CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nyssa was in the middle of enchanting a broom to clean up the shattered glass when the door to her café – now slightly damaged and a little rickety – burst open for the second time that night and Liora, Alaric and Elowen crowded in.
Liora immediately ran up to her, her wide eyes scanning Nyssa’s body for any signs of injury. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, brow furrowing at the sight of the broken glass and overturned tables. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m fine, Li, it was just a … minor disturbance.’
Alaric snorted. ‘Minor? We heard the commotion all the way from the tavern, and this place looks like a hurricane blew through it. If this is what you call minor, Hawthorne, I’m worried about what you consider major.’
Nyssa chewed on her bottom lip. The place did look awful.
She’d barely had time to clear up any of the glass before her friends had arrived, nor had she gotten around to righting the tables and chairs that were currently in heaps on her floor.
‘I had … a visitor.’ She wanted to tell them the full story, but …
would they tell her to leave if they knew?
Nighthaven was meant to offer safety and security to all magical folk, and she was the reason someone as dangerous as Morven had come here.
The reason they’d been in any danger at all.
‘I dealt with it, and he won’t be a problem any more. I promise you’re all safe.’
‘That’s great, Nys,’ Liora said, gripping her hands tightly, ‘but are you okay? You don’t have to deal with these things on your own, you know. We’re all here for you.’
Nyssa’s throat tightened. They’d all accepted her past so far, but this was … different. This put them – and all of Nighthaven – at a risk far greater than her awry magic could ever pose.
But as Nyssa glanced at each of her friends’ patient, worried faces, she found herself telling them anyway.
‘It was a warlock that my old coven and I banished a few years ago. He’d …
well, he was dabbling in some forbidden magic, and The Briar Council agreed that he had to be dealt with.
’ At Liora and Elowen’s faintly puzzled expressions, Nyssa explained, ‘You know, The Briar Council? The governing magical body of England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland?’ Liora shook her head slightly, clearly none the wiser, so Nyssa went on, ‘The council is basically a handpicked selection of witches and warlocks that meet every few months to discuss coven politics and ensure each individual coven across the United Kingdom are obeying its laws. They aren’t technically a secret, but lots of non-coven members probably wouldn’t cross paths with them, so that’s probably why you haven’t heard of them.
To be honest, most coven members rarely interact with them directly, either. ’
‘Oh, I see,’ Liora said, before waving her hand to signal that Nyssa should continue.
‘Well, given Morven had broken the sacred law of never stealing power from a magical tome or grimoire and, subsequently, become a threat to more than just The Coven of the Sacred Owl, the head mage before me, Sophia – she’s retired somewhere near Cornwall now, I think – had no choice but to seek the support of The Briar Council.
I didn’t really have anything to do with them after I became head mage,’ she finished, adding silently, And if possible, I’d really rather keep it that way.
After all, the council weren’t exactly forgiving of the kind of failures Nyssa had made lately.
‘What did they do to him?’ Liora asked.
‘They … we, lured him into a trap. I had a history with him,’ she said, her stomach churning with age-old guilt.
‘He was … well, at one time he was my closest friend, so I knew him better than most. I knew that if I agreed to join him, he’d trust me.
The plan we devised meant that I had to keep up the lie and get him to follow me to a small, isolated isle off the Scottish coast. Once there, I led him into a cave, where a confinement spell awaited him.
’ Nyssa could still see the look of betrayal on Morven’s face.
The way he’d thrashed and yelled against her spell like a trapped animal, helpless in the face of the power The Briar Council wielded.
For months after, that look had haunted her dreams, tainting her victory in ways she’d never admit out loud.
‘Once he was stuck,’ she continued, ‘my coven and I stripped him of the power he’d stolen, and cast a banishment spell I’d created specifically for him, one that meant he would be unable to leave that isle.’
The plan had only been possible because of her friendship with the warlock; Nyssa was the person Morven had first spoken to about the forbidden tomes he’d found. About the spells and the sort of power the covens could have if they used them. And Nyssa … she hadn’t shot him down.
Instead, she’d been intrigued. With the race for head mage on, Nyssa had been looking at how she might adapt the spells into something less dangerous to give her an edge over Edith.
By the time she’d realized Morven wished not only to use the spells but to absorb them in order to challenge – and ultimately overpower – Sophia, it had been too late.
It was why she’d offered herself as bait. Not just because she knew Morven would believe her if she said she wanted to join him, but because she was responsible for his fall from grace. For not stopping him sooner, when she’d had the chance.
And now he’d come back here to get his revenge.
‘I heard about that,’ Alaric said. ‘Morven Delamorte, right? Rumours were that some warlock had gone mad, stolen a bunch of magic, and been put in his place by a young witch that everyone was calling a prodigy.’
Some prodigy, her mind taunted. In the end, she’d ended up in the exact same position as Morven, banished from her coven and licking her wounds – a far cry from the life she’d imagined for herself.
