The Witches of the Dark Power

by Gabriella Lepore

  ‘Jonathan,’ Jonathan corrected, but Madeline’s attention had already moved on.

  ‘So, Wennie,’ she began, ‘don’t tell me you actually agree with these two.’ She gestured to her niece and nephew. ‘You don’t seriously believe that the castle is the safest place for Mia right now, do you? It’s way too obvious!’

  Mia shifted uncomfortably in her tall, ornately carved wooden seat.

  Gripping her fork in her frail hand, Wendolyn began prodding distractedly at the mound of root vegetables on her plate. ‘Would I have advised this course of action? No,’ she admitted. ‘Do I think the child should stay now that she is here? Yes.’

  ‘See?’ said Dino, slapping his palm to the table in triumph. ‘Wendolyn does agree with us. We can protect Mia here.’

  ‘Dino’s right,’ Blue supported his friend. ‘We can find the s-spell to break the Arx. I know we can.’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ Isaac remarked, signalling to himself and Roland. ‘Can’t we, Roland?’

  Roland, who was busy gazing dreamily at Madeline, didn’t reply.

  ‘Roland!’ Isaac prompted sharply.

  He jumped in his seat. ‘Huh? What?’

  Isaac exhaled tautly. ‘Pay attention! We’re going to find the spell to break the Arx. Tell them.’ He gestured vaguely around the table.

  ‘Umm-hmm,’ Roland responded, returning his doe-eyed gaze to Madeline, who grimaced back at him. ‘Whatever you say, Isaac.’

  ‘Be that as at it may,’ Cassandra went on, ‘it’s not too late to take Mia into hiding.’

  Stricken, Mia caught Wendolyn’s eye. Please don’t let them take me away, she begged silently.

  Imperceptible to the others, Wendolyn gave Mia a small nod, indicating that she had been heard.

  ‘I have no reason to believe that Mia will be unsafe here,’ Wendolyn reassured Cassandra. ‘She will be protected. The Glass Castle is her home as much as it is mine, or yours. She has every right to seek refuge here. Who knows? Perhaps together we are stronger.’

  The word stronger seemed ironic coming from the older lady’s lips, for she herself looked far from strong. In a matter of hours, she had deteriorated even further. Now looking pale and drawn, she was barely able to lift her fork.

  ‘Our priority now must be to locate the spell to break the Arx,’ Wendolyn carried on. ‘And to guard Mia until it has been found. As far as the missing spell to steal the Arx . . . I suppose all we can do is hope that the Tome of Black Magic turns up sooner rather than later.’

  Cassandra patted her lips with a napkin, then folded it neatly on the table. ‘If that’s the course of action you wish to take, then that’s what it shall be.’

  Wendolyn gave another nod.

  As she did so, Mia’s heart leaped. Thank you, she said wordlessly.

  ‘But I must insist that Maddie and I stay on at the castle to oversee things,’ Cassandra continued. ‘It’s clear that this stress is proving too much for you, Wendolyn. You need to rest.’ She glanced at her sister. ‘So we’ll stay—at least until we can come up with a solution we’re all comfortable with.’

  ‘We’ll absolutely stay,’ Madeline agreed. ‘You won’t need to worry about a thing around here, Wennie. Cass and me will run a tight ship.’

  Roland’s freckled cheeks grew flushed as he smiled adoringly at her.

  ‘Cass and I,’ Isaac corrected her under his breath.

  ‘Tight ship,’ Madeline repeated. She held out her soup spoon and slowly directed it at the Arcana seated around the table: Roland, Isaac, Jonathan, Blue, Mia, and finally at Dino, where it lingered. ‘That means you too, wise ass.’

  Dino dropped his fork and held up his hands. ‘What? I didn’t say a thing,’ he defended. ‘Isaac’s the one who corrected your grammar. Point your spoon at him!’

  ‘So, what do you say, Wendolyn?’ Cassandra asked, steering the conversation back to the topic at hand. ‘Can we stay with you a while?’

  ‘Of course you’re welcome to stay, but I couldn’t ask you to take on that responsibility—’ Wendolyn began.

