Bound Powers

by Saruuh Kelsey

  Gabi sat back, unsure whether it was truth or delusion. She straightened in shock when Mrs. Nazari said, “It’s an elf, you know? The monster was like you, once.”

  “The soul,” Gabi repeated. “You mean an elf is killing people?” She’d already suspected this but it was useful to have her theory supported by someone who saw the future.

  “The soul, the poison,” she agreed. “The deaths, the triangle.”

  “You’ve seen all this?” Gabi’s breath came quicker. If Salma’s mum had seen the killer and could identify them, there was no need to go to Glasgow. This could be dealt with now. She could get justice for Joy’s mum’s murder now. “The deaths—are they accidental?”

  “No.” She blinked, her eyes glazing over. “Yes, one, but most, no. The soul killed the wrong one. Its master wanted the one with bound powers captured, not her mother dead. That was a mistake, but the others are right.” Her eyes cleared and she leant across the space between her chair and Gabi’s to grasp Gabi’s hand. “The triangle isn’t complete. The soul killed the wrong one.”

  Gabi’s breath caught. Dread and excitement. “Will there be another murder?”

  Mrs. Nazari nodded. “Yes. Or maybe not. That part, the distance, is hazy to me. I always see what’s coming better than what’s been, but not with this. The future is unsure, too many possibilities. The past is sure—I can only tell you the past.”

  “Then tell me,” Gabi breathed. “Please. Tell me everything you can.”

  “The soul has a master,” she said, leaning back and dropping Gabi’s hand. “The master needs the triangle for a spell—I can’t see what the spell does but I can feel how big it is, how far out its slimy fingers reach. The soul kills for the triangle, for the power in each death, but it wasn’t supposed to kill the woman here.”

  Gabi made a sound in the back of her throat, an elven hiss she’d heard only from other people. “When you said the soul had made a mistake,” she spoke, each word dragged from her, “did you mean it was meant to kill her daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  Across the room Joy inhaled a shuddery breath. Gabi wanted desperately to go to her, hold her so tight, and manipulate every thread of the environment around them until nothing and no one could reach her—but she didn’t have the strength of magic for that, and she needed to hear the rest of what Mrs. Nazari had to say. “Is she still in danger?”

  The woman’s eyes snapped to Gabi’s, clear and stark and angry. “Yes. Yes, and more with every day. You shouldn’t go up there, but you have to. If you don’t, the soul will kill for another triangle, another spell, starting again. And its master will kill until he has what he wants. Gabriella Pride. A greed like that can never be fulfilled. Do you know what a master such as that could do to the world?”

  Gabi shook her head, her head pounding.

  “He’ll swallow it all. So you must go and stop him, all of you. Others could stop him, but no one else will try.”

  Gabi struggled to reign in her all-consuming fear, her anger big enough to fill the whole world. “Why does he want Joy dead?”

  “For the spell. It needs one like her, to hold the spell steady. Without her, it won’t hold. It’s…”

  “Mrs. Navari?”

  “It won’t stay open. That’s what I almost said, instead of it won’t hold. I don’t know what makes me say that. Maybe I’ve seen something and forgotten it. Maybe in the back of my mind.”

  Gabi drew a long breath into her lungs; it struggled at first but came easy when she felt Joy’s hand on her shoulder, her presence behind the chair. “This soul,” she said. “How do we stop it?”

  “Mercy,” Mrs. Nazari sighed, pressing her hands together. “You must kill the monster.”

  “How?” Gabi tried to keep her anger in check; Mrs. Nazari didn’t deserve it turned on her.

  “Sever its link with the master. Freeze him or bind him or kill him, then kill the monster. It doesn’t deserve this.”

  It’s a killer, Gabi wanted to fire back, but she remembered Mrs. Nazari saying it had poison put into it. Would she condemn Peregrine, or herself, if the same was done to her? No, she knew she wouldn’t. It had been easy, for minutes there, to hate the twisted elf for killing Joy’s mum, for wanting Joy dead too, but if Salma’s mum was right, it wasn’t their fault. Gabi’s shoulders drooped. “Is there anything else you need to say? Something that might help?”

