“Okay, I’m off. I’ll see you later.”
“Don’t forget: Earl Grey and English Breakfast.”
“Cool. See you soon.” I set the coordinates in my door and stepped through.
Chapter 5
The familiar hospital scent of disinfectant overlaying the faint hint of stale vomit assured me I was in the right place when I popped into the toilet cubicle. For the first time ever, I put a no-notice spell on myself and stepped out into the bathroom. Would it work? On my way to the main door, I passed a woman washing her hands. She didn’t look up or acknowledge me in any way—whether I could claim victory in spell casting was another thing. Maybe she just didn’t want to make eye contact with a stranger; goodness knew I tried to avoid it when I was out and about, especially in public toilets. They weren’t really the place you went to meet new people.
Once out in the corridor, I looked for signs to the main entrance. Before I bought the food and drink samples, I should at least make sure I was in the right hospital. Although I shouldn’t have been surprised; given what had been going on, I did a double take as I traversed the hallways. At various points along my route, army personnel in ruddy brown and green camouflage stood and observed. I didn’t have the heart to tell them they didn’t blend in against the beige walls. They were alert—not talking to each other and watching everyone. But none of them took notice of me, unless they were just experts at taking everything in without looking like it.
After a few stressful minutes, I made it to the main hospital entrance.
The letters above the doors confirmed I was in the right place. Yay for getting it right on the first try. I smiled. Now it was time to find the cafeteria. Everything was pretty clearly signposted, so it wasn’t long before I was there—the mouth-watering aroma of some kind of stew confirmed it.
As I walked through the maze of metal and timber tables and chairs to the counter, the echoing clamour of a metal tray hitting the floor and plates smashing came from the left. Someone screamed, “Get off me!”
A doctor wearing scrubs hurried away from the area, as did an overweight old lady with curly grey hair. A young blonde woman in a nurse’s uniform lay face down on the ground. A soldier, one knee pressing into the middle of the woman’s back, was cuffing her as she thrashed. The woman shrieked unintelligibly. I cringed. The soldier got off her and dragged her up by one upper arm. The nurse was jerking, trying to get out of his grip. He pushed her, forcing her to move towards the cafeteria exit.
Her screeching faded down the hallway. I hoped that soldier was wearing earplugs, or he was liable to end up with hearing loss.
I turned back towards the counter. The one advantage of everyone being arrested or hospitalized was that there was no line. And since this was potentially one of the ground zeroes, I imagined a lot of people who worked here or visited patients recently wouldn’t be back for a while.
I stepped up to order. The dark-skinned man behind the counter was filling a steel dispenser with napkins. He didn’t look up.
“Excuse me?”
Still nothing. Was he deaf? His blue turban was covering his ears. Maybe he couldn’t hear me?
“Hello.” I waved.
He finished filling the container and placed it in front of the register. Then he gazed past me, to the soldier at the door. What the hell? What was I, invisible? Oh. I laughed. You’re such an idiot. I undid my no-notice spell.
The man started. I found it weird because I wasn’t meant to be invisible. People were supposed to know I was there while not caring to look.
He blinked at me and held his hands up. “Please step back and order from there.” He pointed a couple of metres behind where I was standing. He must’ve seen a lot of carnage in the last few days, so I didn’t blame him for being wary. “Please do not come any further until it’s time to pay.”
I stepped back. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. What would you like?”
“Can I please get an Earl Grey tea, an English Breakfast tea, and a pudding to take away?”
“Okay.”
While he made my order, I gazed around the room. The mess made by the crazed woman had been cleaned up, and there was only one person sitting at a table in the far corner. The middle-aged man intermittently stared between me and the entry as he ate. I supposed one never knew when someone else was about to go nuts. The army guy from earlier came back in and took a position just inside the cafeteria doors. Were the army members eating the food here too? Because that would spell disaster. It would make sense that they’d brought in their own food, since the PIB suspected it was food or drink contamination, and they should have passed that information onto the army.
He put my completed order on my side of the counter. “You may step forward and pay.”
