The Lazy Girl's Guide To Magic : The Complete Series

by Helen Harper

  I knew exactly what he meant. Belinda was a victim of Bellows, no matter how you looked at it. But if the necromancer was performing magic again, we had to act. It had got to the point where we had to rule Belinda Battenapple out or in for good before more people were killed.

  I glanced down at the photos. In every one, she was wearing the vial. She might not have had on a stitch of clothing but she clearly wasn’t about to abandon her death-drawing necklace, even for this.

  We started walking back again. Before we reached the edge of the trees, I turned to Winter. ‘There is one good thing to come out of all this,’ I said.

  He frowned. ‘What’s that?’

  I didn’t smile. ‘Now you’re calling them zombies as well.’

  Winter didn’t argue.

  In an ideal world, we could have marched straight over to Belinda and pulled her away for questioning. Instead, there was the small matter of the vote. At least both Belinda and I would be in the same space so she couldn’t hide herself away and avoid us. As soon as this last part of filming was over, Winter and I would both ensure that we got her alone and in a quiet spot.

  I eyed her while Armstrong barked out orders involving technical stuff I didn’t have a hope of understanding. She didn’t look like an evil necromancer – but she didn’t look harried or upset like the victim of blackmailing either. This was a woman who spent her entire life in front of the cameras. I might have told Barry that most people weren’t good liars but I reckoned that someone like Belinda had it down pat. And perhaps calling what she did lying was a bit unfair. She presented an image to her adoring public – that was part of her job.

  I joined the other contestants. Lou looked at me questioningly. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Just clearing my head,’ I said airily.

  She frowned at me. Yeah, I wasn’t a great liar either.

  Armstrong came up and gave us a critical once-over. He pointed to Rachelle at the back and someone darted over and adjusted her hair. Then he frowned at Mike, who hastily undid two of his shirt buttons to reveal his chest hair. Only when he was completely happy with everyone’s appearance did Armstrong speak.

  ‘This is a vital moment! This is your first chance to say what you really think about your fellow contestants. It’s not the time to be shy or retiring. It’s not the time to bite your tongue. We expect you to let rip with exactly what you think. Have you got that?’ There was an indistinct murmur of agreement. ‘I said,’ he bellowed, ‘have you got that?’

  ‘Yes.’ We dutifully bobbed our heads.

  Armstrong didn’t appear appeased. ‘This is the greatest show on television,’ he said, his dour expression entirely at odds with his words. ‘You are incredibly lucky to be here. Do not waste it! Regret only what you do, not what you don’t do!’

  I was starting to see why he’d been chosen as Enchantment’s new director. For all his cheesy lines and erratic mood swings, he possessed a great deal of charisma. If it weren’t for a certain blue-eyed witch standing not a million miles away from here, I might even have been tempted.

  The murkier the investigation got, the clearer my feelings towards my erstwhile partner became. I shot Winter a sidelong glance to where he was standing by Mazza and Moonbeam. He was watching me with a shuttered expression but when I gave him a tiny wave he returned it with a tiny smile. Butterflies flipped in the pit of my belly. Even the prospect of being part of an Enchantment vote couldn’t beat what Raphael Winter did to my emotions.

  We were counted down then directed out. One by one, we trooped into the clearing where a semicircle of cauldrons had been placed. Our names were written on the near side. I took up position behind mine and peered into the contents. It was a gloopy neon sludge, designed to show up on camera. I beamed. This was always my favourite part of the show.

  Belinda strolled down the pathway, lanterns blazing into life as she passed them. Again, it wasn’t magic providing their power but basic technology. I’d always suspected as much; having my suspicions confirmed now I wasn’t viewing everything through a television screen was rather disappointing.

  ‘Welcome,’ Belinda said. ‘This is the very first vote-off for this series and we know it’s going to be an exciting one. All twelve contestants have had the chance to get to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Some relationships will snap under the strain of tonight’s events while others will grow and blossom into friendships for life. Enchantment isn’t just about the magic that surrounds us. It’s about the magic within us.’

