Broken by Magic

by Rebecca Danese

  “What’s his name then?” Ella strokes him in my arms, and I feel the purr from within the layers of fur.

  “Algernon.”

  I splutter. “What? You called him Algernon? Who calls a cat that?”

  Mum gives me a disapproving look to match the cat’s. Apparently, I’ve offended them both. “Sorry. It’s a great name,” I say weakly as I gently put him down, and he proceeds to rub himself against my leg.

  “I honestly didn’t think he liked me that much,” I say, a little bemused at all the affection. I know he’s some kind of Augur cat. Jer told me as much the last time he was here all those weeks ago, and he turned up right when things started getting interesting with Ella. But he always treated me with a certain air of disdain.

  “Oh, he’s been sleeping on your bed since you left,” Mum says, placing a cup of tea in front of Ella and bringing me over a cup of coffee that I didn’t ask for but am incredibly grateful for. My stomach rumbles, and as if with some kind of sixth sense, Mum begins making a meal.

  “So, Ella, what do you do?” she asks, busying herself around the kitchen.

  “I worked at the restaurant with Curtis until it burned down...”

  “Terrible business. But I noticed they’re nearly done fixing it up. Will you both be going back to work there, or have you found something in the meantime?”

  I look at Ella and shrug. There’s no good telling her we are planning to leave London at the first opportunity we get. “We haven’t really thought about it,” I lie. “Mr. Gregorio hasn’t asked us, and we’ve been preoccupied.”

  “How was Hertfordshire?”

  I realise, of course, I had Mum post Ella’s camera there for Christmas, so she knew where we were staying, which was probably stupidly risky of me.

  “Nice. Very green. Much quieter than London,” I say, taking a sip from my cup. “I missed the city though.” I sigh, and Ella gives me a small smile of understanding. The kitchen clock ticks loudly as we sit and sip our drinks, reminding me that it’s gone midnight. I need to break the silence and find out what happened, despite my reluctance. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Dad?” I say, almost tentatively, as if approaching the subject might bring on another bout of tears.

  Standing at the kitchen sink, I see her back straighten, as if toughening her resolve before turning to us, a grim look on her face. She exhales loudly, as if she’d been holding her breath.

  “It was a shocker, really. We were having dinner at Le Maison, you know, the French one on the high street that Dad likes,” she says, and we both nod. “Well, we’d just gotten through our main course when he went pale as a ghost, staring out of the window and saying that he thought he’d heard Matilda.”

  I give her a questioning look, as the name is familiar, but I can’t place it.

  “Oh, gosh, she was around before you were born, love. Peter’s sister, your aunt. She died when Dad was younger, and he never quite got over it, I don’t think. But she’s been gone for years, and yet there he was, sitting in Le Maison saying her name over and over. Then he collapsed, and we had to call the ambulance. He’s been unconscious ever since, and the only reason I came home was to feed Algernon and see you if you could make it. You got here quicker than I expected.”

  “We were already coming back into London,” I say quickly, before realising that not telling Mum I’d be in London was probably a first-class offence. She raises her eyebrows, and I hastily make excuses, but it’s Ella that comes to the rescue.

  “We had a call from a friend who was in trouble. We dropped everything, but our next stop was here tomorrow if we hadn’t gotten the call from you,” she says smoothly. Mum seems appeased by that and puts two plates in front of us with a hastily whipped up but delicious meal. I eat like there’s no tomorrow, and Mum seems pleased but surprised. It’s gone midnight, and I doubt she expected to be cooking at this hour.

  “Were you hungry, love?” She eyes my empty plate.

  “Er, yeah. Today’s been a bit mad, and I skipped lunch,” I say embarrassedly. “Do you know how Matilda died?” I’d only heard of her a few times before, during family Christmases when everyone had had too much to drink usually, and she didn’t come up in normal conversation.

  “Not my place to say, really,” Mum says, not unkindly but clearly unwilling to talk about it any further. “I’ll be going to the hospital first thing in the morning. Can you come with?”