Oh, crap. I’d forgotten my wallet. What a ditz. I put my hand in my pocket and mumbled the spell to move my money from my wallet to my pocket. I pulled out a twenty-pound note.
“Eight pounds, please.”
I handed him the note. He gave me my change, which I pocketed before grabbing the two cups of tea and the plastic container that held the pudding. Thankfully, the takeaway cups had lids, so spilling them all over me was less likely. I said my no-notice spell and made my way to the toilets. It wasn’t exactly a good look to be taking food in.
Well, my first foray into gathering evidence for this case was going well. I hoped Olivia was okay at home and that Angelica was still out. If I could prove one of these things in my hands was contaminated or spelled, we’d be one step closer to finding out who was behind this, and I so wanted to figure it out before stupid Dana.
The toilet door was in sight, just along the corridor. A slim woman attired in a white shirt and black suit walked out and turned towards me, an evil smirk on her face.
Crap. I stopped walking.
How had Dana found me? I was pretty sure there was no such thing as a tracking spell, although magic was capable of almost anything, so a spell like that could exist. But I hadn’t felt her do anything to me. Is that what she’d done at the car park earlier? But I’d put my return-to-sender spell up, unless I’d been too late.
“What do we have here? A loser who loves hospital food?” She stopped in front of me. If I knew how to punch properly, I could have socked her in the face—she was that close.
“They do an excellent pudding here.”
She stared at the cups and container, clearly trying to figure out what I was doing. Even though I didn’t get very far with martial arts when I was a kid, I remembered something my dad used to tell me: whoever throws the first punch is likely to win the fight. I couldn’t underestimate Dana, and as horrible as she was, she wasn’t stupid. She probably suspected why I was here as soon as she saw the food and tea. But she didn’t know exactly what I’d bought, although she could probably go and delve into the mind of the guy who’d sold these to me. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to let her take my spoils away. I whispered the spell to send them home to my room.
The food and tea disappeared from my hands. Dana narrowed her eyes at me, then started laughing. “How refreshing. You’re not as stupid as you look. Well, you probably are, but today you’ve had a burst of brain activity.”
I would have liked to ask her why she was following me, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, and since I didn’t want to hear anything else she had to say, I moved to the side in order to step around her. She grabbed my wrist and pushed me into the wall. If I wanted to go anywhere, I’d have to make a scene.
“You were told to stay away from PIB things, were you not?”
Her gaze was colder than an Alaskan winter, devoid of compassion or light. I hated showing weakness, but my body betrayed me by shivering. I managed to keep my voice nonchalant. “I was told never to go there. And I’m not there, so what’s the problem?”
“You’re meddling in matters that don’t concern you. Investigate anything else, and I’ll see to it that you’re homeless. If you don’t believe m
e, just think back to this morning. Who came to your defence? Oh, that’s right, no one. And if losing your home isn’t enough, Millicent only got a taste of what I’m capable of. Next time, the baby won’t be so lucky.” She cackled like the witch she was.
I shook my head slowly. What a freaking nutcase. She was the psychopathiest of psychopaths.
“You’ll do well to fear me, petal. I'm going to leave you with a small reminder before we part ways. And if I catch you investigating so much as a drop of water…” My wrist stung where she gripped it, the pain building until it felt as if my whole arm was on fire. I whimpered. Tears came unbidden as I attempted to tear my arm out of her grasp.
My brain did its best to think through the pain, figure out how to get away, but it wouldn’t work. Sweat dampened my forehead. Dizziness swept through my head. I swayed and fell back against the cool wall. I couldn’t take much more. Not fighting back wasn’t working. I needed to do something.
I focussed on my free arm that hung limply at my side. I could do this. I had to. Pretending to be defeated, I shut my eyes. Then I shot my elbow up and slammed it into her cheek. She grunted and stumbled back, releasing my wrist.
Thanks be to the gods; I was free. I ran for the toilets while whispering a return-to-sender spell. Once I reached the hand-washing area, I made my doorway and stepped through.
