“When he could have Sally.”
“Or literally anybody else.”
“You’re such a loser. Such a weirdo.”
“Such a dick.”
“Worse since Molly died.”
“Bad enough when she was alive.”
I’m bristling a little bit more now. I don’t like them talking about Molly.
“You have no friends.”
“Nobody likes you – like nobody.”
“You’re so embarrassing.”
“You’re not even pretty.”
“Fletcher will come to his senses.”
“Bound to.”
“Just turn on the charm again, Sally.”
“You could easily get him back.”
“He can’t stay with an idiot like this one.”
“Look at her – she’s a mute now.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Ugly.”
“Stupid.”
“Smelly.”
I look at them all in turn. Pretty faces but nasty insides – like rotten food. They are so pleased with themselves, revelling in my misery, putting me on the spot, knowing they outnumber me, knowing how unkind and unpleasant and damn horrible they are being.
I feel a build-up of fury and anger – a build-up of embarrassment that so many of their nasty comments hit home and are true, or pretty close to the truth. The worse kind of insult – one you can’t dispute.
I know I’m blushing, so close to tears and I don’t want to let them see that they’re defeating me, hurting me, but I cannot help it.
Then Sally leans closer to me. Firstly, I’m gobsmacked by just how pretty she is. Witches really are blessed. Then she snarls at me as she speaks, and I wish I could smash her pretty face to smithereens. “It’s just a shame,” she says, in the sweetest voice, “that it wasn’t you who died instead of Molly.”
That’s it!
I stand up, slamming my fists down on the table, and then feeling heat fill my body as the three of them grin at each other. They poked the bear and the bear got annoyed and they love it. They are so impressed and proud of themselves, sitting back, arms crossed, job done, innocence painted on their faces in case Ember comes back, and the white-hot anger fills me until I see sparks shoot out of my finger tips.
They laugh. They actually laugh. Out loud and unafraid.
And then I’m really angry.
I sit back down and close my eyes – just for a second – and when I open them, I know just what to do, and I grin.
“What’s the matter, Ellis, you’re not going to hurt us, are you?”
“What would Fletcher say?”
“What would he do?”
The disgusting act of sweetness they are all trying to pull off makes me surer of what I’m about to do next.
When I closed my eyes, hundreds of flashes of nasty things they had said and done, the people they had hurt, the girls they had upset with their behaviour had flooded my brain – but that’s no fun. They know that about each other. They know how horrible they can be, how mean and nasty and offensive. They love it – they thrive on it. They build themselves up by knocking others down. Same as any bully.
This will be much more fun.
“I would never hurt you. I’m the head witch – whether you like it or not – and Fletcher likes me – whether you like it or not. He told me that last summer with Sally was just a day, just for fun, but...” I trial off, I don’t need to tell them anything else. “But I want you to think before you’re horrible to me again. I want you to remember that we all feel sad, we all get upset, we all have days when we feel like nobody likes us and we’re just...” I search for the right word. “Pathetic. And I want you to remember that while I’m head witch – I can see things you’ve said and done. The things you wish nobody else knew about.”
Then I – somehow, someway – tune into the powers I know I have, just because of who I am now, and I can only pray it works – or I’ll look like an even bigger idiot.
I hold my hands out and instinctively I do it: I make a screen – like Fletcher did, when he showed me Molly.
And then I concentrate harder than I ever have before – this is worse than an exam I haven’t revised for, and yet something is guiding me – because up on the screen is Thea.
In college. Thea jumps up. “Don’t you dare.”
But I do dare. I let the memory I’ve stolen from her play out on the screen.
She’s in one of the classrooms, with a boy. She’s kissing him, hands running all over his body, while he does the same to her. When they break apart, she puts a finger over his lips. “Don’t you ever tell Talia that we did that. She’d kill me.”
I shut down the memory with a nod, and a thrill runs through me. I have no idea how I’m even doing this. I turn to them. Thea is crying, and Talia is staring stonily at her. “You kissed Mark?”
