Hella stopped swinging. She wiped her tears away before looking at him.
‘I was at work this morning, at the store, and something really weird happened.’ Hella spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth. ‘Something crazy is going on, and I don’t know what to do about it, and I don’t believe in magic!’ Hella tried to breathe normally as fear and uncertainty unfolded in her chest like a poisonous flower.
James slowed his swing, kicking at the tanbark. His eyebrows pulled together. ‘Hell, I wanna help here, but I’m pretty sure I’ve missed something. Magic?’
Hella paused, taking a deep breath. ‘My mum thinks she’s a witch, all of that pagan stuff? Apparently, she’s a real witch. And so is Remy, a real “magical” witch. Remy asked me to put this necklace on and then there was a blinding purple light. It was so bright. Then she told me that I’m a witch too! How mad is that?’ Hella took several steadying breaths. A part of her wondered if she were going crazy.
James took a moment to react, then he burst out laughing. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ He swung back and forth, nearly falling off the swing. ‘Hellhound, I know you have some crazy, creative writerly genes in you, but wow, that’s weird.’
Hella stood up, took hold of the chains of his swing on either side of his face and held it still. Between gritted teeth, she snarled, ‘I am not lying. It happened.’ She glowered down at him. ‘Remember how I overheard my mum talking to someone about some prophecy to do with me—she was talking to Remy! Remy brought it up too! And I don’t know what to do.’
Looking down at James, into his cloudy grey eyes, she watched as it all slowly sunk in, and the smile slid from his face.
Finally, he said, ‘Are you saying that magic is real?’
Hella threw up her hands, stepping back from him. ‘I have no idea.’ Then she sat down on her swing. ‘Maybe.’ She shrugged, uncomfortable with the thought.
James frowned. ‘I always just kind of thought your mum was messing with me.’
‘She was!’ Hella said, exasperated. ‘I mean, I think she was. I don’t know.’
Hella started kicking at the tanbark, her boots delving into the dirt beneath. Without looking up at him, she said, ‘I think they’re mad. But, James.’ She looked at him, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t think she was crazy. ‘What just happened in the store…’ She trailed off. ‘I can’t explain it.’
James looked thoughtful. He ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up. With a sigh, he said, ‘Well, this magic stuff, did it hurt you?’
Hella froze. ‘What?’ She wiped sweaty palms down her jeans.
‘The magic, or whatever? Was it bad? Like, black magic?’ he asked casually.
Hella considered. ‘I… I’m not sure. I mean, no it didn’t hurt. It was just a bright light. The necklace I put on, it was warm. Remy said something about it protecting me. Why?’
James considered. ‘Did you ever stop to think that this could be a good thing?’
Hella barked a laugh. ‘You’re joking.’
‘No, I’m not. If she says you’re a real witch, warts and all, then isn’t that the most awesome thing ever?’ James smiled at her. If he thought she was crazy, he didn’t let on, he was rolling with it.
Hella desperately wanted to crawl under a blanket right now and never come out. ‘I don’t think—’
‘I’m serious.’ James got up off his swing and came to kneel by Hella. ‘Just consider it. It could be really cool. Show me some magic.’
With a laugh, she gently kicked at him. ‘I can’t. It was the necklace.’
‘Oh, come on, Hella.’
‘What?’
James pulled her off the swing. ‘In every story you’ve ever read, name one time where it didn’t come from within the special person?’
‘Are you saying that the magic was in me all along?’ Hella mocked.
James pulled her along, leading her back to the store. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
Chapter Thirteen
Harrow
Harrow Nympha was too young to embrace the air conditioning of the cool bar inside. He had flipped off the bartender when the man had tried to kick him out. The bartender did not appreciate that, so he shoved Harrow outside and onto the curb with a roughness that Harrow found came only with humans. And, of course, angels. His hands scraped the pavement a little as he broke his fall.
Outside, Harrow was dizzy from the scorching sun, his head aching. For a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing pain behind his eyes. When he opened them again, he noticed magpies dipping their beaks fervently into a nearby birdbath. Harrow would like a bath himself. His t-shirt was sweated through, and though black was his favourite colour, it absorbed the heat.
