“Did you not hear what he just said?” Lou says stonily. “We’re trained operatives. We stopped Munday the first time, and we can do it again. And we’ll stop Clarence and anything else he throws at us.”
I give Lou an appreciative look, but I can see that, although the neighbourhood watch team are impressed, they aren’t convinced.
“We’re putting it to a vote,” Giovanni announces. My stomach gives a small lurch, anxiety threading its way through me. I don’t want to be the leader at all, but I also don’t want Gio to be in charge. His jealousy and rivalry alone would put us all in danger.
“Everyone who wants to be led by me, in Enzo’s absence, can stand on this side of the table. Anyone who wants to take orders from the Normal,” he sneers, “can go stand next to him.”
There’s an awkward pause before people start shuffling around the room. As I expected, the entirety of the neighbourhood watch assembles behind Gio, except Gloria, who fidgets irritably until she takes her place on my right. I’m surprised but pleased. I suppose Beryl’s little speech really did a number on her.
On my side of the room, I have Jer and Lou, David and Mumbe, Beryl, and now Gloria. The tie-breaker is Marco, who looks miserably between me and his brother.
“This is a lame idea, Gio,” he says, standing halfway between the two of us. I don’t think this is how either of them expected the vote to go, and Gio has the decency to look concerned.
“The decision shouldn’t be that hard for you, little brother,” he says quietly.
Marco gives me a pained expression. Don’t make me do this, it says.
I return it with a sympathetic frown. I can’t do that to him, and no part of me wants to tear a family apart. If I have to put up with Giovanni’s jibes and jealousy, I’ll do it. It won’t be easy, but following orders in the ATU has given me good practice.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly, gesturing toward his brother. “I won’t be offended.”
Marco’s grimace changes to surprise.
“You’re sure?”
I shrug. There isn’t more I can do at this point. It’ll make our lives harder, but the objective will still be the same.
Gio gives a smile of satisfaction as Marco turns away from me and looks towards him.
“I didn’t want to do this, but Curtis has made my choice much easier,” he says to his brother. “I pick him,” he points at me.
“What?” Gio splutters.
“He’s willing to put up with your crap just to keep this team together. He’s put himself on the line for all of us more times than I can count, and apart from anything, he doesn’t need to be an Augur to care about us. So, I pick Curtis as our leader.”
“Marco, you’re sure?” I ask him, as surprised as anyone.
“Of course I’m sure. If anyone is going to get us through this alive, it’s you.”
The anxiety doesn’t go away, but it does lessen. Giovanni only has himself to blame, and I’m not going to torture myself about his feelings anymore. His cheeks go a satisfying shade of red, but seeing that no one is going to change their minds, he eventually nods.
I look around the room and allow myself to feel a little satisfaction. We have a team. My team. Now all I’ve got to do is keep them all alive.
CHAPTER 12
After an hour of strategising, someone mentions food, and pizza is ordered.
I’ve messaged Dr. Lindhurst on her personal number in the hopes that she’ll be willing to provide me with some kind of weapon, even if it’s a tranquilliser gun, but I’m yet to hear back from her, and the agitation of impatience is starting to get to me.
“Any news from your contact?” Gio asks me when we put the lists aside for a moment to eat.
“She’ll come through,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. It’s not the end of the world if I go empty handed, but my Krav Maga lessons from Buxton will only get me so far. I’m no black belt.
I absentmindedly peel the label from my bottle of water as I listen in on the snippets of conversation from those around me.
Despite the dread of what’s about to come, there’s still comfort in being surrounded by people who are able and willing to do what’s right.
“What’s the latest, fearless leader?” Jer says, taking a seat next to me on the leather sofa. “You’ve been awfully quiet for the past hour or so.”
I tear the label up into little pieces and sprinkle it onto the glass coffee table in front of me. “What if the ATU find Ella before we do?” I say it so quietly I’m not sure if he can hear me.
He searches my face for a moment, seemingly trying to work out the best thing to say. “Ah, well,” he says, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me gently, “we’ll just have to bust her out. I’ve no doubt you’d quite enjoy doing that,” he grins.
That’s the worst-case scenario, I suppose, but I’m painfully aware that every day that ticks by without locating Ella brings the Duke closer to accomplishing his plan.
“Looks like someone needs cheering up.”
I look up to see Gus smiling amiably down at me. His white hair and lined face could put him at seventy at least, but there’s a youthful glimmer behind his eyes that I immediately like.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jer says. “Curtis here quite enjoys a bit of brooding.” I give him a look, but he laughs it off.
“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll wish you’d spent less time sulking and more time living.” He gives me a kindly pat on the shoulder before clapping his hands and bringing everyone’s attention to him. “How about an after-dinner story?”
“Ooh, goodie,” says Prunella, slinking up beside him and clapping her hands excitedly like a child.
“It’s been a while, Gus. Why not?” Plague ambles over and places his large frame on a chair.
Suddenly, my secluded corner by the sofa isn’t so secluded, as all fifteen of us huddle around and squeeze in. I glance at the excited faces of Bubble and Gloria, Maisie and Michael. Even Gio seems pleased at the suggestion, which is perplexing but catches my interest even more. Algernon, never one to miss out on the action, finds my lap and curls up on it, pretending to sleep but keeping one yellow eye open.
