CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Dot bounded down the staircase, darting into the hallway that connected the abandoned tea shop and the courtyard.
She had in her arms several instruments of magic: an orrery, her brass scales, her chalk and the three journals she had filled with all of her neat notes on runes.
She took a seat outside on the wooden porch, brushing away the bright yellow ginkgo leaves that had blown in over the roof.
She opened her notebook and picked a rune at random. Soften.
Three concentric circles. Five lines connecting them. The symbol for ‘youth’.
Dot drew the rune with chalk straight onto the wooden deck, placed down her right hand, closed her eyes and felt the wood beneath her become smoother. She laughed. What a novelty it was to use magic.
Her human magic was weak, no doubt, but it was there, growing spell by spell like a muscle, stretching and strengthening.
‘Looks like it might rain soon.’
Dot glanced behind her and then quickly away and up at the heavy clouds gathering above. Lio was awkwardly hovering in the doorway; he held a plate with a pickled onion sandwich on it.
’I suppose,’ she said.
A pause. At length, Lio said, ‘Your grandad’s nice.’
‘He is,’ said Dot, and the young man laid the plate beside her.
Archie had assured her of Lio’s remorse: how Lio had given himself pneumonia, how he had spent days without rest casting portals, questioning the dock workers, combing through the port logs, landing on probably a hundred ships between Seafarthing and the South Pole.
When he turned up on Archie’s ship, he had almost caught his death.
He had not slept nor eaten in several days, so determined was he to reunite grandfather and granddaughter.
Dot glanced at Lio now. His eyes were drawn and guilty as he watched her.
Even now, he was beautiful.
Dot almost thanked him, but she did not.
Lio almost apologised, but he did not.
Instead, he trundled up the stairs, passing Belchamber, who had taken to ambling slowly around the house.
Lio coughed heavily into his handkerchief and so he did not notice the spirit moving with strange, jerking movements.
Had he noticed, Lio would have seen the spirit’s eyes now shining black.
Had he listened, he would have heard the spirit muttering to himself as he climbed down toward the courtyard.
Lio should have stopped. He should have stayed with Dot.
Instead, Lio took up the rest of the sandwiches from the kitchen counter and went into the living room where Theodora was sat with Archie and Rupert, poring over diagrams the witch had sketched of Hemmington’s department store.
Still, the witch searched for answers with reckless abandon, casting magic about the space; she levitated maps and letters and papers, all of them riddling out solutions to her debt. Here was the hurricane of her thoughts, swirling about them in ink and parchment.
‘The spirits of the Ollianne Shrine are sure allies,’ said Theodora. She flourished her hand at a map of the city, still stained here and there by the Lourdes. ‘They are fickle, and hardly as dependable as Belchamber, but surely I could convince a few . . .’
‘Surely, you would need more than a few spirits to help break your contract?’ asked Lio.
‘You said his contracts were bespelled before his daemotion, right? If it took five hundred of the United Allies’ spirits to daemote him, then wouldn’t it take the same number of powerful spirits to break your contract? ’
‘Well, five hundred would be ideal,’ said the witch, ‘but the Ollianne Shrine doesn’t have that many. Perhaps we can find some more to make up the numbers?’
‘What about the elevator to Salamander’s dungeon?’ asked Rupert. ‘What if he locks it up?’
‘My wards count for something, you know,’ said Theodora.
‘They are amplifiers for my magic. I’ve already placed one ward right next to the department store.
If I had the help of the spirits, maybe Salamander wouldn’t notice if we created a portal into the dungeon and bypassed the elevator entirely?
Casimir would be the obvious helper for this, but he is changeable even on a normal day, so I will rule him out. Perhaps I can be the one—’
‘Love,’ said Archie, taking her arm. ‘You needn’t shoulder this all on your own.’
‘Of course I do,’ said Theodora. ‘Archie, you are going to Seafarthing as planned. As long as Dot practises carefully, her human magic will grow and it will tame the afflictive magic. I really do believe she has her solution at last. Lio, I know you will look after Rupert. You can teach both of them. As for me . . . all I need is to find a way to sneak into the dungeon beneath the department store, pinch my contract and collect enough spirits to override the daemon’s power.
Failing all of that, I’ll just throw every spell I know at the stupid thing and see what happens. ’
‘And failing that?’ asked Rupert.
‘If Salamander is fated to make a conduit of me,’ said Theodora, ‘then I will cause as much mischief as I can. I’ll destroy the lab.
Maybe I’ll turn Marcidus into a chicken.
