Blackheath Resurrection (The Blackheath Witches Book 2)

by Gabriella Lepore

Ainsley gave a low whistle and shook his head.

  “What?” Joel threw his hands skyward. “You guys are acting like I robbed a bank or something! Dad left and he didn’t bother taking his spell book with him. Therefore, by default or something, it’s ours. And by that I mean mine.” He narrowed his eyes at Ainsley. “And possibly Evan’s. Definitely not yours, though.”

  Ainsley’s jaw dropped. “Why not mine? I’m a Tomlins, too. Probably the best one,” he added under his breath. “But whatever.”

  Joel folded his arms. “I know you too well, Ainsley,” he said. “No spells need to land in your hands right now.”

  Ainsley grimaced. He was about to say something when, as if on cue, Alleged Aunt Topaz bustled into the kitchen, her coarse grey hair falling in wild wisps over her hunched shoulders.

  “Ah, Ainsley,” she greeted him croakily. “Just the child I seek.” She offered the boys a toothless smile.

  “No, Topaz,” Evan cut her off before she had a chance to elaborate. “You can’t borrow Ainsley today. He has to go to school.”

  Topaz made a strange guttural sound in protest.

  Evan held up a hand and pressed on. “Sorry, Topaz, but with Dad out of the picture, I can’t afford to be seen as anything less than a perfectly responsible adult. And perfectly responsible adults make thirteen-year-old kids go to school.”

  Ainsley groaned dramatically and slapped his hand to his forehead. “Toppy, tell them,” he begged, appealing to his favourite Alleged Aunt. “Tell these dictators”—he gestured flippantly toward his two older brothers—“that what I learn from you and your readings far outweighs any lessons a crappy school can teach me.” He fluttered his long eyelashes and gave an angelic dimpled smile.

  “The child is right,” Alleged Aunt Topaz confirmed. “The child needs to learn the craft.”

  “He needs to learn maths,” Evan retorted.

  “See?” Ainsley wailed. “Dictators!” His virtuous face puckered into a petulant scowl.

  “That child won’t need maths when he has mastered the art of witchcraft,” Alleged Aunt Topaz cajoled. “Listen to your elders, boys. I have the child’s best interests at heart.” She smiled innocently, revealing her one blackened tooth.

  Evan laughed. “Right,” he said, rising from his seat. “And this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you have clients coming in today and that your readings get a whole lot more accurate when you’ve got Ainsley’s energy to tap into?” he asked as he delivered Joel’s empty plate and mug to the sink.

  “Ainsley is naturally gifted,” Alleged Aunt Topaz declared. “No harm in using those powers to help people. He’s a handy little witch, if ever I saw one.”

  Ainsley puffed out his chest while Evan and Joel snorted.

  “Witch,” Pippin echoed.

  “Besides, I can charge extra when the boy is with me,” Alleged Aunt Topaz added.

  “Extra for your pocket, maybe,” Joel muttered.

  “And for the child’s, too.”

  Ainsley smiled smugly and flipped his palms skyward. “See? Someone’s got to bring home the bacon.”

  “Bacon,” Pippin echoed.

  “I wish we had bacon,” Joel said longingly.

  “Well, we don’t,” Evan finished, hoisting his backpack off the kitchen counter. “We have school. So let’s go.” He thumbed towards the door.

  Joel and Ainsley grabbed their coats and followed their older brother toward the door. As usual, Joel felt a pang of remorse at leaving Pippin at home in the care of the Alleged Aunts. But he had no choice; with Maximus gone, they were doing the best they could.

  “And maybe we could pick up some bacon on the way home,” he added as an afterthought as he closed the door behind him.

  THE BELL FOR third period rang loudly, startling Maggie from her daydream. She tore her gaze from the blizzard that whirled beyond the window, and along with the dozen or so other students who had made it into class that day, she rose to her feet and made for the door.

  “Are we seriously supposed to do PE today?” Blonde Lauren asked, idly twirling a platinum ringlet around her index finger as she traipsed after Maggie. “Can’t we just have free time or something?”

  Hilary joined them as they filtered through the door. “Free time?” she echoed, rolling her eyes behind her red plastic geek-chic glasses. “There is literally no such thing.” She tilted her chin upwards as they trooped out into the corridor.