‘Stupid human bars,’ he muttered.
The sun beat down on his black hair, making his head split with pain. Harrow looked around carefully, but saw no humans. He smiled, then shimmered into his warlock form. His tail flicked behind him, and he used his Family’s water and ice magic to cool himself down. Cool tendrils of ice glistened over his skin for a few moments before he shimmered back to his human self. He had to be careful of humans, wary that someone could exit any of the buildings or houses nearby and see him. Again, he looked like a regular teenager with oil-black hair and pale-white skin, no scales or tail in sight.
The cool breeze gone, the natural temperature hot and dry, Harrow took a deep aching breath. He had gone and left the Den again, after a row with Lisa, but he wanted to go back now. He was starving. Hot. Tired.
With no sign of a taxi, Harrow started what he thought would be a very long walk. Leaving the shade of the bar behind, he started at a slow pace down the road, smelling the overpowering tang of salt from the beaches nearby. On the weekends, there were plenty of tourists driving through, though they rarely stopped for more than petrol and supplies, Harrow knew. There wasn’t a lot in this little town of Mill Valley, but it sure wasn’t a quick stroll from one end to the other.
Stepping onto the road, Harrow saw a glass bottle laying on the sidewalk. Angrily, he kicked at it. It hit a parked car, shattering the back window. No one that walked past him would notice, but his blue eyes slit vertically as he smiled.
Chapter Fourteen
Hella
Walking back to the Witches’ Wares store felt like a bad idea. But James had insisted and began dragging Hella along. They walked through the park, straight to the wooden front door. The sign read Open, and James entered first, the bell above his head chiming. Remy was behind the counter, her face impassive. If she was mad that Hella had run out on a shift, she didn’t show it. Instead the old lady came around from behind the register. She nodded at them politely. ‘James, I believe?’
James smiled. ‘Yes, ma’am. I think you and Hella should talk.’ James gently pushed Hella forward by the small of her back.
‘What is going on?’ Hella asked her new boss, thoroughly confused.
Remy gave a curt nod. ‘Yes, well. How about we sit and have some nice tea in here.’ Remy led the way into the side room—she had closed this area off to the customers and appeared to be living in the store. Hella followed, but Remy frowned at James. ‘He cannot join us.’
Hella tugged James along. ‘He comes, or I’m not talking with you.’
Remy’s blue eyes squinted. ‘What have you told him?’
‘Everything you told me.’ Hella shrugged.
Remy rolled her eyes so dramatically that Hella almost laughed. ‘Oh, Hella! You cannot talk to humans of us!’
Hella just blinked at her. Remy huffed. ‘But, of course, you didn’t know that. Oh okay, fine. Both of you, get in here.’ The room, which once held dozens of boxes, now looked more like a lounge room. Remy had somehow placed a small couch and two faded armchairs in a circular position, perfect for company. The fireplace was dull and quiet. ‘Turn the sign will you, young man?’
She suspected so. James turned th
e sign, then followed.
Remy sat in the lavender armchair, closest to the empty fireplace, the two teenagers sat side-by-side on the couch. Remy seemed to consider them. ‘I suppose Hella has already told you more than she should. Not her fault, she didn’t know. I suppose it could be good for her to have a friend who knows the truth. We have that much leniency, at least.’
James squeezed Hella’s arm, nodding to Remy, encouraging Hella to speak. ‘Thank you,’ he said, nodding politely.
‘What the hell is happening?’ Hella asked.
Remy’s mouth quirked. ‘To the point, then, yes.’ She clicked her fingers together. A small shower of pale-blue sparks erupted from her fingers as a tea pot and three cups with saucers appeared on the table before them. Hella’s eyes popped wide.
James laughed. ‘That’s awesome.’ He leaned over to scoop up the tea. He looked at Hella. ‘Why can’t you do that?’
Hella frowned at him. Remy crossed her legs, sitting back in the armchair. ‘We have rules for establishing new witches, Hella, but you’re a special case. It’s important that you understand that.’
‘I don’t understand anything,’ she said tiredly, rubbing at her eyes.