Let’s not dwell on that. What if I succeed, Rupe?
I’ve never actually eaten fried cockles, you know, and I’ll look forward to you, Archie, shouting me some in Seafarthing, and to me telling loud and terribly embarrassing stories about Rupert when at last we get to meet Celia. ’
Lio tried to hide his expression of pity as he listened.
Oh, the witch was in denial. She still believed she could get the better of the daemon.
Lio coughed again, his body racketing with it.
Rupert thumped him on the back. He opened his mouth to tell the boy he wasn’t choking, but at that moment, a horrible scream sounded from below.
The same scream he’d heard that night in the Lourdes.
‘Belchamber, stop it!’
Theodora’s eyes snapped to Lio’s. Then the coffee table was shoved aside and the witch was rushing down the stairs. Rupert leaped to his feet. Archie too. All of them raced down to the tea shop floor and out into the courtyard just as Dot’s legs disappeared up over the brick wall.
‘Dorothy!’ cried Theodora, leaping at the ivy. She sent a repulsion spell at the ground and vaulted upward, scrambling at the brickwork, and clambering up onto the clay-tiled roof.
Lio had stepped into and out of a portal and was now beside her on the eaves.
Belchamber moved across the roof with uncanny speed.
In the terrible autumn wind, the spirit leaped over the void between the tea shop and the house next door, dragging Dot, who cried out as her legs collided with the stone.
She flailed and the talons of her afflicted hand clawed at a nearby chimney.
Then, she scratched at the spirit. It slowed him but did not stop him. On the chase went.
Theodora leaped with a manic terror over each roof after Dot.
The spirit, however, took one huge jump over the road and across to the houses opposite, and before Theodora could throw herself into the open air, Lio snatched at her hand and yanked her into and out of a portal.
They fell through the whirling darkness and landed on top of Belchamber and Dot.
The witch seized Dot by the arm, and Lio grabbed at Belchamber, the four of them struggling against the wet rooftiles. Theodora threw out one hand and a bulb of light flashed against Belchamber. He was dazed a moment, his little tin body slowing.
Theodora pried Dot away, but then Belchamber was animated once more and clawed at Dot.
‘Wake up,’ shouted Theodora at the spirit. ‘Stop this!’
Lio seized Dot and again yanked her away from the deranged spirit, the two of them sliding momentarily down the roof. Theodora grasped the spirit’s small body. She shouted back at Lio, ‘Don’t let her go!’
A mocking voice came from above.
‘Perhaps he should.’
There was Opal, sat on the apex of the roof, smiling down at them.
She wore that thin satin gown that exposed her wan skin and winding tattoos. Opal raised one hand and with an elegant twinkle of her fingers, Belchamber’s body went limp once more, sliding from Theodora’s grip. She caught him by the foot, cradled him, and placed him against a chimney.
‘Are you alright?’ Lio quietly asked Dot, who gave him a nod.
Theodora’s gaze was on Opal. Fury shook her voice. ‘What did you do to Belchamber?’
‘The same that was done to me,’ called Opal over the wind. ‘The same that will be done to you.’
‘A conduence charm?’ asked Dot, voice hoarse.
Opal climbed to her feet, her prima ballerina body dainty against the backdrop of the storm clouds. She twirled, and they watched her.
‘You’re almost right, Dorothy,’ said Opal in a saccharine voice.
‘I can’t perform a proper conduence charm on a spirit.
This spell disguises itself well, but it is temporary.
’ Opal made a show of peering down into the street.
Outside the tea shop opposite them, Archie stood by the open door, his hand on the glass to steady himself, his red coat halfway on.
‘There’s the oldie,’ said Opal. ‘Where’s little Rupert?’
The door to the tea shop opened.
‘Rupe,’ whispered Theodora.
In the boy’s hand glinted the bread knife.
‘Oh!’ said Opal. ‘My knife.’
Opal twitched her long fingers and Belchamber’s eyes flew open.
He shot at the boy across the street, breaking branches of the jacaranda tree, where Eliot, the raven, perched and croaked.
Belchamber smacked Rupert to the concrete.
The boy yelped as the spirit wrestled the knife from his grip.
‘Oi!’ shouted Archie. ‘Stop that!’ The old man whacked at Belchamber.
Lio leaped up but before he could cast a portal, Rupert yelled and Belchamber ripped the knife away, soaring back to the roof opposite.
‘Ta,’ said Opal sweetly, taking the knife from the spirit. Then she called to the boy down in the street, ‘Thank you, darling Rupert.’
And Opal dove at Dot.