The Accidental End (The Accidental Witch Trilogy Book 3)

by Gemma Perfect

  Fletcher places his hands on Ellis’s bare arm and closes his eyes, muttering a prayer of some sort that she might be okay, that Matthew might help, that somehow she might get through this.

  “Let me help,” Ember says. “Let me give her my strength too.”

  “You’re such a hypocrite, such a two faced-”

  “Fletcher,” Elodie lays a hand on his shoulder. “Ember, we don’t need your help. You’ve done enough.”

  “Nothing I did was to hurt you, none of this was about you.”

  “You didn’t think sleeping with my husband would hurt me?”

  Ember shrugs and looks sad for a moment, maybe even sorry. “I loved him.” Her voice is small.

  “And so did I. And now you have ruined everything, tainted our whole marriage with your deception.”

  “Mum, she’s probably lying. I wouldn’t trust her.”

  Elodie shakes her head, keeping her hands on Ellis, even as she cries. “I know it’s true. It makes sense now. It didn’t... when we were at Zeta’s cottage with Griff, we saw a photograph of Ember and Adam. The photo was of Zeta and somebody I don’t even recognise, but Adam and Ember were just in the background. They probably didn’t know they were in the shot, but the look on Ember’s face. I know that look – it was how I looked at him – like he was the only man on earth for me, the most wonderful and perfect of men. He wasn’t looking at her, so I dismissed it, but now I see. I wish I didn’t, but now I see.”

  Fletcher’s eyes flood with tears for his mum, for Ellis, for his cousins, for this whole situation.

  “What a secret to keep,” Elodie whispers. “And you dared to come and live with us, to act like we were this happy, supportive, close family.”

  Ember is crying now.

  “Don’t you dare cry your crocodile tears. When this is over, when Ellis is well, I will murder you with my own hands and enjoy it. I could never forgive you.”

  Fletcher looks at Ellis and shivers. She looks worse.

  The door pushes open and doctor Matthew swoops in, drops to the floor to check out Ellis and her vital signs. He is shaking his head as he does so, trying some magic and taking her pulse. He looks grave as he turns to Fletcher and Elodie, then frowning as he takes in the rest of the room. “Do we know what magic they’ve used against her?”

  They both shake their heads. “Is it definitely magic?”

  He nods. “This is nothing medical, it’s magical, but it’s potent and dark... I don’t think...” He trails off and Fletcher lets out a strangled cry.

  “You don’t think what? Tell me she’ll be okay. She can’t die, she just can’t, please.” He’s sobbing openly, now shaking Ellis, repeating her name over and over and over.

  “Fletcher, stop it.” Elodie takes his hands to stop him shaking Ellis like a rag doll. “You can’t help her.” She takes a big breath. “Fletcher, she’s dying.”

  “No!”

  Matthew nods his head. “Her heartbeat is so faint I can barely hear it and her breathing has all but stopped. I’m so sorry. Whatever magic this was, it’s too powerful.”

  “How long?”

  “Why?”

  “Tell me how long?”

  Matthew shrugs, helpless. “I don’t know, I’m so sorry.”

  Despair covering his face, Fletcher flees from the room.

  “Let him go,” Elodie says, taking hold of Ellis’s icy hands.

  16

  Fletcher has never moved so fast in his life – he’s used to running and flying, but he’s not used to the speed required to do what he needs to do.

  He will not let Ellis die, he can’t let her die, and if witchcraft and spells cannot save her – which they can’t, and medicine can’t save her – which it can’t, he can think of only one option, and as he flies to John’s house, and then runs inside screaming the vampire’s name, he has no idea if his plan is good or bad, just that it is a plan.

  It’s a plan.

  He cannot let Ellis die, not when she’s only involved in this entire thing because of him. She’s only a witch because she ran through his investment ceremony. She’s only dying because she’s involved with him, his family and his way of life.

  Fletcher stands at the bottom of the stairs and yells for John, making his name stretch over several syllables.

  “Fletcher, my boy!” John seems to float down the steps as he opens his arms out to greet Fletcher, as full of bonhomie as ever, refusing to look shocked at the dramatic entrance to his home.

