CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE #2
‘I thought I was so close. But then, last year, in the winter, I signed that final fatal contract. Opal was rapt. She told me that once I was under the conduence, we’d be twins of a kind. She knew I could not pay the money back.’
The witch looked forlornly at Dot.
‘And then the spring came and you turned up. I knew about Salamander’s experiments, of course.
Opal, when she was feeling generous, would share little details of his goings-on.
I knew your magic was different. I knew he would want it and I told myself that I would merely dangle you before him.
Opal was the one who told him about you, and I tried to make it convincing to Opal and Salamander both – I told her I would give you to him in exchange for the breaking of my contract.
Then, I tried to convince them that your blood would be enough instead.
I told myself that I would stop it before it hurt you.
That I would find a clever way to fix it all without bringing you to harm.
‘But as soon as Salamander saw your affliction, he knew he needed to take you, study you, riddle out exactly what has caused this maladaptive magic. That is why Opal took your blood.’
Dot nodded without looking directly at the witch. Instead, she inspected her bitten fingernails, which she had worn down even further as Theodora told the tale.
‘She was up here,’ asked Rupert in disbelief, ‘this whole time until today?’
‘I am sorry,’ said Theodora. ‘My trust in her was fragile in the end but I never imagined she would do all of this – manipulating Lio, taking Dot’s blood, hurting Belchamber.’
Theodora watched the little spirit in Rupert’s arms.
‘This room behind the wardrobe was warded so heavily even Belchamber did not know it was here. Opal had access to my side of the attic, but no other part of the house, so, my guess is that, while we were off seeing Salamander, Belchamber came up here to leaf through the journals in research for Dot. He must have deduced something important – he does mutter to himself from time to time. Opal attacked and, I suppose, the only place she could throw him was down the attic door. It should have been obvious, but I had no idea she had kept that knife. So, when I told her about the attack and how it must have been Cate, she looked me in the eye and agreed, and helped me to riddle out ways that Cate could have permeated the wards.’
Theodora’s eyes yet shined from the truth spell of the Lunaria.
‘I promise there are no remaining secrets.’
‘Why did you not tell me?’ asked Lio. ‘Opal was up here watching us.’
‘I couldn’t bear you knowing,’ said Theodora. ‘And you were finally healing from her hold of you, Lio. I was weak and self-motivated, but I did fear that if I revealed all of this to you, you would never recover.’
Lio shook his head.
‘I wanted to fix it all,’ promised Theodora.
‘I wanted to help Dorothy. I believed that if I worked harder and slept less and read every book on magical maladies and charms, somehow I could right it. But it does not matter now. You can go, if you would like. Acanthi should leave you alone. They only care about Opal. Soon the tea shop will be taken and I will simply be a conduit of magic.’
‘Were we too unintelligent to help?’ asked Dot, clutching her bandaged forearm.
‘No,’ said Theodora. ‘It was never about you. For over five years I hid Opal while she went out into the city, spent my money, slept with my peers. Casimir hates her. She wants to replace him as Salamander’s third-in-charge.’
‘That letter,’ said Lio. ‘You knew it was from Opal?’
‘I worried it was when you first told me,’ said Theodora, hanging her head.
‘But when I went to her, she corroborated my own lie back to me. “Obviously, Cate sent that letter. Use your brain. Why would I want to talk to Lio?” But then she begged me to let you stay, Lio. And I was so stupidly pleased; I thought she was being compassionate again. Here was a sliver of the Opal I remembered. Now, I realise that I have been so foolish.’
‘So, the great villain in all this was never truly the witches of Acanthi,’ said Dot, ‘but the daemon Salamander?’
‘I believe so,’ said Theodora.
Through the window the sunrise dappled the rooftops. Dot should have been hungry and yet she felt mostly nothing. No desire to sleep, nor eat, just the pervasive and gentle belief that this was, perhaps, a betrayal from which she would never recover.
‘I never wanted an apprentice,’ said Theodora, softly.
‘That is why I bespelled the tea shop to repel them. Rupert, I am sorry, but I was steadfast in my choice. I was worried you would turn out wretched like myself or vindictive like Opal. Then you came, Dorothy, and your affliction manifested and I saw an opportunity. I told myself so many terrible concessions to alleviate my guilt for how I planned to use you.’ Theodora looked earnestly into Dot’s eyes. ‘I am so sorry, Dorothy.’
Dot looked down at the floor. She had no energy left to cry.
‘I should have never built this room,’ said Theodora. ‘But Opal has always felt like mine to protect, no matter how vile she was to me; I told myself she needed me. That I deserved her. That she had been through so much, and it was, all of it, my fault.’
‘You were in love with Opal,’ said Lio. ‘Weren’t you?’
‘It was a fraught thing,’ said Theodora, rubbing her eyes.
‘Aside from me, Opal only ever chased after men. She had no attraction to me. I think I was a comfortable amusement to her. I cared for her excruciatingly, but it is not possible to be in love unless that person loves you in return. I suppose I was in love with the idea of who she used to be, just like you were, Lio.’
‘You have no idea what I felt,’ said Lio, pushing himself to a stand.
‘She humiliated me far worse than she humiliated you,’ said Theodora.
Lio stepped out of the wardrobe. Theodora stared after him for a moment. Then, she looked at Dot, Rupert and the unconscious spirit.
‘I love Belchamber,’ said Theodora, voice faltering.
‘I love you, Rupert, like a brother or a kind of son far too old for me to have had. I love you, Dorothy, in a protective and sisterly sense, though I have hurt you so badly. I love the tea shop. Here, I get to be Theodora. I get to know who I am.’
‘And yet,’ said Dot, ‘we never knew you.’
Dot too pulled herself up, her legs shaking. Rupert cradled Belchamber. Together, they clambered out of the wardrobe, through Theodora’s bedroom and carefully down from the attic.
Dot sat on the kitchen floor, eating unbuttered bread. She could not parse the individualities of her emotions. She listened to the sound of the house for a very long time, curiously quiet, at last empty of its ghosts.
Eventually, the grandfather clock tolled, and she noticed that she’d been sat uncomfortably for too long, and that she was bleeding through her bandages and that she was quite sick of bread.
Dot went to her room. She drank a whole phial of tonic and then climbed shakily down to the courtyard where she found Lio sitting on the porch in the early morning sun, staring angrily at the autumn-dead ivy.
There was a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
‘Lio? Are you alright?’