My voice cowers inside of my throat. Reordering. The word is distressing.
“If you see the creature,” the Faerie says slowly, addressing the entire room, “it would be in your best interests to tell us.”
“This loch and its Hidden Folk are protected,” I snap. “By me and some other witches who don’t have time for this. You can take your threats and move out.”
The Faerie considers me, clearly wondering how much power I actually wield. However, the grim faces of the Hidden Folk and the angry energy of the Selkie cause him to steadily back down. He moves towards the exit of the large hall, casting one final glance over his shoulder.
“I’ll give Portia your regards, little witch.”
“Sure,” I say. “Then give her this.”
I throw him my rudest hand gesture, one that would make Mum smack my leg if she was here. Which she
is not.
Only once the Faerie is gone do I feel Fog, Alona
and Marley at my side.
“What do we do?” asks Marley, his voice shaken.
“Easy,” I reply. “We find that creature before
they do.”
Chapter Eight
Hoax
It’s morning once again and Marley and I are exhausted all over. We can barely lift our spoons for our cereal, and I spill the milk twice. The only thing giving me even a fraction of energy is the knowledge that we’re going on another quest. We are going to find that creature before Portia’s army does.
Leanna is marking some of Marley’s homework. She’s been lying to the school about both of us coming down with terrible chicken pox. We only have a week left of term, so the teachers don’t seem to be fighting her too much. They know Marley is smart enough to teach himself at this point, and they’re probably pretty relieved to be free of me.
“I’m starting to believe you are both ill,” Leanna says. “What’s wrong?”
“The wind is loud in that tower,” I say, not untruthfully. “It’s hard to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh,” she says frowning in concern. “Well, maybe we can move you both.”
“It’s fine, Mum,” says Marley, throwing me a glance and shaking his head just slightly. “We’re all right.”
“Well, okay.” She looks over to the windowsill. “You know… I really hate winter.”
She waves her hand softly. Some dying plants outside start to bloom again. Only a little, but it is beautiful magic. She causes some bluebells to appear in front of us, at the table.
“Blue is one of the rarest colours in nature, you know,” she says, and she looks directly at me. “But things that are rare tend to be the best, don’t they?”
I smile. Aunt Leanna’s magic is softer and quieter than her sisters’, but no less impressive or important.
“Where’s Opal?” I ask, staring at her empty chair in the breakfast nook.
“She’s working on an extremely taxing spell at the moment,” Leanna says. “It’s taking up a lot of her energy.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of spell?”
“Nothing to concern yourself about.”
Opal stands in the doorway, and, although she spoke the words with her usual dryness, she sounds absolutely exhausted. She’s wearing a ratty oversized knitted jumper with matching black shorts. Her legs are long and thin, and she looks so young this morning. Dark circles and her hair scraped into a messy updo.
Opal is neurodivergent like me. She gets overwhelmed. She processes things at her own pace. She likes routine. Her hands sometimes shake, she gets headaches easily and she is blunt and direct and to the point. She’s also loyal. Brave. The only person who came to that island to save me when I thought I was completely alone in the world.
“Come on, you,” she says to me. “Marley has English homework, and you’ve got witchcraft theory. Let’s go.”
I leap to my feet and cackle in Marley’s face. “Enjoy your boring book about a whale.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles.
I follow Opal up to the first floor, to the small library. I’ve poked my head in a couple of times, but we’ve never taken lessons in here.
“Are we going to practice launching books at people?” I ask gleefully.
“We’re doing theory today,” she says, gesturing for me to sit at a small table by the window, where the sun is pouring in. “Not practice.”
I groan. “Theory of what?”
She sits at the table herself, not speaking until I sulkily collapse into the chair across from her.
“Curses.”
