The Accidental End (The Accidental Witch Trilogy Book 3)

by Gemma Perfect

  As soon as they take a step to move, a loud snarl makes them pause. They all turn at the same time to see an enormous lion, growling and snarling at them, in the middle of a normal street.

  “Shifter,” Fletcher hisses, though his explanation is hardly necessary. It’s a shifter or an escapee from the zoo.

  Elodie holds up a hand and throws a ball of fire at it. The lion snarls, dodges and runs at them. Ellis screams and darts to the side, Fletcher pulling her along. Elodie stands her ground and throws up a wall of fire.

  The lion stops dead and lets out a deep, rumbling roar.

  In answer to his call, three more lions join him. Elodie keeps a wall of fire between her and the one lion, but the other two split up and pad towards Ellis and Fletcher. “Don’t leave my side,” he hisses to Ellis, adding his own fiery guard against the animals.

  Ellis

  As if I plan to! Shall I leave the side of my boyfriend, an experienced witch, and take on Simba on my own, or shall I cower like a baby beside him and hope I don’t wet myself with fear? What a dilemma!

  I’m cowering, in case there was any doubt about which choice I’d go for.

  I dislike this.

  The flames are keeping the lions at bay for a minute, but for how long? We need to fly away, but Fletcher needs to stop the flames to hold on to me, which means I must fly alone.

  I swallow down some sick and take a deep breath. “We need to go!”

  He nods and his mother nods. Neither answer and neither let the flames die down.

  “I can fly by myself.”

  Elodie shouts above the roar of the flame. “On the count of three. We need to go. Can you do it, Ellis?”

  “Yes!” I scream my answer, fear and flames making me near to hysterical. At any minute these lions might split up and then me and Fletcher will be in worse trouble. I cannot make flames shoot out of my hands. At least I couldn’t the last time I tried.

  The lions roar, their enormous mouths making me shudder. I know I said the Grim Reaper was coming for me, but this is ridiculous! I do not want to get eaten by a lion and I do not want to practise flame throwing with three lions standing in front of me looking for their dinner. Because if I fail, I’ll get eaten.

  Nuh-uh.

  “Can you do it?” Fletcher is holding his hands up, directing the flames at the lions, but worried about me. Bless him.

  So he should be.

  The ridiculous things I’m going through are all because of him and his family. Really, if you will have secret magical ceremonies, you should be having them somewhere more secret than Margam Park. The only reason I’m here about to get eaten is because of him. Next time they want to invest a head witch they should do it some place out of the way.

  But I nod, because we don’t really have time to get into all that. “I can do it.”

  I’m pretty sure I can, anyway. I’ve done it once. And maybe flying is like riding a bike. Though the last time I did that, I fell off. I nod again. I can do it. The snarling lions are a pretty persuasive incentive.

  “On three,” Elodie shouts, sweat dripping down her face.

  Fletcher nods at me. “On three?”

  I nod, and then Fletcher yells out:

  “One!”

  I steel myself. I’ve only flown once before, but I can do this. I have to do this, if I don’t want to be a dinner for a giant cat.

  “Two!”

  I bounce on the balls of my feet. When Fletcher yells three, the fire will vanish as quickly as he does, and I have to go too. I do not want to die by the jaws of a lion. A shifter lion, but a lion all the same.

  They won’t get me in their mouths in one go; they’ll have to bite me, gnaw at me, tear pieces of me off and shake them in their drooling mouths while my blood and tissue and bones flies around in all directions, their scarlet soaked fur matting with my congealing blood. I shudder.

  “Three!”

  I jump into the air, launching myself into flight, stumble, land on the floor and am instantly surrounded by three snarling, lions.

  I don’t wet myself, but I cannot tell you how I manage not to wet myself, throw up and die of fright all at the same time.

  The lions snarl and slink toward me, and a stupid and tiny bit of my brain hopes for mercy, hopes they might shift back into human form and save me, go easy on me, show me mercy.

