CHAPTER TWELVE
Dorothy Louise Walcott had never been bad at anything intellectual in her life, and so the irony was not lost on her that she had come all the way to Alliaster only to realise her magic was utterly unreachable.
Her old nightmares returned – vivid, crashing phantoms of coursing waves, black against the night.
That strange, faraway voice spoke, and in plumed the ominous sense that a mortal price had been paid.
In tumbled the sound of a girl screaming.
Dot had grown so used to this haunting that when she awoke, it took her several seconds to realise that the sound of shouting came not from within her head, but without.
‘You have no right to call me a liar!’
Theodora’s voice thundered through the house.
Lio’s voice cried back, ‘You are a liar! I knew there was no reason for you to—’
‘My enterprise is none of your business!’
Dot’s dressing gown was on. She padded along the landing and down the stairs and peered into the living room.
There was Theodora, in an evening gown and a jewelled headpiece; Lio was in pyjamas.
It took Dot a moment to notice Belchamber by the mantle and Rupert on the sofa, half-buried under the blanket, clearly woken by the ruckus.
‘The third month of autumn!’ shouted Lio, brandishing the maroon envelope. ‘That is half a year away!’
‘You are a conniving hypocrite,’ said Theodora, snatching the letter from him. With a spark of flame from her hand, she burned it to cinders.
‘Good business, my left foot,’ scoffed Lio. ‘You couldn’t even—’
‘Do not distract from what you’ve done.’ Theodora now pointed at the living room’s large rug, which was half-overturned, revealing that same symbol that was carved into the floor of the basement workshop and the tea shop, both.
It was a rune. ‘This was your intent the whole time, wasn’t it?
To weaken my wards and let Catherine Weyer into my house! ’
‘Of course it wasn’t!’ spluttered Lio, but Dot saw the flush in his cheeks. ‘I haven’t touched the wards!’
Theodora leaped at him, her body stretching, transforming. The dark nightgown warped and she was, at once, a monstrous creature, gargoyle-like and huge. A warm wind tumbled in and the smell of magic and lilac engulfed them.
‘Mistress!’ cried Belchamber. The little spirit flew to her side, but Theodora shook him off. ‘Perhaps there is an explanation!’
The witch’s monstrous form dragged Lio to the floor. He yelled. And, in the scuffle, the witch did not seem to notice the tremor of the tea shop floor, did not hear the silence that descended, did not spot the light that now flashed outside the windows, nor smell the foreign magic seeping in.
‘Theodora!’ cried Dot.
The witch halted. She returned to human form and saw, at last, what Dot was seeing. Rupert’s eyes were wide, his breaths thin, his freckled skin almost green. The boy jerked and let out an ear-splitting wail as thick tendrils of magic spilled from his mouth.
‘Rupe,’ said Theodora, reaching for him.
Magic spilled from the boy’s lips, morphing into uncanny silhouettes that encircled the room, dancing, smirking and singing in their strange language.
His screams rattled the windows and Dot yanked her hands over her ears.
Rupert thrashed about, the dark shadows now surging faster as Theodora scooped him into her arms.
‘What in the devil’s name is happening?’ gasped Lio, pulling himself from the floor.
‘Move.’ Theodora flicked her hand and Lio was thrust across the room.
He stumbled and caught the wall beside Dot.
Belchamber flew to the lamps and lit them.
With another flick of Theodora’s fingers, the coffee table and mess of books cartwheeled away, and the rug smoothed and covered the rune once more.
Rupert flailed, but the witch held him tight. She laid him against the carpet.
‘Acanthi?’ called Lio over the boy’s wailing.
‘Obviously,’ shouted Theodora. She took a stick of chalk from her pocket – it was black, with an ornate handle – and drew a large circle on top of the rug around the writhing boy.
Rupert’s voice was hoarse as he screamed.
With the circle done, Theodora scooped him back into her arms and turned to Dot.
‘Hurry.’
Dot took her hands from her ears. ‘Pardon?’
‘Lio weakened the wards,’ said the witch. ‘Help me steady Rupert so I can sever the magic.’
Dot leaped to the boy’s side. Theodora chanted in the language of the spirits. Rupert’s hand smacked Theodora in the face, but the witch chanted on, her eyes distant. Dot took Rupert’s arms and stilled them.
At last, the magic spilling from his mouth slowed, and then, all at once, stopped. An eerie silence descended. The boy’s eyes opened. He saw Dot’s bandaged hand clutching his own, and he tugged his fingers away. Dot drew back, stung.
‘You okay, Rupe?’ asked Theodora.
‘What happened?’ croaked the boy.