Finally in Angelica’s reception room, I forced my breathing to slow as I looked at my wrist. The burn had faded to a sting, and the skin was fire-engine red, which looked great as nail polish, but as a skin tone, I’d had better. It was a miracle it wasn’t blistered and burnt, considering the excruciating pain I’d experienced. I’d known she was spiteful and powerful, but I’d underestimated her lack of empathy and her willingness to physically harm me. I had no doubt now that she would kill Millicent’s baby if she perceived me stepping out of line again. And unfortunately, I had a feeling she wouldn’t stop there.
But neither would I. Letting her have free rein in the world was a horrendous idea. Come to think of it, what was her end game? Surely ruining my life wasn’t the only thing she had on her to-do list.
I’d just have to figure out how to protect everyone I loved, fix Westerham’s mess, and get rid of Dana before she ended up running the PIB. And I had to do it with limited support. At least Olivia and James were still on my side. I just hoped it stayed that way because I had a feeling we were going to be in for the fight of our lives—well, mine at least.
Except the fight for my life started earlier than I expected when I unlocked the reception-room door and stepped into the hallway.
Crap.
Chapter 6
I stepped into the hall. “Hi, L—” I just had time to fling my arm up in self-defence as Olivia swung a frying pan towards my head. It hit my forearm, and I screamed. Breath-stealing pain shot through my arm. She pulled her arm back over her head again, readying for another blow. Her eyes had the vacant manic stare of the other day. As her arm came down, I tucked my chin to my chest and leaped at her, catching her around her waist.
She slammed into the ground, and I landed on her. The momentum sent the pan flying into the wall behind us. She shrieked something unintelligible and grabbed my ponytail, yanking my head back. I wanted to repeat my spell from the other day, but she wasn’t banging on my door so I couldn’t use the same one. Trying to come up with a new one was hard while your hair was being ripped from your scalp.
I braced myself. “My friend Olivia is ripping my hair from my head. Put her to sleep until tomorrow afternoon, and transport her to her bed.”
She disappeared from beneath me. I dropped to the floor with a thud and grunted. I turned my head so my cheek lay against the cool timber boards. Gross, I knew—because what if someone had dog-poo germs on their shoes and had walked here?—but it was as if someone had sucked all my energy out of my body. I yawned and contemplated staying there for a while. I’d definitely been doing too much magic today.
I was about to get settled in for the afternoon, but my arm wouldn’t stop aching. I sighed, sending a small dust bunny tumbling across the floor. I imagined two mice with cowboy hats, one wearing a sheriff’s badge, watching it roll by in a miniature Wild West.
I shook my head to clear it and sat up, my breath coming faster. I inspected my left forearm—the same one Witchface had burned or whatever she’d done. Red skin on my wrist: check. Egg-shaped bump on my forearm: check. Purpling commenced: check. My poor arm. What had it ever done to anybody?
I held my breath and listened. At least no noise came from upstairs, but just to be safe, I needed to check. I slowly stood, like the unfurling of a crinkled food wrapper, and then tiptoed up the stairs, careful to avoid the one tread on the first floor that always creaked. I silently made it to the second floor.
Her door was closed. Placing my ear to the timber, I strained to hear anything. Silence. My heart rate kicked up as I reached for the handle. Please be asleep. The handle turned without squeaking, thanks be to the gods. Opening it just enough to see in, I put my face to the small gap. She was on her back and fast asleep, snoring again. What the hell had set her off? She wouldn’t have had time to go out and grab anything while I was gone. Was this residual magic from the original “poisoning”? I’d have to ask her when she woke. I quietly closed the door and went to my own room, locking the door behind me.
It was only once I was sitting on my bed, my back resting against the wall, that I let some of my stress out with a huff. What a crappy day. I didn’t dare ask how it could be any worse. In fact, I was not looking forward to Angelica coming home. Would she act like she hated me, or would stupid Agent Laaam’s influence only work while she was near her victims? Best not to assume anything where she was concerned. I’d wait here and pretend I was asleep until James contacted me. With the exception of going to the toilet, I was not going to leave this room.