Thea doesn’t answer and before the fight starts proper, I grin. “Ready for more?”
I fill the screen with another image, and despite themselves – they are all looking. This time it’s Talia. She’s in their bedroom, reading Thea’s diary, laughing and taking photos of the pages with her phone.
I pause the screen. And look at them. They have edged away from each other, upset and anger colouring their faces, anger palpable between each other.
“One more.”
This time the screen shows Sally. She’s sitting on the beach, holding a small bottle, and crying to herself. Another girl sits next to her, one that Ellis doesn’t know. “Any luck?” Sally shakes her head. “He won’t drink it.” “Well make him, he’s been kissing you all afternoon. He just needs a push.” Sally turns the bottle and the label is clear: LOVE POTION. “He won’t. He doesn’t want a drink; he says he isn’t thirsty. What else can I do? He’ll never fall in love with me, without it.” She starts crying then, sad, pathetic, bitter tears, the bottle in her hand a symbol of desperation and deceit.
I close the screen. I enjoyed that.
I stare at each of them in turn. “Leave me alone.”
And then I swan out of the room, listening to them argue, accuse and cry.
6
“We might as well leave. I’ve closed it again and we have no idea how many demons came out or where they went.” Elodie looks close to a breakdown and Griff takes her hand.
“Let’s go.”
“So soon?”
The voice is familiar to every single one of them, and a tingle of fear runs through the witches.
“Peri!” It’s Mya who addresses her first. As furious as Elodie and Griff are, they recognise that the rebellious trio weren’t actually a rebellious trio at all – they were acting under the instruction of the heads of their species. “Please listen.”
“Listen? To a traitorous leader who-”
Vann interrupts, fury etched onto every feature on his face, he slaps her across the face, causing her to cry out. “Peri! I am your leader. And I am no traitor. Can you be quiet and listen?”
Layland and Efa slink out from behind a tree, looks of pure petulance on their faces. “We did what we were told, and now we’re the bad guys? How is that fair?”
Fletcher’s voice is sharp. “None of this is fair. You thought we were killing you, we thought you were killing us, and actually...” he trails off, realisation hitting him like a punch in the face – even worse than the real punch he had taken off Layland.
If the three of them are here at the portal, then it means they knew about the demons. They knew that Zeta had tricked their leaders into assuming the witches were at fault.
He calls out just in time. “Watch out.”
For whatever reason the three of them were working with Zeta – they were the traitors and he can see they are about to attack.
He springs forward and launches an attack on Layland before Layland can move. He’s bigger than Fletcher and meaner, but Fletcher is still angry about the punch he got off him yesterday – and he’s thoroughly fed up of this situation – t
he deceit, the never-ending confusion of trying to figure out who’s a good guy and who’s a bad guy.
He uses his magic to make him stronger, to make him heavier, and he pummels him – landing a good punch to Layland’s nose before raining down blows on his chest.
Efa has her knife out but Mya is trying to talk her down; vampire to vampire. Vann has Peri by the hair. “You’re an embarrassment. I’m telling you to stop. I’m telling you it’s over.” Peri shakes her head, even though it hurts, and screams out. “It won’t be over until every last one of these witches are dead. And if you want to join them, then we’ll add you to the list.”
“You’d murder your own? Peri!”
“Already have old man.” She manages to shake him off. “I have killed every species – including humans. And I’ll keep doing it. You’ve suppressed us for long enough.”
Vann shakes his head. “This battle, this war you believe you’re waging is imaginary. The witches weren’t attacking us.”
“Don’t you think we know that?”
“We knew you’d come here. We knew you’d eventually figure out what Zeta was doing. How the demons helped us.”
“So you were working with Zeta?”
Efa laughs. “You’re all so clueless. Don’t you remember how keen the three of us were to take up the challenge of finding out what the witches were up to and exact revenge? We needed to be the three chosen to represent our species, because we knew the real story.”