  Under any other circumstances, I’d have vomited in my mouth. Instead, I bounced around on the balls of my feet in delight. Just for the next five minutes, I was prepared to put aside all the worries and fears I had about the undead and the unsavoury. Enchantment was worth it.

  ‘Each of you,’ Belinda said, addressing us, ‘has a cauldron in front of you. For now your cauldrons are safe but if you are voted out, they will be tipped over and the magic inside will cease to exist. Your names will be drawn at random. State clearly who you wish to see voted out and what your reasons are.’

  This was where the magic really happened. Depending on when a contestant’s name was drawn could change the course of the entire game. I’d seen episodes where it went right down to the wire, with equal votes cast for different people. I’d also seen episodes where the first vote decided who the unhappy victim would be. As Armstrong directed the cameras into a sweeping shot of the whole area, I cracked my knuckles in preparation.

  Belinda delved into her velvet drawstring bag, withdrawing one slip of paper. ‘The first contestant to vote is Harriet.’

  At least three cameras swung towards her. The others focused on the rest of us, ready to capture the expression of the first unlucky target.

  Harriet took a deep breath. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot,’ she said, her voice quavering only just slightly. ‘I have clashed with Ivy and she has done several things of which I disapprove.’ I’d have tried to look contrite but I was playing the role of evil contestant. Rolling my eyes, I clicked my tongue and folded my arms as if she were being completely ridiculous. ‘However,’ Harriet continued, ‘I have come to realise that she is not a bad person. She can still see the error of her ways and I’m happy to help her do that.’

  I raised my eyebrows. Harriet was painting herself as some kind of saint. It shouldn’t have annoyed me, she was playing a part as much as I was, but it still irritated me.

  ‘The person I would like to vote off,’ she said, while everyone else held their breath, ‘is …’

  Harriet never got the chance to finish. From somewhere to the left there was a loud shout. Armstrong leapt to his feet, a furious expression on his face. ‘Who the hell is that?’ he yelled. ‘Who is interrupting our shooting?’

  There were more shouts. I jumped in front of my cauldron while Winter started to sprint towards the sound. Before he even reached the trees, a nightmarish creature sprang out, crashing into him and knocking him to the ground.

  If I thought the monster man who had attacked us up on the hill was gruesome, then I’d been naïve. The straggly hair told me this was the same creature I thought I’d seen in the trees during the challenge. Now I could also see his face I felt ill. He’d obviously been much further down the decomposition process than the previous zombie. There were scarcely any scraps of flesh clinging to his bones; in fact, half of his skull was pure bone. The other half was writhing with maggots. A single worm slithered out of his eye socket.

  I swallowed down my horror, let out a cry and raised my hands. I was going to send this damn thing back to kingdom come where it belonged.

  Screams tore the air and people scattered in all directions. I held my ground and flicked my fingers, twisting my right index finger into a figure of eight and using my pinkie for added impact. Whether the zombie sensed what I was doing or not, it wheeled round and barrelled towards me. That was fine. I only needed two more seconds. I rotated my wrist – then something slammed into me, knocking m
e down and interrupting the rune.

  For one horrifying moment, I thought there was more than one undead bastard. Then Mike’s arms went round me, pinning me in place. ‘Don’t worry, Ivy. I’ll save you.’

  The bloody plonker. I wriggled underneath him in a vain attempt to free myself as security guards streamed in from all the directions. Some were carrying tasers but I doubted they would help. This was a corpse, after all; electricity would increase its strength and speed, not decrease it.

  ‘Let me go!’ I screamed.

  Mike looked down at me with a confused expression. I twisted round so I was on my back and thrust my hands upwards to shove him off while turning my head to see where the zombie was. Why wasn’t it on us yet? At the speed it had been going…

  I gasped in horror. With Mike’s intervention, it had abandoned its sprint towards me in favour of focusing on the one other person who was standing alone. Frozen in shock and seemingly unable even to scream, Belinda only managed to blink once and hold up her hands. Then the thing was on her.