  “Of course,” I say, although the thought of visiting Dad fills me with dread. I’m not sure whether the invitation extends to Ella, but I don’t think I’m ready for Dad to meet her yet, even if he doesn’t know she’s an Augur.

  “I know you’ll be wanting to sleep in your own bed, love, but I think it would be cruel to give Ella the sofa,” she says, looking at me sharply.

  “What? Oh, yeah, of course,” I say sheepishly.

  “That’s very kind of you Mrs. Mayes, but really, I don’t mind the couch,” Ella says.

  “Nonsense. You’re a guest, and although we don’t have a guest room, Curtis’s will do nicely,” she says, not to be argued with. “Anyway, you can call me Margaret. Or Mar, for short.”

  I’m sure Mum realises that Ella and I have been sleeping together, but she’s a traditional sort and won’t have it under her roof. The last time we were here, Ella just squeezed into my single bed with me, and I smile at the thought.

  “What are you grinning at?” Ella whispers in my ear and snaps me out of my reverie.

  “Oh, nothing,” I chuckle to myself.

  “Go and get some spare sheets and pillows from upstairs, will you?” Mum says, interrupting my private joke.

  I oblige and make up a bed in the front room, hoping I’ll be able to sleep after the day’s events. I’m exhausted and over-tired, and Mum makes us cocoa and lets us chat in the front room like kids having a sleepover.

  She comes and joins us, sitting in Dad’s armchair in her dressing gown and slippers, Ella on the sofa next to me, and we talk about benign subjects: the weather, her work, what staying in a manor for two months was like, and how Christmas went. Algernon makes himself at home between Ella and me, and I give him a quizzical look, but he makes no move to explain his sudden liking for me and simply purrs.

  “Well, I’m off to bed,” Mum eventually says when the clock on the wall shows 1:30 AM. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She walks over to table where the telephone is kept and opens the small drawer below it. “This arrived for you about a week ago.”

  She hands me a small envelope with cursive handwriting marking me as the addressee.

  “Weird. Did you see who posted it?” I ask.

  “Well, yes. It was a nicely dressed gentleman who actually rang the bell and wanted to put it in your hands, but when I explained that you were out of town, he reluctantly left it with me. He was sort of bald, little moustache. Very stern, but polite in a stuffy sort of way,” she says. “He almost left without it, but I told him I’d make sure you got it.”

  I frown and look at Ella, who shrugs.

  “Anything you want to tell me, love?” Mum asks, fixing me with one of her penetrating all-knowing looks.

  “Don’t think so. Why?” I try to turn the tables and get her talking instead.

  “Well, after you disappeared some very serious people came looking for you, and then there was the thing with the next-door neighbour,” Mum says airily as though she was recounting a particularly normal day.

  “What people?”

  “The neighbour?”

  Ella and I ask the questions at the same time and Mum looks taken aback.

  “To answer you, Curtis, the next-door neighbour - that chap who used to stand outside and have a smoke every morning - he popped round asking after you and had a terrible run-in with poor Algernon. Didn’t see him again after that.”

  I think about the gash across Edward’s eye and look down at Algernon questioningly. I could swear he purrs smugly as I reward him with a scratch behind the ears.

  “
And to answer you, Ella, it was a man and a woman. The chap was a bit odd - wore sunglasses in the middle of the winter, indoors,” I share a knowing look with Ella. “The lady was a bit stern, but pleasant enough. They left when it was obvious I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.”

  Miss Banks and Sunglasses Steve, as I fondly call him, from the Augur Terror Unit, came to visit my parents. Without telling me. I don’t know whether to be angry that they dropped in unannounced, or grateful that Mum didn’t get suspicious about what was going on. But if they know where I used to live that isn’t a good sign.

  “So, I was just wondering if the letter there had anything to do with all these peculiar goings on,” Mum asked, eyeing the envelope in my hands.