  “Nuh-uh,” Blonde Lauren argued, popping her gum with a smack. “Study Hall counts as free time.” A furrow formed between her eyebrows. “Right?”

  Hilary scoffed. “There’s nothing free about a regimented hour of being condemned to the stuffy library with Ms Joy breathing down your neck.”

  Isla sidled up between them and linked her arms through each of theirs. “We don’t need free time,” she said. “We need Phys Ed. Studies show that it’s important. An hour of PE gets the blood pumping, the endorphins up—”

  “My blood is already pumping,” Hilary muttered dourly.

  “. . . stimulates brain plasticity . . .” Isla went on.

  “My brain is fine,” Hilary replied in a monotone. “Wake up, PE is just another way of humiliating the less able. Are we cavemen? Should we subject ourselves to being treated like primitive Neanderthals, plucked from the herd and shamed for being born with high-functioning brains and low-functioning hand-eye coordination and muscle tone?”

  Maggie glanced down at her slightly underdeveloped bicep and frowned.

  “PE might as well stand for Pure Embarrassment,” Hilary professed, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Or Pure Evil,” Maggie mused as they turned a corner and continued down another mosaic-tiled corridor.

  “Or Pure Eww,” Blonde Lauren suggested.

  Isla shook her head. “Guys,” she scolded them. “It’s Physical Education, and you need it.” She jabbed Hilary in the ribs.

  “Oh, no you did not!” Hilary exclaimed, her jaw dropping. “Did you just imply that I need to exercise?”

  “No!” Isla laughed. “PE’s not about exercise! It’s about brain plasticity, and endorphins, and blood pumping . . .”

  Maggie listened impartially as they approached the locker rooms. Personally, the only thing she feared more than PE was getting dragged into a debate between conservative Isla and anti-establishmentarian Hilary. So, prudently, Maggie decided to keep quiet.

  She was about to push open the girls change room door when she caught sight of Joel heading for the boys locker room across the corridor. He was with Charlie and some other guys from their grade.

  He hadn’t been in Homeroom that morning, so naturally Maggie had assumed that he hadn’t made it through the blizzard. She found herself breaking into a smile at the sight of him, and he smiled back at her. Tiny snowflakes clung to his oak-brown hair, glistening beneath the fluorescent lights in the school corridor. His eyes were a soft lavender colour, haunting and inviting all at once. In fact, when their paths had first crossed seven years ago, Maggie had thought that his eyes were the most curious sight she’d ever seen, their hue ever changing, almost magical.

  Of course, back then, she’d only had cause to suspect that Joel Tomlins was magical. Now, however, she knew it for sure. She’d seen it, and his powers were utterly spellbinding. He was utterly spellbinding.

  He waved a quick hello before they were each ushered into their respective locker rooms.

  As Maggie crossed through the door to the girls change room, she was hit with a waft of perfume and hairspray. Tiled in cool green tones that screamed of a bygone era, the freshly mopped floor sparkled, just waiting to be trampled on and littered with discarded towels and half-empty bottles of shampoo.

  Maggie chose a locker and quickly changed into her uniform PE kit: a standard-issue navy blue polo shirt and black shorts. Taking a seat on one of the long benches, she grappled her unruly hair into a ponytail.

  Cheerleader Lexi strutted past, making a beeline for the mirror
whilst bragging loudly to her varsity girlfriends about some college fraternity party she’d been to on the weekend. She and her squad of clones had customised their generic PE kits, rolling the hems of their shorts up a few inches and adding pink over-the-knee socks.

  “For real, you guys,” Lexi drawled, staring at her reflection as she swept a brush through her long red hair. “It was crazy! You should have been there.”

  “Maybe you could get us an invite next time?” one of the girls cooed hopefully.

  Lexi expression remained impassive as she continued to preen herself. “Maybe.”

  Maggie glanced over at them, wondering how on earth that hairbrush was sliding so easily through Lexi’s hair.

  Suddenly the bench creaked as Blonde Lauren plunked down beside her. “Seriously,” she said under her breath, “this is, like, the hundredth time I’ve heard this story today. And she group-texted it on Sunday, too.”

