Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Now that I’m awake and moving around, Emma goes home.
With nothing to do, I take the sandwich and snacks and eat them in a hot bath.
To my dismay, when I take the first bite, a rogue tomato escapes and plops into the water.
I growl and do a half-hearted search to no avail. I guess I’ll find it later.
The sound from the television echoes around the tiled walls.
The news is still going on and on, skimming a torturous edge of speculation and getting everything wrong.
I don’t know why I didn’t turn it off. The Creature Council doesn’t help.
They keep popping in to roll out the tried-and-tested propaganda script: the town was warded to keep the dragon bloods safe.
Safe.
When the reporter asks why creature hybrids aren’t given the same status, as they’re persecuted and murdered all the time, the Council representative changes the subject.
The Council lying isn’t what has made my mood plummet.
It’s them, my friends and neighbours, who have pissed me off the most. I’d thought—wrongly—given the chance, most of the residents would have gotten out.
Surely the newly trapped or the people from different counties would have left and sought asylum.
I thought they would do something, but no, it’s worse than that.
The news says the ward has been reinstated mainly to prevent the press and the overzealous public from entering the town, which is still an active crime scene.
The barrier has been resurrected, and most, if not all, the residents are back behind it.
They stayed after everything that had happened, and everyone is trapped again. Why would they do that? Why did they not run when they had the chance? To me, it doesn’t make sense, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. It’s hard to listen to.
I guess everyone is frightened of change. It doesn’t help that the spelled woke up in strange clothes and, frightened, did what frightened people do: they went back home.
They went back home ’cause that’s all they knew to do, and I have to remember that people have lost loved ones and friends, and believing what they’re told, they’ve returned to the lives they know.
We’ve spent years being told where to live, where to go, and when to turn up to the assigned job. They have no idea how to think for themselves. If the Creature Council wanted to neuter a supposedly powerful race, they’ve done that.
It all plays out on the news, and the way they talk makes everything seem so logical while I feel like I’m going mad. Like I’m a failure and let everyone down. I press the heel of my palms into my eye sockets, cutting off my vision.
Maybe if I press hard enough, I’ll forget.
I had a waking nightmare that nobody else was a part of, and I don’t have anybody I can commiserate with.
Only I can corroborate what happened. Without me, they can all pretend that nothing happened.
Emma is right. I’m a serious loose end. I might be the only person who truly saw what the invaders did.
Everyone else is either dead, hidden, or spelled.
I understand all this, yet I can’t help being mad.
I want to shake them awake, shout and scream for them to go, to live, while also being aware that they have nowhere to go.
They haven’t got an Emma or Ava to watch their backs.
But it fundamentally comes down to wanting to help and knowing if I emptied my bank account and handed over the cash, it would not change a thing.
They are all so happy in their cages.
They’re caged birds who have never learned to fly.
What a mess.
A new live segment begins, and the reporter’s excited voice announces they’re interviewing survivors.
I groan when I hear Anton Hill’s whiny voice.
“The attack happened while I was in the supermarket. I attempted to save everyone I could, but the staff threw us out the door, leaving us at the mercy of those humans.”
Humans? Even Anton Hill is spouting the council’s propaganda. I can’t believe he’s bringing up the store.
“Kricket Jones.” I squeak and almost drown myself. A wave of water splashes the black-and-white tiles. “The girl who’s wanted for questioning was the one who forced me out of the supermarket, physically pushing me into the clutches of the enemy.”
What the eff… “He named me? The little shit. Bloody Anton Hill named me.” Gosh, how I hate him. I. Hate. Him. He named me, and I didn’t bloody touch him! Gah, I feel sick. This interview is on every channel. My mum is going to kill me.
“Mr Hill, can you tell us about the spell and the magic saviour?” the vampire reporter asks excitedly.
“I fought the spell valiantly,” he says with a dramatic sigh, “but of course I was trapped like everybody else, and I woke up in the town square thanks to Gary Chappell and his magic. The humans were apprehended…”
I groan and add some more hot water to the bathtub, drowning out his stupid voice.
What a load of codswallop. The news has now named me a few times. I’m wanted for questioning, and they’re concerned for my welfare. Blah, blah, blah. The appeal for information has been nicely topped off with a ghastly work photo of me.
That bloody green polo is going to haunt me forever.
At least Gary Chappell is faring well—much better than me. There’s a campaign to have the Saviour Witch knighted. “Good luck finding him,” I grumble, dunking my head under the bubbles. I hope the rogue tomato doesn’t find its way into my hair.
I stay in the bath until the water runs cold and find the waterlogged tomato caught in a whirlpool by the plughole. I get dressed by encouraging the sock charm to clothe me in something other than the black outfit, and I get leggings and a lovely green jumper.
Emma said my family is being watched and that they are monitoring their movements and phone calls.
They must be the government and the gargoyles.
I bite my lip as I think. I need to talk to my parents.
Emma is nice, but she’s still a stranger.
I must let them know myself about not selling the charms. I’ll worry if I don’t.
I have an idea for a new charm. It isn’t something I’ve tried before, but I might as well give it a go.
One wall in the bedroom is taken up by a narrow wardrobe with mirrored sliding doors.
The only limit to my magic so far has been my lack of imagination.
I huff. It’s a scary thought. If I can make a feather charm from a random piece of glass, I can do this.
They won’t think of tracking a mirror—why would they?
How can you realistically track that?
I can do this.
My hand shakes as I place it onto the wardrobe’s frame and press my fingertips lightly on the glass. I’m scared. After passing out for days, I’m frightened to do any type of magic. What if my brains leak out of my ears?
I take in a big, shuddering breath. Yeah, I’m feeling a little squirrelly.
I push a tiny bit of power into the mirror and something happens: the surface distorts.