  “Protect her, elven warrior. If he gets his hands on her … now, he might do worse things with her than kill her.”

  Joy’s hand gripped tight to Gabi’s shoulder; she reached up and laid her own hand over it. “I will,” she vowed. “I’ll protect her. You have my word.” And the word of an elf was unbreakable.

  Mrs. Nazari looked relieved at that. “The last time you were here? The witch you were trying to find? She worked for the master too. Not the same way—she didn’t have the poison in her—but she took the people he asked her to. Not here, though. She was distracted by all the liars and sinners in Agedale. She wanted to expose them, show what really happened behind their pretty front doors. And they smelled so good, and their life and lies tasted good to her, that she stopped obeying the master.”

  “Was she—” Joy asked, her voice thick. Gabi squeezed her hand. “Was she here for me?”

  Mrs. Nazari looked up at Joy, sadness in the lines of her face. “Sorry, girl, but yes.” Joy crumpled but before her tears could shudder out of her, the woman said, “She didn’t get her way, did she? And the master didn’t get you either. You’re a survivor, Joy Mackenzie, like me and my Salma. They tried to hurt you but you fought. You fought so bravely, and you’re still here. Don’t cry for the weakness you never let in.”

  Gabi watched Joy blink back tears, watched the tentative smile form on her mouth. “I suppose so,” she said quietly.

  Mrs. Nazari nodded. “Keep surviving.”

  “I’ll try.” Joy laughed, self-deprecating.

  “And I’ll make sure she does,” Gabi added before Mrs. Nazari could pin her with another demanding look. “Thank you, for what you’ve told me, for warning us.”

  She glowed under the praise. “It’s what I’m here for. One last thing—get my girl back here, with you. You need a full, strong coven. One missing will make you weak.”

  “I don’t think she wants to come back,” Joy said quietly, her misery plain on her face.

  Mrs. Nazari scoffed. “It doesn’t matter. You tell her from me—if she wants her friends to be hurt, to die without her, she can stay where she is. If she wants them to live, she comes back.”

  “Die,” Gabi echoed, getting to her feet. Her hand slid from Joy’s for a second but their fingers laced back together quickly.

  “You get her back. She needs to be with you—not for her witchcraft but her balance.”

  Gabi frowned, not understanding. “What?

  “I know what you mean,” Joy said quietly. “I’ll … I’ll tell her what you said. We won’t go without her.”

  “Good. I’ll keep looking forward, through the fog. Hashem will call you if I find anything.”

  Joy nodded, trying to smile.

  “Thank you,” Gabi said earnestly. She ought to have felt better, armed with this new knowledge, but the risk was too high for relief. Joy’s life, threatened. Gabi bristled at the thought of it.

  “Goodbye Mrs. Nazari,” Joy said politely before they left her sat in her chair, watching the muted flickering of a reality show on TV.

  Gabi waited until they’d left the sitting room and the house behind, until they were stood on the brick drive outside, before she bound Joy in her arms and held her as tight as elvenly possible.

  “I’m alright,” Joy said quietly.

  “I’m not,” Gabi laughed, burying a hand in Joy’s hair. “I hate this. I hate knowing there’s someone out there who wants to hurt you.”

  “I think…” Joy’s hesitation made Gabi put an ounce of distance between them, enough to read Joy’s face. “I don’t think they’
ll kill me. Salma’s mum said the master wanted me, but might not kill me. I think he wants my … what I can do, with my hands. He wants to use that.”

  Gabi clenched her jaw so hard a muscle in her cheek fluttered. “She also said it would be worse than dying if he got hold of you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Joy insisted. Gabi could see the fear in her eyes, knew she didn’t believe her own words.

  “Yeah, I’m with Pride here, Joy,” Gus said a step behind them. “This seems bad. We should stay here.”

  Joy pulled away from Gabi to face her friend, her hands settling on her hips. “If we don’t go after them, no one else will stop them. You heard what she said—if he isn’t stopped, he’ll swallow the whole world. He can’t keep doing this, getting people to kill for him—and we don’t know what the triangle does, what the spell will do if he manages to cast it. We can’t let that happen, Gus. We can’t.”

