawney quickly carried in Amanda, and placed her upright on the sofa.

  ‘Sorry, Amanda, but we have to be quick.’

  She whispered, ‘Photos.’

  Hogarth spread them out on the table.

  Amanda nodded and pointed rather shakily,

  ‘Yes, she was there and her and these two at least. This woman or maybe this one or this one?’

  ‘Your aunt or mother?’

  ‘They looked remarkably similar with the long brown wavy hair. Anyway, she was the one who went in that door they’d been fighting over, — it must have led down to the cellar — and came out with The Grimoire and then went out the back door from the kitchen.’

  ‘Did you follow her?’ Hogarth asked.

  There was the tiniest of pauses, before Amanda replied, ‘No. Then the building collapsed and blocked that exit.’

  Hogarth had noticed the flicker of emotion. He looked at her searchingly. Something ... but now was not the time to pursue it. Perhaps never. ‘How did you get clear?’

  ‘Tempest. He, er,’ Amanda smiled wanly, ‘distracted the one man in the hall who would have seen me. Couldn’t have waited; the place was up in flames.'’

  Hogarth looked at Amanda's familiar.

  ‘Well done, Tempest and well done you, my dear.’

  ‘Thank you, Uncle Mike, but I wouldn’t have made it to the portal without the inspector either.’

  ‘Then well done, local hero,’ Hogarth added, with the faintest of twinkles at Trelawney. ‘Let’s get you some tea. Thomas, stay with Amanda.’ Hogarth looked at her. ‘You just rest for now ....’