  That hope is brief as the biggest of them lets out such a roar that every bit of hair on my body stands on end and the shiver than runs down my spine feels sharp enough to split my skin in two.

  I curl into the foetal position, close my eyes and wait.

  Wait for the sharp puncture of teeth.

  Wait for the putrid smell of their sweat to surround me.

  Wait for the rank stink of their breath as they open their mouths to devour me.

  All I can hear is the beat of my heart and the blood rushing through my veins. Waiting for death makes time slow down, like ridiculously slow, like maybe even backwards.

  Surely, I should be dead by now.

  They’re taking their time.

  I have to open my eyes to look.

  The lions have shifted back into human form, and they are all laughing at me. Weak with laughter, crying with laughter, pointing at my curled up form, pointing and shaking with laughter.

  Rude.

  I sit up, annoyed and blushing with embarrassment, but too scared to get up.

  “That was the best thing I have seen for ages,” one of them says, wiping at his eyes and coughing with laughter.

  “I’m not sure what was funnier,” another one of them says. “the pathetic attempt at flying or the curled up in a ball waiting for death.”

  “Definitely the attempt to fly,” the last of them says, and I wish I was a better witch because I’d magic them all a punch in their smug little faces.

  I stand up, anger making me braver than I ever usually am. “I’m not sure what’s worse – getting eaten by three ugly lions or having my life spared and having to look at their ugly, stupid faces.”

  This doesn’t have my desired effect and actually sets them off laughing again, literally howling with laughter, and gasping for breath.

  I don’t know what to do – I don’t dare try flying again, and I don’t dare try any magic with them watching and making fun of me, so I fold my arms and scowl at them, wondering what the hell is supposed to happen next.

  If they wanted me dead, I’d be dead, so I’m back to exactly where I was when I was kidnapped by the evil fairy twins; wondering if these are angry members of the council or pissed off rebels.

  I don’t even want to guess.

  I clear my throat and glare at them, hoping it ends their mirth.

  The first one to speak is the first one to speak again. “Oh, you are a funny one. You need to come with us. Don’t try anything.”

  The third one snarls, looking weirdly lionesque despite his human form. “Exactly. We spared you, but only because we were told to. I’d have preferred to eat you.”

  Nice.

  The middle one coughs. “We don’t mind keeping you alive, but not if you try any funny business. One step out of line and I’m happy to bite you, even in my normal form.”

  Nice.

  Council or rebel, none of them are turning out to be particularly pleasant guys.

  I close my eyes and nod. Here we go again – somebody else calls the shots and takes over my life. I can’t remember the last time I did something that I wanted to, but what choice do I have?

  “Or you could try flying away again, I could do with a laugh, I really could.”

  I refuse to answer, so one of them takes hold of my arm, finger pinching into my skin, reminding me of Efa, when she delighted in hurting me, even though I was already under her power. I shake off his grip, and sparks fly out from my fingers. I silently beg for more, for flames or heat, but nothing happens, and I close my eyes for a second, frustration taking over. I’ve obviously got performance anxiety.

  I conjured up lovel
y pizza and chocolate when nobody was watching me, and I have made my fledgling magic work, but it’s just not happening now. It’s exactly like when I was in primary school and got the coveted part of Mary in the nativity. I practised my song – a solo of Away in a Manger, over and over and over. I was pitch perfect and delightfully sweet. I had my little tea towel over my head and a blue dress made of pillowcases and I was ready. This was my calling, where my future lay – the screen, the stage, the bright lights, fame and fortune of stardom were calling me. Until the first night when the hall was full of family and friends and my mum was waving at me like a maniac, pride colouring her face, and I stepped forward to sing, forgot the words, tripped over my pillow case, fell flat on my face, and ran out of the hall crying.

  This is the same thing – I’m not tripping over my pillowcase, but I cannot do magic when everyone’s watching me and judging me. It’s so sad.

  He leads me forwards with a hand on my back, rather than a tight grip on my arm, and I relish in one minor victory.

  Pathetic, I know.