“Sister, would you kindly be my assistant?” Gus says to Prunella.
“But of course.” She smiles and waves her hands theatrically and takes a seat next to him around the coffee table.
The lights in the room don’t so much flicker as vanish altogether, plummeting us into darkness. No sooner am I about to open my mouth and say something, when I detect a faint glow coming from Prunella’s hands. A purple light illuminates her face and fingers, and wispy shadows flow from them, hovering above us like a dark cloud. The little space is filled with mauve mist that covers the coffee table like a stage.
“An old classic, I think, for the sake of our new friend here,” Gus says, and I realise he must be speaking about me.
“Our story begins in a time long ago, before great cities, before wars, before the stars even had the names by which we now know them.” His voice takes on a deep, almost hypnotic timbre, echoing as though he addresses a huge hall filled with thousands—instead of a ramshackle basement with an audience of a dozen. I can imagine him having been a great actor at one point.
The cloud of shadow erupts into thousands of stars that reach all the way up to the ceiling, and I gasp at the sight. The misty terrain at our knees sprouts shapes that quiver this way and that, until they take form as hills and fields. Small huts emerge, with tiny people roaming between them, driving cattle or carrying pots and baskets, and children play in the smoky fields.
A round dais in the centre of the village rises up to form a throne, and a small person with a huge headdress sits on it, surveying the village below. The chief, perhaps.
“Augurs were called other things then. We were priests, magi, doctors, diviners and witches. Every village had Augurs, and they were respected and listened to as great counsellors to the rulers of their land.
“We were considered spe
cial—a gift from the gods of old, some said—as rare as diamonds, and revered for our abilities.”
A few of the smoky villagers gleam in the darkness, brighter than the rest. Next to the chief, one of the gleaming figures leans over and speaks into his ear, and as he does, the village changes and grows. The fields fill with crops, and children catch fish from a silver river that runs through the back. The whole scene feels prosperous and flourishing.
“Every time a new Augur manifested their abilities, usually on or after their first birthday, their village would hold a great celebration, and the child, depending on what they were able to do, would be given his or her title, there and then.”
Prunella waves a finger, and a small villager child claps her hands, causing the skies above to erupt in sparkling rain. The villagers gather round and hug her, taking her to see the chief at the centre of the village. As the chief’s advisor lays a hand on her little head, she begins to glow with the same light that he does. The sky explodes again into dozens of fireworks, and the villagers below dance in circles around the dais, the newest Augur beaming with pride by the chief’s side.
I tear my eyes away to see Gus and Prunella concentrating on their story, faces shining in the purple darkness. Gus gives her a gentle nudge, and she wafts her hands through the smoke, turning everything a dark red.
A huge mountain bursts out from the coffee table, and I almost topple off the sofa in surprise. Algernon throws his ears back and hisses, clawing into my leg. Fierce and overwhelming, the mountain towers over us, and we crane our necks to see all of it. Caves and plateaus combine with steep drops and sheer rock faces to give the impression of a foreboding twist to the tale.
“Every village had at least one Augur. Except this one. Priests said it was because they lived in the caves of a mountainside and that the sky gods could not bless them in their tunnels when they conceived there. Doctors rumoured that it was because they lived only off goat meat and the sparse plants that grew out of the rocks, and so expectant mothers never consumed the true energy of the land. Witches proclaimed that their hearts were impure and so the Augur gift could never take root in them. Whatever the true reason was, the mountain tribe had the hardest time of all.
“They had no real healers to cure their poorly, no priests to say their prayers, and no advisors. Their chief was a bitter, angry, old man, who had heard tales of the wonder of Augurs his whole life and yet had never experienced the riches that having an Augur could bring to his village.”
On the largest plateau on the mountain, a village takes shape, with a stony throne in the centre. The worn and haggard people mill about from cave to cave, looking despondent. On the throne itself, a haggard man with the robes of a chief rubs his gnarled hands.
“The chief devised many plans to solve his problem. He had made countless sacrifices to their silent gods, to no avail. He sent spies to other villages to learn the secrets of the Augurs, but no spies returned. After the hardest winter of all, where they lost twenty goats and even more people, he had his finest warriors kidnap an Augur from their nearest village, a full week’s journey from where they lived.”
For the first time, the little smoke puppets open their mouths to speak.
“Find me the greatest sorceress you can and bring her to me,” Gus says in a guttural tone, and the sound comes from the shadow-chief’s lips.
Mountain men riding the largest rams and goats I’ve ever seen trek down the mountainside, and clouds zip around the mountaintop, giving the impression of the passage of time. They return moments later, only a handful making it back when more than a dozen were sent, with a bag the length and shape of a person. Something seizes in my chest at the sight of a kidnapping like this. I find my eyes stinging a little, and I’m grateful for the darkness around us that helps me cover it up.
“The mountain villagers rejoiced when they thought that their chief had brought them a great healer to cure their sick and deliver their babies, or an advisor who could tell them how to grow crops in their barren land.