‘Of course. How about we start with this. Firstly, Hella, you were born a witch. It wasn’t something that I, or even your mother, made you. You were born the way you are. The amulet—that necklace—simply activated your magic. A trigger, as it were. Are you following me?’
Hella nodded. To distract herself from the nervousness in her hands, she took apart the mess that was her hair and detangled it with her fingers absently.
James watched on in concern, all amusement drained from his face, leaving his features uncharacteristically serious. He was holding the tea but seemed to have forgotten about it. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
Hella began braiding her hair to the side, her mind swirling. She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I broke that necklace, didn’t I?’
Remy set her tea down on the coffee table, then, from some hidden pocket inside her layers, she produced the amulet. Hella wanted to recoil from it.
‘Actually, no. You didn’t,’ Remy said. Hella finished with her hair. Remy clicked her fingers together, a few sparks fizzled, and the amulet appeared in Hella’s open palm. The amethyst glowed at her touch. Hella nearly dropped it.
‘But I smashed this.’
Remy just sipped her tea. ‘It’s magical, dear,’ she said, as if that explained everything.
Hella gazed down at the amulet, James peering over her shoulder. She set it down on the coffee table gingerly. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, throbbing against her ribcage. Blood boiling in her ears. ‘This can’t be happening. It’s not real.’ Hella felt as though she might faint. ‘Magic isn’t real. You’re all mad, or lying to me, or…’
James leaned closer, holding her arm. ‘Hella? You look pale. Are you okay?’
Hella’s eyes glazed over. Fear thrummed through her veins as she clenched her fists. Sparks flew from her hands, purple and red. They spat onto the couch, across the coffee table, landing on the amulet. As power surged through her, Hella caught a glimpse of her long red hair changing to purple. Angry now, Hella stood up. ‘This is not real. You’re lying to me!’ she shouted at Remy.
The old woman’s eyes grew wide. ‘Perhaps you want to give Hella some space.’ Remy motioned for James to come over to her, but he sat, frozen, staring at his friend.
‘Hellhound, what are you doing?’
Sparks flew. ‘Magic is not real!’ Long red flames, only tinged with purple, burst from her hands. Remy ducked out of the way just before the fire absorbed the lavender armchair. Another burst flew to the walls. The carpet. And a wild burst caught onto James. He didn’t move fast enough. His leather jacket caught fire. Hella vaguely heard his screams.
Remy shouted at her. ‘Hella, stop! Stop it, or you’ll die!’ her old voice cracked. ‘Hella! You can control this! Stop. You must calm yourself. Where the fire is red, it means it’s out of control, Hella. You want purple fire. Hella, control it.’
Through the shimmering heat, the fire and the smoke now filled the unventilated room. Hella could hardly see. Her eyes watered. Suddenly she felt tired, drained of energy. ‘No,’ she whispered. Then, for just a moment, every flickering flame and small burning ember turned a flash of purple, before it dissolved into ash and smoke. James was on the ground, Remy bent over him. They both looked up at Hella, their eyes wide and shocked.
Hella scrambled over to James. ‘Are you okay?’
He got to his feet, brushing off ash and soot. ‘Well, considering you set me on fire, I’m doing pretty well.’ He smiled crookedly at her. ‘Are you okay? What was that?’ Looking down at Remy, he said, ‘You know, lady, you should get a window or a sprinkler system in here or something, if you’re going to have a fire-starter working with you.’ He leaned over to give Hella a nudge, then his eyes went wide.
Remy’s eyes popped too. She glanced at James, gave him a thwack on his arm, then darted away. Remy quickly scuttled out of the room, then returned a moment later with a black zip-up dress. Hella watched as James looked pointedly at the ceiling, his hands on his hips. She thought he was examining the damage she had done. Remy covered her eyes with one hand, passing Hella the dress with the other. ‘You may want this, dear.’
Hella glanced down at the dress, then squealed. She may be magically fireproof, but her clothes were not. Her jacket, shirt and jeans were in tattered rags, barely covering the essentials. ‘Oh my god. Don’t look,’ she said to both James and Remy, who had their backs turned.
They both nodded as James added. ‘I would not dream of it. But I do like the purple.’
