Chapter 23 Into the Woods
Into the Woods
There was a rap on the bedroom door.
“Sage, your gentleman friend is waiting downstairs.”
But Sage couldn’t bring herself to see him. Her friend, so gallingly in tune with her moods, would know immediately that something had changed. In the days that had passed since the burning, she had strongly decided that he had no business being a part of this mess anymore.
“I’m not coming. Tell him to go,” she replied to the door.
There was a pause.
“Are you sure all is well in there, madam?”
“Fine.”
Another pause.
“Very well. I shall tell Mr. Everald again that you’re still feeling under the weather.
I am sure he’ll understand.” Sage’s heart gave a whimper at the hurt in Maggie’s voice as she chose to shut her out again.
She had been cold to her housekeeper since returning home after the fire on Friday morning.
Maggie had tried several times to come into her room to check on her, but Sage had shouted. Really shouted.
Finally, she had achieved her goal. She had banished her no-good magic. It was a great achievement, the one dream that she had followed like a North Star whenever she felt herself floundering. She had done it; she was no longer a witch.
So why, in all hellfire, did she feel so utterly bereft?
The spell had not been entirely successful.
The memory-wiping effect of Tenebrae Obscurum that her research around the dark spell had always promised had yet to take hold.
Sage remained all too aware of the witchcraft that she had stripped herself of, and the knowledge of all that she had lost only served to make the haunting, ripped feeling of grief even worse.
She supposed it was a well-deserved punishment, the bitter cherry on top of the cauldron that the kinder side of the spell had failed.
In some ways, it was fortunate that she still had some recollection of her magic.
It meant that she could clean up the residual mess more effectively.
Today, she must begin the repairs that were required of her.
On her return from the bonfire, she had barely been in control of her own limbs or her own mind.
She could not remember getting home. It felt like a blurry blackout, a supernatural amnesia, and she had not left her bed in two days thanks to feeling more unwell than she could ever recall.
As it had transpired, magical banishment was incredibly unpleasant, and frankly, she had not had it in her to care about answers until now. Would the spell have ended entirely, or would there be trace amounts still lingering across the town?
Once Casimir had left, probably in a strop, which she’d no doubt have to bribe him out of at some point, Sage would go and examine the front of the house for damage caused by the gingerbread.
She was annoyed with herself for leaving the silly facade on display for so long; no doubt her home insurance would have shot through the roof.
The beanstalk was surely eviscerated; her knowledge of Earth Sorcery made her fairly certain that such vegetation would not survive without a source of potent magic nearby.
Then she would see about contacting the school that had visited the museum last week and ensure that the children who experienced the unfortunate side effects of their visit were back to normal.
With any luck, their wings would already have vanished or at least begun to fade, now that the spell was over, as would the other tropes and characteristics given to the locals.
She would make sure that Laurel’s bruises had faded, Robin’s hand had healed and Casimir’s injuries had eased.
With any luck, they would be left with no memory whatsoever of the whole charade.
It all seemed a rewardingly neat conclusion, which at least satisfied an itch in Sage’s meticulous nature.
Although the one factor she couldn’t bring herself to contemplate was Mal’s articulate ways.
She had grown rather fond of the cat keeping her company, offering smart words of sarcasm, and despite her best efforts, she failed to find any argument as to why her smallest, most trusted friend was better off without a voice.
But who was she to believe that she was deserving of such a special thing?
While the curse had been broken, one troubling possibility lingered over her like a dark cloud: By ridding herself of her powers, creating a wildly swinging imbalance of magic—Lilara’s running wild and then both magics suddenly banished, along with her concealment spell—she would inevitably have alerted the coven.
She had almost forgotten about their threat entirely amid all of the distraction.
They were bound to appear soon, in one form or another.
Surely they did not leave unclaimed magic lying around, like a Lost and Found Department.
Not that it really mattered anymore. Now that she was non-wicche, she supposed she could just tell them to piss off and leave her be. It was simply a habit to fear them.
Murmurings buzzed downstairs between Casimir and Maggie, as they had done on and off since Friday, but eventually Sage heard the front door close, signalling the former’s exit.