  “I doubt it. I think I’ll open it in the morning now. Enough excitement for one day,” I say, hoping to put Mum off from staying to watch me read whatever is inside. If it’s Augur business, I definitely don’t want her hanging around to see it.

  “Fair enough, love. Goodnight, you two,” she says, then heads upstairs, thankfully letting the subject drop.

  “You’re not really going to wait until tomorrow, are you?” Ella asks as soon as she’s out of earshot.

  “Nah, but I have a feeling I know who dropped it off, based on mum’s description.”

  “Mulberry.” Ella says, always one step ahead of me.

  “Exactly.” I gently tear open the envelope and find a small card with the same handwriting that I can only assume is the Duke’s.

  Curtis,

  Please meet me at the Heritage Hotel. Penthouse suite. I shall be expecting you.

  Yours sincerely,

  The Duke

  “Not exactly a discreet hiding place,” I say, handing Ella the card.

  “He doesn’t really need to hide, does he?”

  “Avers told me that no one had seen him since December. I guess I just assumed that he’d gone undercover or something,” I shrug.

  “And you believe what the reporter tells you,” she accuses rather than asks.

  “Well, I did this morning,” I say, feeling defensive.

  “Except that the ATU kidnapped you and thought you were Edward as soon as you turned up at Avers’ office pretending to be him,” she points out. I still don’t know who to blame for that nightmare, but my friends are convinced Avers is more than he lets on. For now, I’ll keep my opinions to myself.

  “I don’t want to argue about it, please. What do you want to do about this?” I gesture to the note, holding it up between my thumb and forefinger.

  To my surprise, Algernon bats it out of my hand, scratching me in the process.

  “I’m guessing you don’t approve?” I say to him, but he’s gone back to purring on my leg. I’d like to reward him for possibly being the one to scar Edward for life, but as Algernon apparently can’t speak, I’ll just have to stay in mystery.

  “Interesting,” Ella says, stroking him between the ears. “I think we’ll have to meet the Duke at some point, see what he needs and if he’s got any ideas. If he really is keeping a low profile, maybe he needs our help. He probably knows that Edward has taken over the Magic Circle too.” I nod. Although meeting with the Duke is at the bottom of my list of priorities, I’m keen to question him myself.

  “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. I’ll see my dad first, see how that goes,” I say, unable to hide the reservation in my voice.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks perceptively.

  I hesitate. I really want to tell her how crazy I feel right now, without a clear purpose. Pulled in all directions at once by other people, when all I actually wanted was to run away from it all with her. But I also don’t want to be weak, so I put on a brave face.

  “Nothing, don’t worry,” I stroke her soft cheek and sigh. “I’m exhausted. Can we just sleep?”

  “Of course. I’ll be sleeping in your football-themed bedroom if you need me.” She gives me a sly grin and kisses me on the lips, slow and soft, sending a shiver through my body.

  “Don’t tempt me,” I say, before watching her go upstairs, leaving me with Algernon for company.

  “Well, mate, this is right a mess,” I say, petting him.

  He miaows a response, and eventually we both fall asleep.

  CHAPTER 9

  I’ve never liked hospitals, and now I remember why. People in various states of pain, upset, or worry are coming in and out in throngs, and we avoid the queue at the reception desk and head straight towards the lifts.

  A hastily-written notice on a whiteboard states:

  FOR AUGUR-RELATED INJURIES

  PLEASE GO DIRECTLY TO WARD 5C

  I look at the few people that are wandering in that direction and wonder why there’s a special ward for them. Ella squeezes my arm, a worried expression on her face, and I give her a slight nod.

  “Want me to come upstairs with you?” she whispers to me.

  “No, best to stay down here. Stay out of sight. Grab a coffee or something,” I whisper back.

  She nods, but I can see she isn’t too happy about the suggestion. If I were her, I’d go and investigate all the Augur-related casualties, which would be dangerous, but possibly not as much as taking her into the same room as a man that would threaten to have her arrested, or worse, if he knew what she was.