Alaric was looking at her with newfound respect. ‘So that’s the secret you’ve been keeping. You’re the one who defeated Delamorte.’
‘I thought I had,’ Nyssa admitted, hating the shake in her voice as she gestured to her café.
‘Obviously, I was wrong. He seemed even more powerful than before.’ Somehow, Morven had managed to gain an ally loyal enough to help him regain not just the power they’d taken from him, but a hell of a lot more.
‘And yet you still managed to best him.’ Elowen offered her a gentle, reassuring smile, but there was a slight uneasiness in her eyes as she added, ‘Right?’
‘I did. He’s … Well, let me show you.’ It was easier than explaining. Dropping Liora’s hands, Nyssa trailed over to the shelf where Familiars still sat. She could feel the hum of her spell radiating from it as she carried it across the café and placed it gently on the counter. ‘He’s in here.’
Nyx jumped on top of the box and did her best impression of a loaf, her claws outstretched as if to silently warn the warlock trapped inside that she was on guard.
Alaric peered at the game with his brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean he’s in there?’
Nyssa quickly explained the spell she’d cast, and by the time she’d finished, each of her friends’ eyes had widened exponentially.
‘Pixie’s tits,’ Liora said, ‘that’s brilliant.’
Heat pooled in Nyssa’s cheeks. When was the last time someone had complimented her magic, rather than judged it? Enchantments were one thing, but to have someone praise her for successfully performing such a high-level spell made Nyssa’s heart swell.
‘It’s … a solution. But I’m not sure it’s a permanent one.
’ Nyssa chewed on the inside of her cheek, her attention returning to the game.
Already, she could feel Morven’s own magic fighting against her spell, testing its boundaries.
If he’d been able to undo her banishment spell on the isle – a spell that had required her entire coven plus some members of The Briar Council – then Nyssa had no doubt he’d eventually be able to undo this one.
She couldn’t let that happen. If he’d been annoyed at her before, he’d be furious now. ‘Don’t worry, though – I’ll find a way to make sure he can never escape. I just need a bit of time …’
It would be a heck of a lot easier with her coven and their unlimited resources, but Nyssa would make do. She had to.
‘We can all help. I can reach out to some of my elven friends about possible magic or artefacts that might be useful,’ Elowen said. Liora and Alaric nodded their agreement.
‘I may not be a witch,’ Alaric said, ‘but you know we druids have our own spells, and I’ve researched a fair amount about binding magic in my time. I’ll bring by my tomes first thing tomorrow, and we can look into it together.’
‘And I happen to know a thing or two about enchanted objects!’ Liora held up her lyre. ‘Give me a few days, and I can try and find out more about where my family got this from, and who enchanted it. Maybe they can help!’
Nyssa’s heart swelled once more, her chest filling with warmth. Perhaps she didn’t need her coven, after all. Perhaps everything she needed was right here. Voice thick, she said, ‘Thank you all so much. I’m sorry I worried you; go back to the tavern, I’ll have this place cleaned up by tomorrow.’
Alaric snorted. ‘Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
’ The druid was already directing his magic towards one of the overturned couches, while Liora grabbed one of the non-enchanted brooms and started sweeping up glass with a song on her lips.
Nyssa moved to help the former, but was stopped by a firm hand on her arm.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Elowen, ‘not until you let me tend to those wounds.’
She led the witch by the hand to the back room, where she promptly sat Nyssa down on the small two-seater sofa and began running her fingers softly over the small cuts the shattered bulbs had left Nyssa with.
Elowen’s touch warmed, her fingertips glowing faintly, lips puckered in concentration.
A second later, the cuts she’d been touching began to disappear, until all that was left was Nyssa’s unblemished skin.
‘I didn’t know you could do that,’ Nyssa whispered, her breath catching as Elowen’s fingers drifted to the next wound. It was impossible not to watch her. To wonder what those long, elegant fingers might feel like on other parts of Nyssa’s body.
Not the time, Nyssa.
‘I don’t let a lot of people know about it,’ Elowen admitted. ‘It’s a gift most of my former clan harbour. Technically, I’m not supposed to use it now that I’m not a member, but … well, it’s you.’
Her eyes darted up to meet Nyssa’s as she seemed to realize what she’d just said. A pretty blush spread across her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, that was inappropriate …’
Nyssa’s own cheeks were flushed, her breath short as she replied, ‘Not at all.’
Ancestors, she wanted to kiss her. To close the space between them and find out what Elowen tasted like. But before she could work up the courage, Elowen rose to her feet and took a few small steps back. ‘All done. How do you feel?’
‘Good.’ Nyssa marvelled at her now unmarked skin. She’d been so focused on Elowen that she hadn’t noticed her pain had completely faded. It was as if her wounds had never existed.
And as Elowen gave her a polite nod and returned to the front of the café, it was as though whatever had transpired between them had never existed, either.