  ‘You didn’t ask,’ Cassandra cut her off gently. ‘We offered. We’re here now, and we can stay as long as you need us. I’m still lecturing at the college most days, but I can . . . I don’t know, I can call in sick. And as for Maddie, well’—she lowered her voice, speaking only to Wendolyn—‘it’ll do her good to have a little break from daytime TV.’

  Madeline gasped. ‘I heard that!’ She aimed her spoon at Cassandra. ‘I’m a thirty-year-old woman, and I’m entitled to—’

  ‘Thirty?’ Dino echoed incredulously.

  ‘Yes,’ Madeline asserted, tilting her chin upwards. ‘I am thirty-ish. I am in my early thirties, and I’ll have you know I only watch enriching and life-affirming documentaries.’

  Dino crammed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. ‘Reality shows aren’t documentaries,’ he garbled. ‘Neither are talk shows.’

  Madeline’s eyebrows knotted. ‘Semantics,’ she said. ‘The disclaimer says that the people and situations are real. Documented for our entertainment.’

  There was a cough from across the room.

  Mia turned quickly and found Colt lingering in the open doorway.

  ‘Oh, it’s the boyfriend,’ said Madeline, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t get me started on that dysfunctional teen angst.’

  Jonathan nodded emphatically.

  ‘Hello, mother and aunt,’ said Colt from across the room. ‘You must excuse me, but I’ve forgotten which one’s which.’

  Madeline’s top lip curled. ‘Hunters,’ she muttered. ‘So rude.’

  Colt frowned. ‘Was that rude?’ He sighed. ‘I just don’t know anymore.’

  ‘May we help you with something?’ Madeline asked curtly.

  ‘Is it presumptuous to request the company of your daughter?’ Colt gestured loosely between Cassandra and Madeline. ‘To whomever it may concern.’

  Mia’s fork clattered to the table. ‘Can I go?’ she asked her mother.

  Cassandra glanced briefly at Wendolyn. ‘Uh, well, yes, I suppose so. Aunt Maddie and I will check on you later—’

  Mia briskly pushed out her chair and rose from the table, not waiting to hear the end of her mother’s sentence. She followed Colt out of the dining room and into the chilly corridor, closing the door behind them.

  As soon as they were alone, Colt turned to her, catching her off guard, and kissed her.

  ‘What was that for?’ she whispered, the taste of his lips still lingering on hers like a beautiful poison.

  ‘That was for me,’ he replied in a murmur. ‘Now, are you ready for your second lesson?’

  Mia’s shoulders sagged. ‘More Tempestus practising?’ she guessed.

  ‘You say that as though it’s a bad thing.’

  She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again in the dark corridor. Her head began to whirl as the poison spilled from his lips onto hers once more. She felt his heart rate quicken before he slowly detached himself from her.

  ‘Are you trying to distract me?’ he asked in a velvet voice. ‘Because that’s not very fair.’

  She threaded her fingers through his. ‘Can’t we take a break from worrying about the Arx for one evening? Can’t we just spend time together, like real people?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No?’ she echoed.

  ‘Yes. No.’

  Mia folded her arms.

  ‘Alright, fine,’ he changed his mind. ‘Once you’ve mastered your next lesson, we can be’—he cleared his throat, smiling wryly—‘real people. But only for a while, then we have to go back to being . . . imaginary. Or whatever it is you think we are.’

  ‘Deal,’ she conceded with a grin. ‘What is the next lesson? I plan on mastering it quickly.’

  A shadow of a smile flickered over Colt’s face. ‘Follow me. This one will require a little more space.’ He slid his hand around hers and led her down the narrow corridor towards the exit.

  As Colt heaved open the castle’s m
ain door, a swell of cold air flooded the vestibule. Mia stepped outside into the courtyard. The wind was howling and the trees were groaning under the strain of the gale. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  ‘You’re cold,’ Colt noted, falling into stride with her as they walked towards the gardens. He moved his arm around her, drawing her into him and using his power to shield her from the wind as they forged on.

  Mia huddled closer to him.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Colt explained, ‘being outside is a necessity for lesson two. We need space. And the weather is perfect for what I have in mind.’