‘Lio,’ said the witch, glaring at the young man in his pyjamas. ‘He found the living room ward and tampered with it.’
‘I meant no harm,’ said Lio.
‘Meant no harm?’ demanded Theodora. ‘When you stole Rupert’s blood and gave it to Acanthi, did you also mean no harm?’
‘Lio wouldn’t,’ said Rupert groggily.
‘There’s no other Sympathetic link strong enough to seep through my wards, even with this dolt’s tampering.’ Theodora threw a dark look at Lio, then paused. Though it was quiet, the floor yet trembled. Theodora’s eyes flashed with momentary panic. ‘They’re still here.’
‘Perhaps the Sympathetic link did not truly break?’ asked Belchamber.
‘Or perhaps I did not sever the correct link,’ said Theodora, turning to Lio.
He stepped backward.
‘I promise—’ began Lio, but Theodora flung out her hand.
Dot and Rupert toppled from the chalk circle, and in flew Lio.
Theodora seized him by the scruff of his borrowed pyjamas and yelled the incantation.
There came a ripping so severe it sounded as if the tea shop was being pulled out by its roots.
A terrible wind kicked up. Light of every colour exploded beyond the windows.
The reek of magic flooded the room. Theodora’s spell reached its crescendo and, in one violent burst, the windows shattered.
The house fell still again. The moonlight returned.
Theodora threw Lio on the ground.
‘You gave them your blood?’
Fire erupted from Theodora’s palms and Lio flinched back. Her eyes, narrow, furious, glinted in the firelight. Dot, Rupert and Belchamber watched on, transfixed.
‘Please,’ said Lio, crawling backward, ‘I promise I did not give them my blood.’
‘Then why do they have it?’
Theodora raised the fire in her hands. Lio was pressed up against the couch now.
‘I don’t know! I don’t—’ Lio’s eyes went wide.
‘What?’ barked the witch.
‘I must have left some of it on the wall. I – oh, Saints.’
‘Spit it out,’ said Theodora.
‘In Beleust! I broke my nose. I didn’t think – I was dazed. I must have left blood on the wall.’
‘Belchamber,’ said Theodora, ‘bring the Lunaria.’
The little spirit nodded. He disappeared and reappeared with a small phial of milky, white liquid.
‘Three drops,’ said the witch, throwing the phial at Lio, who caught it and grimaced. Nevertheless, he unstoppered it and let the drops fall against his tongue. Lio’s brown eyes shone suddenly with sparkling golden light.
‘What is that?’ whispered Dot.
‘Truth potion,’ said Rupert, too stunned to keep up his usual air of disdain. ‘I’ve never seen her use it on anyone before.’
‘I swear,’ said Lio truthfully, ‘I did not know they had my blood.’
‘And yet you tampered with my wards.’
Lio sat up a little straighter. He said, imploringly, ‘I had a reason.’
‘What reason could have persuaded you to help Cate? After what she did?’
‘It wasn’t Cate.’
‘Then who?’
‘Opal.’
Theodora halted. She stared at him as horror flickered over her face, then fury, then calm. Belchamber glanced curiously at his mistress. It was Dot, however, who blurted from her place against the mantle, ‘Who is that?’
The witch did not take her eyes from Lio as she answered, ‘For a dead person, one would usually use the word “was”.’
‘She isn’t dead,’ said Lio, standing. He held fiercely to the couch. ‘The Lunaria can attest to that.’
‘Only to your belief of it,’ said Belchamber. ‘Mistress Theodora, could Master Lio be correct?’
‘No,’ said Theodora. ‘The girl you loved is dead, Lio.’
‘She isn’t.’
‘She is,’ said Theodora. ‘Oh, I could not despise you any more than I do at this very moment. You foul, stupid toad, Lio. How could you be so blithely gullible? How did “Opal” contact you, hm?’
Lio reached into the breast pocket of his pyjamas. He withdrew a folded piece of paper, shrunken, the pages stuck together. Theodora snatched it from him. She read the letter and let out a laugh.
‘This is an obvious forgery.’
‘It can’t be,’ said Lio. He snatched it back.
‘I watched her mother murder her,’ said Theodora. ‘It is not something I would invent.’
‘I’m not saying you did.’
‘What did you think would happen when you took down the wards?’ asked Theodora.
‘I only cared about Opal,’ said Lio. ‘I didn’t think.’
‘Clearly,’ said Theodora. ‘Cate has played you for a fool. She wanted to break into the shop. You almost gave her that success.’
Theodora came to Rupert and helped him over to the sofa. Then she turned the nearest armchair right side up and magicked away the shattered glass. She sat.