  Blood sprayed out in all directions, arcing into the air before splattering on the hard ground as the thing bit Belinda’s neck with its teeth and ripped at her flesh with its claws. Fingernails, I thought dully. Not claws. That used to be a human being.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Mike’s entire body was quivering. He gave me a wide-eyed look of horror then sprang up and bolted away, as streams of red-robed witches finally appeared from all directions.

  Working as one, the Order witches raised their hands and cast out a combined rune. The zombie was flung backwards from Belinda, her blood staining every inch of its body and features. With nothing to support her any longer, Belinda collapsed. Moonbeam pelted towards her.

  The zombie, grappling with the invisible magic forces that were being flung at it, caught sight of Moonbeam and made for him. Again, the witches’ magic pushed him back.

  ‘You need to stop it moving!’ I screamed. ‘Make ice and trap its legs!’

  I had no idea whether they heard me or not. I was already scrambling towards Moonbeam. He fell by Belinda’s side, his fingers pressing against the red-stained skin of her neck. The blood just kept on coming.

  Focusing on the immediate danger, I flung out my hands again towards the zombie. It groaned as another barrage of magic hit it from behind. Its knees gave way, the joints making an audible pop – but it wasn’t finished. Using only its hands, it scrabbled forward, mindlessly doing whatever it could to get back to its meal.

  Without Winter right next to me, I couldn’t draw water and make ice as quickly as we’d managed during our previous undead encounter. Fire would be fastest – and riskiest. Pulling as much oxygen into my lungs as I could, I threw out a double-handed flame rune. Within an instant, the zombie lit up, the remnants of its clothes alight. As the acrid scent of charring flesh and burning hair filled the air, I ran straight for it. I was short and unfit but, if I snagged it in just the right spot, this might work.

  Using all the momentum I could gather, I knocked into its shoulder, forcing it away from its path towards Moonbeam and his mother. Then I followed up with an immediate wind rune, flattening it completely to the ground and holding it there. At least, that was, until magic slammed into my body as well as the zombie’s. Pain flashed through me and it felt like my very bones were breaking. I heard Winter’s strangled yell then my knees gave way.

  The red-robed witches advanced, finally gaining on the zombie and adding more flames to my fire while ensuring that it didn’t move towards anyone else and the fire was contained. I fell all the way down, using the last of my strength to roll away while keeping my body from the heat. It was about all I could manage to do. The pain was excruciating.

  I coughed and choked, squinting back at Moonbeam and Belinda. My vision swam; I was either going to throw up or pass out. Maybe both. For one strange moment, I thought I saw Tarquin sprint up towards them and lunge downwards, grab something and smash it under his heel. Then Winter was on me, gathering me up in his arms as my consciousness finally gave way to blessed release.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was the raised voices that I heard first. Through the fugue of pain and semi-consciousness, I could make out Winter. Curiously, his voice was shaking with fury. ‘You could have killed her!’

  ‘We’re very sorry. She was in the way of the spell and—’

  ‘Any idiot could have avoided her! You call yourselves witches? You’re not fit to be in Arcane Branch if you can’t perform simple runes to hit a damn zombie!’

  ‘Uh, Adeptus Exemptus, it wasn’t really a zombie. It was an animated—’

  Winter interrupted them again. ‘I know damn well what it was!’

  I groaned, opened my eyes and looked around. As far as I could tell, I was lying on a narrow camp bed in one of the Enchantment trailers. It was tempting to close my eyes again and rest but then I remembered what had just happened and felt sick instead.

  Jerking upwards with a violent movement that made me feel even worse, I searched around desperately for a container. I only just grabbed a plant pot in time before I threw up. Most of the vomit landed inside but some spattered the leaves of what had been a pretty bonsai. I regarded it morosely. Very Zen.

  ‘Ivy!’ Winter appeared from the depths of the trailer, rushed over and knelt down beside me. ‘How are you feeling?’

  I pointed to the plant. ‘Not great,’ I said weakly. Then I burst into tears.

  Sheer panic flitted across Winter’s face before he drew me into a loose hug. ‘It’s alright,’ he murmured. ‘You’re alright.’