  It came as no surprise to Maggie that she wasn’t included in Cheerleader Lexi’s notorious group texts. Maggie wasn’t in Lexi’s circle—and she considered that to be quite fortuitous.

  “Are you still dating Dale?” asked Lexi Clone Number One as she hovered at the mirror, waiting for a chance to glimpse her idol’s flawless reflection.

  Lexi snorted. “No,” she said, sounding far too mortified for someone who, just weeks earlier, had been swanning around campus in Sleazy Dale’s varsity jacket.

  “Ooh,” gushed Clone Number Two, a slightly less dedicated mirror dweller. “Who do you like now?”

  Lexi pouted at herself in the mirror. “I don’t know,” she simpered. “Joel’s looking alright these days.”

  The Clones giggled.

  Maggie froze and her eyes shot up. She was sure that, just for a second, Lexi’s reflected gaze locked on hers.

  Maggie swallowed hard. Did Lexi know about her and Joel?

  What is there to know, anyway? Maggie thought with a wince. Apart from, oh, the little fact that he’d cast a protection spell over her, and then had almost died trying to save her life. And there was that one time they’d kissed. And then there was that other time . . .

  But, as Maggie reminded herself, Lexi also had a history with Joel. They’d kissed, too. Maggie had seen it with her own eyes.

  Lexi smoothed her hair with an icy smile and set her hairbrush down on the vanity station. She gave one last pout in the mirror before sauntering into the gym with The Clones in tow, leaving only Maggie, Isla, Blonde Lauren, and Hilary in the locker room.

  Maggie let out an angry breath. “Has anyone noticed that when you jumble up the letters in Lexi, it practically spells evil?”

  Blonde Lauren’s brow creased as she slipped into deep thought. “Exil . . .”

  “Yeah.” Maggie grimaced. “I’m pretty sure that’s evil in Latin or something.”

  Hilary joined them at the bench, still fully dressed in her hipster clothes. “That girl is why PE should be banned,” Hilary pronounced as she finished taping a hastily scrawled note to her chest that read I’m taking a stand against everything you stand for.

  “Why is she evil?” Isla asked, stretching first one arm and then the other over her head.

  “She just is,” Maggie grumbled. “She’s plotting. Like a . . .”

  “Plotter,” Blonde Lauren offered.

  “Yes, a plotter! An evil plotter.” Maggie drew in a quick breath. “You know what she is? She’s PE.” She paused, allowing the statement to sink in.

  Isla raised a fine eyebrow. “Evil Plotter would be EP.”

  Maggie stared at her without blinking. “It’s the same thing. And how does she get that brush through her hair so easily?” She tugged at a tangled strand of her own dark blonde hair. “I mean, come on. It’s not normal.” She rose from the bench and padded towards the gym. “It’s just not normal, that’s all I’m saying.”

  They entered the gymnasium to a salvo of flying balls bouncing off the polished orange-toned floor. Charlie, Lexi, Sleazy Dale, and Football Paul were standing off to one side where a climbing apparatus was secured to the wall, throwing basketballs at everyone else in the class.

  One of the balls soared across the gym and struck Maggie on the head. She slapped her hand to her temple in shock. “What the hell?”

  The four girls stared down at the basketball missile, which was now rolling idly across the shiny floor.

  “Yo!” Charlie yelled from across the gym, holding up his hand for the girls to throw his ball back. “Sorry, Mag-Dog, but all’s fair in love and dodgeball.”

  “You’re out, Ellmes,” Coach Andrews hollered from the centre line.

  Balls were still being launched at their fellow classmates, who were swiftly ducking and weaving to avoid getting hit.

  “I’m out?” Maggie frowned. “When was I in?”

  “Dodgeball?” Hilary said incredulously, holding up her palms. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? I’m out, too.”

  Maggie rubbed the side of her head again.

  “Come on, Mags,” Hilary said, grabbing Maggie’s arm and pulling her towards the bleachers. “I mean, could there even be a more obvious metaphor for culling the herd?”

  Coach Andrews’ bushy eyebrows drew together as he blew his whistle and pointed an accusatory finger at Hilary. “You! Back in the game!” he boomed, his cheeks flushed.

  Hilary stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m ill,” she announced in a monotone.

  The gym teacher extended his hands in frustration, his bald head gleaming with dewy beads of sweat. Hilary stared him down for a few seconds, then resumed her trek towards the bleachers.