  I’m still being led to a house by rebels or angry council members, who were happy to shift into lions and scare the life out of me. And, if technology is right, they probably have Ember as a prisoner, and if she hasn’t escaped, I know I haven’t got a hope.

  One of them pushes open the door of the middle house in the row of innocent looking terraced houses and ushers me inside. I swallow down the vomit and hold my head up high. Whichever way the Grim Reaper takes me, he won’t take me begging for my life.

  The first room we come to is empty of people but full of furniture. The one with his hand on my back gestures to an armchair and I take a seat, perched on the end, wondering what’s next.

  The henchmen leave the room, leaving me alone, but one of them stays put just outside the door. I know I won’t get to escape as easily as I did when the evil twins took me, but I am trying to keep my wits about me.

  Best as I can after nearly being eaten by three lions, you know.

  I hear voices coming nearer and steel myself. If the three shifters were henchmen, now comes the leader. The person calling the shots.

  I shake my head when he walks through the door, patting the shifter at the door on the arm in thanks.

  It’s Vann.

  Vann, who we thought was dead. I open my mouth to say something and then close it. Zeta pretended to be dead herself, so it’s no enormous shock to see that Vann is alive, and that she didn’t really kill him, and I had my suspicions about him being on the other side, so I’m not that surprised.

  I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction and yawn instead.

  He chuckles, but I don’t look too closely at him. I don’t want to be struck by his fairy magic like I was the first time we met.

  Somebody else joins him and this time I am surprised, and a prickle of unease, that same spine tingling prickle that I’ve had before is back. Gregory.

  I flash back to the portal, to when we recalled the demons to the portal, only hours ago, although it feels like another lifetime, to Fletcher asking his aunt if she had killed Gregory and her reply.

  I shake my head, dread filling my body from top to bottom. Fletcher asked her if she killed Gregory. I had forgotten all about him and don’t remember seeing him after he showed his true colours, but Ember said that she had killed him. On the pier, was her reply. And yet here he stands.

  And that must mean-

  She walks in all smug and lipsticked – and definitely not kidnapped – and I jump out of the chair. I will swing for her. “No way!” I scream the words and dive towards her. I land a punch to her head before somebody pulls me off her. Vann.

  I glare at her. “You bitch! Your sister is worried sick about you. We all were. You’re a traitor. Aren’t you?” I scream the last question, trying to get away from Vann so I can reach her and hit her and gouge her stupid eyes out.

  There’s no way I’ve got this wrong – she’s here with Vann who betrayed us, and Gregory who she reckoned she killed. She’s a double agent, a two faced lying snake in the grass.

  Sparks shoot out of my fingertips and suddenly she’s laughing hysterically at me, and I wish I could murder her, right here, right now. I lift a hand, not sure what damage I can do, but she’s quicker. She binds me so I can’t move, and my stomach sinks to my feet. Now what?

  13

  Fletcher and Elodie land outside their house and scan the sky for Ellis. “Give her a second,” Elodie says, noticing the panic on his face.

  They watch the empty air; they wait for her to come barrelling out of nowhere, but there’s no sign of her. Elodie sighs. “Let’s go back.”

  Fletcher doesn’t need telling twice. With three enormous lions roaring and snarling at them, there’s no good reason Ellis wouldn’t have flown away with them. She might have gone off course, she might have landed just down the road, but as sure as he is of his own name, he knows something’s happened. And it isn’t something good.

  They land exactly where they took off from and the pavement is clear. The road is empty. There are no lions, and there is no Ellis. Fletcher groans, head in his hands. “They took her. I bet she’s in there with Ember.” He points at the terraced house. “There’s no way Ember would have ignored you, unless there was something wrong. We both know it. I’m going in.”

  Elodie grabs at his arm. “Just give me one second. Tuck out of the way so nobody can see us, just let me think.”

  “Mum, we don’t have time for you to get your head straight. We really don’t. Ember’s in there and I know Ellis is too. It’s the rebels or the council and neither are pleasant news.”