“But their chief had other ideas. Blind in his hatred, rather than ask the Augur for her help for his people, he had his guards build a great pyre.”
The warriors and guards seem to hesitate at the mountain chief’s order, but they gather the kindling and arrange it on the plateau all the same.
“They kept the sorceress in her black sack in the darkest cave they could find, to keep her away from the energy of the sun, preventing her from using her abilities.
“After days of no food and a harrowing journey, the kidnapped Augur had little fight left in her. The guards dragged her to the pyre and strung her to it, still wrapped in black cloth.”
As I watch the scene unfold in front of me, I begin to feel ill. Is this supposed to be a happy story? I glance through the dimness to see the faces of those who have heard it before. Maisie, Bubble, and Gloria watch with anticipation while I catch Beryl and Lou looking tense.
“But there had been whisperings in the village of this witch who could save them. Surely, the great Augur could bring prosperity to the people of the mountain village. Yet the sorceress that could be their salvation was being burned at the stake by their chief.”
A group of villagers huddle around the pyre, staring on in horror, whispering to each other while the chief sits on top of his throne, ordering guards about. A crowd forms on the plateau, people emerging from their caves to see what is about to unfold. Four great smoky torches are lit, and the torchbearers drag their feet until they finally surround the pyre, still not looking best pleased to be there. Although their features are barely discernible, something in the way they move and look furtively from the Augur to their chief makes me think they’d rather not mess with an all-powerful sorceress.
The chief raises his arm, and the torchbearers mimic him. I realise I’m holding my breath as we watch the villagers move closer and closer to the pyre, waiting for something to happen.
“‘Look at the all-powerful sorceress now,’” says Gus through the chief’s lips. “She cannot even defend herself. Magic can’t save us; I have proven it!”
“But just as he was about to lower his hand, a child pushed her way in front of the torchbearers and held out her arms.
“‘How can we even know she is a sorceress if her face is covered up? How do we know this is not just a goat wrapped in cloth and that you are lying, oh great chief?’” The voice is surprisingly childlike, but I realise it comes from Prunella.
The mountain chief glares at the little girl and pulls his arm back.
“‘You insult me, child. Me, your chief, who has done nothing but try to help your family.’”
The little girl looks at her feet but remembers herself and looks back defiantly.
“‘Whose child is this?’” The chief asks the crowd. The smoky puppets shuffle their feet, but no one claims the little girl, who stands, hands akimbo, daring those around her to come near her.
For a moment I think the chief will throw her onto the pyre too, but he looks around at the sea of faces in front of him and seems to think better of it. Gus sighs, and the chief mirrors him.
“‘Very well, girl. If you want to see the great sorceress so much, you may remove her shroud only,’” the chief says, motioning the guards to step back.
“As the little girl climbed the pyre, never once losing her footing, the crowd began to murmur with mixed emotions of fear and awe. Someone called out for her to be careful, while others cowered back in terror. But like all mobs, no one could tear their eyes away from the events happening before their eyes.
“As she reached the trapped sorceress, she whispered something in her ear, before pulling the shroud from her head. At that very moment the clouds broke apart and sunlight poured onto the Augur prisoner’s face. Her eyes lit up with the energy of a thousand suns, and electricity crackled around her hair, whipping through the air and touching every man, woman, and child in the clearing. As if awoken from a slumber, the mountain villagers began to yell and
shout at the chief for his despicable acts.
“Seeing his mistake, the chief screamed for his torchbearers to light the firewood before any more damage could be done, even though the little girl still stood alongside the sorceress. Rather than listen to their master though, they threw down their torches and ran up the pyre to untie the prisoner.”
The figures scramble up the firewood while the chief on his throne thrashes about in anger, noiselessly ordering his men to do something. As one, the villagers, torchbearers, and guards turn towards him. When it seems like he has no other choice but to run, he leaps off his throne, picks up a burning torch from the ground, and throws it at the crowds on the pyre, damning his people to a fiery death along with the sorceress. People flail about in pain and anger as the flames begin to lick their feet, and although no sound comes from them, I can hear the cries in my head.
“Just when he thought he could win, the clouds covered the sun once more and rain cascaded over the mountain, extinguishing the flames and drenching the village.
“Seeing he had well and truly lost, the bitter and defeated chief ran to the edge of the plateau, trying to make his way down and escape before facing the wrath of his people, but he tripped on his own robe and fell hundreds of feet into the forest below.”
As the chief tumbles down the mountainside, the villagers stare on in stunned silence, until a silent cheer erupts, and they raise their hands in triumph. The Augur is untied, the pyre is cleared, and the village people surround their prisoner, bowing and apologising silently.
“The sorceress stayed with the villagers for a year, healing them and teaching them how to fix broken bones and cuts, until a baby boy was born in the village, exactly one year later, and the sorceress knew that they had finally broken through the pain of oppression. The gods had gifted them an Augur child who, from the day he was born, could raise the spirits of those around him with a smile and who could come to no harm.”
I watch as the Augur delivers the baby, swaddles him, and hands him over to his mother. She then leaves the mountain, and the little girl who saved her life, waving goodbye to the villagers on the plateau, from the back of a giant ram.
Shattered by Magic Page 16