  A strong gust whipped Mia’s hair to one side. She pushed the chocolate-coloured strands from her eyes as they ducked through the hedge archway, momentarily escaping the squall before surfacing in the gardens. They kept walking, past the barren flowerbeds and hedge mazes, until they reached the clearing leading up to the embankment.

  Once in the clearing, Colt came to a halt. He was perfectly still except for the short strands of black hair moving in the wind.

  Mia, on the other hand, was scarcely able to keep herself upright as she battled against the wild weather, which was growing fiercer by the second. ‘Now what?’ she called, her voice carried away by the wind.

  Colt extended his arms. ‘This,’ he said, looking skyward, ‘is yours to do with what you wish.’ He paused and locked eyes with her. ‘And I suggest you start with me.’

  ‘You?’ she echoed. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Move me.’

  Mia stared at him. He seemed solid, like a stone statue cemented to the ground. When the gusting wind reached him, it merely slowed and coiled around him, more like a feathery scarf than a cyclone. He was its master. She, on the other hand, was barely an apprentice. And even when she was able to influence the weather, her control was unsteady at best.

  ‘You want me to move you?’ she asked, dubious.

  ‘I want you to want to move me.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ll try, but—’

  ‘Don’t try,’ Colt interrupted. ‘Do. Be.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mia repeated, unconvinced. She closed her eyes and imagined the gale slowing for her, just as it seemed to do for Colt. She imagined herself in control, commanding it to charge at him like her very own army of soldiers.

  Go, she willed it, raising her arms. I am the storm.

  Suddenly, she began to stumble. Something was happening, but it wasn’t what she’d planned. Instead of sweeping towards Colt, the wind began to swirl around her, wrapping her up inside a tornado.

  Mia yelped in shock as the tornado began to engulf her in its rotations.

  Somewhere outside her cocoon, she heard Colt’s stifled laughter.

  ‘Help me!’ Mia cried.

  ‘I can’t,’ he called out to her, laughing openly now. ‘If I keep helping you, you’ll never learn.’

  Still spinning in circles inside the twister that she was supposed to be commanding, Mia called out to him again. ‘I’m new at this!’ she appealed to him. ‘Have a little sympathy. I’m sure you were a beginner once, too.’

  Colt groaned. With virtually no effort at all, he reached into the hurricane and grabbed hold of Mia, pulling her out and steadying her against his body. In the blink of an eye, the tornado collapsed and the air resumed its natural flow.

  ‘Very good,’ Colt joked dryly. ‘You’re not even capable of saving yourself from yourself.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘At least I made a tornado. That’s got to count for something.’

  ‘Try again,’ Colt advised. ‘This time, don’t compete with the air. Simply become a part of it.’

  ‘I’m not a part of it, though.’

  ‘Not with that attitude.’

  Mia took a deep breath and stepped back from Colt. She raised her hands again.

  ‘Be the air,’ Colt murmured.

  ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘You don’t have to try. You already are the air.’

  Mia opened one eye and peered at him. ‘I can’t take this seriously if you keep saying that.’

  ‘You take nothing seriously regardless. Now move me.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Mia returned her focus to the task. She thought of air, then wind, then windy air. After several minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at Colt. ‘Nothing’s happening,’ she told him, stating the obvious.

  ‘There’s no drive. No passion.’

  ‘I have passion! Just not for being air.’

  ‘Well, where is your passion, then?’ he challenged. ‘Tap into it. Use it to your advantage.’

  Mia bit her lip uncertainly. ‘So I should, um, think of airy things I really like?’ she ventured tentatively.

  Colt rolled his eyes. ‘How about you try thinking about the threat to your life. Doesn’t it make you angry?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I guess.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound passionate. Get angry!’

  Mia fell silent for a moment. Get angry? ‘I’m just not an angry person,’ she told him honestly.

  ‘So there’s nothing at all that maddens you?’ he challenged her. ‘I don’t believe that. Dig deeper. Show me what you’re capable of.’

  She shrugged her shoulders, losing hope by the second. If the threat on my life doesn’t make me angry, what hope do I have?

  ‘Think about why you’re here,’ Colt went on. ‘About why you came to the castle. Someone or something wants to kill you . . .’