  Elodie nods. “I know you’re right, I just... I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like just giving up, shouting to whoever’s in there to come and get me, come and take me, and let’s be done with it. I’m out of fight, Fletcher.” Her eyes are full of tears, and she’s tired.

  “Mum, we’re nearly done. We can’t give up. Think about dad, think about Griff. Think about yourself. We have to do this, and then we’ll be done. You don’t want to give in, you know you don’t.” He hugs her, transferring some of his magic to her, some of his energy, some of his fight. Whatever it takes to get her through this.

  “So now what? Do we just knock on the front door, or...?”

  “We’ll go around the back, stay out of sight, see if we can figure out how many are in there.”

  “I’ll put a call out for backup,” Elodie says and Fletcher nods, leading the way around the back of the row of houses.

  “Hang on, mum, I’ve got a text from Thea.”

  EMBER SHAKES HER HEAD. “I take it you’re surprised then?” And laughs again before kissing Vann and facing Ellis once again. She cackles at the look on the young girl’s face and shrugs. “I had to bind you, you left me no choice.”

  Ellis shakes her head. “I don’t understand. I-”

  “You don’t need to understand. You just need to be here.”

  Ember turns to Gregory. “We need to get everything ready. It won’t take long for my sister and Fletcher to come looking for her.” She turns to Ellis. “You made it easier, with your pathetic attempt to fly, but we had a Plan B. It was a little messier so I’m happy.”

  Again, Ellis is lost for words.

  Again, Ember cackles. “You really are annoying. I do not understand what Fletcher sees in you. I don’t understand why he picked you over Sally.”

  “Me neither,” Sally says, strutting into the room like she owns it. Ellis shrinks back in her chair, and Sally slaps her hard across the face. “You know what that’s for.”

  Ellis covers the slap mark with her hand but refuses to say a word, her mind reeling knowing that Ember is on the other side, on the rebel’s side.

  Ember tuts. “Sally – a little discipline please. Fetch the girls, tell them it’s time.”

  Vann kisses Ember and then leaves the two of them alone, putting an arm around Gregory as they head out of the room.
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  Ember sits across from Ellis. “I feel a little sorry for you, I suppose, you’re just a pawn in all of this.” She lifts her arms, encompassing the entire room. “These plans have been in place for a long time, and you just happened to-ah girls!”

  The twins come into the room, stopping her from saying whatever she was going to say, and stand beside their mother. They don’t look as triumphant as Sally did, and they look at Ellis with something that looks like pity on their faces.

  “And here they are, the reason I do everything I do.” Ember pats the sofa beside her, and the girls sit, neither saying a word. “My girls, my world. Do you know how long I have waited for this? You see Ellis, once we invest a head witch, we can only replace them when they die, but not if another witch kills them, another witch who covets their power. And I checked, I couldn’t even get somebody else, like Vann, to kill Fletcher – the magic is too clever to trick. Not that I would enjoy killing Fletcher.”

  Ellis sits up a little straighter.

  “I changed that boy’s nappies, you know! And then I get wind of Zeta’s little plan, thanks to my spies, and problem solved. She knew she couldn’t kill Fletcher to make Efa head witch, because the magic would prevent her. There’s always been magic to protect the head witch, otherwise anybody who was in line to be in charge would want them dead, kill them, and invest themselves. But if somebody else was invested instead of Fletcher, somebody that wasn’t the rightful head witch, then they could be killed. It’s perfect. Zeta was clever, I’ll give her that! So a witch cannot kill you – or any other head witch – but Vann can. And then my Talia will be head witch instead.”

  “Talia? Why?”

  Ember grins. “Same old story. Same as Zeta’s really. Fed up of always being second fiddle, fed up of not being the one with all the power. And,” Ember takes a deep breath, a wickedly sly grin covering her face, “she is next in line – she’s Adam’s daughter, after all.”

  Ellis can’t help but look shocked now. She shakes her head.

  “No. I don’t believe you. You’ve been with the rebels this whole time; I don’t believe a single word that comes out of your sneaky little mouth.”