  He turns to the beautiful woman following him down the steps, a tiny puppy in her arms. “Fletcher, this is my best friend Becca and her little friend Cooper. Becca, this is my best friend Adam’s son.” He finally takes in Fletcher’s appearance and steps back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ellis.”

  John took quite a shine to Ellis, and he looks almost as worried as Fletcher.

  “You’ll love Ellis,” John says to Becca. “She’s a normal girl, but she got turned into a witch by accident. What’s happened, Fletcher? What do you need me to do?”

  Tears fill Fletcher’s eyes. “She’s dying. We don’t know why or how, but spells aren’t helping, and we’ve got a doctor there, but he can’t help her...”

  John frowns and shakes his head. “I’m no medicine man, Fletcher, what can I do?”

  Fletcher takes a deep breath, sorrow and uncertainty and helplessness all colouring his face and making him look pained. “I want you to... I need you to turn her.”

  John takes a step away from Fletcher, all traces of conviviality disappearing. “Fletcher! I can’t. I can’t.”

  Fletcher grabs his arms, shakes him. “John, please. I would never ask; I would never expect you to... but you’re her only hope. I don’t even know if she’ll be dead when I get back. I don’t know if I’ve missed my last moments with her coming here to ask you... to ask the biggest thing of you, the worst thing of you. But she’ll die.” He drops his head, sobbing, and John looks at Becca, shrugging, misery etched on his face.

  “Fletcher, it’s a terrible thing to turn somebody who doesn’t want to be turned.”

  “We don’t know that she doesn’t want to be turned. I know she’d want to live. Please John, please.” Tears pour down his face, and he doesn’t even bother to stem them. He cries and pleads with John.

  John rubs his hand over his face, unsure what to do. He looks at Becca. His friend for so long, and now maybe more than just a friend. “Becca, what do I do? Would you think less of me if I turned this girl who hasn’t asked to be turned?”

  Becca takes a breath. “John, I don’t know this boy or this girl, but I would think less of you if you allowed her to die. If she’s an accidental witch, and without you she’ll be dead, I’m sure being an accidental vampire will be okay by her.”

  John still looks torn. “Fletcher, this could damn me.”

  “I thought vampires were damned, anyway?” Becca says, snuggling Cooper.

  “Who am I kidding? Becca, do you want to come or hold the fort?”

  She kisses his cheek and rests her forehead on his for a moment. “I’ll stay. Cooper and I have some binge watching to enjoy.”

  He laughs and grabs hold of Fletcher’s arms. “Take me to her.”

  Fletcher lets out a whoop and they run outside before Fletcher holds on to John and flies them back to Ellis.

  As they walk inside the house he is muttering under his breath. Be alive, be alive, be alive. He can hear John mutter the same words just behind him.

  He pushes open the door and can tell from his mother’s face that they’re not too late. He glances at Thea who smiles nervously at him, but barely registers Ember, Talia or Vann. His mind is on one thing only.

  Elodie stands up, taking her hands off Ellis for a second. “No, Fletcher, no. this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Mum, it’s the only way.”

  “It’s...” She shakes her head. “As may be, but you cannot do this to her.”

  John bows. “Elodie, I said the same t
hing when Fletcher came to me, but I take it she will die without my intervention?”

  Elodie closes her eyes. “I think so. Magic isn’t working. Matthew isn’t able to help. Matthew. John. John. Matthew.” She introduces the men, who awkwardly shake hands.

  Fletcher is beside Ellis, holding her hands, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Mum, she’s barely hanging on.”

  “You take away any semblance of a normal life if you do this to her, Fletcher. She’ll outlive her family, she won’t be able to live with them, she won’t age, she’ll want to drink blood.”

  John clears his throat and Elodie touches his arm. “I don’t want to offend you, John. You’re a lovely vampire, but you can’t turn Ellis without her consent.”

  “She cannot give consent, mum. She’s almost dead. Please. Let John save her, let her live.”

  “What sort of life?”

  John clears his throat again. “I have a life I love, Elodie. I live, I laugh, I love.”

  “You drink blood?”