The clattering of pots and pans from the kitchen followed as Maggie turned to the day’s errands.
Under the thick covers, Sage breathed a sigh of relief.
She had been in bed for days and might just stay for another.
She couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than sleep.
Just then, something small and sharp pelted her bedroom window.
Sage growled. He really was the most presumptuous person she’d ever known.
Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, throwing the covers aside with a scowl. She went to the window and lifted the sash to call down to him. “What, Casimir?” she barked.
“Crikey, if Juliet had been this unpleasant, I think poor Romeo would have told her to sod off, and he would have lived a long and fruitful life.”
Casimir stood in the front garden and threw another stone up towards her at the glass.
It landed on the windowsill inside. It wasn’t a rock at all, but a hard chocolate button from the transformed shale in her front garden.
There were still remnants of her edible house, then. She promptly threw it back down at him.
“Ow!” he called up. “What’s wrong with you? Are you all right? I’ve been worried. There were a fair few morning tickets sold for the exhibition today, remember. And why have you locked me out of the archive?”
Sage crossed her arms tightly around herself. “I’ll be there later. Maybe. I have…errands to run.”
Casimir’s brows shot up. “Errands, indeed. Would any of said errands happen to involve an enchanted forest?”
“A what?” she replied crossly. She didn’t have an ounce of patience left for him to be talking in his infuriating riddles.
“The signposts. The third one’s changed, so grab those maps of yours.
We’ve got town charting to update. One enchanted forest coming right up, followed by a troll bridge towards the dell.
That one we’re already familiar with, at least. And the woodsman’s house in the direction of Robin’s place, by the looks of it. ”
Sage could have sworn her heart stopped beating. It was only then that her murky mind cleared enough to realize that Casimir was still in his princely attire.
“Oh good, you’re up. Now, about second breakfast…” Mal blinked angelic, round eyes up at her.
Sage gasped.
There was no way that the curse could still be running riot.
After everything she had surrendered in exchange.
She had ended it. She had put a stop to all of this, done what Lilara had asked of her.
Her magic was gone. The grimoire had been destroyed.
She had saved them all. The enchantments around the town should be winding down—and quickly.
Otherwise, why had she made the ultimate sacrifice?
She leaned further out the window to grip the frame. “You must be mistaken, Casimir.”
“Oh, must I? You know, you really are the rudest…” He shook his head, hands on his hips. “Hurry up, will you? I thought we’d better make sure Robin’s not encountered any evil queens with gruesome vendettas. He’s far too nice. He wouldn’t stand a chance, poor bloke.”
“I’m coming down!” Sage shouted frantically, leaping back from the window, and Casimir waved impatiently in a way that meant Hurry up, I want a coffee.
Throwing on the first things she could see in her wardrobe—a black turtleneck and green plaid pinafore—she just about managed to find the presence of mind to grab her satchel and lace up her boots before sprinting down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in the process.
“Sage! Madam! Prithee, slow down, will you? You’ve seemed so unwell this past weekend. I’m not sure you should be out of your bed if—”
“Honestly, Maggie, I haven’t the faintest idea whether I am all right or not.” At least it was an honest summation. “I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll explain at some point.”
Sage tore out of the front door, which, she noted with a hollow dread, was indeed very much still made of gingerbread. She didn’t bother to approach Casimir, instead running straight past him in the direction of Robin’s house, which sat a few roads across from the Equinox Gallery.
Casimir yelled after her. “Oi! Specs, where are you…? What’s the rush?”
“There’s been a change in circumstances,” she replied curtly, struggling to snatch her satchel further up her shoulder as she ran.
“Another chapter, is it? Or you got something out of the book again? Specs, slow down, for the love of—”
“Can’t. I need to make sure of something.”
“Namely?” Casimir asked, exasperated and tugging at the tail of her coat to pull her back.
“Namely, Casimir”—Sage stopped abruptly to turn to her colleague, breathing heavily—“namely that I have in fact put an end to this absolute nonsense.”
“You want it to end? But at the bonfire, you—”