  All of a sudden, her hands dropped to her sides. ‘Where were you?’ she said, her voice suddenly amplified above the moan of the wind.

  Colt frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Where were you?’ she repeated. ‘I got to the castle a whole twenty-four hours before I found you. You knew I was here, right?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Colt eventually admitted.

  The wind began to move along Mia’s arms now, looping around her fingertips.

  ‘So why didn’t you come looking for me?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you ever come looking for me? Last summer you told me that if I needed you, all I had to do was call out to you and you’d be there. In those four months, do you know how much I needed you?’

  He stared back at her, silent.

  ‘Every day,’ she told him. ‘Every day I called for you. Do you know that?’

  He swallowed. ‘Yes,’ he admitted quietly.

  A burst of air shot from her fingers and knocked into him, causing him to jolt backwards like he’d been shocked by a current of electricity.

  Colt smiled. ‘See? Look what you—’

  ‘No,’ Mia stopped him. ‘I’m not done. Where were you?’

  ‘I was here.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come for me?’

  ‘I . . .’ Colt began, casting his eyes downwards. ‘I suppose I thought it would be easier if I stayed away.’

  Mia stared at him, tears prickling her eyes. ‘Why?’

  There was another long pause before Colt spoke again.

  ‘I suppose I thought that if we were no longer tied to one another, then everything would be simpler,’ he said, returning his gaze to Mia. ‘Surely you can see that, too?’

  ‘Can I see that my life would be simpler without you?’ she murmured into the wind. ‘I wouldn’t want to see that. I wouldn’t want to imagine a life without you.’

  Colt looked away from her again, this time casting his eyes to the vast forest that unravelled beyond the embankment.

  ‘Is that why you didn’t search for me when I got here?’ Mia asked. ‘Because you didn’t want me in your life? Because you didn’t want to be tied to me?’ She winced at the words he had used.

  For a long while, the only sound was the moan of branches as the wind bore down on them.

  Mia’s chest tightened. ‘Please answer me.’

  Colt lifted his head. ‘Yes,’ he said finally.

  That was Mia’s breaking point. It was all she could take. She felt weak, as though her body really was made
of air, insubstantial and flimsy. A gust of winter wind knocked her forwards and she stumbled to the ground, her palms smacking on the boggy earth.

  Without missing a beat, Colt was at her side. He crouched before her and raised his hand against the gale, using his palm like a windbreaker to provide them with a patch of refuge.

  Mia staggered quickly to her feet. ‘No,’ she said, stepping away from his protection. ‘Don’t help me. I don’t need your help.’ She started across the garden, heading back to the castle as the wind whipped at her skin in cold torrents.

  ‘You do need my help,’ Colt called after her. ‘And you’re welcome to it. It’s yours!’

  He was following her. Mia could sense it. She spun around and glared at him. He stopped in his tracks.

  ‘No,’ she said again. ‘I don’t need it. And I don’t want it.’

  She raised her arms and felt the air shoot over her skin, through her veins and her bones and into her fingers. It shot out from her hands and rushed at Colt, jolting the hedges in its path. The gust flung Colt backwards, hard enough to send him skidding across the grass.

  Mia turned and ran.

  Colt sighed as he rose to his feet. He watched Mia flee from him, but he didn’t follow her.

  I’ve done it again, he thought. He had a knack for upsetting people—it was part and parcel, really. This time, however, he knew he deserved it.

  He sighed again. In his hand he caught the squall, allowing it to spiral around his wrist. It moved along his arms and then down his legs, shackling him. How fitting, he thought, for one like me to be so bound.

  He bit his lip. He knew what he had to do.

  Run.

  At first he ran slowly, at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He jogged towards the forest, breaking free of the invisible iron-clad chains of the wind. The shackles slipped from his body as he descended the embankment. His pace quickened, but quite by accident.

  Now he was running full pelt, changing direction for variation. He bypassed the forest, heading up to the graveyard instead. His feet barely touched the ground as he weaved in and out between the stone slabs—the graves of witches who had walked this earth before him. Better witches. Stronger witches. Only once did he pause, subconsciously and just for a fraction of a second—and that was as he passed Lotan’s gravestone.