  Gus shook his head but he couldn’t find an argument. Maisie stood at his feet, silent and watchful.

  Gabi looked to Hashem, who’d followed and now stood awkwardly with them. “What do you think?”

  He blinked, taken aback. “Why?”

  “Because we’re too close to this. You’re the only one here who’s thinking clear. What should we do?”

  He straightened, thinking. After a while he said, “My mum says this master and his soul will affect the world, and do worse things than even killing. I don’t want to find out what those things are, and I don’t want someone like that to have even more power.” He looked at Joy when he said that. “Is it true you have bound powers?”

  “What?” Joy breathed. Gabi reached for her hand again.

  “Bound powers,” Hashem repeated. “Witchcraft and magic, bound together. Are you elven?”

  “Fae,” Joy breathed.

  He nodded. “People like you are rare. That’s why the master wants you. Your power … because it burns corruption and dark power out of a person, dark and corrupted people are afraid of it. People with bound powers were hunted centuries ago, so close to extinction most people have forgotten about them.”

  “But not you?” Gabi asked. She contemplated the idea of him working for the master too, that he was only telling them this to manipulate them, but her instincts were too good. He was being honest.

  “I study ancient witchcraft,” he replied with a slight smile. “I know many forgotten powers.”

  Gabi nodded, satisfied. “What does this mean, then? Why would the master want someone with bound powers?”

  Hashem shrugged. “Too many reasons. A spell could have been cast millennia ago by a witch with bound powers, and can only be undone by one too. He might need bound powers as a component in a spell, like my mum said. He might want to use the power to remove magic from enemies and rivals.”

  Joy shrunk in on herself with every word. “How can I get rid of it? This power?”

  “Get rid of it?” Hashem looked bewildered. “It’s part of you, as much as your soul and your witchcraft. Why would you want rid of it?”

  “I don’t want to be a weapon anymore,” she said so quietly he might have missed it—but judging by his sad eyes, he heard.

  Gently, he said, “It’s the corrupt and dark that want to use you, Joy, and you have a means of fighting the corrupt and dark. You can use your bound powers to keep yourself safe.”

  Joy’s eyes were bleak. “And endanger everyone around me.”

  Hashem’s smile was kind as he stepped closer, the wind lifting his collar. “It’s as much a choice as it is to use your witchcraft and your fae powers separately. Has your witchcraft ever cast a spell without your permission?”

  “No,” Joy answered slowly.

  “Bound powers are the same—they belong to you, you control them. They don’t decide when they’re used—you do. As long as you choose not to use that power, it will never be used.”

  Joy was silent for a long moment, her eyes narrowed in thought, but then she looked at Hashem as if he’d taken the sun from the sky and presented it to her as a gift. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  He nodded, smiling. “If you ever want to know more about bound powers, come here and find me. I’m staying with my mum, even if Salma comes back.”

  “She will,” Joy said, sounding more like herself. “I’m bringing her home.”

  Hashem’s smile grew.

  Joy

  By Saturday morning everything was ready. Joy, Gus and the rest of her coven had prepped spells and packed essentials into a big bag, and Eilidh had made her excuses—it was a spur of the moment visit to a university she was thinking of applying to. Gabi had spent hours last night convincing her dad to stay behind, keep an eye on Agedale, and he’d hugged her for a solid five minutes early this morning, warning her if anything happened to her, he’d kill her. Regina Stone had been more difficult to convince and only agreed to let Victoriya go without her because she couldn’t get time off work and because Neil, who Regina loved and surprisingly approved of, was going with. And because Bo had reassured her somehow.

  Now they huddled around the once-white minivan Gabi had borrowed from her Aunt, heads craned up the road for a sight of Salma’s purple Peugeot. Victoriya’s dogs, all six of them, mingled on the pavement, their leads tangled together, barking at anything. Nibble was fixated on Eilidh’s seagull familiar on the lamppost above, and seemed to think Theodore would make an ideal chew toy if only he’d fly down.

  “Can’t we wait inside?” Gus asked, shivering in his thin windbreaker.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t be cold if you had an actual coat,” Victoriya pointed out nastily.

