Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I dreamed of a world that I painstakingly pieced together using my architect visions of perfection, from elegant rooms to the minute detail of a single blade of grass. It was glorious.
When I wake up in the cloud-like bed, I feel odd and heavy. As if my conscience has returned to my body. I am so comfortable, I immediately want to go back to sleep. There is a clink next to my ear as if a plate has been carefully set down on the bedside table, the one closest to my head.
That is when I smell the bacon.
I groan and turn my head to where the smell originates. I wiggle like a worm as I unbury myself from underneath the covers. Peeking out, I sniff, and the scent of delicious, crispy bacon flies up my now flaring nostrils.
On the bedside table, placed carefully between potions and the plastic gun, is a toasted bacon butty, and a mug of steaming tea.
I blink.
A bead of tomato ketchup rolls down the crust and plops onto the plate. Oh my, that looks amazing. That has got to be Warburtons Toastie bread.
Where the heck did that come from?
I hold my breath for a second and wait for movement.
Empty. No one is here. “Has someone been in my room? I knew this whole place was sketchy.” When you freakily sign an ancient tome to stay at a mysterious hotel and later almost have a panic attack ’cause you might have signed your life away, nowhere in that nightmare scenario would I have expected crispy bacon and a cup of tea.
My tummy gurgles as if to say, mmm bacon.
I blink a few more times and rub away the pool of drool before it reaches my chin.
It is then that I notice the room. My drool hand flops onto the bed and my mouth falls open in shock.
My head swivels. Instead of it being a rundown nightmare, it is like I am in a six-star hotel or a gazillion pound apartment.
My entire face scrunches up with a frown. Well, this is unexpected.
Bloody hell. I fling the covers away and scramble up. But I forget how to use my legs and instead sort of roll out of bed. I slide ungraciously to the floor, the soft spongy carpet cushioning my bottom. Wide-eyed and with my heart pounding, stomach forgotten, I stare at the room.
The room that is mine.
Mine.
More than mine—it’s bloody what I made up in my head. What I have dreamed of for years. Outside, through the new floor-to-ceiling windows, are familiar rolling hills, a distant forest and… a lake.
“This is fudged up.”
In my sleep, I reshaped a world.
I gasp.
Then wheeze.
Woah, I cannot get enough air into my lungs.
I rub and slap my palm to my chest. Breathe, Tuesday, you will not lose your shit.
Black dots appear in my vision, dancing in front of my eyes.
I am losing my shit. Calm down and just think.
I viciously pinch the skin on the top of my hand and wince.
Ouch. Yeah, I’m awake. This isn’t a dream—no, it’s magic.
My whole body shivers.
“It’s not like you are being attacked by Power Ranger mercenaries,” I reason.
I am not in any immediate danger, and no one is breaking down my door.
Instead of jumping up and running around the room like a chicken with its head cut off, I take a deep breath, hold it, and slowly breathe out.
I concentrate on breathing until my heart rate is back to a regular rhythm and my body has stopped twitching with the need to run.
Panicking only gets you hurt, I remind myself.
I grab the plate from the side and take a big bite of the breakfast sandwich. Why the heck not? The bacon crunches, and as the greasy taste hits my tongue, I groan. It’s made perfectly.
As I chew, I do my best to push away my initial shock. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. Now that I can think a little bit clearer, I can feel the magic. Somehow, I did this. This is my magic.
Bloody hell.
I’ve gone from a magic dud to being full to the brim.
I can’t work out if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare.
Magic that I have never had is pounding through my chest, zipping down my arms and legs.
The hand not stuffing my face taps my head to make sure my hair isn’t standing on end.
It is like I have stuffed my finger in a light socket, and I’m being electrocuted.
It is as if I am now part of an electric circuit.
I grab the tea and take a big gulp. I think back to what the fae guy said.
The elf. Hello, little lost witch. I am told you’re a dud, but you’re more than that, aren’t you?
Your coven has hidden you well. I pop the last bite of the butty into my mouth.
It’s been over a century since I’ve met one of your kind in the real world. Stupid of you, really.
“Your coven has hidden you well,” I mumble.
Well, he got that wrong. My coven—my parents—didn’t hide me from this.
Oh no, this would be the equivalent of my mum winning a rollover in the National Lottery.
“Real world?” I sip the tea and lean back against the bed.
As I roll the words around my head—real world—I rap my fingernails against the mug and stare down into the tea.
The remaining liquid dances to the rhythm of my fingers.
Perhaps he wasn’t blowing smoke. Perhaps he got something right.
Daisy’s claws dig into the soft carpet as she moves toward me, a piece of cucumber gripped between her teeth. It’s her favourite snack. A snack that appeared just like my breakfast. She climbs into my lap, joining me in the impromptu picnic on the floor, and noisily crunches.
A world I created. Like… like a pocket realm.
No.
There is an odd, unpleasant little jump in my chest. No.
Whoever made pocket dimensions didn’t make them this big.
I huff in disbelief. Small rooms and bags to hide equipment.
Not… I lean forward and stare out at the forest, at the hills and the bloody lake.
Acres and acres of land. Whatever the heck this is, it cannot be that.
Yet, I know every inch of this place. For years, I have been building this in my head. There’s no getting away from the fact that I made this.
I rub my face and shake my head. They are a myth.
World walkers, world makers.
Godlike power.
My stomach is suddenly full of butterflies, and I can’t help shivering as the small hairs on my body all rise at once.
Everything about them has been conjecture.
Witches—we can make portals, fixed doorways linking places together using the Earth’s ley lines.
But someone before us made portals to other worlds.
That knowledge was said to be lost. Some people said it died with some extinct creature.
Others, mainly the witches, said it was a branch of magic that had become extinct.
The only sign of their existence was what they left behind: pocket dimensions.
Which are coveted and go for vast sums of money.
I stare back outside. To think, as soon as my car rolled down the driveway, I wasn’t in Scotland anymore.
Goosebumps erupt along my arms. Portals, pocket dimensions, and artificial magic worlds are strange places.
If a creature is strong enough and magically tied to it, the dimension can shift and change.
But not to this extent. This is so far beyond the small, sad hotel and scrabbly patch of land of last night.
My tummy flips again. I rub my arms, the fluffy pink unicorn pyjamas rise with the movement and my breath catches as— “What now?” I whine.
I stare at my arms. My skin is covered with magical tattoos.
Glowing tattoos.
I gently place the still munching dragon on the carpet and scramble up.
I hurry into the bathroom, pull off the unicorn top and peek into the opulent mirror.
Glowing silver lines curve complex patterns across my entire body.
I cautiously lean into the mirror and trace the delicate dancing swirls on my face.
In shock, I stare at myself for several minutes.
Instead of detracting, they highlight my cheekbones and light up my eyes like the best kind of makeup. I don’t hate them. It is like they always should have been there. No, that is crazy thinking. I back away from the mirror and my naked back hits the cold tiles.
I am frightened but I can’t escape the facts. This hotel, this place, this world? Has made me magical.
Ha.
My mum is going to shit a brick.