Mya shakes her head. “How? Why? Why would you work with Zeta? Why would you want to get mixed up in all of this? Any of you?”
Layland sits up, wiping the blood off his nose. Fletcher is facing him, hand out, ready to spell him. Elodie is doing the same to Efa, and Griff is facing Peri.
Nothing beats magic.
Peri shifts slightly, causing sparks to shoot out of Griff’s fingertips.
Efa smiles and uses the moment of distraction, the moment of tension aimed at Peri to slice her knife across Mya’s throat, killing her leader and making a point that it’s them that are in charge now.
Elodie reacts quickly; not quickly enough to save Mya but quickly enough to bind Efa with magic before she does any more damage.
Griff binds Peri, and Fletcher binds Layland.
Vann shakes his head at Efa, tears running down his face. “What did you just do? I cannot understand this, any of this.”
They can still speak despite being magically bound and the anger in Efa bubbles over, making her voice frightening. “I am a vampire, you all know that, but I’m also a hybrid creature. Zeta is my mum.”
Elodie shakes her head. “No way! We would have known if Zeta had had any children – she’s the crone. Crones don’t marry and they don’t have children. Besides, you have no magic in you.”
Efa looks sad. “True – I got my supernatural traits from my dad, but she’s definitely my mum.”
“Who’s your dad then?”
“John.”
A few of the pieces fall into place and Elodie, Griff and Fletcher’s faces change. Realisation dawns. The connections become clearer.
“And we’re not done, not even close.”
Elodie binds Efa’s mouth with her magic and does the same to the other two.
Vann shrugs. “I don’t understand this.” His handsome face is still handsome, despite his distress. He turns to Gregory, the shifter, who hasn’t had much to say at all since they arrived here.
Gregory shrugs too. “We weren’t to know.” He seems pretty unconcerned, which clearly angers Vann.
“Greg – we have a situation here. Even if we have these three, we have no idea where the rest of them are, how many they have on their side, or where hordes of demons are hiding. The risk is real.”
“I’m not stupid, Vann, I know all this, same as you. But I don’t know what you want me to do. I had no idea that Layland was doing this, same as you had no idea about Peri. We’re not responsible for the acts committed by our species.”
Elodie wipes tears away. “We played right into their hands. You were suspicious of us and we were suspicious of you, so instead of talking, we opened the door to this.” She gestures at the split portal. “I had no idea that Zeta was a mother. Did you ever hear anything like that, Griff? Any rumours?”
Griff shakes his head.
Fletcher steps towards his mum and touches her arm. “Mum, can’t you see?”
She shakes her head. “What?”
“I’m sorry Mya’s dead, and all the other species. But we know where we are now, we know the whole story. These three know where the demons are, and they know who else is involved in their little operation. It’s over. We have them bound – they can’t escape, they can’t do anything. Mum, it’s done. It’s over.”
Relief colours her face and she actually laughs. Griff gives a hoot, and Vann slaps Gregory on the back. They had all been the same; so embroiled in the current situation and Mya’s death that they hadn’t even noticed that they had triumphed. They’d won.
“I feel so stupid!”
“Not stupid,” Vann says. “No wonder – you all had an awful day yesterday, some awful shocks and revelations. Same as us. This whole thing has been a nightmare. But he’s right. We’re done. These are the rebels and we have them.”
The three rebels are scowling, struggling against the invisible bonds that bind them, the magic that silences them. Fury isn’t even strong enough of a word. How quickly the tables have turned, how easily the victims have overcome this. The upper hand the rebels had yesterday, the element of surprise and strength, the help from Zeta was all gone. And on a level playing field, the witches had triumphed.
“We always win in a fair fight,” Fletcher says, a grin covering his face.