  I hiccupped. ‘It was my fault. Belinda’s dead because of me. I saw that thing in the woods earlier and I didn’t tell anyone. I was too afraid they’d think I was crazy. If I’d said something maybe she’d still be okay.’

  He pulled back and smoothed my hair away from my face. ‘Shhh. Everything’s fine. Belinda is fine. The only person who got seriously hurt was you. And that,’ he said in a hard tone, ‘was because we have too many incompetent witches in Arcane Branch.’

  ‘It wasn’t their fault.’ I sniffed. ‘I was in their way.’ I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and stared into his eyes. ‘How can Belinda be alright? That thing ripped out her throat.’

  ‘That’s another story. For now, you need to rest.’

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a monogrammed linen handkerchief. I wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised that he was old school enough to carry one. I took it gratefully and blew my nose into it then I offered it back to him. A ghost of a smile crossed his face and he shook his head. ‘Keep it.’

  I sniffed again. ‘You don’t want my snot?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  I twisted the handkerchief into a ball, my fingers clutching it for dear life. ‘Are you lying to me? Is Belinda really okay?’

  Winter smiled. ‘She’s really okay.’

  ‘And the zombie?’

  ‘It’s been taken care of.’

  ‘Do we know who the necromancer is? I mean, it’s obviously not Belinda Battenapple, is it?’

  ‘No.’ He sighed. ‘And no, we don’t know who’s raising the dead either.’ He cupped my face in his hands. ‘Stop worrying about it. You should lie down and rest. I’ll stay here with you.’ His eyes searched mine as if he still wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t dying. ‘You took a really nasty hit, Ivy.’

  Clearly being smacked by a devastating spell designed to bring down a creature of the undead had caused some seriously adverse effects because I shook my head and stood up, wobbling ever so slightly. ‘I’ve never felt better,’ I said, lying through my teeth. ‘Now explain to me what happened with Belinda. How on earth is she still alive?’

  Winter’s response was soft but his expression was intense. ‘You already know. According to Villeneuve anyway. He finagled his way up here. It’s probably just as well he did or the outcome would have been very different.’

  I blinked. ‘Tarquin? What on earth does he have to
do with anything?’

  ‘He said you already knew. That he’d told you all about it.’ Winter paused. ‘In fact, he told us that you had given him your blessing.’

  I hissed through my teeth. My vapid, idiotic excuse for an ex-boyfriend still wouldn’t hesitate to blame me for everything from the Salem witch trials to the ever-diminishing size of extra-large chocolate bars. ‘Bloody plonker.’

  Winter watched me carefully. ‘He said it was the night the Ipsissimus and I came to your block of flats. That he’d told you all about it in the back of your taxi. I knew he had to be lying though.’ He smiled at me.

  ‘Of course he’s lying! How could he have anything to do with Belinda Battenapple? And if I’d known about it, why wouldn’t I have…’ My voice trailed off. Oh.

  ‘Ivy?’

  I bit my lip. Arse. ‘Actually,’ I said, suddenly unable to meet Winter’s gaze any longer, ‘he did tell me something that night. I just don’t know what it was.’

  Unsurprisingly, Winter looked confused.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. ‘I set up a spell to block him out. He wanted to talk and I knew he wouldn’t shut up so I put up a barrier in order to avoid listening to him. I only released it when we got home. He did ask me if I thought he’d done the right thing and I said yes.’ I shrugged and groaned at the same time. ‘I didn’t know what on earth he was talking about.’ I opened one eye to risk a glance. Winter’s expression was studiously bland. I winced. ‘What has he done?’

  ‘He went to school with Moonbeam, some expensive private place in the Lake District. They kept in touch from time to time over the years. Moonbeam went to Villeneuve to ask for help.’

  I almost dreaded to ask. But I had to. ‘What kind of help?’

  ‘Moonbeam’s mother, Belinda Battenapple, has had quite a lot of surgery over the years.’

  ‘She’s ill?’

  Winter half-smiled. ‘No. I mean plastic surgery. But things were, uh, advancing to the point where the surgery wasn’t doing what she needed it to do. Moonbeam turned to Villeneuve for help and Villeneuve cast a spell for his old friend.’