  He nods. “But I don’t kill anybody, and Ellis won’t need to either.”

  “I think you should do it,” Ember says, receiving a withering look from Elodie.

  “Nobody asked you, husband stealer.”

  “I didn’t technically steal him. I just-”

  “Shut up!” Elodie and Fletcher shout at her at the same time.

  John kneels next to Ellis, touches his finger to her throat. “She hasn’t got long.”

  “What do we do, mum? I can’t let her die. John, do it.”

  John hesitates.

  Elodie hunkers down beside Fletcher. “She’ll outlive you. Please Fletcher – this is too big. If magic can’t save her and medicine can’t save her, then maybe she isn’t meant to be saved.”

  He shakes his head. “No. Magic is meddling with nature, mum, meddling with the way things should be. If magic could save her life, we wouldn’t think twice but to do it. This is the only way to stop her from dying. She’s my girlfriend and I love her. She will not die. John. Do it.”

  Fletcher refuses to look at his mum and refuses to look away from John. John looks to Elodie, who slowly nods and to Matthew who also nods and to Fletcher whose eyes flood with tears. He nods his head. He will save this delightful girl.

  He takes one of her hands and holds it up to his lips, kisses her cold skin, and whispers, “forgive me.” Then he leans in close, breathes in the delicious smell of her skin and turns to Matthew. “Stop me. When she gets too close to death, closer than she is now, stop me from killing her. The blood lust will take over... I don’t want to be crude, but it’s been a long time. I don’t want to hurt her. Take her pulse the entire time. Stop me before it’s too late.”

  Matthew takes his place on the other side of Ellis, and Fletcher holds onto her feet. The only place he can reach without being in the way. He has to be holding her.

  “I’ll begin.”

  John leans close, close, closer, and when he can resist no longer, he bites into Ellis’s throat, into the soft flesh and then he feeds on her. He hasn’t turned many people into vampires – only a handful of poor souls when he was a young and foolish vampire high on his power and heady with the thrill of blood – but he knows what to do instinctively and he does it.

  He keeps his conscious mind as alert as he can, as the rush of somebody else’s blood fills his veins, and he keeps his eyes open, so he doesn’t get too lost.

  This girl was kind to him when they first met; she didn’t look at him and judge him poorly just because he was a vampire. She trusted him and made him laugh. He doesn’t want to hurt her; he wants to save her.

  The room seems to stand still, the hairs on everybody’s arms and neck rising, the ticking of the clock the only sound, and then Matthew pushes John away, off Ellis.

  John growls and tries to go back to the blood, but Fletcher grabs hold of him. He slaps his face. “John! John!”

  John’s eyes change from black back to their normal colour, and he nods his head. “Is she okay? Did I do it right?”

  None of them know. Matthew takes her pulse, feels for a heartbeat. “She’s dead.”

  Fletcher’s face turns white, grief about to take over. Matthew puts his hand up. “But she’s breathing.”

  They all look a little closer and they can all see the gentle rise and fall of Ellis’s chest. She is breathing.

  John mops his brow with a polka dot handkerchief. “Only for her, Fletcher. I enjoyed that too much.” He takes a seat to get his breath back. His hands are visibly shaking.

  Matthew grabs hold of his bag. “I don’t think you need me any longer, Elodie. I’m no expert on medicine for the dead.” He leans in to kiss her cheek. “Good luck with...” He gestures at the room, Ellis, Ember, everybody else, and Elodie smiles wanly. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for helping.”

  “Any time.” He lingers for a moment, hand on her arm, and then nods to John and Fletcher before heading out of the door.

  Fletcher throws his arms around John before returning to Ellis’s side. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, we don’t know what she will make of it yet.”

  All eyes are on Ellis, waiting for her to come around.

  Ellis

  Death is weird.

  I can think just as I thought before, and I can hear voices around me that sound just like Fletcher and his mum, but I know they’re not dead. Maybe there’s a transmission period. Like I’m dead, but my brain hasn’t figured it out yet.

  It didn’t hurt as much as I thought, either. It was pretty boring, pretty unspectacular. Pretty shit.

  But then who says dying has to be exciting?