Hella glanced down at herself and noticed the purple lace on her bra. She threw her empty teacup at James, then quickly changed. He smiled but had the good sense to look embarrassed. Hella was covered in smears of smoke and ash. She wished she had a hairbrush. Or a shower. She zipped the dress on. Suddenly, she said, ‘Hey, why do you have a dress in my size?’ Hella looked down at the dress she had once thought was black. Instead, she could now see that it had a myriad of tie-dye swirls and patterns up the legs and stomach. ‘This is something my mum would wear.’
James and Remy turned around. James smirked at her pile of ashen clothes she had dumped on the couch. Remy looked her up and down. ‘Well that fits nicely. I was thinking of adding some clothes to the store’s stock. I ordered a few things last week, and I’m glad I did.’ She looked pointedly at what used to be Hella’s outfit.
‘Me too,’ she muttered. ‘So, I can apparently set fire to…’ Hella glanced around. ‘Everything. I didn’t even mean to do that.’ She looked at Remy. ‘I’m sorry.’
Remy gave a chuckle. ‘Oh, dear. No harm done.’
James picked up his leather jacket. ‘Lady, you’re wrong there.’ He held it up accusingly for Hella to see. It was burned to ruins. ‘This was my favourite jacket, Hell.’
Hella squirmed. ‘In my defence, I totally didn’t know I could do that!’
Remy’s amusement faded. ‘I need to warn you, child, you must be in control of your powers. If you use it too much, it’s very dangerous. I have been told you’re powerful. That’s just what you can do when you’re upset, think of what you could do if were you trained, taught in the craft.’
Hella wanted to collapse onto her bed. She was so tired. Was she really a witch? ‘What do you mean, trained? Wait, who told you? My mother?’ Hella glanced around miserably. She had destroyed everything. What a horrible gift. Remy saw the look on her face.
‘Hella, dear, this was an accident. It’s okay. You could do amazing, life-changing things if you let me guide you. I’m your guardian. Don’t be afraid of your gifts.’
‘This is awful. Magic is so awful,’ Hella said, tears in her eyes. ‘Look what I’ve done. Magic can’t be good. I nearly killed you guys!’
James pointedly tried to brush the ash off his face, but it didn�
��t help.
Remy nodded slowly, understanding. ‘I see what you mean, little witch. However, both your friend and I are just fine.’
James smiled encouragingly, opening his arms so that she could see he was not injured.
‘And you can be taught some truly divine things, Hella.’ Remy looked around, at the scorch marks, the burnt carpet and the peeling, smouldering, wallpaper. ‘One of a witch’s many gifts, once studied, are what we call Restoration Spells. As you can see, witches have powerful magic, which can be used to destroy.’
She tottered over to a small cabinet in the far corner, picked up a vial, opened it and spread a yellow dust across the floor on the burned carpet. ‘Or you can use your gifts to restore.’ She chanted some spell, waved her hand in a complicated fashion, then said a single word in Latin. ‘Ignis.’
The yellow dust settled over the ground, then found everything that Hella had burned. The dust glowed, then grew, spreading softly like spilled custard over the room. Hella and James stepped back with a yelp, but the dust washed over them with a pleasant cooling sensation which sent goose bumps rippling up Hella’s bare legs.
Hella watched as everything the yellow dust touched was healed, restored to normal. Her mouth fell open as she watched the dust climb up to James’s jacket. He dropped it as the dust spilled over the burned leather, restoring the jacket to its former glory.
James’s mouth fell open, then his lips curled into a wide smile spreading across his face. ‘Sweet!’ He picked up his jacket, checking it thoroughly for any burns, but there were none.
The dust found Hella’s pile of clothes and did the same thing, emitting a soft glow. Hella picked up her clothes. They were clean. Cleaner and softer than before.
Hella’s mouth was dry with shock. She looked over to Remy. ‘I can do this?’
Remy nodded reluctantly. ‘You could, if you were trained. Restoration spells are difficult, but I’m sure you would get there. Magic has infinite possibilities, Hella. And there’s so much I need to explain to you. The world is much, much bigger and more complicated than you realise.’
Feathers, Tails & Broomsticks Page 5