‘What happened to you, Liutprand?’ said Theodora, rubbing her eyes. ‘You were never this naive when I knew you.’
Lio shook his head.
‘Go on,’ said Theodora, ‘while the Lunaria’s fresh. Absolve yourself. Tell us exactly how you came to be such a fool.’
Lio collapsed onto the couch. ‘I never believed she was dead.’
‘Of course,’ said Theodora, scathing.
‘I never got to see the grave. Nor the body. So, I searched the continent, the countryside, every corner of the globe.’ Lio glanced at Rupert, Dot and Belchamber.
‘The night Opal died was the most painful experience I have lived through. So, I searched. For half a decade, I searched. I failed. I became an absolute wretch. I gave up on magic. Eventually, I was sick of being miserable. I got a job in Kolldin. I was an editor.’
‘Oh, you must have been melancholy,’ said Theodora, shaking her head. ‘Robert Liutprand Lashkari, earning a wage. Your father was thrilled, I’m sure.’
‘I never told him,’ said Lio tartly. ‘I made a new life for myself. It took me years, but I accepted at last that Opal was truly dead.’
‘Until?’ asked Dot from the corner.
‘Until,’ said Lio uncomfortably, ‘I received a letter from her. She told me to lie to you, Theodora. She told me that if I broke the wards, she would be safe at last.’ Lio cleared his throat. He turned to Rupert. ‘I am incredibly sorry to you, Rupert. I never intended you harm.’
The boy nodded, his face ashen, his head resting against the arm of the sofa.
‘Dorothy also deserves an apology,’ said Theodora. ‘If Acanthi’s magic had latched onto her and not Rupert tonight, she might have been turned into a bloody sea bass.’
‘Dot,’ said Lio, his eyes meeting hers, ‘I apologise.’
‘It’s alright,’ said Dot, dropping her gaze.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Dorothy. Don’t blush at him! Blame him.’ Theodora rolled her eyes. ‘I suppose it does not matter now. Out you get.’
Lio startled. ‘What?’
‘You can’t possibly think I would let you stay?’ said Theodora. ‘Your failure to actually break my wards shows that you might be harmless, but I do not care. Get out. Portal all the way to the South Pole. The moon. It matters not to me. You’re not staying here.’
‘Won’t Acanthi find him?’ asked Rupert.
‘Definitely,’ said Theodora. ‘They have his blood, and given those failures of his, I can’t say they’ll be pleased with him.
They might use him as a Sympathetic link to the tea shop.
They might take all of his blood this time.
It won’t be enough to break my magic, so you’d best get a head start, Liutprand, while they are fatigued. Off you pop.’
Lio nodded solemnly.
‘Theodora,’ said Dot. ‘Perhaps he made a mistake.’
‘That’s a creative way to put it,’ said the witch.
‘Acanthi tricked him,’ said Rupert, hoarse.
‘You as well, Rupe? You were a chimney pipe not ten minutes ago because of him. Belchamber, have you any loyalty?’
‘What would you have done, Mistress,’ asked the spirit, ‘if you had believed your old friend to be alive after all this time?’
Theodora shook her head.
‘Perhaps he could be useful to you?’ asked Dot.
‘Hm,’ said the witch. Then, she glanced at the shattered windows as if a sudden thought had struck her. ‘Though I can barely stand to look at him, you could be right, Dorothy.’
Lio’s features lightened and Theodora shot him a glare. She turned to Rupert.
‘Rupe, I’m going to add another bed to the spare room.
I’ll not let you kip on the couch any longer.
When you’re well enough, I’d like you to keep an eye on Lio.
’ Rupert nodded. Theodora looked over to the tin-coloured spirit, who was now prying glass from the carpet.
‘Belchamber, when I’m not here, do not let Liutprand out of your sight.
Give him as many menial tasks as you can think of. ’
Belchamber’s eyes narrowed at Lio. ‘Of course, mistress.’
‘If I may—’ began Lio.
‘Save your gratitude,’ said Theodora, eyeing him. ‘Dorothy is right. I can use you. I’ve spent weeks now looking for the right Sympathetic link to Cate. Instead, we’ll set a trap. We’ll pretend I threw you out. We’ll let her pounce, and we’ll snatch Acanthi up and ward them from the city.’
Lio winced, but did not argue.
‘Sorry—’ said Dot, raising her bandaged hand as if she were in the school room.
‘Twenty silvers,’ said Theodora.
‘I – yes, alright. Could I ask a question? I’ve tried my very best to keep up with all of this but, what does Cate and her coven have to do with this Opal?’
‘Everything,’ said Theodora. ‘Cate is Opal’s mother. The one who murdered her.’