I blinked. Oh my God! How had I forgotten? Sitting on my bedside table were the two cups of tea and pudding from the hospital. Then I realised why I was so tired. Not only had I put Olivia to sleep and relocated her upstairs, when I’d been in the hospital, I’d held a return-to-sender spell and travelled at the same time. I was actually witching rather well. Maybe I could really beat Dana. As much as I’d taunted her about my special talents, deep down, I recognised how much stronger a witch she was than me. But I was improving. There was hope for Westerham yet.
Although, when I slid forward to get off my bed and take a closer look at the food and drinks, my limbs shook. I was like a massive lump of jelly. My body did not want to cooperate. Maybe I should get some rest?
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket—how it had survived the past hour unscathed, I had no idea—and set the alarm to go off in two hours. Resting my head on the pillow, I did my best to ignore the throb in my arm. Thankfully, I was soon fast asleep.
My eyes opened to the non-musical refrain of the “Strum” sound on my iPhone. Argh. I grabbed the phone and managed to turn the alarm off with clumsy fingers. Two hours’ sleep was not enough, but I had work to do.
“Ah, bummer,” I mumbled. I’d left the grimoire downstairs when I’d travelled to the hospital. I didn’t want to waste my energy on magicking it up here, but neither did I want to run into Angelica if she were home. I settled for magic. It popped into existence on my bed next to me. I sat up and leant against my headboard, then settled the weighty tome on my lap.
So, what exactly did I need to do? I supposed looking for a magic signature would be first up, but if the magic had been cast on the ingredients before they went into the tea, it probably wouldn’t show up, and I had no idea how magic reacted to things like boiling water. I knew magic signatures faded to nothing over time too, and we had no idea how long the perpetrator had waited between spelling the ingredients and getting them into circulation.
Paging through the grimoire, I finally found a detect-magic-signature spell. I snorted. I hadn’t noticed before, probably because there was so much information in small letter
ing on each page, but every spell came with a ratings system like a recipe. There were four symbols in all. A little witch, complete with pointy witch’s hat, a pointy hat by itself, a brain, and an exclamation mark in a triangle. Each picture was filled to varying degrees by black, although the exclamation mark one had red filling. For this spell, the witch only had her feet coloured in. The hat was a fifth coloured in, the brain a third, and the exclamation mark had a thin sliver of scarlet along the bottom. Why had I used that word: sliver? I hated that word. It was one of my most disliked words. Why did my brain hate me so much? It could have chosen any other word.
I flicked to the front of the book to see the key for the symbols. Hmm. The witch indicated how much energy the spell took to do—the fuller the witch, the more energy expended. The hat signified how much magic or power one had to draw. The brain was spell difficulty, and the exclamation mark in the triangle denoted potential to go wrong. I suspected that symbol was Angelica’s favourite, and the redder, the better.
At least this was a relatively safe spell. The difficulty had me worried, though. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try—it might put me to sleep for a while, but whatever. I read through the instructions three times, then shut my eyes and went through it again, bit by bit, to make sure I understood what I had to do. It was rather tricky, so I read through it yet again. If Angelica wasn’t tied up with stupid Piranha, I could have asked her to do this, but I couldn’t trust her. I frowned, letting the sadness resettle like sand after disturbing the seafloor.
I took the lids off the tea, and I opened the pudding container. Mmm, that smelled good—the pudding that is. Maybe I should grab a coffee to go with it for when I finished? I was definitely on a roll with the brilliant ideas.
I started with the pudding. Chances were, the tea was the culprit, and I needed practice. I shut my eyes and imagined the river of power. I dipped into it with my imaginary hand, then pictured it forming a piece of white paper, which I could stick any symbols to, so I didn’t have to memorise them. The image floated in my mind, first as a golden sheet, which then faded to white. I took a deep breath in and out. The first part was done. Now I had to hold that image in my mind while I did the next bit.
Witchslapped in Westerham Page 8