  While Maggie trudged behind Hilary, Blonde Lauren and Isla joined Joel and a few others on the target team and began bobbing and jumping to avoid flying basketballs. Over the next few minutes, everyone from the target team was pegged off, one by one, until only Joel remained. From her spot on the bleachers, Maggie saw Joel grin. It was him against Charlie, Lexi, Sleazy Dale, and Football Paul. He didn’t even appear tired as he bounced from his left foot to his right in anticipation of the next throw.

  “You’re gonna die, Tomlins!” Charlie hollered good-naturedly.

  The comment made Maggie shiver.

  “You’re mine, Joel,” Lexi taunted him with a flirty wink.

  Ugh, Maggie thought, wrinkling her nose.

  “One chance,” Coach Andrews warned. And then he blew his whistle.

  “ONE CHANCE,” COACH Andrews warned.

  Joel tensed as the whistle blew. Focused, he slipped his mind onto a different frequency, reaching a place so calm and still that he became totally oblivious to the cheers and chants coming from the onlookers in the bleachers. He could no longer hear the echo of Coach Andrews’ whistle as it rippled through the gymnasium. Now, the only sounds he registered were the quick thump of his heartbeat, the whir of blood swimming through his veins, and the swift breaths of his challengers as they raised their arms and prepared to launch.

  Let’s go, thought Joel, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  He’d been practising this particular skill for some time now, ever since he’d accidentally bent time at a party a few months back. Since then, he’d been determined to harness the trick. And he was getting pretty good at it, too.

  He inhaled deeply and extended his fingers. “Slow,” he murmured under his breath.

  On his command, everything in the gym began to move in slow motion. Everything apart from him, that was. When the four basketballs leisurely left the hands of their possessors, they soared through the air like kites floating gently on a summer breeze. Joel simply stepped aside as each one reached him. One by one they hit the floor and rolled to a slow stop.

  Joel released a breath and willed time to resume to normal. The familiar gymnasium noise returned, and Joel’s ears were met with an eruption of cheers from the bleachers. Of course, no one else in the class was any the wiser to the trick of time. That was for Joel’s eyes only.

  Was that che
ating? he mused to himself as he took in the awed expressions of the onlookers. Nah, he decided with a smile. All’s fair in love and dodgeball.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Ms Joy standing in the gym’s entrance. She was surrounded by a strange, murky blue energy—a colour he very rarely saw on her. She was . . . What? he wondered. Apprehensive?

  Ms Joy nodded a courteous greeting to Coach Andrews, who was currently punching his fist into the air in celebration of Joel’s win. A second later, she beckoned towards the bleachers.

  Joel turned to follow her gaze. Halfway up the bleachers, Maggie and Isla were rising to their feet, looking confused as they made their way across the gym towards Ms Joy. The teacher guided them out through the double doors and into the hallway.

  Joel frowned. Weird, he thought.

  “Give me a second,” he called to Coach Andrews before crossing the gym after Maggie and Isla. He slipped through the doors into the unusually quiet school corridor.

  “What’s going on?” he asked when he caught up to them. He ran his hands through his rumpled hair and looked between Maggie and Isla.

  Ms Joy glanced hesitantly at Joel before addressing the girls. “As I was about to say, I’ve been informed by the site manager at the boarding house that one of the main pipes has burst. The residents will need to be evacuated until further notice.”

  Maggie drew in a breath. “Further notice? What does that mean?”

  “Evacuated from our room?” Isla’s hands flew to her mouth. “For how long? Where are we supposed to go?”

  “We are organising repair work,” Ms Joy confirmed. “However, with the blizzard as it is, it could take several days. I will be contacting all the residents’ families to make alternative arrangements.”

  “You’re contacting our families?” Maggie repeated with a half-laugh. “Good luck with mine.”

  As far as Joel was aware, Maggie’s mum had preferred the jet-setter lifestyle over motherhood, and her father was totally M.I.A. With just her elderly grandparents in the picture, boarding school had been the only viable option.

  Isla’s brow puckered, too. “Yeah, Ms Joy. My mother and father are super busy right now.” Her fingers twitched as she began fiddling with her hair. “I really don’t think you should bother them with this.”