Okay, that’s good. The mirror’s surface becomes a liquid, and as the magic builds, I can let go.
I focus on my parents—on Mum’s scowling face and Dad’s hugs.
Keeping them both at the forefront of my mind, I also focus on the charms in their possession. Ah, the magic in the charms does the trick. It leads me and makes it easier to locate them.
The power does all the hard work, and when everything is ready, like picking a charm to use, I hunt for the closest mirror to them in the house and repeatedly send a pulse of magic into it. As if I’m knocking.
I jump and almost drop the connection when there’s a screech. “Kricket!” Mum yells. “Are you dead? Did they kill you? Ava said you were safe. Our daughter is a ghost!” She screams for my dad. “No, I’m not making it up! Look, she’s in the mirror!”
My dad hurries into the room and does a double-take when he sees me in the mirror. I wave, and his face pales. “I’m not dead. I wanted to talk to you, and I’ve been told it’s not safe to use the phone. I thought I’d try some new magic.”
“You thought the best way to contact us was to emulate the evil queen from Snow White?” Dad rubs the stubble on his chin.
I snort. I knew I borrowed the idea from somewhere.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” he says in a high falsetto.
I giggle.
Mum snaps out of her shock. “Oi, you two, this isn’t funny. Be serious. Kricket Hera Jones, you’re in so much trouble. We’ve seen the news. What were you thinking? Why—”
“We are very proud of you,” Dad says.
Mum gives him a sneaky dig in his ribs with her pointy elbow. Dad winces. “Yes, we are very proud of you,” she snarls. “You put yourself in danger, and Gary Chappell gets all the credit while you are labelled a common criminal. We are sooo proud.”
As usual, her sarcasm game is impressive.
Dad clears his throat. “We said we wouldn’t make judgments until we spoke to Kricket.” He turns back to me with a soft smile. “We want to hear about what happened from your prospective, pumpkin.”
“But perhaps it is best to wait till we are all face-to-face.” Mum leans heavily against the wall and glares into the mirror.
“The invaders—”
“You saved everyone, including Anton Hill?” Mum’s lips twitch as she interrupts me.
Ah, so she’s watched the news. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I growl. Mum knows I dislike him from my consistent moaning about him over the years. “I couldn’t leave him out,” I grumble.
“Yeah, so we’ve seen. Kricket, why did you have to pick such a terrible photo? There are so many better ones to choose.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Mum, I didn’t pick the photo. The news people did that.” As if I’d give them a photo.
“It’s an awful one. You look spotty and red.”
I throw my hands up into the air and groan. “Mum, I was sixteen.”
She narrows her eyes and peers at me. “You didn’t look that bad at sixteen surely.”
I huff. “Are you okay, Dad? You’re looking a little pale?”
It’s Dad’s turn to nudge Mum out of the way. “I’m fine, pumpkin. I’ve been worried about you and everything that’s been happening. It has been a long week.”
Tell me about it. “I called for a reason. There is a spelled safe in the main bedroom. Can you lock all the charms away? Oh, and don’t sell any please. Ignore what I said when we last saw each other. Selling them isn’t safe.”
“We can do that of course. That’s no problem. It didn’t feel right anyway, as you’ve given us plenty of money.” Mum sneers.
Why does money sound like a dirty word?
“Have you had any issues?”
“What, apart from a team of gargoyles and some council stooges watching the house? No, nothing. I can’t believe you bought this place,” Mum says.
“Why? Is it bad?” I try to peer behind her. It looks nice. I even had it fully furnished. “It was beautiful in the photos and videos.”
“Yes, yes, it’s a beautiful house. But how could you make such a massive purchase without our input? I’m your mother, and I’ve been worried sick that you spent too much.” She drops her voice. “It’s overlooking the park.”
“Why? Does the park have rogue teenagers?” She pulls a face, and this time I grin. “You know I couldn’t tell you, Mum. It wouldn’t be much of a secret if I blabbed about it.”
“Well, now I’m concerned about that. You are a very secretive young lady and very sneaky.
I don’t like it. It makes me wonder what else you’ve been hiding.
” She narrows her eyes and looks behind me.
“Have you got a boyfriend or a husband hidden somewhere we don’t know about?
When you were younger, we talked about protection.
Do we need to talk about that subject again? ”
Her eyes twinkle at my expression of utter horror.
“But I’ll say again, I’m too young to be a grandmother.” She talks about protection when she knows I haven’t got a boyfriend, and there was no point when we were living in a town where nobody got pregnant. Still, I feel my cheeks go pink as they radiate embarrassed heat.
“I’m an adult, Mum.”
“Barely. Your brothers miss you, and your nan has been worried sick.”
“I miss you all too. Well, I’m glad you’re all okay. The magic is pulling on me, so I need to go.” It’s only a tiny white lie.
“I know I’m hard on you. I’m sorry. It’s because I’m frightened.” Her eyes widen, and I can see her fear below her snark and anger.
“Everything will be fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Perhaps...” She bites her lip. “Perhaps you should turn yourself in?”
Turn myself in? “Mum, you know I can’t do that. I haven’t given you details about what happened after you left, but it was bad. Are you using the ward?” I know she is. I can feel it. But I need her to focus on something else.
“Yes, and don’t change the subject. It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around. We are all okay. Your nan walked into the local library yesterday and came out with a book and a job.” Mum shakes her head and a rueful smile tugs at her lips.
I grin. Nan would find work in the desert. Libraries are her sanctuary.
“I don’t know how she does it. Anyway, we are all fine. We shall keep the spies busy. Just don’t do anything more heroic or silly, Kricket. Please keep your head down. We love you.”
“I will. I love you. I love you all.”
“Love you,” Dad says.
They wave, and the magic fades as my dad folds Mum into an embrace and she sniffles into his chest.
Oh, Mum.