  “Oh yeah, why didn’t I think of that?” he shot back, his arms around his middle. “Buy an actual coat. Great idea. Genius. Oh wait—I don’t have the money for a big fancy coat like yours.”

  Victoriya pulled her big fancy coat closer around herself, looking pleased he’d noticed. It was a deep wine red with grey fur around the collar—fake, because Victoriya would never own real fur when she loved animals so much. “You only just lost your job. What did you spend all your wages on if you didn’t buy coats?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe food, electricity, stuff Maisie can eat without throwing up, just luxuries like that.”

  Victoriya pursed her mouth but didn’t snap back at him. She redirected her energy instead. “Tiny! Stop sniffing at him!”

  “I don’t mind,” Neil replied cheerfully, his cheeks red from the wind and his brown hair ruffled. His bag of witch supplies sat beside him on the pavement but Joy thought he didn’t realise Maisie had burrowed into it.

  Joy stared up the road, letting her coven’s bickering and conversations flow over her. Where was Salma? Was she even coming? With every minute, Joy’s heart sank closer to her boots. She worried the thin plastic bracelets on her wrist—she’d had them since year eight at school but they were so good for twisting and snapping when she was stressed that she still wore them. Plus, they were rainbow coloured.

  She should have been worried about losing her job, and she was—Mr. Albright couldn’t give her the day off but she’d decided this was more important and skipped work anyway, feeling awful about abandoning the endangered species who needed her help—but Salma’s absence was more pressing.

  “She’ll be here,” Gabi said, snagging Joy around the waist. “She’d tell you if she wasn’t coming.”

  “I know,” Joy mumbled. Gabi had her own work worries to dwell on, having to leave her neighbourhood watch and Bo in charge, but she didn’t let any of it show.

  Salma was late. They were supposed to set off at eleven but it was already twelve. Neil and Victoriya were the first to go back inside, shivering, arms around each other. Then Gus and Maisie. Joy wouldn’t give up, and Eilidh wore the same stubborn hope on her face that Joy held onto. She tried calling Salma again, left another voicemail.

  Eventually the shivering forced them inside. Salma was coming. Joy would accept nothing else. Salma was just late. Stuck in traffic.

&n
bsp; Joy sat at the window watching the road miserably, spooning hot tomato soup into her mouth but barely tasting it.

  It took three hours for her to arrive.

  “There!” Eilidh said, her face lit up. “She’s coming. I can see the car.”

  Joy ran for the door, Eilidh close behind her and followed by the others. Her heart beat so fast, full of hope.

  Joy could see the car now, turning off the main road at the top and coming down the steep road. A knot inside Joy unravelled with relief and she was suddenly smiling. She didn’t want to do this without Salma, wasn’t sure they should go anywhere near where a killer had been without her steadying presence. And she had missed her so much.

  The car pulled up on the opposite side of the road and then Salma was loping over to them, her short afro buffeted by the strong sea wind and her pale jade dress whipping around her ankles. She looked the same; Joy hadn’t realised she’d expected her to change until Salma was back, looking as solid and welcoming as ever, ivy wound around her ankles and a belt of other plants and herbs trailing from her waist. She carried a clear Tupperware, which was immediately put in Joy’s hands.

  “Are those feel-good-cookies?” Gus breathed, popping the lid off without taking the box from Joy. Lemon and herbs fragranced the air and Joy’s mouth watered even though she’d felt sick a moment ago. “Oh, God, they are. I missed these things,” Gus mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit.

  Salma smiled, indulgent as ever.

  Joy handed the box to Gabi and flung herself into Salma’s arms. “I missed you,” she said.

  “I know.” Salma hugged her tight. “I missed you too.” She drew back and looked them over—Joy, Gabi, Victoriya, Maisie, who had poked her head out of Neil’s bag, Gus, Eilidh, Neil, all six of Victoriya’s dogs, and Eilidh’s familiar flying above them. “How did you get involved with another killer? I want to know everything.”

  Gabi nodded. “Can we talk while we’re driving? I want to get going.”

  Salma swept an arm towards the minivan hulking outside Gabi’s house.