Gregory laughs, joining in with the camaraderie, the relief. “Shame it’s not a fair fight,” he says, and he leaps over to the portal, and using his shifter strength, rips it even further open, calling out to the demons within.
Ellis
Ooh, that felt good. It was pretty short lived, to be honest, but awesome while it lasted.
If we weren’t in the middle of a war, the joy of it might have gone on a little longer. I wish I could see how the three witches are dealing with my revelations, but I’m on Fletcher’s bed, playing on my phone.
I don’t like any of the four females I’ve been left with and while I understand why Fletcher went, I’m missing him.
A lot.
There’s a knock at the door and my stomach flips and then cramps. Ember pokes her head in without waiting for me to answer. This is her house, I suppose.
I smile and she...smiles, grimaces, contorts her face into something that maybe resembles a smile. On a bad day.
Isn’t it weird how you know when someone doesn’t like you, and even if you’ve done nothing to them and they’ve done nothing to you, somehow the feeling is mutual?
She perches on the edge of the bed, all red lipstick and high heels. Who fights a war in high heels? Shouldn’t she at least be wearing flats by now?
I smile at her and hope I do a more convincing job than she did.
I wonder if she’s still angry that I had the vision of her murdering someone. I suppose I’m the catalyst for everything that’s gone wrong for these witches in the last few days. Without me, Fletcher would be head witch, Ember and Griff would still secretly be avenging the murders of the other witches and I’d be sad and lonely.
I’m glad I chased Macaroon through the woods. I’m glad I’m head witch. Not that I’m doing anything particularly head witchy. But I could. That’s the main thing.
“Ellis, I’m sorry if you’ve got the feeling that I don’t like you. You’re just a little girl-”
Really?
“And I’m a grown up. You’re no threat to me. No big concern to me. I just have a lot on my mind. Grown up things, you know. Don’t take me personally. You’re not that important.”
She’s still smiling, in a sort of patronisingly, condescendingly, irritating way
and I want to punch her. She’s so passive aggressive in her flakily, sweet voice.
I smile back – sure that I look constipated.
Two can play at this game.
“I know you don’t hate me. I’m sure it’s strange for you to know that as head witch I can see all the things you’ve done, all the things you’ve said, all the things you want...” I trail off because I can see that I’ve rattled her.
She purses her lips, trying to keep her anger in and then shakes her head and leaves the room, muttering something I don’t hear under her breath and slamming the door behind her.
I wonder if the girls told her what I did.
Well, I’d do it again.
I’m the odd one out, I’m the one whose entire world has been turned upside down. I’m the outsider – if they were nice in any way, they would have realised how sad I must be feeling, how scared and unsure and they would have tried to help me and support me.
But no – they were happy to be horrible to me, so – although it makes me feel lonely and vulnerable without Fletcher here – I’m happy with what I’ve done. I might be an outsider still, but at least I’ve shown them that I have a little power, a little bit of something about me.
I might have had a terrible year since I lost Molly, but I can still stand up for myself. I can be tough.
Ish.
They’ve been gone a while and I’m itching for them to come back, and I’m suddenly nervous about the four witches in this house that hate me.
I climb under the blankets, wanting to feel safe and warm, needing the comfort. Like a baby.
And then it hits me. I feel it coming and I know it’s on its way. I’ve had too many visions now to not recognise the signs.
I can see the others, the ones who left earlier. Fletcher. His mum. Griff. The other species.
I can see a portal, or some sort of shifting, swirling, moving mass, with a huge jagged split in it. I know it’s a portal. Instinctively.
And then my whole body shudders and I feel sick and scared and I snap myself out of the vision. I don’t have time to watch this.
I’m screaming Ember’s name as I clamber from under the covers, tripping and landing with a thud on the floor. I’m screaming her name as I stand up and untangle myself. And I’m screaming her name as I burst out of Fletcher’s door and bump into her on the landing.
The Accidental Invitation (The Chronicles of the Accidental Witch Book 2) Page 6