  She leaves us at the lift, and Mum grips my hand as soon as she’s gone. It’s empty, save for us, and she hits a button to the fourth floor.

  “Be careful,” she says cryptically.

  “What do you mean?” I look at her, confusion on my face.

  “Curtis, I’m your mother. This is the first time you’ve let Ella out of your sight since I’ve seen you. Don’t think I can’t work it out,” she says, not letting go of my hand. My mind races, trying to think if she could be talking about anything other than what I think.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she asks.

  “Tell you what?” I feign confusion. Could she really tell that Ella was an Augur just from a few conversations? I feel a little ill. I suppose I’m in the right place if I suddenly start throwing up everywhere. All I get is a raised eyebrow in response. Crap.

  “Don’t tell Dad,” I say weakly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn’t tell your father. Even if he was conscious, God help him.”

  I swallow hard and run my free hand through my hair.

  “He wouldn’t understand,” I say.

  “What, that you’ve fallen in love with a beautiful girl? That much he’d accept. But the nonsense with the restaurant fire and all that funny business of you disappearing at Christmas time? Curtis, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that you’re in over your head.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” I say, trying to convince myself that’s the truth.

  “Curtis, love.” She makes me look at her just as the doors ping open. “I’ll always be there for you, no matter what happens, alright?”

  For some reason my eyes begin to sting, and all I can do is nod.

  We step out into a whitewashed corridor, and Mum leads the way to the Cardiology ward. After a few minutes, a young nurse picks us up and takes us to Dad’s private room.

  I’m shocked to see the unfamiliar sight of him lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by sterile machines beeping and flashing, tubes and wires monitoring his body’s every movement.

  “He’s in an induced coma,” the nurse explains to me.

  “Induced? Why?” I ask.

  “We have to let the body cool down after a heart attack. Sometimes a person goes into a coma anyway, but your father was in a state of shock when he arrived to us, so a coma was necessary.”

  “How long will he be like this for?” I ask. Mum’s grim expression almost answers the question for me.

  “Could be weeks, I’m afraid,” the nurse says, checking his IV and charts as Mum and I walk to his bedside.

  “But he will wake up eventually?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not guaranteed,” she
says. “We’ve done everything we can for the time being. Now it’s up to him.” She nods at the pale shape that I barely recognise.

  “I’ll leave you in peace,” she says before leaving the room.

  Mum takes a seat by his side and puts his hand in hers. I perch on the edge of the bed, not really wanting to look at him but unable to do anything else.

  “Do you think he can hear us?” I say after a few minutes of silence.

  “I hope so. I’ve been talking to him non-stop since he got in here the night before last. Telling him that when he gets better, we’ll go away somewhere. Telling him that you were worried about him, that he wouldn’t want to upset his old Mum and that he needs to wake up so she doesn’t come marching over here on her Zimmer frame.” She gives a slight chuckle. She combs her fingers through his dark hair in a gesture of affection, and I feel a pang of shame. For leaving them, for running away and barely giving them a second thought while I was with Ella.

  “But unfortunately, he’s high-risk. His old dad died of a heart attack, and I just hope… well, you know,” she says, blinking back another round of tears.

  “You said he had some kind of funny turn before it happened?”

  I picture them sitting in Le Maison, eating and chatting, him going pale and rambling on about my dead aunt. Mum must have been terrified.

  “He started talking about her,” she says, nodding. “It was the strangest thing. He refuses to mention her usually, unless he’s drunk, and you know that doesn’t happen often,” she says, as if trying to protect his image.

  “I wonder why it came up suddenly. Maybe he saw something that reminded him of her?”

  “The doctors said that sometimes people go into a mental shock when they’re having a heart attack. Like the body is trying to process it, and the mind short circuits and throws up traumatic memories or something. Honestly, I didn’t really understand what was happening until he grabbed his chest and collapsed.” Her face crumples with tears, and I get up to put an arm around her, doing what I came to do.