  But now this is weird, because I can definitely hear Fletcher talking about me, asking his mum if he should wake me up. Bless, he can’t have realised that I’m dead. And then I get an itch on my face, move my hand to scratch it, and hear gasps. “Ellis?”

  Okay, itching doesn’t seem like something dead people do. And that is definitely Fletcher. Oh, my word, I don’t think Sadie’s magic worked. Maybe I just passed out. Maybe her spell wasn’t strong enough, or she died too long ago, or I don’t even care.

  I am alive. I open my eyes, a little blinky from the light but I see Fletcher, a look of relief pass over his face. I see his mum peering over his shoulder, her face etched with concern, and then weirdly, because he wasn’t here when I passed out, or whatever it is I did, I see John. Good old John, my buddy, my breakfast pal.

  I sit up and grin at him, at all of them. Ember and Talia and Vann are bound and sulky looking. But everyone else looks relieved but also, weirdly, cautious.

  Like they might be... scared of me.

  Ah, maybe they were scared that I was dead, and now they are happy that I’m alive. Nothing worse than watching somebody die, right? Nothing worse than watching someone you thought was dead, wake up either. I know I’d have a heart attack if one of our lovely bodies suddenly woke up! Every undertaker’s nightmare, right there.

  I reach out to Fletcher so he can help me sit up, and I hear a weird noise come out of my throat, real low, like a growl. I clear my throat, trying not to notice the worried looks that they are all exchanging.

  This is weird. There is something more going on than they thought I’d died and then I made a miraculous recovery. This is strange.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, and reach out for Fletcher, getting an odd feeling like I just want to bite him. And I’m suddenly so thirsty, and my word does his skin look good. Just there on the curve of his neck, just where I see the brief beat of his pulse, just where I can almost hear the blood rushing through his veins, red, glistening, satiating.

  I cover my mouth. What’s wrong with me?

  I look to Fletcher and then to his mum and then to John. I blank out everybody else. “Fletcher?”

  There’s pain in my voice; I don’t understand what’s wrong with me, why I’m feeling like I feel, why I’m thirsty like I am. Why all I want to do is rip open Fletcher’s thr
oat and feast on him, on his blood, on his life force.

  And then I know.

  I’ve read enough vampire books and watched enough vampire films and watched enough vampire TV shows to know.

  Horror fills me, and I stumble to my feet, tears scalding my dead old face as I back away from them all, away from the room full of food, and crash into the hallway. I run blindly up the stairs and burst into the first room I come to.

  I throw myself on the bed crying.

  Dramatic, but I am a teenager.

  A dead teenager. Forever a teenager. I will always be seventeen. I howl again, I will never outgrow my teenage spots, or my teenage awkwardness or my teenage anxiety.

  I am wailing when I feel somebody sit on the bed beside me. I know – because I don’t want to bite him – that it’s John and not Fletcher, or anybody else with a pulse.

  I sit up and tuck my knees into my chest. He puts an arm around me. “I was an old man when I was turned, as you can see. Fifty-seven years old for the rest of my life. I was furious. I felt cheated. I felt disgusted with who I was and what I’d become. I felt it all.” He rests his head on mine. “You will too. But don’t hate me. Please. I couldn’t bear it.”

  I kiss his cheek. “I don’t hate you.” I take a deep breath, refuse to think about what’s just happened. “I’m assuming there was an excellent reason. I know you wouldn’t have done it for a laugh.”

  He smiles. “It wasn’t funny. I almost killed you. I almost went too far.”

  I shudder. “Was I dying?”

  “Fletcher came to me. He didn’t know what else to do.”

  “So now what? I’m pretty hungry. Can I only drink blood now?”

  He nods, a wistful look on his face. “I miss food. I sometimes eat a little minced beef. Raw.”

  I shudder again and wrinkle my nose. “No more chocolate, no more pizza.”

  They were the only things I was good at doing with my magic. My magic. “I’m not a witch anymore?”

  “No. You’re just a vampire now.”

  My heart sinks to my boots, and I touch a hand to my chest. My un-beating heart sinks to my boots. I cry again, my sobs shaking my entire body.